Ghost Writer(24)

I sang, “Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme. Come lift up your voices in chorus with mine.”

A rich baritone voice joined me.

“Come lift up your voices, all grief to refrain, for we may or might never all meet here again.”

“Chief Gravell?”

“Yes, Madame Kirby.”

I thought so, but it was a bit—no very— unexpected. “Chief Gravell, you haven't just undermined your credibility for my sake, have you?”

He laughed, low and throaty. “No, Madame Kirby, my credibility is still intact. It's a well-known fact that all sailors sing. Besides, that’s a sea shanty. I’m curious how you know it.”

“I learned the song listening to one of my son’s video games.”



The emergency light was a faint red glow. Otherwise, the room was black. However, it no longer felt like the dark and cold was closing in on me. I no longer saw nor sought the ghosts of the past. Maybe they were waiting for me but, for now, I was doing my best to stay connected to the living.

I worked my way through my repertoire which ran the gamut from the old jazz standards my mother loved, through the classic rock and roll my father enjoyed, to the more singable pop songs my son listened to repeatedly. Gravell sang along to the jazz and rock standards. I also wracked my brain for sea shanties and French folk songs he might know. I had no idea how much time had passed since the explosion. Judging by my voice, I had been down there a hundred years.

“What other songs do you know?” I croaked.

There was a pause. For a moment I feared that I had been cut off again.

“I regret, Madame Kirby, that is a question I will have to answer another time. The doctor wants to talk to you again.”

Dr. Stern asked me the familiar questions, making sure I still knew who and where I was. When he was done, I countered with my own question.

“So, do I still have all my marbles?”

“You seem to have a full set. Just remember, there's plenty of air trapped in there with you. Cold is your worst enemy. Try not to fall asleep. Keep moving.”

Yeah right, I thought. As I discovered the hard way, the water was deeper. It came half way up to my knees. Even so, I got up and sloshed around. It did help. Maybe Doc did know best.

Then I heard the captain's voice again. “I'm sorry to have left you so long. You'll be happy to know my time was well spent.”

There was a moment of silence, perhaps another consultation. Then the captain continued. “Normally we would either send a diving bell down to extract you or try to raise the station using the salvage balloons still attached. I won't go into technical details. Neither option is feasible at the moment. So, we've sent divers down with rescue gear to get you. They're on their way now and will enter via the breach in engineering.”

“Okay,” I said, although I suspected that the situation was anything but.

“Brace yourself. There might be a shudder when they blow the hatch in engineering. and another when they enter the galley. I'll let you know when they get close. Meanwhile, stay clear of the hatch and be prepared to move quickly when they reach you.”

There was a slight pause. “It's unlikely that we will be able to retrieve Petty Officer Parker's body, so, Captain Tinsdale asks if you would bring his camera with you.”

“The whole camera or just the memory-card?”

There was a short pause. “The card will do. And his dog tags, if you can find them. They’ll probably be in a pocket.”

I told him that I had both.

“There should be two tags.”

“I know. One goes in his mouth. I did that too.”

I am a treasure trove of trivia. Sometimes it comes in handy.

“Just leaving it on his person would have been sufficient.”

And sometimes my trivia is out of date.

The captain picked up an earlier conversation about favourite authors. While we compared Zane Grey to Louis L'Amour and debated the relative merits of thrillers versus mysteries, I listened for the first explosion. When it came, I didn’t hear it so much as felt it.

“Okay, Ms. Kirby. They're ready to come through. We won't be able to talk for a while. Regardless, I want you to keep the line open as long as possible so I can hear you…Good luck.”

“Thank you, Captain. For everything.”

Pause.

“It has been my pleasure. Stand by.”

Patting my pockets and collection satchel to ensure everything was in place, I slid off the counter into icy water and braced myself. Good job I did. If I hadn’t been holding onto the counter, I would have been knocked off my feet by the explosion. Instead, it was the rushing water that made me fall.

Once I got my feet under me, I had to fight the flow and the inclination of the deck to get to the hatch. No doubt it was my imagination, but I felt as though hands pushed me from behind. Then, real and solid hands grasped my outstretched arms and pulled me into the firm grasp of two divers: one tall and slender; one shorter and square. A diving mask was pushed over my face. It was linked to a spare tank on the taller one's back.

Clean air. Until then, I hadn't realized how stale the air had become in the hours since I was trapped. The compressed air was an elixir, keeping me on my feet when I felt ready to collapse.

The water stopped rushing, but it continued to rise as we proceeded through the gloom. For a moment, in the living area, I thought I saw the man on the bunk get up and walk toward me. I blinked and the vision was gone. We passed the steps that led to Command and Control and cut through the auxiliary control room to the hatch that led to engineering.