“Because we have to find Troy,” she said, walking over to the boat’s controls. “And we can’t wait all day. Ignore the damn carpet . . . and your arm. A man’s life is at stake.”
She increased the speed of the boat. As she did, the carpet stood up again, twisted around, and hustled to the side. Nick tried to stop it but it was out of the boat and into the water in a flash. As Carol steered the boat through circles of larger and larger radius, Nick stood on the side of the Florida Queen and searched for Troy.
An hour later they both agreed there was no reason for them to continue the search. Carol and Nick had been over the entire region of the ocean in the boat several times (with some care and difficulty, because they no longer had a working navigation system) and had found no trace of Troy. After he had convinced himself that his arm was all right. Nick had even donned his diving equipment, as a last resort, and had retraced the path from the fissure to the overhang and back. Still no sign of Troy. Nick had been just slightly tempted to investigate the fissure, but Carol’s wild story seemed remotely plausible, and Nick did not like the idea of being sucked into some bizarre underground laboratory. And he knew that if he were to disappear, it would be virtually impossible for Carol to guide the boat back to Key West without an active navigation system.
Carol recounted the whole story of her dive while she and Nick were canvassing the area. He was certain she was liberally embellishing the details, but he could see no over-arching logical flaws in her tale. And he himself had, after all, confronted the carpet on the Florida Queen. So he acknowledged, in his own mind, that Carol and Troy had indeed had hair-raising experiences in an underwater building of some type and that the technology they had encountered was definitely more advanced than anything they had ever seen before
But Nick was reluctant to accept Carol’s blithe explanation that the trio had met some extraterrestrials. It didn’t seem likely to Nick that a first contact would be made under such mundane circumstances Although he readily admitted that the carpet was a marvel of capability far beyond his ken, he did not think of himself as being technologically sophisticated and therefore he could not state, categorically, that human beings could not have created it.
Infact, Nick thought to himself as he was carefully searching the horizon with his binoculars for reference landmarks before beginning the trip back to Key West, what a perfect deception. Suppose the Russians or even our own Navy wanted to mislead . . . He stopped himself in mid-thought and realized that if he were right, and their encounter had been with a human creation, then they could very well still be in danger. But why was Carol allowed to leave? And why didn’t they confiscate my boat? Nick found a small island that he recognized off in the distance and changed the orientation of the boat. He shook his head. It was all very confusing.
“You don’t agree with me that we’ve just met some ETs?” Carol came up beside Nick and slightly teased him with her question.
“I don’t know,” he answered slowly. “It seems like quite a leap to make. After all, if there is an extraterrestrial infestation in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, it should have been found before now. Submarines and other boats with active sonar must cross this region at least once or twice a year.” He smiled at her. “You’ve been reading too much science fiction.”
“On the contrary,” she responded, fixing him with her gaze, “my experience with state-of-the-art technology is almost certainly more extensive than yours. I have done a series of features on the Miami Oceanographic Institute and have seen what kind of ingenious new concepts are being developed. And nothing, absolutely nothing, comes close to the carpet or the giant amoeba thing. The likelihood that there is some nonfantastic explanation for all this is very very small.” She paused for a moment. “Besides,” she continued, “maybe the laboratory hasn’t been there for long. Maybe it was just recently finished or even transported here.”
Nick had felt himself bridle when Carol had started her comment. There she goes again, he had thought. So sure of herself. So cocky and competitive. Almost like a man. He admitted to himself that he had also been known to make arguments from authority. And she was certainly right in one respect. She had had much more exposure to high technology than he had. Nick decided not to argue with her. This time.
There was a momentary pause in the conversation. Carol was also becoming more sensitive to the dynamic of their interaction. She had noticed in realtime that Nick’s face had tightened when she had suggested that she knew more about technology than he did. Uh oh, had flashed through her mind. Come on, Carol. Be a little more tactful and considerate. She decided to change the subject.
“How long will it take us to reach the marina?” she asked. In her excitement on Thursday afternoon, she had not paid much attention to time during their return trip.
“A little less than two hours,” Nick replied. He laughed. “Unless I get lost. I haven’t used manual guidance in these waters for over five years.”
“And what are you going to say when we get there?”
Nick looked at her. “To whom . . . about what?” he asked.
“You know. About our dive. About Troy.”
They stared at each other. Nick finally broke the silence. “My vote would be to say nothing about it . . . until . . . until we know for certain,” he said quietly. “Then if Troy shows up, there’s no problem.”
“And if he doesn’t ever show up . . . “ Carol’s voice trailed off, “then we, Mr. Williams, are both in very deep shit.” The gravity of their situation was becoming clear to both of them.
“But who do you think will ever believe such an incredible tale?” Nick said after a moment. “Even with your pictures, there’s no really hard evidence to corroborate our story. These days people can create any kind of photo they want on a computer. Remember that murder case in Miami last year, where an alibi photograph was produced and admitted as official evidence? And then later that data processor showed up and blew the whistle?” He paused. Carol was listening intently. “And whoever built that place may be dismantling it at this very moment,” he continued. “Otherwise. why did they let us get away? No. I say we wait awhile. Twenty-four hours or so anyway. And think carefully about what we’re going to do.”
Carol nodded her head affirmatively. “I think I agree with you, although not exactly for the same reasons.” She was aware there was still a journalistic voice inside her that wanted to guard the information for her sensational scoop. She hoped her ambition wasn’t somehow standing in the way of making the right decision for Troy. “But Nick,” Carol said reflectively, “you don’t think we’re endangering Troy in any way by not contacting the authorities?”
“No,” Nick replied immediately. “I suspect that if they were going to kill him, they would have done so already. Or will soon.”
This part of the conversation was too casual for Carol. She walked over to the edge of the boat and stared out at the sea again. She thought of Troy and their wild adventure after they were sucked into the fissure. He had helped her hang together. No question about it. His humor and wit had kept her from falling apart. And he may have well saved her life by deflecting the attention of that thing.
He was a warm, sensitive man underneath that funny exterior, she thought. Very aware. He also seemed to be covering lots of pain. From somewhere. For a moment Carol convinced herself that Troy was all right. After all, they had helped her to escape. Then she wondered why she had never run into him again down there. A seed of doubt was planted in her mind. She squirmed. Damnit. We don’t really know one way or the other. It’s uncertainty again. I hate uncertainty. It’s unfair.
A profound sadness, a deep and disturbing feeling from the past, stirred in Carol. She felt helpless, without any control of the situation. Tears filled her eyes. Nick had come up beside her without saying anything. He saw the tears in her eyes but didn’t comment. He just put his hand over hers for a moment and then removed it.
“Troy was becoming a good friend,” Carol said
, starting to hide what she was really feeling. All of a sudden her need to share her true emotions overcame her normal protection mechanisms. She looked down at the water. “But that’s not really why I’m upset just now. I’m crying because of the uncertainty. I can’t stand not knowing.” Carol paused and wiped her eyes.
Nick was quiet. He did not understand exactly what she was saying, but he sensed that something special was about to happen between them. The gentle waves lapped against the side of the boat. “It reminds me of my childhood, right after my father left,” she continued softly. “I kept believing that he would be coming back. All three of us, Richie, my mom, and I, would tell each other that it was just a temporary separation, that someday he would walk through the door and say ‘I’m home.’ At night I would lie in my bed and listen for the sound of his car in the driveway.”
The tears were flowing now, big drops cascading down her cheeks and falling into the vast ocean. “When he would come to pick us up for dinner, or on a Saturday, I would help Mom fix herself up, choose her clothes for her, brush her hair.” Carol choked up for a moment. “After I hugged him at the door, I would always take him to Mother and say, ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’
“For six months this went on. I never knew what I was going to feel from day to day. The uncertainty destroyed me, made me sick. I begged my father to give my mom one more chance. Richie even suggested that he could buy the house next door if he and Mother couldn’t get along. So we could at least all be close together.” Carol smiled grimly and took a huge breath.
“Then my father took my mother to San Francisco for the weekend. I was so excited. For thirty-six hours my heart soared, my future was assured. I was the happiest ten-year-old girl in the San Fernando Valley. But when they came home un Sunday night my mother was very drunk. Her eyes were swollen, her mascara was running, she was a mess. She marched right past Richie and me and went to her room. My dad, Richie, and I stood in the living room, all hugging, and wept together. In that instant I knew it was all over.”
Carol was calming down now but the tears were still there. She looked at Nick, her eyes entreating. “It would have been so much easier if I could have cried one time and been done with it. But no. There was uncertainty, so there was still hope. So every day, every goddamn day, my little heart was broken again.” Carol wiped her eyes one more time. Then she looked out at the ocean and shouted with all her might, “I want to know now, or at least soon, what happened to Troy! Don’t make me wait forever. I can’t take it.”
She turned to Nick. He opened his arms. Without a word she put the side of her face against his chest. He closed his arms around her.
6
NICK reached above the door to Troy’s duplex and found the key on the ledge. He knocked on the door again and opened it cautiously. “Hello,” he called out, “is anybody there?”
Carol followed him into the living room. “I didn’t know you two were such close friends,” she said, after she glanced with amusement at Troy’s motley collection of furniture. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone where I keep my key.”
What Nick was looking for was not in the living room. He walked down the hallway, past the large bedroom with its storehouse of equipment, and into the smaller bedroom where Troy slept. “Actually,” Nick yelled at Carol, who had stopped behind him in the hall opposite the first bedroom and was gawking at the jumble of electronics filling every conceivable cranny, “it was only yesterday that I came over here for the first time. So I don’t really know where . . . oh, good, I think I’ve found something.” He picked up a sheet of computer printout that was underneath a paperweight on the end table beside Troy’s bed. It was dated January 15, 1994, and contained about twenty names, addresses, and phone numbers.
Nick met Carol in the hallway. He read quickly through the page and showed it to her. “There’s not much here. Phone numbers and addresses for electronics and software supply houses. A bunch of numbers for Angie Leatherwood, probably while she was still on tour.” He pointed at one entry. “This must be his mother, Kathryn Jefferson, in Coral Gables, Florida. But there’s no phone number listed with the address.”
Carol took the sheet from Nick and checked it herself. “I never heard him mention anyone but Angie, his mother, and his brother Jamie. No other friends or family. And I somehow have the impression that he hasn’t seen much of his mother recently. Did you ever hear him say anything about any other family?”
“No,” Nick replied. They had wandered together into the game room and Nick was idly turning knobs and switches as he walked past the arrays of equipment. He stopped and thought for a moment. “So that means Angie is the one. We’ll tell her right away and then wait — ”
Carol and Nick both froze as they distinctly heard the front door open and close. After about a second, Nick called out in a loud but uncertain voice, “Hello, whoever it is, we’re back here in the bedroom.” There was no answer. They could hear soft footsteps in the hallway. Nick instinctively moved over to protect Carol. A moment later Troy came around the corner and into the room.
“Well, well,” he said, grinning broadly, “as I live and breathe. I have found a pair of burglars in my home.”
Carol ran up to Troy and threw her arms around his neck. “Troy,” she said, her comments coming in quick staccato bursts, “is it ever good to see you. Where have you been? You scared the shit out of us. We thought you were dead.”
Troy returned Carol’s hug and winked at Nick. “My, my. Such a reception. I should have vanished before.” He extended a hand to shake the one that Nick was offering him. For a moment his face became serious. “On second thought, one experience like that is definitely enough.”
Carol backed away and Troy saw the computer sheet in her hand. “We were going to try to notify your family . . .” she started. Troy reached out to take the page and Carol noticed a bracelet on Troy’s right wrist that she had never seen before. It was wide, almost an inch and a half, and looked as if its twenty or so links had been made from flattened gold nuggets. “Where did you get this?” Carol asked, holding his wrist up so that she could see the bracelet more clearly.
Nick was unable to restrain himself any longer. Before Troy could answer Carol’s question, he jumped into the conversation. “According to Carol,” he said, “you were last seen disappearing down a corridor in an underwater laboratory. With a six-foot amoeba in hot pursuit. How the hell did you escape? We searched all over the area . . .”
Troy held up his hands. He was enjoying being the center of attention. “Friends, friends. Wait a minute, will you? I will tell you the story as soon as I take care of the necessities of life.” He turned and walked into the bathroom. Nick and Carol heard a familiar sound. “Get some beer out of the refrigerator and go into the living room,” Troy shouted from behind the closed door. “We might as well enjoy this part of it.”
Two minutes later Nick and Carol were sitting together on the large couch in the living room. Troy plopped into the chair opposite them just as Nick took a huge swig from his beer. “Once upon a time,” Troy began with a mischievous grin, “there was a young black named Troy Jefferson, who, while diving with his friends, vanished for almost two hours in a strange building underneath the ocean. When he emerged from his underwater adventure, he was rescued by divers from the United States Navy, who just happened to be in the area at the time. Soon thereafter young Troy was flown in a military helicopter back to Key West. There he was interrogated at length about why he was swimming in the Gulf of Mexico, all by himself, ten miles from the nearest island. An hour later he was released without anyone believing any part of his story.” Troy looked back and forth from Nick to Carol. “Of course,” he added, now more serious, “I didn’t tell them anything that really happened. There’s no way they would have believed the truth.”
Carol was leaning forward on the couch. “So the Navy picked you up. Just after we left.” She turned to Nick. “They must have been following us for some reason.” The missile mus
t have been there after all, she thought to herself. But where did it go? Did the Navy find it? And how are they involved with this crazy laboratory? Nothing makes sense . . .
“We spent over an hour looking for you.” Nick was saying. He was feeling remorseful because they had abandoned the search for Troy so quickly. “It didn’t occur to me that you might still be down in that place, whatever it was, and of course we couldn’t hang around forever. All of our electronics were zapped by this funny carpet thing that came out of the sea. So we lost all nav — ” He stopped in mid-sentence and looked at Troy. “I’m sorry, friend.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Troy replied with a shrug, “I would have done the same thing. At least I now know that you have met one of the bizarre characters in my story. You didn’t, by any chance, also meet one of the wardens did you? Great big globs of clear jelly, amoebalike, with little boxes in the middle and removable rods hanging out all over the top?”
Nick shook his head. “Warden?” Carol asked quickly, her brow knitted. “Why do you call that thing a warden?”
Warden, sentinel, whatever,” Troy answered. “They told me the warden things protect the principal cargo of the ship.” Troy stared into the blank gazes of his friends. “Which leads me back to the first question,” he continued. “They gave me this bracelet. It is some kind of two-way communications device. I couldn’t begin to explain how it works, but I know that they are listening and watching as well as transmitting messages to me. Only a few of which I understand.”
Carol was starting to feel overwhelmed again. In her mind this already complex situation had added a new dimension. Hundreds of questions were crowding into her brain and she could not decide which one to ask first.