Harvest, Quietus #1 (2 page)

What the hell?

I'm surprised as I draw up behind a
black Land Rover Discovery. I didn't expect anyone else to be here.
This sinkhole is well hidden and little known. And that was one of
the main reasons I'd chosen it.

“Dammit...” I say to myself. I'm not
happy about sharing the sink space with others, although I do
appreciate it's not my personal property and there's not much I can
do about it.

I take a good look at the guy and
young girl who are in the process of unloading their car. Their air
tanks are already lying on the ground and they stop rummaging
inside the trunk and turn to face me as I arrive behind
them.

The guy is looking at me warily. A
little guiltily, maybe? I wonder why...

I switch off the engine, and with a
long sigh of irritation, I open the door.

I don't want to
converse
—
with
anyone
—
but now it
seems I've got to.

I know I'm a real misery guts, but I
have good reason. That's what I tell myself anyway.

As I swing my legs out of
my battered Chevy Tahoe, I'm feeling
especially
anti-social today.
It might be hormonally induced.

Well. Here goes. I shall
try to be very brief and pleasant.

They both watch me as I approach, my
footsteps crunching on the light gravel of the track.

“Hi there,” he says, smiling at me
broadly. As I close in, I take in the brooding good looks
instantly. But they have no positive effect on me. Not even a
flutter of interest ruffles my female psyche. I'm immune. Inured.
Deadened to every male of the species. Since Joe and I split, six
months ago, I've not been interested in men. In truth it wasn't
just Joe, Ronnie, the boyfriend before him, was just as bad, and he
hurt me badly...but Joe... he was the one who broke my
heart.

Broken? No... smashed to
pieces... Crushed and ruined... Scattered to the far reaches of the
universe... that's how betrayed, lost and alone I really
felt.

I know I'm wallowing in self pity, but
I just can't stop myself from doing it. Over and over and
over.

Shit...

His image flashes through
my mind, yet again
—
despite everything. I'd loved him with every breath in my
body.... he had the most gorgeous blue eyes I've ever seen... a
voice like smooth velvet and looks that men would sell their soul
for...

Goddammit girl, are you a
masochist or what?

I stop myself thinking about him. He
has absolutely no right to space in my thoughts anymore.

“Going down?” I ask, without a
returning smile. It's the best I can do in terms of gracious
hellos.

“Yeah, w
e are,” he
replies, staring with the usual curiosity at my face. I know what
he's thinking. Everyone does. I get double takes wherever I go. I
usually wear glasses, not that I need them, but it helps hide the
resemblance. I'm a dead ringer for Mila Kunis. Facially anyway. The
rest of me is nothing like her. I'm not similarly endowed with her
feminine curves. I've a very slim build. Way too skinny,
“...
a body like a starved
whippet...
” so Lucy keeps telling me. But
I can't help it if I've got a fast metabolism. I certainly eat
enough.

“D'y
ou have permission to
dive here? This is private land, you know?” I point out, trying not
to sound too pompous and snappy, but failing dismally.

“Really
?” he answers
cautiously, obviously unsure as to who I am and my authority. He
has every reason to be wary of me.

“Surely you must know that
, I guess you've dived more than a few times before,” I say,
tipping my head pointedly at the tanks and specialist scuba
equipment in the trunk. Someone with that kind of gear has a lot of
expertise in the caves. Whatever he's saying, he knows this is a
private sinkhole. “I was hoping to be alone,” I continue, “I'm
videoing and cataloging the tertiary rock systems in this area.
It's a scientific, exploratory dive. ”

“Oh, I see...
are you
doing a thesis or dissertation?” he asks pleasantly, his face
registering interest. But for some reason his question irks
me.

I'm twenty six and a
doctor of science, not a student for crissakes.

But of course, he wouldn't know that.
I am quite youthful looking and he was simply asking a logical
question. I bite my tongue trying to sound pleasant in
return.

“No, I'm a qualified geo-ecologist.
I'm working.”

“Oh, well that's a cool
job, I guess.”

He doesn't know what my job entails.
And I wouldn't expect him to. My role is a mixture of two
disciplines. I primarily study Earth sciences and secondarily how
the Earth influences and interacts, ecologically, with the living
world. I tend to concentrate on the underwater parts of the Earth.
That's my niche. Or to be more precise, and truthful, my great love
and obsession.

“It has its rewards,” I reply
shortly.

“Done a lot of cave diving, have you?”
he probes.

“A great deal. All round the
world
. My job takes me everywhere. But I'm
concentrating on Florida this year.”

As I've now hinted, very strongly, I'm
not the landowner, he decides to come clean with me.

“Look, it's my sister's first cave
dive. I have a diving license but she doesn't. We don't have
permission to dive here, but it'll be brief and we'll stay well out
of your way...Miss....err?”

“It's doctor,” I explain, folding my arms. I
ran my Ph.D. concurrently with my masters and made it out of
university at twenty three. “Dr.
Johnson...and
you are...?”

“James Richardson,” he replies. He
doesn't hold out his hand, but folds his arms in response to
mine.

“So tell me, are you a professional
diver, or just a weekend thrill seeker?”

He ignores my jibe, remaining calm and
pleasant. I'm not sure why, he has no reason to be nice to
me.

“I'm a hedge fund manager
from Miami. Cave diving's one of my hobbies. And although I do
enjoy the thrill of the dive, I also find it very relaxing. I'm
sure you can appreciate that.” He produces the most charming
grin
—
which I'm
sure would melt any woman's heart on the spot. Except mine, because
I have a lot of other things going on inside me, of a far more
negative nature.

No way...? A goddamn hedge
fund manager...!

Joe managed a hedge fund. They could
possibly know each other...

I offer not a glimmer of a smile in
return. My eyes narrow as I assess him coldly, in fact my gaze is
bordering hostile. And I can't help it. Not only do I not like men
much, particularly the good looking ones, I really do not like what
this one does for a living or the fact he's a cave-diving,
eco-disturbing tourist. He isn't ticking any of my
boxes.

I automatically huff a long drawn out
sigh, which goes some way to releasing my pent up inner
tension.

As a distraction, I move my focus to
his sister. She looks nice enough. Sweet and pretty. Quite young,
I'd place her at fifteen or sixteen years of age.

“I suppose it's as good a place as any
for a first dive.” I manage a barely perceptible smile at her,
raising my frosty countenance from zero to one degree of warmth.
“Make sure you tie your hair back, it's a major diving
hazard.”

“Yeah, James told me already,” she
replies, producing a couple of hair bands from her
wrist.”

“Did he really? Well... what d'you know?” I
say with a distinctly sarcastic tone.

What's got into me? That was so rude of
me.

I guess it's the 'hedge fund' antagonizing
my brain.

“I know a lot of things, some of which
may surprise you,” he replies with a sharp edge to his voice. The
set of his features and the flare of anger in his eyes as he glares
at me, tells me I've got to him. I feel mean and embarrassed by
myself, as he's done nothing to me personally. I really wish I
could get over Joe. He shouldn't be affecting my life like this. I
used to be a pleasant and warm person to know, but now I'm bitter
and snappy and very unapproachable. I don't like who I've become.
This isn't the real me and I'm scared because I've no idea how to
get the real me back.

My stomach churns and I don't quite
know how to handle the situation from here. My social skills have
left me stranded. I respond in the best way I can think of, by
running away as soon as possible.

“I'm sure they would. Look, I'd better get
on. I have a long process ahead. P
lease excuse
me,” I announce coolly and politely, ending our hard-going
conversation.

I turn and march off, to the rear of
my car, full of earthly righteousness and a good dose of
self-importance. And in truth I do have an important job to do. The
small eco-communities surviving in these isolated and
self-sufficient caves are so precious, and dependent on minimal
human intervention. And although I'm very aware I'm human and
intervening, it is purely on the basis of research and
conservation. Not for fun, or to be daring or taking pretty
photographs to brag about and send to my friends

I hear the sister whisper
something and she giggles, and he replies with a louder laugh. No
doubt they're making fun of me, but I guess I deserve it. And
basically, it doesn't matter what they think, they're just passing
through my day. I just wish they weren't here
this
particular day.

The two of them busy themselves with
transporting the equipment to the near side of the pond.

I carry my tanks round to the opposite
beach side, studiously ignoring them. The air tanks weigh quite a
lot, but I make light work of it. I might look so slender that I'd
snap in a gentle wind, I muse humorously, but I'm strong as a ox
and very fit.

As I stand on the beach, I notice he's
watching me, sneaking a few quick looks, out of the corner of his
eye, as I strip down to my black speedo swimsuit and drag on my wet
suit. I really don't mind him looking, because there's not much of
me to see. I'm fast, suiting up with the speed of a surfing pro.
Then I put on my fins, slip my arms into the tank pack and position
my mask. Picking up my underwater camera, and switching on the mask
lamp, I'm ready. Without a word or a look in their direction, I
wade and then plough head first into the water, disappearing from
their view beneath the algae covered surface of the sink. I'm
guessing I have ten minutes until they join me and I'm making the
most of my small window of solitude.

Kicking down, the rapidly increasing
coolness of the water floods my mind with calm. As soon as I enter
this world I start to chill and relax. I understand completely what
James means, when he explained how he relaxed in the caves. Nothing
can be done quickly, as the resistance and temperature of the water
makes actions slow and precise. You have time to think about what
you do. It is one of the things I like most about diving. The
enforced slow pace. I swim down, to a depth of twenty feet or so,
to the bottom of the pond and into the canyon like fissure spanning
it. According to the cave statistics file I read earlier, this
canyon is five feet wide and forty feet long. I pass short depths
of a good seventy odd foot, looking down into clear water with a
cobalt hue. I sweep my strong headlight from side to side, hoping
to see living things. But very little appears to be living in the
higher part of the descent. A tiny shrimp, and some micro organisms
here and there, but no more. I know that this sink can often run
dry, almost to the bottom, even in times of light drought, and this
can affect dependent life forms which migrate to a lower depth
permanently to avoid the changes in water level.

I look around for and find the pale
orange guideline, as described in the guide file, lain down and
left, by some unnamed exploratory diver in the past. It isn't
necessary for me to use a guideline, but the canyon is wider in
some parts than others and the line lays in a straight line, down
the middle, making the descent easier, quicker and smoother and I
want to get down there, as fast as I can. I enter the center of the
fissure and start the descent proper. Every so often I stop, to
adjust the air mixture I'm breathing, with the increasing depth and
pressure, and to allow a few moments for my body to acclimatize. My
mind is open, ready to absorb the unknown in my exploration of this
underwater world. I've never been here before and so far, even on
the approach route to the cave chamber, its dark and hidden natural
beauty has already captured my heart.

How I love the inky blackness
surrounding me. It's comforting despite the growing cold. The
darkness hides this part of the world away, keeping it a wonderful
secret from humanity. From most of humanity, anyway.

I follow the guideline down to a depth
of one hundred and fifty feet to where it opens into the shallow
side end of a very large chamber.

Oh how
wonderful...

My face breaks into a wide smile, and
my heart responds with pleasure. Actually it's beyond beautiful. My
headlamp is aimed up at the roof of the cave. I sweep it down
through the gin-clear water into the pitch blackness below. It's a
deep cave, some parts are mapped at two hundred and fifty feet. But
although deep, there are no human sized exits or lead off channels
in here. No chance to get lost. That's always a fear with divers.
That they'll become disorientated, in the channels and
run-throughs, and get lost and run out of air. Most dive in pairs
if they plan to explore beyond the usual boundaries. The sensible
ones, anyway. And so do I, normally. But my dive partner, Lucy, is
at a wedding in Vegas for a few days, and there are only three or
four safe caves I can do solo.