Suddenly there was a thunderous rumbling sound below as a great spreading swell of bubbles carpeted the sea. Then the depths gave up a clutter of debris containing shattered pieces of wood, slicks of oil, and bits of torn cloth. It was the final end of Kanoli; the final end of the Pacific Vortex.
Pitt looked for Summer, desperately searching each wave crest. But there was no sign of her flaming red hair. He shouted her name. But his only answer came from the distant rumble on the seafloor. Burying his head in the water, he dove back to find her. But his body would not respond-it had long reached its limits of endurance. Somewhere in the watery distance he thought he heard the distorted sounds of voices and he feebly fought to regain the surface.
A monstrous fish, that’s the only description his numbed brain could offer, a monstrous black fish rose up from the sea and towered above his head, threatening to devour what was left of him. Pitt didn’t care; he was ready. The sea had offered him someone to love, only to steal her back within its depths.
Then something caught his arm and gripped firm. Nearly insensible with exhaustion, he looked up. A maze of blurred faces came down from the monstrous black fish, gently lifting his nude and badly injured body and wrapping him in a blanket. One of the faces detached itself from the rest and leaned closely over Pitt.
“Christ!” Crowhaven said in awe, “What’s happened to you?”
Pitt tried to talk, but he choked and coughed instead, spitting up saltwater and vomit on the white blanket Hoarsely he whispered “You...the Starbuck ... you raised her?”
“The Crowhaven luck,” he said patiently. “The Monitors missile exploded on the opposite side of the seamount so we were partially shielded from the main force of the underwater shock waves. The concussion was just enougjh to pop the bottom suction and up we came. The Navy won’t take too kindly to what I’ve done to their submarine though. The starboard prop is sheared off and the port prop looks like a sick pretzel.”
Pitt leaned his head up. Giordino and Adrian were also on board, similarly encased in the heavy white woolen U.S. Navy blankets. One of the seamen was attending to Giordino’s hand. “A girl... there’s another girl out there.”
Crowhaven hovered over Pitt. “Rest easy, Major. If she’s out there, we’ll find her.”
Pitt coughed again and fell back. He felt drained and shrunken. His mind was empty, surrounded by a creeping cover of black mist.
Crowhaven’s men searched endlessly, but no trace of Summer was ever found. The mysteries of Kanoli were buried forever.
The tide of Kaena Point was coming in; the surf swept the sands just before it touched the feet of the overlooking bluffs. As each wave receded, the clear, tide-washed sand reappeared while tiny sand crabs burrowed new holes in the firmly packed grains.
Pitt stood on the bluffs of Kaena Point and watched the restless waters. He stood for a very long time, even after the tide reached high water and started to ebb. This is where it all began, he thought. And, for him, this is where it would end. Yet there were some things, he knew, that stay with a man until his heart hits the last rhythmic beat.
An albatross lazily circled overhead in ever-widening arcs. Then, as if sensing danger, it broke and winged away toward the north. Pitt studied the great white and black feathered bird until it became a small winged speck, finally vanishing in the flat blue sky.
The fragrance from the wisp of plumeria in his hand pierced his nostrils; from somewhere beyond the horizon a soft voice seemed to say: “A ka makani hema pa.” The words were carried on the light breeze that drifted in from the ocean.
Pitt listened intently but heard no more. He stared at the bouquet for a moment and then cast it into the sea, watching as the surf rolled over the white blossoms, scattering them in the foaming sand.
As he turned away from the shoreline, Pitt sensed a vast feeling of relief. He began to whistle as his AC Cobra leaped down the winding dirt road, leaving a thin vapor of dust to slowly settle over the empty beach.
Clive Cussler, Pacific Vortex
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends