He looked at her, searching to see if the woman he once loved was there, even a small part of her. If he could find it, then he might consider staying. He knew though, as he looked into her eyes, that anything they once had was dead. Whatever was once there had fizzled away to the point that they may as well have been strangers.
‘I’m done talking about this, Amy. Sign the papers or don’t. Either way, I’m leaving in a couple of weeks. I’d hoped we could do this in a civil way with minimal fuss. I can’t do any more than that.’
‘You’re going to end up drinking yourself to death in some foreign country and nobody will know about it. You need me in your life, Tyler. You can’t function without me.’
‘Sign the papers,’ he said, gently ushering her out of the door. They looked at each other, those few seconds seeming to last a lifetime and say more than words ever could, then Tyler closed the door and felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Chapter Two
NEPTUNE’S FOLLY — five miles off the coast of Devil’s Island, Australia.
‘You’ve heard of the shark, right?’
Scott looked at his friend, smiled and then took a drink of his beer. ‘What shark?’
‘Come on, man, you must have heard of it,’ Karl said, taking a drag on the joint and handing it over.
Scott inhaled, blowing smoke into the warm air. The sun was low, an orange ball balanced on the horizon throwing out an undulating golden carpet on the water. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Karl grinned and shifted position. ‘This area we’re in now is like Australia’s answer to the Bermuda Triangle.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Scott said.
‘No, it’s true. People have known about it for years but nobody says anything because they don’t want idiots swarming over here and killing the tourist trade.’
Scott looked at his friend, assessed his skinny features, and saw there was no sign of a lie in his words. ‘Alright, I’ll humour you. Tell me about it.’
Karl took a sip of his beer and ran a hand through his blond hair. ‘Word is that there’s this area where boats go missing but nobody really knows why. Legend says there is a monster shark down there that attacks and sinks any boat that ventures into its territory.’
‘And yet here we are. Unharmed and alive,’ Scott fired back, disappointed that his friend couldn’t at least be creative. Sensing that Scott was losing interest, Karl went on.
‘It’s not just that. There’s more.’
‘There always is,’ Scott sighed.
‘No, listen. A couple of years ago, rumour has it that a drug runner was on its way to make a delivery of gold bars that had been stolen from this cartel. It was supposed to drop off in one of the little island coves here on the coast but it never arrived at the destination. Most people say the cartel found their stash and intercepted it before it could be delivered. The other story is that it strayed into the shark’s territory and it sank his boat, gold and all.’
‘That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Someone would have been down there and brought it up, shark or not.’
‘They did,’ Karl said. ‘A guy who my brother knows said he dived down there and there was gold all over the sea floor. Bars of it just waiting to be found.’
‘And still, nobody has bothered to go get it?’
Karl shook his head. ‘People are too scared. People go down there and never come back up.’
‘And this friend of yours.’
‘My brother’s friend.’
‘Yeah him. Did he come up with gold? Is he rich now?’
‘Nah, he said he got spooked. Feels like you’re being watched down there so he came back to the surface.’
‘Convenient,’ Scott said.
‘I’m telling you, there’s money to be had if you have the guts.’
The combination of bravado and alcohol took over Scott’s rationale, and he stood. ‘Alright.’
‘Alright, what?’
‘I’ve got a tank and wet suit in the galley. I’ll go take a look and see if this gold stash is down there.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Karl said, sipping his drink. Scott went below and started rummaging around in the galley. ‘Wait, you’re serious?’
Scott returned with the oxygen tank and goggles and a pair of flippers under his arm. ‘Why not? If there’s gold down there just waiting to be claimed, I’m up for it. Everyone wants to be rich, right?’
‘Yeah but… Come on, this is stupid. I was just messing with you, man.’ Karl waited for Scott to laugh it off and open another beer, then realised he had no intention of doing either. Instead, he was checking the regulator of his air tanks and slipping his feet into the diving fins. ‘You’re actually going down there?’
‘Why not? I’ve been diving for years. I’ll disprove this legend one way or the other or I’ll get rich trying. You coming?’
Karl shook his head. ‘No. I’m too drunk and so are you. Besides, it will be full dark soon.’
Scott grinned and showed Karl the underwater torch. ‘Any other objections?’
Karl shrugged. ‘Suppose not.’ He didn’t believe the legends either, not really. Part of what he had said had been with the intention of getting a rise out of his friend. He never imagined he would go through with it and actually dive down there, which itself made him nervous. There was the whole ‘what if’ scenario. What if it were true? What if the legend was based on reality? Also, what if the gold was down there? He wasn’t rich by any means and maybe if they did find gold, he could get a little bit of money, maybe a few girls and local fame to go with it all by sitting on the boat and waiting for his friend to go and have a look. It was a win-win situation for him.
Scott finished getting ready, taking a test breath on his regulator and putting the goggles over his head.
‘What the hell am I supposed to do when you’re down there?’
Scott moved to the transom and sat on it, grinning at his friend as he secured the tank on his back. ‘Just wait here for me. Oh, and keep an eye out for sharks.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Karl muttered, glancing at the ever dipping sun. ‘Hey, don’t forget this.’
Karl crossed the deck and grabbed the torch and handed it to Scott.
‘Thanks,’ he said as he attached it to his diving belt. ‘Who knows? Maybe this time tomorrow we’ll be millionaires.’
Karl could see it now in the dusk light. Shadow of uncertainty in his friend’s face.
‘Look, Scott, forget this idea. Let’s head back in, maybe go out for a few beers.’
‘Sounds good. After I’ve checked.’
Karl opened his mouth to say more but knew there was little point. Scott put his eye mask on, put his regulator into his mouth then gave the thumbs up. Karl watched as he fell backwards over the side and disappeared into the black depths of the ocean.
It was like an alien world. No matter how many times he dived, Scott always felt a sense of wonder and amazement at being alone in the ocean. Even with dark approaching, the clear waters allowed him to see better than he could have hoped. Fish darted in front of his torch beam, every conceivable species and colour. He angled towards the bottom, enjoying his surroundings. A glorious coral reef undulated with the currents. As he swept his torch beam, he was treated to more spectacular sights as he made his way deeper, the only sound to break the silence the rhythm of his breath and the bubbles ejected from the regulator. A turtle swam across his field of vision and disappeared out of sight as he passed deeper than the natural light allowed, meaning only what was in the beam of his torch was visible to him. He didn’t know how deep the waters were here and remembered to stay within his limitations. He wasn’t too drunk yet but still knew that without the lowering of his inhibitions, he likely wouldn’t have attempted such a dive. Something caught his eye, something huge and slate-coloured below him, a tapered body in his torch beam. It was only as the torch beam settled on the object did Scott realise that it wasn’t the giant shark Karl had told him about, but the overturned hull of a boat. Scott kicked towards it, enjoying the burn in his lungs as the sandy ocean floor revealed itself to him. The boat he had seen was a fishing trawler. It lay on its side, its surface covered in rust and coral as the ocean reclaimed it. He stopped swimming, kicking in place and shining the torch beam all around him and wishing he had dived during the day when visibility would have been better. He could spot at least three other wrecks in his immediate vicinity, which at least made some part of the story true in that for whatever reason, ships sank in that particular area of the ocean. On the seabed, there was, as expected a wide debris field from the wrecks. With the idea that the stories about gold a little bit less far-fetched, he skimmed his torch across the ground and started to explore the debris. Most of it was garbage. Petrified wood or broken pieces of hull. He saw rusty cutlery, old cans and plates. A long-abandoned crab pot thick with rust. An uneasy feeling came over him as he scoured the debris, but he wasn’t sure if there was a reason for it or if it was just the story his friend had told him. He forced himself to remain calm and focus on his job. He poked around some more in the debris. He found a plastic chair. A broken television. A cracked toilet seat. No treasure. Nothing he would consider valuable. He realised then what it was that making him so paranoid. There were no other fish around. Often where there were wrecks, there were fish. The broken hulls of the boats made perfect environments for them, and yet there was nothing but him. He was sure something was moving, out on the edge of his peripheral vision. Scott stared into the dark, realising just how vulnerable he was then dismissing the idea. The story Karl had told him was making him jumpy for no reason at all. He turned his attention back to the seabed and poked around the debris a little more, and was about to give up when something caught his eye in the shadow of the overturned fishing trawler’s hull. He swam to it, unable to help glancing behind him before returning his attention to the object he had seen. It was partially buried in the Sand. He set his torch on the sand and started to dig with both hands to free the object, unable to believe what he was seeing. The gold bar was around ten inches long and much heavier than he anticipated. He held it, rotating the bar in the light of the torch beam. If there was one, there would be more. That he was sure of. There was no way he could carry the bar back to the surface, as it was far too heavy. He set it on the sand and considered his options, the excitement hindering rational thought. Something happened then. A change in the current, a rush of water pressing against him as if something big had moved close by. Scott spun around, back to the overturned hull, and stared out into the dark. Nothing moved, and yet that made it worse. The black depths betrayed no secrets, and the silence reminded him again how isolated he was. One thing he did know was that he didn’t want to stay there any longer. The gold was going nowhere. He would resurface and think about what to do then come back later when it was lighter. He didn’t like to admit he was afraid, but the stories Karl had told him were at the forefront of his mind and he badly wanted to be back on the surface. He started to ascend, forcing himself not to rush but also unable to shake the feeling he was being observed. He realised he had left his torch and could see its dull light illuminating the side of the overturned hull, then it was gone. He stopped swimming, confused that the light had gone out. Then it was back just as it was. He tried to convince himself that it had simply failed and lost power for a second and that what he thought he had seen was simply impossible. It looked, at a glance, that something had passed in front of the torch. Something so large that it had completely blocked out the light. That, he knew, was impossible. There was nothing big enough to do that, nothing he knew of that lived in those waters. He turned his attention back to reaching the surface, no longer enjoying the alien underwater world as he had just minutes earlier. It occurred to him that he was the alien. He was the stranger and didn’t belong. Each passing moment, he wondered if something was going to come at him, a shape from the darkness, a hellish ring of jagged teeth. But he surfaced without harm, startling Karl who was sitting on the transom waiting for him.