June 1978

Antarctica

Matt Hooper sits bolt upright in the narrow single bunk of his living quarters, his heart pounding. For a moment he is disoriented and then his eyes find the darkness outside his small porthole, mountains of ice looming ghostly through the blue black. He hears the loud slap of the waves against the boat, the faint whistling sound of an orca in the distance and remembers that he is less than halfway through an 18-month research trip to Antarctica aboard the research vessel he'd once so glibly described as a "floating asylum for shark addicts."He clutches at the shreds of the nightmare, trying to put it back together. Razor sharp teeth, huge and numerous. Violent splashing from monstrous fins. Flat black merciless eyes. Martin helpless in its path, himself soundlessly screaming from the deck of the Orca, frozen in place and unable to help.
He'd thought he was done with the nightmares. They'd been a frequent occurrence for the first year after the Trouble, as Amity called it, but then they'd tapered off and it had been years since he's been bothered by one.
The other dreams though...those were different, and not the sort of dreams anyone should be having about a straight married father-of-two police chief. Whenever he wakes amid dissipating memories of tanned skin, blue eyes, long limbs, and a smile that crinkled the skin around Martin's eyes to perfection, he felt a brief flash of guilt. But really, it's not like it's anything he can control. Martin will never know and if he gets to experience a few brief nocturnal moments of color and warmth amid the cold blackness of the Polar Night, who could possibly hold it against him?
He'd been so excited for this trip. The research continued to fascinate him daily, but he'd failed to take into consideration the isolating effect of living for eighteen months on a small vessel peopled by married couples and straight men. Well, and Scoggins, who leaves a definite impression of being...not strictly heterosexual. But Scoggins is both very much not his type and disinterested in any personal conversation. Moreover, his theory about penguin excretion patterns is completely wrong.
Matt grabs the glass of water from his bedside table, gulps a large sip, and runs a hand through tangled curls that are badly in need of cutting. He shivers, cold despite the multiple layers of fleece. Trying to talk himself into leaving his bed, he wishes he were anywhere but here.
He wishes he were in Amity. The thought comes as a surprise, Amity having been the location of the worst experience of his life. He hasn't been back since he left following the few weeks he'd remained in town after The Trouble. Maybe it's time for a return visit.
Oh, who is he kidding? He misses Martin. Misses their shared humor, the basic decency of the man, the way he always makes Matthew feel as though he could share anything about himself without being judged or thought less of. Matthew has a lot of buddies, but very few friends. He needs to remind himself what that's like.
During their last phone conversation, a few months before he left on the Aurora, Martin had mentioned Michael's dawning interest in marine biology. Perhaps he could offer a tour of Woods Hole. Plus, there are always more water samples to take. He will make it happen.
Resolved, Matt swings his feet onto the metal floor and stands up. He locates a red pen in the drawer of the nightstand, flips his wall calendar to May, and emphatically scrawls "Amity" through the box for May 1.
The shark's open jaws float back to him from the nightmare and his stomach clenches oddly with unease. He wishes he could call Martin, reassure himself that all is fine, but the fact that that's an impossibility because of their being out of radio range for months is yet another point against the Aurora.
Matt is very much on the fence about the existence of a higher power, usually leaning toward the negative, but he decides to make an exception this time. He stares out into the dark, sending out his version of a prayer that his May visit to Amity finds Martin happy, healthy, and whole.