Song of the Sirens (7 page)

He moved around in a lethargic, droll
manner. He walked into walls. He raised his hand and felt around until he
stumbled in half a circle and faced the front door.

He struggled to unlock the door. When he
accomplished the minor feat and pulled back the barrier, the hallway light
illuminated him in eeriness. While shadows claimed his back, light brightened
the other side. He stood away from the threshold for a few seconds before
exiting the room.

I recognized his silhouette and facial
features. Dad? What was he doing? He appeared stiff and unwilling, and stared
out as if he couldn’t decide what to do, much less what he was in the process
of doing in the first place.

He gave a slight nod and maundered out
the room without closing the door. His abnormal, heavy footsteps echoed in the
hall.

“Okay,” I mumbled, confused.

Maybe Dad couldn’t sleep, and in a
groggy state stumbled out. Where did he go? Well, if Dad couldn’t sleep, then
he could disclose the details of the big fuss.

I knew the drill. I removed the covers,
draped my legs over the side of the bed, and jumped. I slipped into my
sneakers, stepped into the hall, and closed the door behind me. The dim
corridor lacked any signs of a wandering man.

I headed to the right with short paces.
When excitement riddled my father, he didn’t eat much, and his dinner was as
plain as mine. He might head to the dining area for a snack, though the captain
made it clear the dining area was off-limits at night.

I opened the swinging door and flipped
on a switch. Hanging pots and pans banged against one another with the motion
of the ocean. A few articles left on the counter slid one way and then the
next, stopped from falling by table lips.

I gagged. The kitchen reeked of fish.

After flipping off the light switch, I
went to the adjacent room. The dining room appeared empty.

I walked to the research room and slammed
twice into the wall by the force of the waves. The storm intensified. We had to
head back to land tomorrow, even if the coast guard didn’t radio us. Dad’s
latest adventure would have to wait. When he returned, I sorely doubted I could
go back with him on his most exhilarating expedition ever. I suspected the
ocean didn’t want me, and I wouldn’t return to the sea after this trip, not
with these whispers.

I scurried around the research room,
looked under desks and in the closet. No, he wasn’t here, either.

I didn’t return to my room to fetch my
raincoat, but emerged from the stairs and stepped onto a drenched deck. I
lifted my arm to shield my eyes from massive swirls of water particles in the
air. They saturated my clothes in seconds and left me shivering in the rain.

Continually wiping my face, I glanced
around until I saw my father busy by the submarine. What was he doing? Didn’t
he know the weather was dangerous?

I walked toward him, slipping and
sliding on the slick deck. When I approached, I took note of his clothing. Dad
wore drenched pajamas—a long sleeved, black and blue pin stripped shirt, and
matching cotton pants. He never came out without a jacket or sweater, even on
blistering summer afternoons.

I lowered my eyes. Socks covered his
feet, but not shoes. He always wore shoes. Dad had a thing about acquiring
tetanus or fungus. He wore shoes in the house, even. The only time his feet
breathed were in the shower or in bed.

I raised my glance and walked to his
side. He had an absent-minded face. Dad stared off into the distance, a clouded
horizon that made everything visible rather obscure. If it weren’t for the few
lights above deck, no one would’ve been able to see past a few feet, if that.

“Dad?” I asked.

My father blinked. Only his eyelids and chest
moved. His eyes didn’t move around, but focused on something in the distance
that I couldn’t see, unless he stared at nothing in particular.

I turned my head and searched the
surface of the waters. It was pure blackness out there. Thick sheets of clouds
masked a full moon and a sky dabbed with stars.

I returned my attention to my father.
Perhaps he walked in his sleep. Sleepwalking was unusual for him considering
that he never sleepwalked before, but what else could it be?

I took a few strides and lifted a hand
and waved it in front of his face. He didn’t flinch. In fact, he ignored me and
turned away.

Well, I supposed there was a first time
for everything. The stress and excitement of his new discovery might have
gotten to him and created a subconscious act to get back to work. They said
never to awaken someone during their sleepwalking episode, but they also said a
sleepwalker could cause detrimental harm. If Dad planned on working in his sub,
I would say that was pretty harmful.

I walked around him as he continued to
turn from me. At some point, he stopped avoiding me and continued with whatever
grand illusion played in his head. He walked to the submarine, unlocked and
unlatched the door, and opened the side barrier.

I widened my eyes and placed a hand on
my father’s shoulder. Shaking him, I cried, “Dad!”

He didn’t respond. Dad was a strong man,
hardy from his days at sea and recreation on land. A nudge, a pull, even a hard
shove from me didn’t budge the six foot scientist.

When Dad stepped into the research
submarine, I panicked. He continued to ignore my outbursts, even when I shouted
for help. The rain, distant thunder, and crashing waves muffled my attempts at
retrieving help. I was afraid to leave him, afraid that he might fall into the
ocean and drown.

I held onto the side of the doorframe
when a sudden gust of wind knocked me against the side of the underwater
vessel. I slipped on the deck and smacked my knees against the wooden floor. I
grunted when my face collided against the cold sub shell.

Dad walked past me, over me, and entered
the vessel. I crawled to my feet and hurried inside after him, barely avoiding
tripping over the ropes on the floor. I stumbled to the metal chairs where my
father took a seat. He switched on lights, radars, screens, and the engine.

“Holy crap!” I yelped.

Standing behind him, I glanced over his
shoulder as the buttons lit up across the controls. Noise purred beneath us,
the floor vibrated with the engine, and a moderate flow of air emptied into the
cabin. The low hum of the engine increased as it warmed up.

“Dad!”

I leaned over the second chair and
hurried to reverse his actions. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the ship as well
as my father did, even in his sleep. I’d only been on the submarine a handful
of times, but hardly enough to study and maneuver the vessel on my own.

At my best, and yet weakest attempt, I
pressed the same buttons Dad pressed with vague hope that hitting them enough
times restarted the cycle at the “stop” level. Idiotic, illogical? Perhaps, but
I tried something, anything!

Dad stood and pushed past me, knocking
me against the back of the seat. He walked to the rear of the vessel. I
swiveled the second chair around, slipped in between the space, and dropped
down on the seat. My eyes darted over the buttons and levers. In this state of
panic, I couldn’t remember where the basic on/off switch was. Or, did such a
button even exist on a submarine? Crap, I couldn’t remember.

Even if I damaged this expensive piece
of equipment, at least it would prevent the sub from slipping into the water
and diving away.

Alarm abated only a slight fraction. I
found some sort of calm and remembered the submarine attached to hooks on a
detachable dock. Someone would have to undo the secure latches and lower the
flat, metal slab into the water. Without this second man, the sub wasn’t going
anywhere.

I sighed and stood to exit the vessel.
The unexpected drop at the nose shoved me back into the seat. I clutched the
arms and gawked at Dad, who re-entered the submarine and locked the door behind
him.

“Dad!” I pushed against the chair,
trying to get to my feet, but the angle at which the submarine dropped was too
steep. I couldn’t get up.

My father slid several feet and plopped
down in the seat adjacent to mine just as the vessel slipped off the dock.
Ropes snapped. The few remaining metal hooks clanked against the side of the
vessel.

I screeched, pivoted the chair, and
watched as water rose to the oval observation window in front of us.

Oh, lord! My worst fear edged closer to
reality. I would die in this giant, metal tomb when tons of water pressure
crushed it around us.

The dock creaked beneath unbalanced
weight. My father succeeded in unlatching the hooks, but he only lowered one
side of the dock, instead of the entire slab. We slipped nose first, which
meant we would gain momentum at this height.

I placed my hands on the control board
and pushed to prevent a face plant as we hung in suspension. This felt like a
horrifying carnival ride gone very wrong.

The last of the ropes snapped. We fell.
My gut tightened, and my lips imprisoned a cry. As the vessel hit the surface
of an angry ocean, and water gushed up and around the submarine, the upper
world quickly faded from sight.

We rocked as we fell. I hit the control
board at an awkward angle when we met the sea. My body scrunched up on the seat
as I splayed across the controls. A sharp pain in my gums indicated a tooth had
loosened.

I shrieked, attempting to gain power.
Once we submersed, I took a hold of Dad’s arm and shook with such strength that
I bruised him.

“Wake up!” I cried. The strong vibration
against dry throat muscles induced coughing. My voice cracked.

Dad casually shrugged. Without glancing
at me, he continued to dive. I knew then my father was cognizant of his
actions, though I couldn’t understand why he acted as if he were in a trance. I
couldn’t comprehend why he wouldn’t wake up, why he did this.

A growl rumbled through my throat. I
reached over my head for the radio. We had the ability of radioing the captain
or another crew member on the boat if they were in steerage.

What could they do? Did they have manual
overrides from the boat? Could they scuba dive and attach hooks to haul our
butts back up?

Yeah, who did I kid? No one could scuba
dive this far down. They wouldn’t dare think to plunge into shark infested
waters at night during a storm, either. Freaking heck, we were screwed. We were
going to die!

I turned the large, gray dial on the
control panel, and pressed down on the left button on the handheld radio to
activate. It clicked, but lacked static to verify the radio worked.

“Hello?” I asked frantically into the
radio. I released pressure and waited for a response. Nothing, not a sound, not
a peep, not even static.

“Hello?” I asked again with another press
of the button. Nothing.

“Freakin’ answer!” I yelled into the
small device in my palm.

A slight crackle slipped in between my
rants. A throb of hope traversed my gut. Maybe the captain heard. Maybe he
could get a research team member to talk me through the process to get back up.

“Ay,” a voice began at the other end. He
didn’t make it through one word before my father snatched the radio out of my
hand and literally out of its compartment above my head.

I ducked and wrapped my hands over my
head. The box hung on loose and shredded cables. I stared at the gaping, empty
space where the radio had been only a second ago. Tears stung and threatened to
fall. My throat ached. I prepared to explode with indignation and confusion.

“What the?” I began to exclaim.

Dad stuffed the radio and the cord that
went with it between his seat and the wall. He cushioned himself close against
the side. I could only retrieve the radio through a fight. Dad wouldn’t hurt
me, but he could overpower me. Right now, he wasn’t in his right frame of mind
so I didn’t know what my father was capable of accomplishing against me.

I became hot. My face felt warm with
anger, and blood rose to my brain. I was temperamental and one second away from
losing it. I never raised my voice at my father, nor cursed at him, but I
inched closer to that first time.

I opened my mouth to yell again, not
that anything seemed to pull Dad out of his bizarre state. He pushed other
buttons and pulled on a lever.

“Stop doing things!” I barked.

He ignored my cries and continued. The
vessel turned down at an almost vertical angle as we plunged deeper into the
water at faster speeds.

Dad buckled in, but I hadn’t. I flew out
of my seat and crashed against the controls, yet again. My body contorted and
squished against the cold window. My head hit the fiberglass. I cursed under my
breath at the stabbing pain in my forehead. What a sobering thought to know
this simple piece of clear wall separated me from death by drowning.

I grunted and pushed against the
controls, not caring what I pressed, and attempted to get back into the seat. I
ended up curling into a ball against the control panel. Every bare movement
resulted in scrunching into a tighter ball.