layers of colder water that crept up and enveloped you unexpectedly as you descended, and the awareness of the sea pressure slowly growing against you. Breathing was just a little tougher, and the sense of being a part of the ocean was greater down there since you tended to look down more than up, and the surface was much further away.

They reached the bottom, a patch of soft, creamy white sand that had a few sparse stalks of seaweed poking up through it. Dar checked her dive computer, then motioned Kerry to follow her and started off.

Kerry obliged, staying to one side, out of the draft of Dar’s fins.

Her partner’s leg kicks were a little slower than her own, but more powerful, and Kerry put some effort into keeping up against the 36 Melissa Good light current. They approached a rock escarpment, and as they did, Dar half turned and made a motion near her mask, as though she were snapping a picture. Understanding that a photo op was about to be encountered, Kerry unclipped her camera and adjusted it, then swam after Dar as they crested the escarpment and could look over it.

Wow. Kerry’s eyes widened and she quickly focused on the scene. Forty feet below them was a valley of white sand, and half buried in the sand were the reef-encrusted remains of an old wooden ship. The visibility was incredible, even at this distance, and she kept snapping as they descended toward it.

Schools of fish darted amongst what was left of half broken spars, and one entire side of the front of the ship was gone, leaving a huge hole big enough to admit the largest of the fish swimming around it. Kerry clipped her camera to her vest and just enjoyed the moment, stretching out her arms and releasing some of her buoyancy. She fell through the water in a glide very much like slow motion flying, twisting her body to change angles as she approached the wreck.

Bits of the ship were strewn across the bottom, where they’d scattered when she went down or in the storms afterward. Kerry spotted lumps of metal and she swam over to investigate, reaching out with a gloved hand to touch metal links half the length of her arm. Anchor chain, she realized.

She left the chain and headed toward the tilted, coral-encrusted deck, surprising a school of grouper that scattered when she drifted over them. A grumpy looking barracuda remained, however, glaring at her from between a hatch and a piece of collapsed spar.

Kerry slowly lifted her camera and drifted down to eye level with the denizen of the deep, focusing on the fish’s intimidating jaw. She snapped the shutter, then moved away, watching the ’cuda watch her as she entered a school of angel fish.

They poured over her and she rotated onto her back, looking up at them outlined against the surface like a far off mirror above her. Then she inhaled in surprise as a small squid jetted by, almost within her grasp, its tentacles trailing behind it and brushing her arm.

This sensation of floating in an alien world was still so amazing to her, even after a year. She twisted and looked around, finding Dar floating nearby, her hands clasped on her stomach and her fins crossed as she watched. Kerry grinned and gave her a thumbs up.

Dar grinned back, then pointed toward the hole in the side of the ship and raised her eyebrows in question, visible even over her mask.

Ah! A new adventure. Kerry nodded, following readily as Dar, her underwater lamp clasped in one hand, led the way toward the Terrors of the High Seas 37

interior of the boat. As they reached it, Dar turned on the light and edged inside, carefully examining the space before she proceeded, motioning Kerry after her.

Before she followed Dar inside the ship, Kerry did a quick check of her BC to make sure all her hoses were tucked into their holders and nothing was dangling. She pulled out her own light and turned it on, illuminating a ghostly world of algae-incrusted wood. The structure inside was heavily damaged, but her imagination was able to fill in the missing pieces.

She could envision the sailors who’d lived there, and the cargo they carried across the warm basin of the Caribbean. Long ago, this ship had held dreams. Now all that remained were ghosts, and the flash of odd eyes as her flashlight skimmed over the interior. For a fleeting moment, the thought occurred to her that the eyes belonged to those lost souls who went down with the ship, still there after all these years. Then a lobster scuttled by her, waving its claws menacingly, and Kerry jumped, almost cracking her head against the wood above her. Okay, she told her imagination sternly, save it for topside. With a shake of her head, she drifted down toward the bottom of the hold. Tiny fish swirled around her curiously and as her light reflected off something unidentifiable, she peered closer.

Dar approached, lifting her dive computer and displaying the time they had remaining. Kerry nodded, then pointed with her light, catching the flash again. They both swam closer, peering under the collapsed ribs and time deteriorated cases piled on the bottom, resting against what had once been the side of the ship.

Dar tried to edge closer on one side, but her bulk kept her from getting any nearer. Frowning, she motioned Kerry over, but even Kerry’s smaller form was too wide to fit through with her tank on.

Dar considered a moment, then she turned Kerry around and unclasped her tank from her BC, holding it in one hand and moving it to one side.

Kerry grasped the spar and pulled herself down, now just able to get between the wood and the side of the ship. She could see the shining something, and as she squiggled closer and her motion brushed a collection of algae off it, it resolved itself into a flat surface. She felt Dar’s hand on her hip in a reassuring pat, and she edged a little further, now able to put her hand on whatever it was.

She just about panicked when an eel suddenly erupted from around the object, squirming right past her neck toward Dar and giving her a lash with its tail on the way out. A muffled burst of noise came from Kerry’s throat, sending a stream of bubbles upward, but after a jerk behind her as Dar got out of the eel’s way, the comforting pat returned.

Jesus. Kerry flexed her hand and reached a little further, getting her fingers around the surface and tugging. It resisted her pull but 38 Melissa Good she persisted, and with the faintest crackling as she freed it from the growing coral, it came loose and she brought it closer to her mask.

It was a box. The shine had been the hammered metal insignia which covered it, though corrosion had mostly obscured the design.

Kerry started backwards, glad for the grip on her belt that was guiding her out of the tight spot. Dar peered over her shoulder as she reattached Kerry’s tank, and they both gazed curiously at her find.

A buried treasure. Kerry blinked delightedly. Even if it was, as it appeared to be, just an old box, still—the box held history, and it fascinated her. She clutched it tightly as they made their way out of the hold and into the open sea, which seemed brilliantly lit by sunlight now that they were out of the darkness of the ship.

Dar gave her a big thumbs up and Kerry returned it, grinning around her regulator. They leisurely made their way back to the anchor line, carried now by the drift current going in the opposite direction. Kerry tucked her treasure away in her BC pocket as she gripped the line, ready to just watch the show around her as they slowly made their way out of one world, and back to their own.

”WHOO.” KERRY RUFFLED her hair dry with a towel and padded across the deck. “Dar, that was awesome.”

Dar looked up from the basin, at the bottom of which rested their little prize. She studied Kerry’s face, a smile on her own responding to the honest delight she saw there. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

Kerry applied the towel to her lover’s body, drying the droplets of seawater off it. “That eel scared the poo out of me, though. Did it hit you on its way out?”

“Right in the mask, yeah.” Dar chuckled. “Bounced off me and just kept going. He was a big one.” She glanced up as the sound of far off engines disturbed the otherwise peaceful air, and watched as a small tender approached, slowing when they came even, very obviously giving them the once over.

Kerry peered over Dar’s shoulder. “What’s that all about?” she queried. “We’ve got the dive flag out. Is there a problem with that here?”

“Nah.” Dar frowned. “There’s a thousand old wrecks like this around these islands. That’s just an old island freighter. Some of the historic wrecks have no-dive zones, but not this area.”

“So what’s their problem?” The small boat circled them lazily, then after a moment, roared off.

Dar watched the small boat retreat into the distance. “Beats me.” She shrugged. “Maybe they’re not used to people using a 56


Terrors of the High Seas 39

foot Bertram as a dive platform.” She finished covering the seawater-filled water well that held the box they’d brought up.

“Let’s leave that in there until I figure out how to take it out of the water and not have it fall to bits on us.”

“Rats.” Kerry’s arms circled from behind and gave Dar a squeeze. “I wanted to open it up and see inside.” She inspected the basin. “I know it’s nothing much, just an old cigar box or something, but—”

Dar turned around and returned the hug, giving Kerry’s neck a friendly scratch. “I think we might need some oil first…to keep the wood from drying out. Tomorrow, okay?”

“Mm.” Kerry licked a few remaining drops of water off Dar’s throat. “Okay.” She released her lover, but took her hand and led her over to the cooler. “Share an iced tea with me?”

“Sure.” Dar waited while Kerry opened the bottle and took a swig, then accepted it and sucked down a mouthful herself. She swished the tea around before she swallowed it, clearing the last taste of saltwater and rubber from the dive. “All right, how about we pull up anchor and go get us some conch?”

Kerry stifled her mild amusement over the casual speech, wondering if Dar knew how much she sounded like her father sometimes. In the office, it almost never showed. There, Dar’s vocalizations—when they weren’t wall-rattling yells—were crisp and sharply professional. Only when they were alone and her lover was relaxed did her Southern upbringing tend to slip in. “Sounds great to me, Dixiecup,” Kerry teased. “I’ll go pull in the buoy.”

Dar captured her with one long arm and pinned her up against the bulkhead. “You making fun of my accent, you little Yankee?”

“Nope.” Kerry ran her hands over Dar’s still damp body. “I love your accent. I wish you’d let it out more often.”

One of Dar’s eyebrows lifted expressively.

“I so want to hear you tell Jose to ‘get yer damn ass outta mah office.’” Kerry giggled. “Yah damn little pansy assed pissant.”

Dar burst into laughter. “He’d piss in his pants.”

Kerry nodded cheerfully. “Exactly!”

Dar’s chuckles wound down, and she quieted. “It’s funny…you liking my redneck side.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “It just is. To me, anyway. I worked so hard to cover all that up,” Dar said. “I remember sitting in a management meeting once, after I’d made regional director, and listening to three of the other people there trash one of the Southern project managers.” She exhaled. “Called him a hick and a lowlife redneck.”

Kerry sighed. “They make fun of everyone, Dar.”

Dar nodded. “I know. But this was different, because it might as well have been me they were talking about, only the other guy 40 Melissa Good wasn’t bothering to pretend.” She gazed thoughtfully over Kerry’s shoulder.

“Mm.” Kerry was slowly rubbing Dar’s back, easing the tension she felt there. “What did you do?” she asked softly.

“Called them jackasses and told them to go find some class before the company had to buy it for them,” Dar admitted.

“That’s my Dar.” Kerry leaned her head against Dar’s collarbone, soft chuckles emerging from her throat.

“Yeah, well.” Dar had to smile herself. “After that, they never did say anything about rednecks in any meeting I was in.”

No. Kerry hugged her frequently curmudgeonly boss. “I bet they didn’t.” Just like no one says anything about you… in any meeting I’m in. Damn right.


Chapter

Five