The autumn chill descended over the town and with it came rot and ruin. October’s breath plays in the streets. Dense blanket of fog keep the Sun at bay. Breezes swirl but lift nothing but a few leaves. The stiffling scent of certainly wasn’t moving away.
The Almira dogs stop their incessant howling. Sounds fail as silence takes a bite from the hustle and bustle of Suburbia. Wood creaks,slightly muffed like under a rug. Two mutts slowly back away from the fence made of chicken wire and old beams. Wood crumbles. Wire rusts through instantly. Tentatively they take their last steps.
Trees sway above. The fog moves a little further. The stench lingers. Upon the next house, another life falls.
“Another drink. .. yeah. God, this waiting thing. It’ll kill me. .. A third drink ain’t too much, is it.” Lyne states at her reflection upon the window. “I’ll be more relaxed. I’ll more more fun. Oh God, when did I think blue eye shadow… He should have been here already! I’ll just go back to that other dress.”
She looks down out here window again.
“I’ll go with a shorter heel. More flash on necklace. He won’t be late next time. If He could just see me as who I should have been…
Where’s my drink.”
He took a deep breathe. Inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, each time a little bit slower, a little bit longer. He closed his eyes and repeated the breathing. He could feel his heart rate slow down. Slowly he put the mask on and then he emerged into the world he felt so at ease with. He would be one with the ocean once again, diving for minutes without any air. Usually he was down here to enjoy. To become one with this amazing world. This time was different. A lot was at stake. He had to succeed. The consequences would be too huge to handle otherwise.
There were shimmers and sparkles all across the sea floor. White sand brushed over black rock. Old corals held on to the arms and fans tenuously. Somewhere there was a gold bracelet, quahog shell carved and inlaid with opal. It had be above water for a hundred fifty years. Why it made the boat trip, that’s not important anymore.
Fifteen to twenty feet isn’t deep until you lose something. The currents gently tug. Pulling flotsam and jetsam through the area. A few arm sized parrot fish swim by, and circle. Tiny silver fish rise up toward the surface. One man seems to swirl, turned by an unseen hand. A few bubbles rise from him. Then he ascends toward the boat. The diving platform stretches toward him.
Jessica stares down. Silent. Eyes drawn toward his empty hands. A tear forms. As if not sure where to fall, it hangs at the edge of her right eye. She has no voice. She has no emotion. Her stare says it all.
Samuel knows he’s going back down. But the need to hold an extra breath, kept him at the surface. He was half disappointed. Half angry. She should have never jumped in the water with it. A family heirloom. A remote island. The chances faded with each dive.
Again he dropped below the surface. Maybe this time the current will tumble it into view.