Time Storm 2012

Written by

Juliann Farnsworth

Cover Artwork by

Juliann Farnsworth

MindAspire

Publishing & Distribution
Mesa, Arizona

Every Great Accomplishment in the History of
The Human Race began as an Aspiration of the Human Mind.

Copyright 2009 by Juliann Farnsworth

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied In critical articles and reviews. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogues in the novel are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, except where listed in the notes section in the back. Some concepts in this book have been influenced by urban legend or reported, yet unprovable events. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, except those listed in the notes section.

Prologue

“As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain,

and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality.” Albert Einstein

~

If one could magically strip away the outer layers of the mantle of the Earth, like peeling an orange, the exposed outer core of the planet would appear as a fiery ball suspended in space. The façade creating the illusion of a star, yet not one made of exploding gases, but one made of liquid molten iron, rushing around a core of solid metal with furious abandon. An Earth sized generator, producing and combining immense electromagnetic energy and gravity into fields of unimaginable power.

Whirlpools of magma would appear on occasion, the fiery flow caught on some galactic-scale obstacle, much like a gargantuan, submerged tree branch, in a savage, colossal river. The resultant eddies spinning against the natural direction of the current would create electromagnetic vortices similar to the sunspots on our own star, which eject solar flares. These expulsions, or steams of power, would affect others of opposite polarity creating loops or tunnels of energy, attached to the Earth at different points on the spinning globe.

The electromagnetic field, blasting far out into space, would encircle the Earth in a bubble of magnetic force far greater in size than the planet by a magnitude of ten times. Separating into north and south poles, it would protect the Earth from the intensity of solar winds and radiation, while influencing the course of iron meteorites and other metallic space debris.

Time itself is relative, not fixed. Einstein’s calculations predict a relationship between time, electromagnetic energy and gravity. There are three dimensions of space and one temporal or time dimension, hence the term space-time. Therefore, it may be safe to assume that occasionally these tremendously powerful, untamed, random electromagnetic explosions could naturally alter the course or speed of time itself.

The Earth, even once again clothed with its mantle and upper crust could not stop this force. Our current space exploration has proven that, and this mysterious force, even now, is exerting its unseen might on the solar system, the planet and the human race.

Sunspots and solar storms tend to rise and fall in intensity on a somewhat predictable timetable. Is it possible that the Earth also has a predictable cycle? The ancient Mayan people believed this to be the case. They based their whole civilization on foreseeable cycles of time and events.

The Maya used technology in their buildings and calculations of time-cycles that even now leave us baffled. Where did they get their technology? We have yet to answer many of the mysteries of the past. Was Atlantis real, and if so, where did it go? How were the pyramids constructed? Are the mysteries of the Bermuda Triangle real? How can we explain the Hutchison effect?

Of all the mysteries of the past and future, the one that is most pressing in its urgency to understand is that of the year 2012. The Mayan calendar marks it as the end of a cycle, some kind of cosmic convergence of events. Is it true? If so, what does it mean for us? Only time will tell.

Chapter 1

“It is easier to perceive error than to find truth, for the former lies on the surface and is easily seen, while the latter lies in the depth, where few are willing to search for it.” Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

~

8,239 BC

The palace stood enormous and majestic on a large hill encircled by three great rings of water, a barrier to even the thought of invasion. Atlantis was home to the most powerful military on Earth, the envy of the entire world. Her technology far surpassed anything had by any other kingdom. Several pyramids, larger than those famed in Egypt, graced the landscape, a testament to her riches and technology. Overlaid with a polished, alabaster stone, they blazed so brightly in the sunlight that they created the near appearance of translucence.

The very cradle of civilization, Atlantis stood apart from the rest of the world, an eighth continent nearly half the size of Australia. It was located in the Atlantic Ocean near the north-west coast of Africa with a narrow strip of land, like an arm, reaching out and nearly touching the Straight of Gibraltar. She used the seaports of many lands to transact her business and spread a great deal of knowledge throughout the world, but kept her most powerful information to herself.

***

The year had been full of strange events and omens. Reports of unusual happenings came from every port. The sun was at its lowest point in the winter sky; the sign that the days would again begin to lengthen.

Today a white haired man with a wrinkled and weathered face stood on the dock, watching for the return of his son from a trip trading in Mauritania, the location of modern day Morocco. The air had been clear since morning, and he could see the opposite coastline. He strained to see the small boat that would carry his son home. The young man traveled frequently, and his father was often quite lonely. Sometimes he imagined that he could see his son from farther away than was really possible.

On this particular afternoon, as he watched for his son the man began to feel a strange sensation. It was more than just a feeling in the air; he felt his hair begin to stand on end, as if it were being pulled by some invisible force. He glanced up and saw a strange sight indeed. Voluminous, circular clouds had started to form out of a clear blue sky. Directly overhead, was a glowing, spinning hole that seemed to be the source of the pull on his hair.

A green fog shrouded the land and the Earth began to rumble. A loud deafening noise permeated the air over the entire land of Atlantis. People began running to and fro in fear, trying to escape the unknown. Frantically covering their ears, many neglected to lift the bottoms of their long, white, Grecian style robes, and tripped helplessly as the running crowds trampled over them.

Abruptly, it was over. The people stopped, frozen in their tracks, stunned by the silence. They regarded one another hoping in vain for an explanation.

The old man on the dock surveyed the sky, more puzzled by the unexpected departure of the clouds and noise than he had been by their initial odd appearance. After a few moments of confusion, he studied the view again. A rush of adrenaline flooded through him when he remembered that his son was at sea. He prayed that his son would be safe. When he scanned the water, his mouth dropped and he stood there, frozen. He did not see his son, only water. The air was completely clear again, but the land of Mauritania, so easily visible just moments before, was simply gone. There was only water as far as the eye could see.

Tikal, Guatemala 98 BC

Dripping with useless sweat from the jungle’s sticky heat, Mulac sat watching his father Tepeu at work. Mulac was thankful for the simple wheat colored loincloth that covered his dark skin and allowed the breeze to cool him. His long, black hair was already sopping wet even though it was still morning. He gazed up at the sun to gauge the time of day but could not see it; as usual, the jungle trees obscured most of the sky. However, it was easy to determine its general location from the radiant heat.

Once on a hunting expedition with his father, Mulac had barely caught a glimpse of a young boy from another tribe. The boy had white skin and Mulac wanted to ask about it, but his father had whisked him away and had told him that they were the enemy, and that it wasn't safe. The boy had been dressed in clothes that covered his entire body. How awful the heat must have been for him, Mulac thought now, as he struggled to breathe the hot, moist air.

Mulac was proud to be the son of the village’s most admired artisan. Tepeu worked directly for the King’s architect Ixchel. It was his job to carve the stones into designs, faces, and other very important things. In all Mulac’s eight summers, he had never known of anyone with a more important job in the community. His father was not tall, but he was muscular, and he wore a loincloth much like that of Mulac. Tepeu’s dark hair was cut shorter than his son's was, but it had been too long since its last trimming and hung slightly too far over his dark eyes. He was busily carving a round calendar stone in intricate detail.

“Why do we make so many time markers, father?”

Tepeu smiled as he remembered asking his father the same question when he was about Mulac's age. “We keep the time records as the ancient ones taught us. The time markers help us to know when to plant, when to marry and have children, even when to go to war.”

Mulac focused on the pyramid they were building. “Even the temple keeps time, right father?”

“That's right. The temples are the most important of the time keepers.”

Tepeu smiled at his son and wiped the sweat from his brow. He put down his tools and stood to drink deeply from the water barrel. After a moment, he stretched out his aching muscles. Even though he was used to working long hours, he could feel the quiet fatigue of age settling upon him.

His eyes moved across what he could see of the village, most of it already obscured by the monolithic structure they were building. There were rows of huge limestone blocks from the quarry, previously hardened by baking in the sun. He watched as a worker pushed gently on one of the stone blocks. It was as tall as the man was, and longer than his height.

The stone moved easily, hovering just off the ground, apparently suspended by nothing at all. As the worker pushed the stone up the ramp by himself, oddly it remained perfectly horizontal as if lifted-up by a self-regulating cushion of air. Several other workers then helped to assure its exact location, then the man touched an object attached to the stone. The stone lowered gently into place and was set, never to be moved again.

Tepeu turned back to Mulac. “The ancient ones taught us all their secrets before their land sunk into the sea.”

“But the temples are so big father, why do we need so many?”

“So we will never forget, my son. Once temples like these were built only as monuments of power, but after the great change, the ancient ones realized that the knowledge of the times must be preserved to serve as a warning.”

“A warning of what father?”

“The end of things as they are.”

Tepeu focused again on the temple they were building. The task would have been impossible, if it wasn't for the lifters that the ancient ones had given them. The man who had moved the stone reached for the attached device and removed it. Tepeu hoped that the knowledge of the times would not be lost before the next great change or all would be in vain.

Philadelphia, 1943

The U.S. destroyer USS Eldridge rested quietly in the waters of the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard, a little way from the dock, fitted for an experiment. Classified as highly Top Secret, the intent was to make the ship radar invisible. They turned on the huge generators on the day of the first test, July 22, 1943. It was a clear day but the Eldridge began to be engulfed by a greenish fog and before long was rendered almost completely invisible, more than they could have hoped for.

However, after the test, the crew reported severe nausea, so they tried recalibrating the machines. They repeated the test on October 28, after recalibrating. This time the ship disappeared entirely in a flash of light. Observers reported seeing it over 215 miles away, off the coast of Norfolk, Virginia. Then the ship reappeared in the Philadelphia shipyard.

After its return, they powered down the generators only to find many of the crewmembers burned, and others fused, as if melted, into the bulkheads of the ship. They buried the records and scrubbed any further experimentation.

December 5, 1945

Five Naval TBM Avenger planes flew in formation, just off the coast of Florida, on a routine training mission over the part of the ocean known as the Devil’s Triangle. Almost two hours into the flight, having left from the Naval Air Station at Fort Lauderdale, Florida, flight 19 radioed for help. The mission commander indicated to flight control that they were lost and that their compasses and instruments were spinning out of control.

After long minutes of desperation and the enlistment of help from every flight control facility in the area, the flight controller asked again, “what is your position?” Only silence answered him.

Then the commander spoke through a crackly radio, “we cannot be sure where we are. Repeat, cannot see land.”

The flight controller helplessly studied the radar screen again but saw nothing.

Several minutes of tense silence followed, then, bordering on hysteria, one of the pilot trainees spoke, “we can’t find west. Everything is wrong. We can’t be sure of any direction. Everything looks strange, even the ocean. We can't tell where we are . . . Everything is… can't make out anything. We think we may be about 225 miles northeast of base . . ."

The weather had changed and visibility was now limited. They were running low on fuel.

Again the pilot spoke. “We can’t tell where we are…everything is…can’t make out anything.” A pause followed.

“It looks like we are entering white water…We’re completely lost.”

Hopelessly disoriented over now stormy seas, the planes stayed in formation, but land was nowhere in sight and they would have to ditch any minute. All the planes were having trouble with their radios and their instruments were spinning wildly. Even communication between the other planes was limited. Short bursts of static were intermingled with a few broken words.

A light centered vortex of waves spun around them, or was it clouds? Nothing made sense; it was as if they were in a swirling tunnel. The commander tried to communicate with the others over his useless radio. With zero visibility, it was impossible to maintain orientation, and there seemed to be no horizon at all. He braced himself for the impact that he knew was inevitable. He couldn’t distinguish the water from the clouds.

Suddenly, as if punching through a wall, they were out of the swirling, spinning nightmare. Once again, the sky was distinguishable. Inexplicably, it was completely clear and oddly light. The instruments were again functioning and the horizon was easy to make out. Now he could clearly see the ocean below, impossibly serene, spread out before him, but the color was all wrong. Instead of the intensely, translucent blue, it was a kind of opaque green. He glanced around him and saw that the other planes were still in formation.

According to the compass, they were heading west. “What the…?” One of the pilots trailed off over the radio. “Commander, can you hear me?” He asked in a bewildered voice.

The commander answered, echoing his confusion, “roger that.”

“What's going on, it should be darker, shouldn’t it?” The radio spat out a crackle then, “commander, the sun!”

He didn’t answer; he had noticed the same thing. The sun was way too high in the sky, as if it were early afternoon. Several moments of silence followed while they all took in their odd surroundings. There was land just ahead, but it didn’t look right. There was nothing familiar about it and the commander strained his mind to wrap it around what he saw. It should be Florida but it was nothing like it. It might as well have been the moon.

It didn’t look like anywhere along the United States coast, so where? It couldn't be the Bahamas or the Keys because it was too big. Cuba? Haiti? It couldn’t be Haiti. Where were they? At least it was land. He had to pull himself together and face the emergency at hand; he couldn’t worry about their location until after he solved their immediate problem, landing. He flashed a look at his fuel gauge, which had seemed less important a few moments before. He whistled in surprise when he realized how little he had left and hoped that the other planes had more.

Below them, the Earth was coming up fast but there was no airstrip, nothing. It appeared almost uninhabited, except for what may have been a tiny village to the north, along the coast. At least the ground seemed flat enough to land, and while their flight had been a training exercise, it had been the last test before going into combat. He felt sure that the others would be able to make the landing as well.

Over the radio, the CO. gave quick landing orders that the others were all too eager to obey. They quickly descended and headed for what could have been a dirt road, or at least a trail of some kind, on an otherwise dry, barren plain, with mountains in the distance. The dirt appeared sandy and extremely hazardous for landing purposes, but it would have to do.

The first four planes came in too fast but managed a successful landing, in spite of the huge dust cloud they stirred up, as they skidded across the loose sandy dirt. The fifth plane wasn’t so lucky and clipped one of the other plane’s wings. The aircraft on the ground was barely scraped and didn’t move much, but the landing plane, because of its momentum, spun around three times before rolling over onto its side, its wing snapping off as it hit. Fortunately the occupants were, by some miracle, all okay except the pilot who had a broken arm.

The commander radioed the other planes to assess their status, and then he tried in vain to reach flight control. He instructed each crew to gather any emergency supplies they could carry. They would have to walk until they found someone. It seemed unseasonably hot and dry, and he hoped they had enough water. He prayed that what he had seen from the air was, in fact, a village.

It turned out that he was right and within a few miles, they ran across a fisherman. “Excuse me, could you tell me where we are?”

The startled man stared at them for a moment before answering. “No hablo inglés.”

Spanish, he reflected on that, maybe they were in Cuba after all.

One of the flight crewmembers spoke to him in his language. “¿Dónde estámos? Estamos perdidos.”

The man eyed them strangely, his eyes scanning their flight uniforms. “En San Felipe, Señores.”

Still confused, the crewmember continued. “¿Qué país, por favor?”

The man surveyed them, worried and suspicious now, but answered them anyway, “México, por supuesto.”

The rest of the pilots and flight crew understood that without translation and gaped at one another in bewilderment. How could they have made it across the Gulf of Mexico? There hadn’t been enough time or fuel. Nothing made sense.

“¿Señor, qué parte de México?” He asked in astonishment.

The man was clearly disturbed, but was apparently realizing just how lost they were. Thankfully, he seemed now somewhat sympathetic to their cause and curious too.

“Estamos en el Territorio del Norte de Baja California. ¿Señores, de dónde vino ustedes?”

Most of the men did not understand Spanish but the words Baja California did not need translation. There was an audible gasp from one of the men and another said to the commander, “sir, how? Baja California, that’s…Impossible! He can’t be right.”

The commander did not answer; he just seemed as though he was thinking. His jaw clenched and he knitted his brow. It did answer all the other questions, the heat, the time of day, the look of the land and water, but it was impossible!

He never answered his man; he just turned to the pilot who had been translating, “ask him if he can help us get word to Fort Lauderdale.”

Everything after that was a blur because his mind was so confused. By the next day, the Navy had sent a plane for them, but it did not take them to Florida. Rather it took them to a top-secret facility attached to the Naval Ordinance Test Station at China Lake in California. It didn’t take long to realize that they were prisoners. Apparently, the Navy was trying to cover it up.

A couple of weeks passed for the unwilling guests, they were not very hopeful of escape. One of the men had tried. He had even managed to get as far as the telegraph office in the main building, but officials caught him and forced him to return to the bunker. He had been able to send one telegram, but he had no time for details so it was of no use.

October 2012

Bradley Sandstrom, a tall, well-proportioned man, stood with his hands crossed behind his back. His custom-fit, black, Armani suit, along with his lavishly decorated, high-rise office, conferred a sense of power and wealth as he gazed out the window across the Patomic River far beneath him.

“He’s getting too close.”

The black, triangular conference phone on his desk boomed an angry voice throughout the room. Sandstrom listened but did not answer as he continued looking out the window.

“I want it taken care of!” The disembodied voice ordered.

Sandstrom finally turned from the window and walked toward the desk where the conference phone sat.

“I’ll take care of it.” His voice was cold, his dark steely eyes, as black as his hair, burned with cold determination.

The man on the other end of the line moved the mouthpiece closer to his angry, gritted teeth and hissed. “You had better.”

He hung up the phone without saying good-bye, and he sat for a while, staring around his office with unseeing eyes. His office walls were lined with naval charts, and glassed in shelves that held miniatures of all the major naval vessels ever made, organized by year. Like walking through time, one could see the progression of technology simply by perusing the shelves.

After a second, he lifted a cup of steaming coffee toward his mouth then immediately spit the overly hot liquid back into the cup, spewing some of it onto himself. He cursed under his breath, an almost feral growl, exposing yellow, cigarette-stained teeth, and one gold canine.

Putting the coffee down, he wiped at the spot on his neatly pressed Navy admiral's uniform in disgust. He would have to change before his meeting. His red face seemed in stark contrast to the white of his uniform.

Back in the high-rise office, Bradley Sandstrom was angry, angry about the situation, and even angrier that he was simply a pawn, a nobody, who had to take orders.

He had known it would come to this and his jaw clinched in anger; he kept his voice flat as he pushed the button to buzz his secretary. “Send her in.”

As the woman entered, he couldn’t help but think that it was a waste for such a beautiful woman to be an assassin. As his eyes flickered down her body, his mood improved a little.

Chapter 2

"Mysteries are due to secrecy." Francis Bacon

~

Five miles south of Bimini Island in the Bahamas, a diver surfaced, emerging from the intensely blue, translucent water. Another man carefully lifted sensitive sonar, seismic, and electromagnetic equipment from the diver’s hands. The air was comfortable, even though it was October. The slightly overcast sky showed signs of a coming storm. The small yacht was bobbing up and down in the unusually turbulent waters of the Caribbean.

The diver hauled his tanned, six-foot frame, up the ladder and onto the lower landing of the aft deck. While pulling off the full-cover facemask, he grabbed a towel and started drying himself. As he rubbed the towel against his thick black hair, his equally black eyebrows drew attention to his blue eyes, which nearly matched the color of the water from which he had just emerged. His chiseled jaw was covered with a dark, five o’clock shadow, and his face was only delicately lined from his thirty-five years of life. The sun and the wind had done an excellent job of giving him a slightly rugged look.

He pulled off the rest of his gear, and set it on the landing. He didn't use the traditional open circuit scuba gear, rather a high-tech, closed circuit underwater breathing apparatus (CCUBA), sometimes called a rebreather. The system was self-contained and recycled his expended breathing gas, scrubbing it of excess carbon dioxide, and other toxic gases, while adding small amounts of oxygen as needed, before returning it to him for use. The balance was electronically regulated to provide the correct breathing mixture, with an electro-galvanic fuel cell. The system was lighter weight, while still allowing for a longer dive time.

“Mark, the weather is getting bad; I think we should head back.” His assistant, Stewart, suggested as he noticed a flock of birds flying hurriedly away.

They had been anchored at that spot for a few days doing research and there was nothing more to do. However, going back was a relative term, since they lived on the boat. Stewart was an oceanography graduate student with an odd fear of the ocean. He had signed on with Mark as an assistant in the hope of overcoming his phobia, while getting job experience in the field. Stewart also had an odd affinity for anything electronic, which made him a valuable resource, since Mark owned all the best high-tech equipment available.

In contrast to Mark, Stewart had an almost skinny frame and a body that would not tan no matter how much sun it saw. He was muscular, but his body hid it well. His sandy brown hair was short and slightly spiked on the top.

Mark had both a Ph.D. in oceanographic seismology from UCLA and a Ph.D. in physics from Yale, and was doing research on the electromagnetic anomalies in the Bermuda Triangle. He didn’t believe it was extraterrestrials, or some of the other strange explanations that people had suggested. However, very credible people, including a trusted friend, had reported many unusual and unexplainable events in the area, which had piqued his curiosity.

Mark had been working for a year, weather permitting, all over the triangle, focusing on those places with the highest frequency of unusual occurrences. He had actually been having some success in finding anomalous readings. He was following up on a report he had read, written by a scuba diver who had recorded inexplicable readings in an assortment of locations. Mark was determined to record some indisputable scientific data for analysis. He needed to explain the mysteries, if only to satisfy his own curiosity.

It was only noon, but Mark studied the sky with its ominous clouds. “Yeah, you know, we might just have a hurricane. I’ve seen this type of weather before.”

He was only pulling Stewart’s leg. Mark thought it was hilarious that Stewart was going for his Ph.D. in oceanography when he was so afraid of the ocean; and of all places to face his fears, the Bermuda Triangle!

Stewart peered again at the dark clouds and at Mark still sitting there on the landing. He was making no effort, whatsoever, to put his gear away so that they could get to land. Stewart hoped they would stay in a hotel, an involuntary shudder showing clear evidence of his trepidation.

Mark was pretending not to pay attention but was well aware of Stewart’s body language, and was enjoying the game immensely. The boat was starting to pitch a bit, but they were in no danger and Mark was quite sure there would be nothing more than rain.

However, he had an appointment the next morning with a tourist who had a story. He still had quite a way to go before settling down for the night. He hoped it wouldn’t be another waste of time, but he had decided to follow up on any new stories. He would add it to his long list of reports and locations, and then go and look for anything unusual, if the source seemed credible enough.

Stewart had finished stowing the sonar equipment then, wanting to speed things up, took the scuba gear from Mark. Stewart's nerves were getting out of hand but his pride kept him from saying anymore.

“I’ve got something to do.” Stewart knew it was a lame excuse, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

He headed across the aft deck, through the salon and galley, then downstairs into his stateroom. He felt the safest there; at least he couldn’t see the water. He lay down on his bed feeling queasy.

Mark finally climbed up to the aft deck, then up the stairs to the pilothouse. He lifted the anchor and headed out. He lived on the small Yacht year round. His parents had left him a substantial amount of money that he had put into his toys.

After several hours of travel, he docked in the harbor at Nassau. The trip had been uneventful, with nothing more than gray clouds and a few scattered showers, just as Mark had expected. It was sundown, unfortunately for Stewart, he had become too seasick to leave the boat, and so Mark headed into the town on his own for dinner. He could have eaten in the galley, but he didn't like to cook.

***

The next morning dawned bright and clear and Mark headed over to Paradise Island for his meeting. The guy was supposed to be staying at the Atlantis Resort. Mark had been there many times before, but preferred being on his boat, he enjoyed the solitude of the ocean.

He had a mailbox set up for himself on Nassau and checked it every week or two. He hadn’t met the man he was supposed to see, but had received a letter requesting the meeting. The islanders knew Mark well enough to know where to send astonished visitors with new stories.

The appointed meeting place was at an outdoor, covered restaurant. He waited for a half an hour, but the man didn’t show. A woman had been watching him from a semi-concealed vantage point since his arrival. She now left the shadows and made her way toward him.

The restaurant was circular in shape, with the food preparation area in the center. Mark stared at a shark swimming by in the large, salt-water pond next to his table. He wondered idly how many sharks he had dived around without ever noticing. The woman walked past too closely and her ample beach bag swung around and knocked over his drink.

“Oh, excuse me. I’m so sorry.” The woman who had been watching him said, as if it had been an accident. “Can I buy you another drink?”

He felt momentarily irritated, and then he saw her smile. She had shoulder length, full, light brown hair pulled back loosely from her high forehead. It was apparent by the translucent radiance of her skin that she had not spent as many years on the ocean as he had. She appeared to be in her late twenties.

He motioned for the waiter who mopped up the spill with a towel and then vanished. Mark had concluded that his appointment wasn’t going to show, and besides, she was very beautiful.

The waiter returned and the woman ordered a Piña Colada for herself and then motioned for Mark to order, “I’ll have the same.”

He had only been drinking a coke before, but she was buying, so why not?

“I’m Ashlyn Wright,” she introduced herself, while extending her hand.

“I’m Dr. Mark Turner.” He added his title to impress her and then decided that it sounded pompous and immediately regretted it.

“Oh, you’re a doctor?” She feigned ignorance.

“I’m not a medical doctor; I’m an oceanographic seismologist and physicist.” Feeling slightly uncomfortable, he took a sip of his Piña Colada.

She was bewitching, and her presence was making him feel a little dizzy. Then again, maybe it was the drink, he wasn’t sure.

“So what are you doing out here?” She questioned, sounding interested.

“I’m doing research on the electromagnetic anomalies in the area.”

He would have used the word triangle, but he thought she might take him less seriously, depending upon her own personal beliefs. He didn't know her, and didn't want to take the chance.

“Do you have a boat?” Her vibrant green eyes were mesmerizing, and he found himself having to ask her to repeat herself, he was really off his game this morning.

“I asked if you have a boat.” She repeated with a knowing smile.

“Yes.” He would love to show her his boat, he thought, but Stewart’s presence was sure to put a damper on things.

“Any chance you are looking for an assistant?”

“Actually, I already have one.” At that particular moment, he wished he didn’t.

“Well, maybe you could use another one?” She sounded hopeful, but it seemed a little odd that she would volunteer so readily without even knowing him.

He paused, thinking about it, and then asked. “What are your qualifications?”

“I have a lot of experience diving. I was raised in Hawaii, and I practically lived on a boat for a year with my grandfather.”

“How long ago was that?” He furrowed his brow slightly, and raised one eyebrow, trying to look stern while hoping for any reason to say yes.

“Well, I was twelve, but I have a good memory, and if you spend a lot of time on your boat, I can cook.”

Now that was a good reason for him. His boat was large enough for a full crew, but he and Stewart were running the ship alone. It had been his choice because he liked his privacy. However, it wouldn't be bad to have her help. He still thought her behavior was a little strange.

“Why do you really want to be my assistant, you don’t even know me?”

“Well to be honest…” She paused and averted her eyes; her lashes were dark against her face. When she met his eyes, hers were watering slightly. “Well, I’m kind of stuck here, and I don’t have a job or a place to stay.”

He hadn‘t expected that answer. She didn’t look homeless, nor did she have reason to be, given her looks. He didn’t ask about how she had gotten into that situation, assuming it would be too personal.

The cooking thing had already convinced him, and he answered, “alright, if you are interested in just working for room and board.”

“That would be fine.”

“Okay, then it’s a deal.”

It was near lunchtime, so they ordered food before going back to the boat. They talked as they headed to the motel she had been staying at to get her things. He found her very pleasant.

They were almost to the boat before he thought to ask his question. “How long have you been here?”

“Only a few days.”

They were walking side by side, and he turned his head to look at her without stopping. “So how did you come to be marooned on this island?”

She didn't answer at first. “I'd really rather not talk about it if you don't mind.”

“Okay, have you ever been here, before this week?”

“Nope.”

He smiled, as he feasted on the beauty of the soft blue, cloudless sky, and breathed in the salt-water tinged scent in the air. His mind sifted through memories of the things that he had seen and done while he had lived there. He had walked the bleached white, sandy beaches of the many islands, and dived into the vivid blue of the unimaginably translucent water. He had explored countless coral reefs, all teaming with an unending variety of life. The weather seemed nearly perfect year round, and at night, the innumerable stars shown so brightly against the blackness of the sky, that the Milky Way seemed close enough to touch. Above all, he had a profound sense of satisfaction in the solitude that the yacht provided.

“I think you're gonna like it.” He said.

“I hope so.”

***

It was well after noon when they got close enough for Mark to point out his yacht, Ashlyn played her part perfectly, stopping in pretended shock. The boat was a ninety-eight-foot Yacht, with the name Zephyr painted neatly on the side.

She gaped at him, her mouth open in surprise. “You said you had a boat, you didn't tell me it was a yacht.”

“Actually, you asked if I had a boat, I just confirmed it.”

He was, in fact, quite proud of it now. It wasn't his habit to use expensive things to attract women, but he didn't mind the fact that she was impressed. He led her onto the lower boat landing, and then they climbed the stairs that led to the aft deck. It was covered, but open to the air above the waist-high walls of the hull. He was looking for Stewart to introduce them. Mark had a pretty good idea of where Stewart would be. Mark led her to a staircase and then waited, motioning for her to go first.

“Ladies first,” he said.

She gave him a warm smile in return and led the way up into the pilothouse. She glanced around taking in her surroundings, but he motioned for her to take the next set of stairs. Stewart was sunning himself on a sofa that wrapped around the port side of the flybridge, in a vain effort to darken his pasty skin. He hadn't noticed their approach. He had apparently fallen asleep from the heat, or so Mark would use that as his excuse for pouring the last bit of his ice water on his unsuspecting, comatose friend.

Stewart jerked and mumbled some nonsense, which must have made sense based on some dream he had been having, before shaking his head in surprise and then looking up at Mark, who was pretending ignorance. Stewart would have probably tried for revenge, but he froze suddenly when he noticed that Mark was not alone. His mouth dropped so obviously at the sight of Ashlyn that Mark reached over and pushed Stewart's chin back into place. The irritation Stewart had been feeling turned to humiliated anger, but he tried to hide it so that he could regain his composure.

“You haven't introduced me to your friend.” He spoke to Mark but his eyes never left Ashlyn's face.

“This is Ashlyn Wright; she is going to join us. I thought we needed someone who could cook.”

Mark diverted his eyes slightly, feeling a tinge of guilt for not consulting with Stewart about this, before making the decision. Simultaneously he waived it away, reminding himself that it was his boat after all.

Stewart just stood there, finally looking away from Ashlyn to Mark to see if he was joking. The fact that Mark wasn't meeting his eyes made him even angrier. Stewart was usually quite passive, after all, he was the employee, and grateful for the internship, but he had believed that they were becoming friends and felt somehow betrayed by the obvious fact that his opinion didn't count for anything.

Then again, she was..., he poured his eyes over Ashlyn, wow, he thought, there just wasn't a word. Having her on board might not be so bad.

“I'm going to have her stay in the VIP stateroom.”

Wait a minute, he didn't say it but thought to himself, that's my room. His irritation returned full force.

“Okay,” he agreed, unable to hide his tone completely.

“You can stay in any of the crew quarters,” Mark said.

The standard design for the yacht had more guest rooms, but Mark had ordered that space customized for his high-tech equipment room and an elaborate office for his research. Though the ship was quite luxurious, Mark didn't do much entertaining. He was more into functionality. His expression didn't show the least bit of concern with how Stewart might be feeling about this arrangement.

Stewart studied Ashlyn, she didn't protest at all. Suddenly, her good looks weren't looking so good. He would have been willing to give up the nicer quarters for a woman, if he had been asked ahead of time, or if Ashlyn had protested at all. Because neither of those things had happened, he felt somewhat resentful about being displaced.

In truth, Mark did feel a bit guilty about his lack of consideration for Stewart's feelings on the matter, but it was too late now and Mark did not want to appear weak.

“I'll move my stuff.” Mark was busy looking at Ashlyn and didn't respond to Stewart, not really wanting to meet Stewart's eyes.

“Would you like the grand tour?” Mark asked her, trying to be his most charming self. The whole scene was making Stewart nauseated so he left to gather his things.

“I'd love it,” she smiled sweetly at Mark.

The flybridge was on the very top, in the middle of the ship, and he pointed toward the bow, which was down a level from the flybridge. Beyond the standard deck paraphernalia, there was a lounge area with a Jacuzzi. The flybridge itself had a secondary helm to use during nice weather and two captain's chairs. Along with the sofa, that Stewart had been sleeping on. There was also a wet bar and a small table. Above and behind the helm was a tower with various antennas and radar equipment.

He pointed down the stairs toward the stern, still on the top deck. “There isn't much to see up here.”

“Do you use that boat much?” She pointed to the small motor boat back behind the flybridge.

He shook his head. “Not really, but it's nice to have.”

“Sweet, how do you get it in the water if you need to use it?”

“It has a lifting crane.” He pointed to an apparatus, thinking that her question was a little strange. “I don't use it much. The draft of the boat is less than six feet, and I can usually get to a dock if I'm going in for supplies.”

He then took her down into the pilothouse, which she had already seen, and pointed out a few of its features. A large number of radar screens, monitors, and other equipment, which she did not recognize, filled the area. Then there was a communication desk complete with a satellite telephone and radio. A plush sofa wrapped around part of the room until it ended at the downward spiral staircase. Large angled windows covered the top half of the front and sides.

Looking at the windshield wipers, she spoke softly, sounding nervous. “Have you ever been caught in a storm out here?”

“Yes.” Confused he asked, “I thought you lived on a boat for a while? Surely, you've been in a storm.”

She blushed. “Well, of course but this is... you know?”

“The Bermuda Triangle?” He guessed what she had left out.

“Yeah,” she peered down for a second.

“That is what I'm out here studying.” She seemed puzzled so he went on. “I mean, I'm looking for anomalous readings, electromagnetic fields and such.”

“I guess you told me that, but I really didn't think about it.”

“You can still get out of this arrangement if you want.”

“No, I'm fine.” She laughed softly at herself. “I didn't think I was superstitious.”

“I don't think its superstition. I think there is something real and explainable going on out here.” He paused to see her reaction.

She didn't say anything else so he pointed toward the staircase, “shall we?”

They went down to the aft deck where they had been before. Now she had more time to look around. There was another sofa, as well as a table. A large flat screen TV was built into the wall near the entrance to the salon. They walked through the open, smoked colored, sliding-glass doors into the salon. The floor was covered with plush, beige carpet, embossed with a subtle diamond design. Large windows covered the starboard and port sides of the room about half way up. Deluxe furnishings, sofa, easy chairs and cabinetry graced the room.

The forward section was a dining area, with a glass-topped table; elegant lighting and works of art adorned the walls. The next section contained staircases in the center, leading down to a foyer connecting the downstairs office, lab, equipment room, engine rooms and crew quarters.

Mark pointed them out but didn't show them to her. “That's mainly my research area and the engines.”

Doors on both sides exited to outside walkways, leading to the bow of the ship and Jacuzzi area. Internal hallways led to the galley. The galley had a less formal dining area. It had all the usual cooking and kitchen appliances in addition to another television built into the wall.

“Just let me know of any supplies you want me to buy for the galley before we leave port.” She nodded in agreement.

The end of the room had a staircase leading to the Master and VIP staterooms. Mark hoped that Stewart would have his stuff moved out of the VIP stateroom before they got to that point. Mark showed her his room first. The Master was quite amazing, but as they walked in, he saw Stewart heading up the stairs with his things and chose to take her straight into her room. The bed was stripped; no doubt, Stewart had taken the bedding to the laundry room. The whole ship was lavish and richly decorated.

“Don't worry about bedding; it will be ready by tonight.”

She smiled and offered a simple, “thanks.”

Her room was quite nice and had its own television and entertainment center as well as a private bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub. Mark had been carrying her suitcase and set it down in the room.

“Well that's it,” he announced, as if he had just shown her a simple summer cottage.

“Do you live here all year round?”

“Yes, I have everything I need.” They climbed up the stairs to the galley. Stewart was now sitting there, looking moody.

“So, how did you guys meet?” Stewart was trying to get past his irritation.

“My appointment didn't show and we just kind of bumped into each other and started talking.”

“You just bumped into each other?” Something about this whole situation just seemed wrong, to Stewart.

“Actually,” Ashlyn spoke, “I kind of bumped into him.” She turned to Mark and gave him a flirtatious giggle.

Now Stewart was beginning to understand. She was after something, he was sure of it, and Mark seemed completely oblivious. It didn't take a lot of thinking to figure out that it was probably his money. Stewart wasn't sure that he would ever get to speak to Mark alone about it.

“You know, I'm kind of hungry. Why don't we find out if she really can cook before we leave port?” Stewart said.

“We just ate so you're on your own for this one.” Mark seemed oblivious to Stewart's frustration and doubts.

“Insult to injury,” Stewart mumbled under his breath as he opened the refrigerator. Surely, Mark didn't have trouble getting women, so why this woman?

Ashlyn started looking through the galley. “I'm going to check if we need to buy anything before we put out to sea."

“I'll be in the pilothouse.” Mark smiled at Ashlyn as he left the room and went up the stairs to look at the navigational charts.

He and Stewart had been systematically following their list of reported incidents. The equipment on board was top of the line. He had technology usually reserved for the military. Mark could have figured out how to use all of it himself, but why should he waste his time when he had Stewart to do it?

Stewart also specialized in underwater technology. They even had an underwater, wireless-broadband system. Not that he would be surfing the web from below, but it sure simplified the data retrieval process from the many remote sensors they had placed.

Mark was determined to make some kind of rational sense out of all the Bermuda Triangle stories. He would have chalked it all up to nonsense and folklore except that one of his most respected friends from UCLA, Dr. Nathanial Growlier, had told him a personal story several years before, so compelling that, he had to take it seriously.

Down in the galley, Stewart decided to take advantage of the time alone with Ashlyn. “So, you've never met Mark before today?”

“No,” Ashlyn answered without looking at him, her head buried in one of the cabinets where she was taking inventory.

“And you never heard of him before today, either?”

He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but she seemed to hesitate for just a second before she answered. “No.”

He persisted, “not even his name?”

She didn't answer, but rather pulled her head out of the cabinet she had been going through. “Why are you asking me this?” She inquired, as she slowly stood up and locked eyes with him.

He felt uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny of her gaze. She stepped toward him and he backed up a bit.

“I was just wondering.” He felt unnerved by her expression, almost afraid, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

She glanced away for a second and then faced him. “Stay out of it!” Her green eyes burned into him. He wasn't sure why she didn't want him to ask, but he was sure that she meant it as a threat.

Chapter 3

“As I gaze upon the sea! All the old

romantic legends, all my dreams, come back to me.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

~

Along the east side of Andros Island, in the Bahamas, lies a deep oceanic trench, known as the Tongue of the Ocean. It drops suddenly from an average water depth of around 115 feet, to over six thousand feet, and it extends for approximately one-hundred miles. It can be easily seen from space by the variation in color from the light blue shallow waters to the deep dark blue of the extreme depth.

It is along this Tongue of the Ocean that the AUTEC (Atlantic Underwater Test and Evaluation Center) Naval Bases are situated. With proper credentials and forewarning, one of the bases is open to the public, not much is known about the others. Via satellite images, the submarine channels that have been cut into the ocean are clearly visible, some are marked on the map, and some are not.

***

Albuquerque, New Mexico

A man sat at a bar drinking Puerto Rican rum straight from the bottle, a tattoo of an anchor wrapped by a sea serpent was visible under the sweat beading on his left bicep. The television behind the bar droned on, unnoticed by most of the occupants. Newscaster Jeff Landro was reporting the disappearance of an eighty-year-old woman, who by all accounts had simply vanished in front of a crowd of onlookers.

The man, clearly intoxicated by now, started shouting at the bartender when the report finally entered his muddled mind. “There, you see!” He pointed to the television screen, his words slurring together as he nearly fell off the chair while trying to get the bartender's attention. “It was just like that.” Nearly spitting as he spoke, “it’s aliens, I'm tellin' ya.”

“Okay Jake, I think you've had enough.” The bartender walked around to the other side of the bar, encouraging Jake to leave, no doubt more worried about losing customers than Jake's high blood alcohol level.

He'd be back, the bartender was sure of that. Jake was a regular.

***

It had been nearly a week since Ashlyn's arrival. In their rare moments alone, Stewart had tried to talk to Mark about his feelings of distrust, but Mark was clearly smitten and didn't want to hear it. Ashlyn was beautiful, a good diver, and a great cook, but...?

He was beginning to think that maybe his impression of her had been wrong. Nothing more had happened since that first meeting. She seemed nice enough, though Stewart had felt more like a waiter, then the oceanographer that he was trying to become. Ashlyn seemed to be adept at computers and technology as well as everything else. Was there anything this woman couldn't do?

They docked at Bimini Island for a few supplies. Mark took Stewart with him to help carry the provisions back, while Ashlyn stayed behind on the yacht to finish a book she had been reading.

“Her story seems a bit fishy if you ask me.”

Mark studied Stewart, unsure if he was still on his kick about Ashlyn being untrustworthy, or if he was trying to make a stupid joke. The book was about fish, literally, the undersea types that were supposedly native to the Bahamas.

“Are you joking?” Mark couldn't decide whether to be irritated again about Stewart's constant complaints about Ashlyn or tell him to keep his day job.

Clearly, Stewart hadn't noticed the pun involved and laughed out loud when he got the point. “I guess that was funny.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Stewart, you have got to get over this jealously thing with Ashlyn.”

Offended, Stewart glared at him. “Jealousy? Jealousy??? I'm not in love with you, you know.”

“I didn't mean that kind of jealousy. She is good at everything. I'm not surprised that you feel intimidated.”

“What? Honestly, Mark, you haven't been listening. I don't trust her, there is a difference.”

Mark stopped and turned to face Stewart, “okay. Why?”

Stewart just stood there, realizing that he did sound jealous. “I don't know.”

“Then it's settled. I like her cooking, she's a good diver, and she thinks of things that we both miss. She must have a pretty high IQ.”

Stewart pounced on that, “oh, so you feel a bit threatened too?”

“No.” Mark glanced away momentarily, trying to convince himself that Stewart was wrong about that. When he turned back, he casually announced, “I'm sure it's just female intuition.”

Stewart really did like Mark but sometimes, this being one of them, he seemed slightly pig headed and egotistical. It was fine to insult Stewart's opinions, but Mark's opinions were always fact to him, as if he had statistical research to back them up. Stewart decided to drop the subject.

It took far longer than planned to obtain the supplies, and it was dark when they headed back to the boat. Mark suddenly handed Stewart the load he was carrying. Mark gave no more explanation then, “I'll be right back, I forgot something.”

Unsure of how long Mark's right back was going to be, Stewart put the stuff he was carrying down on a bench outside a tavern of some sort. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned and saw Ashlyn; at least it looked like Ashlyn. She was talking quietly to some man. Stealthily, he moved closer, enough to be sure it was her without being seen. He listened, but could hear nothing. The man handed her something but Stewart couldn't see what it was. So much for her fishy fish book, he thought. He didn't approach her, he would let Mark see for himself, but by the time Mark returned, she was nowhere to be found and surprise, surprise, Mark doubted him.

“Are you sure it was her?”

“Of course, I know you think I'm paranoid, but I'm not blind.”

“Maybe she was looking for us?”

“Oh, come on man. If she was, she wasn't looking very hard.”

“I'm sure she has some perfectly logical reason. We'll just ask her when she gets back to the boat.”

As it turned out, she was on the boat when they got back. She was sitting there, fish book in hand, as if she had gone nowhere at all.

“Enjoying your book?” Stewart's obviously mocking tone made her look at him strangely.

“Actually, it's very interesting, why?”

“So you've been reading that boring fish book the entire time we've been gone?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, just what are you accusing me of, being interested in marine biology is not a crime you know.” Stewart started to reply when Mark stopped him.

“He just thought he saw you by one of the shops. It was dark. I told him it wasn't you.”

Ashlyn's face changed almost imperceptibly, and then she rolled her eyes at Stewart, before returning her gaze to her book.

Stewart was sure that he had seen her expression change, and tried to get Mark to listen, but Mark just shushed him.

“I didn't notice anything and if there was a change in her expression it was probably irritation, just like the look on my face, see?” Mark pointed to his own face.

“Wait.”

Stewart started to follow him, but Mark shut the door between them. “Are you going to follow me into the can as well? Give it a rest.”

When Stewart went back to the salon, Ashlyn was gone. What was he to do, follow her to her room? There was little hope that she had not heard every word, the walls were not thick. He paced around for a while but when he realized that he was alone for the night, he went down to his room in the crew quarters. That angered him all over again. His thoughts kept him awake for a while but finally the exhaustion from the day's work made him fall asleep. Nobody noticed Ashlyn's quiet return to the boat several hours later.

***

“Madeira, this is OceanAire flight 705 requesting landing instructions, over.” The copilot waited for a response then repeated. “Tower, this is OceanAire flight 705 requesting landing instructions, over.”

The pilot came back into the cockpit and strapped himself in. “Man, that coffee is bad tonight.”

“Yeah well, look at who made it; you don't think they hired her because of her coffee making skills, do you?”

They both laughed. The copilot repeated. “Funchal Airport, this is OceanAire flight 705 requesting landing instructions, please respond.”

At his tone, the pilot asked, “What’s going on?”

“I've called three times and they haven't answered.”

“Have you tried calling in Portuguese? Maybe the English speakers are all off shift tonight.” He grinned at his joke.

“Olá!, acorde e dê-nos instruções da aterragem.” The pilot spoke in his broken Portuguese; still no response.

The captain focused on the radar screen, “I don't see anything on radar, are you sure you didn't take us off auto pilot too soon?” He was only half joking now.

Both pilot and copilot started double-checking their instruments. “We should be right on top of them; the GPS confirms our latitude and longitude.” The copilot sounded worried.

“This is weird, we should see lights.”

The pilot tried contacting the tower another time, but still there was no response. He pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. Oddly, there was no signal; they should have been close enough to be bouncing off several cell towers by now. He was about to try connecting through the new on board satellite phone system, when all the instruments began to malfunction.

“Look at the navigational compass!” The copilot's voice was full of alarm as both the digital and magnetic compasses began to spin wildly. It was dark, the horizon was invisible, and none of the navigation systems were working.

“May Day, May Day,” the pilot began to shout into the radio just before they hit the ocean at full speed.

***

Ashlyn, normally the first to awaken, was still sleeping when Stewart opened his eyes. He definitely did not like her, did not trust her, and wished she would go away, but he was hungry and couldn't wait for breakfast. Even in the short time she had been with them, he had grown accustomed to the smell of bacon cooking in the morning.

Mark walked into the galley, apparently having been up on the deck planning the day's events. “Where is Ashlyn?”

“Like I would know.” Mark didn't miss the sarcasm in Stewart's voice and scowled at him.

As if on cue, Ashlyn came up the stairs looking a little less vibrant than her usual self.

“Are you okay?” Mark was concerned, while Stewart remained irritated.

The only thing that made Stewart happy about Ashlyn was the food, and this morning it wasn't there. Then there was Mark, fawning over her, as if she was dying of cancer.

“I'm okay, I just didn't sleep well.”

“You don't need to cook breakfast this morning if you don't feel up to it.”

Stewart closed his eyes, clinched his fists and wanted to scream. What was wrong with Mark?

Instead of screaming Stewart simply stated, “I don't feel well either,” but Mark didn't seem to notice.

Ashlyn didn't miss it. Then she gave Stewart a look that said, “Don’t push it.” How he wished he had a camera, right then, so that Mark could see that expression. He was sure it was a warning, another unspoken threat.

“It's no problem. I can cook, I'm just tired.” She gave a sleepy smile to Mark.

“I'm going to take the day off,” Stewart announced to no one in particular and simply climbed off the boat, onto the dock, and then walked away.

“What's with him?” Mark seemed truly confused.

“I wouldn't worry about him. I'm sure he just feels threatened by my presence. I did take his room and … Well, it's easy to see why there might be some hard feelings.”

“He knows that we were planning on leaving this morning. I wasn't going to come back here for at least a week. I want to check out a place that's practically half way to Puerto Rico.”

“He knows the plan, and he's an adult.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Wait a couple of hours, and if he's not back, leave.”

Mark was about to protest, but then he concluded that a few days without Stewart's constant complaints about Ashlyn might be a good idea. There were plenty of small resorts for Stewart to stay in and Mark was sure Stewart had plenty of money with him.

“Maybe you're right.”

“I need to go somewhere quickly before we leave.”

“What for, I thought you didn't even know anyone here?”

She didn't answer at first, then a little awkwardly stated, “it's personal.”

Mark realized it was none of his business. “Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. Can you do me a favor while you are gone? I have to get the gear ready.”

“Sure. What?”

Mark quickly scribbled a note for Stewart explaining his plans. “Can you give this to guy at the harbor office. Stewart will no doubt go there when he sees the boat missing.”

“No problem.” She smiled at him as she took the note from him and left.

When Ashlyn got to her destination, she inspected the area to make sure that she was not being watched, and then walked into a small building.

On her way back, she stopped at the harbor office, opened the note Mark had given her, and read it. She paused for only a moment, and bit her lip unconsciously before crushing the note in her hand and throwing it into a trash can.

***

It took two days to reach their destination, and it was too late in the evening to begin diving. Mark had to admit, the days had been nice without Stewart. Mark had been trying to understand Stewart's reaction to Ashlyn but Mark felt quite the opposite about her. She was friendly and fun as well as being extremely intelligent and beautiful.

Mark's IQ was quite high, and it was refreshing to talk to a woman who was intelligent and didn't pretend to be stupid. They had not previously had the chance to get to know each other well, mostly because of Stewart's continued animosity, and Mark was looking forward to getting that chance.

The sun was just setting and the weather was perfect, so they ate dinner up on the flybridge. Several dolphins had been following the boat for a while and began jumping very near their anchored vessel. They took pictures of them until they ran completely out of light, then they watched the stars come out one by one.

The absolute darkness of the nearly moonless night made the stars look like diamonds in the sky. The boat was rocking gently from the small swells of the calm sea. The Milky Way was very bright, and they began counting shooting stars.

“Wow, I've never seen so many shooting stars.” Ashlyn sounded like a child on Christmas morning.

"It's a meteor shower. I think this one is called Orionid or something.”

She grinned and laughed. “You know the name of the meteor shower?”

“Okay, I'm a geek, I admit it, I like the NASA web site.”

“It's so beautiful.” Ashlyn seemed mesmerized.

“This isn't actually a very large shower. There's going to be one in December that will be huge in comparison to this one, and if I remember right, the moon will only be a sliver. No light to get in the way.”

“I hope I can watch it with you.” Her smile was infectious, and he found himself hoping she would still be there too.

Mark had been avoiding relationships for the last few years, but that night he realized how nice it was to be with someone, to be with her.

“Do you get along well with your parents?”

Ashlyn didn't answer for a while, and then she said softly, “I never knew my parents. I was raised in a kind of a group home. My grandfather took me with him for that one year I told you about, and then he died.”

“You don't have any other family?”

She hesitated for only a second before answering, “No.”

The pain was evident in her voice and Mark realized that although he had never been close to his parents, and had no other relatives, he at least had a home that he could call his own.

She changed the subject to him, and he was sure that it was to avoid the pain of her own memories. “How about you, do you have any family?”

She stood up and walked over to the edge of the water, and he followed closely behind.

“I'm an only child and my parents are both deceased.”

“Deceased? That sounds a little clinical. Were you close?” She turned her head to look at him.

He walked around her until they were facing one another, but he gazed up at the stars instead of at her, as if the subject matter was making him feel vulnerable.

“I didn't think so but I guess I took them for granted, to a certain extent. I had everything I needed, or even wanted, but I always wished that my dad had spent more time with me.”

He glanced at her and then away again before continuing. “He always told me that he would take me deep sea fishing someday, but we never got past ice fishing, definitely not the same. I suppose that's why I bought this boat. I've never really considered that, but I think that I'm somehow…” He trailed off, “I really don't know.”

When he didn't speak for a moment, she almost whispered, “I miss my grandfather. Being on this boat, with you… it makes me feel... safe I guess. I suppose that sounds silly.”

“You think you sound silly, after what I just said. I'm glad you feel safe with me. I feel safe with you too.” He stepped slightly closer.

She smiled, “no one has ever said that to me before. I'll do my best not to let you down.”

“I'm not sure what you mean by that.”

Her eyes drifted away for a moment and then down at her hands. “Life is just complicated; I'm not sure what I mean either.”

He felt more confused by that statement, but when she gazed up at him, he leaned over and kissed her.

***

Stewart sat watching the television in his room. He couldn't believe that they had left without him. He had only been trying to protect Mark, and look where it was getting him, stuck here for who knows how long? He didn't even know where Mark had been planning to go, so guessing his return date was virtually impossible. He swore under his breath as he went into the bathroom to take a shower. Every day he liked Ashlyn less.

The television continued droning on in the background. A newscaster was speaking to a NASA official about the ever-increasing solar flare activity. NASA was now postulating a Solar Superstorm on the magnitude of the largest storm ever recorded back in 1859. They were warning the public to prepare for widespread power and communication outages caused by the geomagnetic storm that would impact the northern hemisphere of the Earth within the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours.

***

Ashlyn and Mark had been out for five days now, the dives yielding no measurable results whatsoever. However, there were strange things happening. The most amazing thing of all was the Aurora Borealis showing brilliantly in the evening sky to the north.

It wouldn't be a strange sight at all if they were in Alaska or in Siberia, maybe even in northern Canada, but in the Caribbean. What they were seeing was nigh on impossible. Mark was aware of the ever-increasing solar flare activity but hadn't been able to watch the news, unable to maintain any decent reception with his satellite television.

Here they were, sitting peacefully on a boat in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle. Their compass was working just fine, while the sky above was full of a beautiful dance of lights. No swirling clouds full of light or bizarre unexplainable events, just an incredibly brilliant light show courtesy of the closest star's solar flares. Ashlyn leaned back against Mark as they contemplated the beautiful sky. His arms had already been around her, but now he held her more tightly.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” When he didn't answer, she turned her head to look back and up at him.

He gazed deeply into her eyes and then smiled, “never.”

She tilted her head and took in the light show in the sky, with all its mesmerizing, undulating hues, and knew instinctively, he hadn't been talking about the sky at all.

***

Deep within the Earth's core, spinning pools of liquid molten iron were appearing with more and more frequency. Their contrary flow, expelling huge amounts of electromagnetic energy and far out in the Atlantic Ocean one such explosion, larger than the others, shot up through the deep water and out into the night sky. The water through which it ascended began to spin, a greenish glow matching the shimmering, swirling mist above. Almost instantly, a bank of storm clouds formed, twisting like an inverted cyclone high into the atmosphere. Strange lights waved in and out of odd formations that would have caused some concern, if anyone had been there to watch.

Chapter 4

“Integrity can be neither lost nor concealed nor faked nor quenched nor artificially come by nor outlived, nor, I believe, in the long run, denied” Eudora Welty

~

In the morning, not having found anything that they had been looking for, they made the decision to head back to Bimini Island to pick up Stewart. Because there were only two of them, they fit nicely next to each other at the helm of the flybridge.

The sun was bright and it was a perfect 75 degrees. It was October 29th, and soon it would be a little too chilly for doing much in the way of diving.

Ashlyn had her eyes closed with her head leaning back. Mark thought she was asleep until she asked, “will you stop diving when the weather isn't so perfect next month?”

He glanced over at her, eyes still closed. She seemed completely relaxed. “It all depends on whether I find anything interesting enough to make it worth the dive, generally stay out of the water if it's too cold.”

Mark shivered at the memory of his ice fishing days. “I was raised in Wisconsin.”

She opened her eyes at that, “Wisconsin? You are a long way from home.”

“Have you ever been there?”

“No.”

“Well if you had, you would know why I live here.” He smiled and gave her a wink. “I can take you ice fishing if you would like?”

She cringed and turned away to look at the pristine, more importantly, warm, water. “No thank you.”

“Did you do a lot of diving in Hawaii?”

She seemed confused at first. “Hawaii?...Oh, yeah.”

He eyed her with an unspoken question, and when she didn't say anything more he asked, “You don't remember where you grew up?”

She laughed. “It's complicated.”

He continued looking at her with a puzzled expression, but when she didn't look at him again, he decided to drop it. His childhood had been complicated too, he mused, and maybe she just wasn't ready to talk.

“I don't think I will ever get used to the color of the water. It's so...blue. That really doesn't describe it. You know what I mean, right?”

“Is it that different from Hawaii?” He asked.

“Haven't you been to Hawaii?”

“No.”

“Why, you own a yacht? You live on a yacht for heaven's sake. I would have traveled across the world by now.”

“I guess I've been preoccupied with the triangle, since I got it.”

“How long have you had it?”

“Five years.”

“You've been looking for this evidence for five years?”

“No. I just hung out in the Bahamas for the first four. I was just trying to find myself.” He paused, as if remembering. “I didn't believe in any of the stories back then.”

“What changed?”

“A friend of mine told me about an experience he had here.”

“So you decided to solve the mystery?”

“Actually, at first, I was hoping that the sea would just swallow me up somehow.”

He didn't say anything more, and she focused on him for a few moments. “What do you mean?”

“I went through a bad divorce, and then my parents died. I just didn't feel like I had any purpose.”

She waited to see if he would continue, when he didn't she asked, “Do you have any kids?”

“I did.”

They sat there in silence for a while, and it felt awkward, so she changed the subject. “Do you think Stewart will still be angry?”

“I have no idea. I really haven't known him that long. I'm really surprised by his behavior.”

“I don't think his reaction was that strange.” She was still looking off into the distance when she spoke, so it was difficult to read her.

“You don't?”

“Not really, I'm sure he felt threatened by my presence.” She turned to face him. “We didn't make it very easy for him, you know? No warning or anything.”

Mark saw that she was serious and didn't speak for a while. When he did speak, he said, “I suppose you are right. I guess I thought his jealous act was a little funny, but I probably would have been angry too. I'm surprised that you always defend him. I don't think he has been very nice to you.”

“People have their reasons; I try not to judge too much. Don't worry; I'm sure things will be fine after we get back.”

“Only if you know something I don't.”

She fixed her eyes on the endless blue water, but didn't say anything.

***

On the second day of their return trip, when they were still about seventy-five miles from their destination, storm clouds began to gather.

“So much for the clear skies.” Ashlyn was looking up at the clouds. “Do you think we will have bad weather?” It was almost dark.

“Maybe some rain but...” He drifted off as he studied the sky. The clouds were oddly shaped and seemed to be swirling a bit. He glanced down at the instruments and then at Ashlyn. “We may get lucky after all.” He grinned at her.

“I'm confused?”

“Look at the compass.”

She focused on the spinning compass and then understood. “The rest of the world freaks out when their instruments stop working, and you are excited. I know this is what you are researching and all, but are you sure we are safe?”

“Well...?” He stopped the boat and dropped the anchor before finishing his answer. “There have been literally hundreds of reported missing boats and planes. Maybe we will disappear.” He made a ghostly sound, “OOH OOH.”

“You are mocking me, sir.”

“Me? I'm hurt; actually I was just trying to signal my space ship.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ha ha.”

“I've been looking for a year, and have found some odd electromagnetic readings in a few places but this is the first time I've actually had any kind of weird experience out here myself.”

He scrutinized her, as if he couldn't understand why she wasn't excited about it too. She gave him a half-smile but her forehead was furrowed in consternation.

“We will be okay.” He promised her reassuringly.

There was an odd, electric feeling in the air. Mark ran down the stairs quickly and started flipping switches on recording devices. When he came back up, she was in the pilothouse. He glanced at her and was about to ask a question when all the power shut off.

It was fully dark, partly from the lateness of the evening and partly from the weird clouds, no brilliant lights showing in the sky this night. Neither one of them said anything; they just stood there.

Mark walked up to the flybridge again and Ashlyn followed. Strangely, the stars seemed to be blocked out as well.

“Can we go back inside?” She asked quietly.

“Are you scared?” His voice was gentle as he leaned over and put his arms around her.

She buried her face against his chest and didn't answer right away. “I'm getting a little cold, that's all.”

There was a bit of a chill in the air that hadn't been there before, but he was sure she was lying.

“Come on.” He took her hand as they made their way down the dark staircase, first to the pilothouse, then down to the aft deck, then into the salon. He had a flashlight but apparently, the batteries were dead, so he fumbled in the darkness for another one, which he knew would be in the cabinet under the desk with the telephone.

“Here it is.” The satisfaction in his voice changed quickly as he flipped the switch. “It's dead too.”

“What could cause this?”

“An EMP maybe.”

“I'm not sure what that is.” It was odd, she was standing right next to him, but he could not see her in the dark. It was almost as if there was some kind of a mist around them.

“An EMP is an electromagnetic pulse. It happens after nuclear blasts and things like that.”

“Do you think someone set off a nuclear bomb?” The alarm in her voice made him realize that he needed to be more careful, about how he worded things.

“No, that's only one thing that can cause it. A sudden change in the magnetic field around the Earth, like from a solar flare can cause things like this but...” He trailed off. “I know that the Aurora the other night was because of a solar flare, but somehow I don't think this is related to that.”

“Why not?”

“Its just that so many people have had weird electromagnetic events, for lack of a better term, in this area that it just can't be from the sun. Solar flares couldn't be that specific. The solar wind they create hits the whole Earth or one hemisphere but not one spot in the ocean.”

“What else do you think it could be?”

“Maybe there are odd magnetic rock formations or something in the area, but if that were the case then the same spots would always have anomalies. There must be some kind of random flux in the magnetosphere.”

“You are really losing me here.”

“Sorry, I read a report a while back on the NASA web site, about a hole opening up in the magnetic field around the Earth. They only picked it up because of an orbiting satellite being in the right place at the right time. I really can't remember the details except that it said that it was something that they had previously believed to be impossible. There are really a lot of things about electromagnetism and gravity that we don't understand.”

“I guess all that fancy equipment won't be of any use in recording this.”

“Yeah, I just hope my stuff isn't fried. If it is some kind of an EMP, it could ruin everything electrical. All the circuits on my ship are set up with specialized EMP protective devices, and should theoretically automatically reboot after about thirty minutes, but we won't know until we get power back.”

“What if we don't?”

“Don't what?”

“Get power back.” The fear in her voice was more pronounced than before.

He put his arm around her and guided her out to the aft deck. They sat down on the sofa, and he held her closely. “I'm sure we will be fine, just because we don't understand what's happening, doesn't mean it's unnatural.”

She leaned her forehead against his neck. “I don't know how you can even say that? This seems really unnatural to me.”

The mist around them began to have a slight greenish glow and even though the boat was anchored, it felt as if they were beginning to spin slowly.

“People used to think the Earth was flat. Things that appear to be unnatural are really only natural occurrences that we don’t understand yet.

“I suppose that could be. Do you see that weird green fog or am I just...?” She didn't finish her statement because even while she was asking it grew brighter.

“Let's go up on the flybridge and see if it's all around us.”

“Mark, I think you are crazy. I want to get out of here. I'm wishing this boat had sails instead of motors right now.”

“I can get out and push if you want.”

“You really aren't scared at all, are you?”

He didn't say anything for a minute. “I guess I haven't felt like I have had anything to lose for a long time.”

“You said before that you had kids, past tense. What happened?”

He didn't really want to talk about it, but he answered anyway. “I had two boys, twins. Our dog ran out onto the frozen lake and the boys ran after him.”

He stopped for a moment, clearly trying to control his voice. “I tried to stop them, but I couldn't get them out when the ice broke. There was a current in the water and...” He didn't finish his sentence.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring up such a painful subject. I didn't know. I thought you meant they were with your ex-wife or something.”

“Our marriage fell apart after that. We just couldn't stop blaming ourselves and each other.”

“That's why you wanted the sea to take you? Some kind of atonement for what happened?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

Mark stood up. “I'm going up there, do you want to come with me or not?”

“I guess I'm coming, I don't want to stay here alone.”

They went up to the flybridge. It was much easier to find their way with the odd greenish glow of the mist.

“Look,” Mark pointed at the water. It was glowing green too and the boat was clearly spinning very slowly in circles.

Light began to show from the east and the green mist vanished. The power came back on and everything appeared to be normal except one thing. The sun was rising. Mark and Ashlyn both stared at the sunrise confused. It had been evening. The sun was just setting when the clouds had come. It could not have been more than a half hour, and yet it was morning.

Ashlyn studied her digital watch; it read 7:01 PM. “Look,” she pointed to her watch reading. He studied his and it read the same.

Sunset had been about 6:30 PM, so it had been fully dark at about 7:00 PM. The power had shut off then.

“How can it be morning?” She questioned.

He just shrugged and shook his head. “Well, it is theoretically possible to create faster than light travel safely. If you could produce an anti-mass area with exotic particles repelling...” He stopped. “I don't know.”

“At least I understood your last sentence.”

“Quantum physics definitely predicts the existence of natural occurrences that could bend space-time.”

“You mean like a black hole? Wouldn't that kill us?”

“Well a black hole would for sure, but a wormhole might not.”

“I thought those were only in science fiction.”

He was staring at nothing, and then regarded her seriously. “Science fiction is quickly becoming science fact, in many cases.”

She focused on him cogitatingly. Her mouth opened, as if she was going to speak, then she gazed down, remembrance shadowed across her face. Then she shut her mouth and met his eyes.

“The existence of exotic particles, in theory, could create a barrier, which might balance out the tremendous forces and create a safe opening.” He shrugged, “regardless of how it happened, we did somehow travel through time, right?”

He glanced at her for an answer. “I guess, but...” She shook her head in response. “I don't know."

“You know what this means?” Apparently, the question was rhetorical, because he went on without waiting for an answer. His whole body was animated with excitement. “If time travel is possible, so is space travel.”

She raised one eyebrow as if to say, duh, we have astronauts you know, but no words came out of her mouth.

He wrinkled his forehead and pursed his lips for a second. He was trying to explain what he meant, and it wasn't coming out right. “I mean, space-time, as in relativity. We moved through time without moving through space so the opposite must also be possible. Which means, we could move through space without moving through time.”

She considered that. “I suppose that would be the case, though it seems more likely that we just had too much to drink.”

He was confused, and then realized that she was joking. “We didn't drink anything.”

“I know, even so, it makes more sense to me.” She smiled, looking drained from the shear convergence of disconcerting information.

“One thing's for sure.”

“What's that?” She asked him hopefully.

“I didn't get enough sleep.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well I hope you don't expect breakfast anytime soon, I'm going to bed.” She rubbed her forehead hard, as if it hurt.

“You do that, I'm going to mark this spot.” He studied his GPS, wrote down the latitude and longitude on two different papers and then handed her one of them.

“Why would I want this? I wouldn't ever want to come back here.”

“What? We have to explore it, what do you think I'm doing out here in the first place?”

Her expression was dubious. She took the little piece of paper, and she eyed it strangely.

“Hey, if nothing else, you will be able to tell people where you were when that crazy thing happened, right?”

“I guess you have a point there.” She gave him a half smile, and then put the piece of paper in her pocket.

“I want to go get Stewart. It's only a few more hours.”

She was somber. “You really like him don't you?”

He just shook his head. “I guess I think of him kind of like the brother I never had. Don't tell him I said that, it sounds sappy.”

She walked closer, put her arms around his neck, and smiled at him. After he leaned down and kissed her, she told him, “Good night. Wake me up when we get there. I'm just going to lie down on the sofa in the pilothouse.”

“Why?”

With her arms still around him, she answered softly, “I don't want to be that far away from you.” He smiled and let out a barely audible laugh before he pulled her closer to him and moved his lips gently over her mouth.

Her response made him think twice about going back to Bimini right then, but after a while, he loosened his arms from her as if it was painful. She smiled, seeming reluctant as well, and she went down the stairs. He mulled over the idea of sleeping too, but he couldn't. He felt too elated.

***

When they arrived at Bimini Island, Mark woke Ashlyn up as he promised he would.

“I spoke to the guy at the harbor office; he told me where Stewart was staying. I'm going to get him.”

She looked a little dazed, then sat up and blinked her eyes a few times. “Wait, I'll come with you. My sleep schedule is all screwed up anyway.”

“Yeah, I think I'm just going to force myself to stay awake until nighttime comes again, and hope that this time it lasts for a few hours.”

He eyed her with a mischievous smile, and she raised one eyebrow slightly, “you really had fun didn't you?”

He beamed like a child. “Let's go.”

Mark wasn't sure that he should really take Ashlyn with him. Maybe it would be better if he apologized to Stewart alone, but she seemed determined to go, and he wanted her with him anyway.

When they arrived at the small resort, they asked the manager, which room Stewart was in. He told them and they walked across a sandy beach area to reach his room. Mark knocked on the door but there was no response. Mark knocked again, harder.

“Maybe he went to lunch or something.” She studied the sun. “At least it looks like lunch time, though my watch doesn't agree.”

Mark couldn't wait to tell Stewart what had happened. He turned the door handle, and it opened.

He raised his eyebrows at Ashlyn, “I guess he needs to learn something about personal security.”

“Apparently.” Ashlyn had a tense expression on her face.

When Mark opened the door, it was clear that Stewart was no longer there. Not that he had any personal belongings with him in the room in the first place, but the room was torn apart. The drawers were pulled out onto the floor, and other things overturned.

Stewart hadn't shown himself to be a violent person in any way as long as Mark had known him. Then he stated with certainty, “wherever he is, he's either really mad at me, or, he didn't go willingly.”

Chapter 5

"Scientific research consists in seeing what everyone else has seen, but thinking what no one else has thought." Unknown Source

~

Mark and Ashlyn checked everywhere they could think of on the island, but nobody seemed to know anything. Finally, they went back to the boat.

“I should never have left him.” Mark was sitting on one of the steps leading up to the aft deck. He put his head in his hands.

Ashlyn didn't say anything but she stood next to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Do you think somebody hurt him?” He pled mournfully, with his eyes. “I can't imagine that he had any enemies.”

Ashlyn seemed worried too. “I don't know. I'm sorry I suggested we leave him.”

He gazed at her, his expression pained, “you couldn't have known.”

A boy came running down the dock toward them. “Mister, I'm supposed to give you this.”

He handed Mark a note and then left quickly.

“What is it?”

Mark was studying it intently. “It's a note from Stewart, and I'm sure it's his hand writing. He says he was really angry and made up his mind to go home.” Mark was distraught.

“I'm sorry Mark, maybe I can get him to come back.” She said, and he contemplated it for a moment, and then shook his head.

“No, it should be me. I'll give him some time to cool off …, no, I'll send him a letter, and then give him some time to cool off. I've got to get out of here.”

Ashlyn nodded her head. He stood up and went up to the pilothouse. Ashlyn had followed him. His brow was furrowed, “I don't know what to say.”

“I'm sorry, might help.”

Mark considered that for a while, and then drummed his pencil. “Yeah, I don't know what else to do.” He wrote, I'm sorry, please come back, and then signed it. He put it in an envelope. Then he pulled a paper out of a drawer to find the address, and then wrote it on the envelope.

“I'll take that and mail it if you want. I need to get something before we leave anyway.”

He peered up at her gratefully. “I'm glad you are here.”

“I am too.” She leaned over and kissed him softly before leaving with the letter.

He was falling in love with her, but he wished so much that he had handled things differently, and not let it ruin his relationship with Stewart. It had only been about thirty minutes when he thought he heard her return.

“Mark?” He heard her voice.

“Up here.” He met her halfway down the stairs. “That was quick, did you run?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.” She smiled.

He noticed she was wearing different clothing. He felt like an oaf. That was why she had needed to go into town. He should have known, she hadn't had many things with her, and she was almost broke. He kicked himself for not having been more thoughtful. He should have taken her shopping.

***

Stewart sat in the corner of a dark room. His face bloody and bruised from being beaten. He had been threatened if he didn't tell them where Mark was, but he truly hadn't known. They didn't believe him. He didn't know who they were at first, just two thugs. Why in the world they wanted Mark, he could not imagine, but that afternoon, he had seen Ashlyn talking to them.

All he had known was that when he went back to the boat it was gone. He couldn't believe Mark had left him there without even saying anything. He assumed that Ashlyn had gone with him. Why was she there talking to those guys? He had supposed before that she wanted Mark for his money and maybe that was the case, but he doubted it was anything so simple now.

At first when he had seen her, he had considered the possibility that they had been looking for Ashlyn, and that she had been hiding out on the yacht. Maybe that was the reason they were looking for Mark, but there was clearly no animosity between them. In fact, it was evident that they were taking orders from her. She had walked into the room he was in, and just looked at him. Then she shook her head and walked out.

He heard her say, “he's useless, get rid of him.”

The biggest guy, Justin, the one who had beaten him, walked in. He was about six-foot-one, with a weight lifter's body and a dark tan. His hair was black and curly, but Stewart wasn't sure of his ethnicity. The other man had left with Ashlyn so it was just the two of them. Stewart braced himself and hoped that he would be killed quickly, if it was going to happen.

The beating had made him wonder about all those movies that he had seen where guys are tortured and won’t talk. Stupid, he couldn't believe that anyone could take the stuff that had been done to him, and then just get up and chase the bad guy again. This was the real world, and it wasn't going to end well. Justin's phone rang. Oh great, Stewart thought, I get an extra sixty-seconds to live. Justin listened for a few seconds and then hung up.

“I'll be back, don't go anywhere, or I will make you pay.”

Go anywhere? Like he could if he wanted to, he had tried it before, screaming, yelling, and banging on the locked doors and barred window. And pay for it? Like he wasn't already going to pay for it. Maybe this was the local jail, he considered the possibility. The building was off by itself between some palm trees. He sat there considering his future. What should he do with the last moments of his life? He wasn't close to his parents, and he hadn't talked to his brother in years.

Mark was the reason Stewart was there in the first place. It was ironic that Mark was the only person Stewart wanted to see. He wished he hadn't gotten mad and walked off. It was stupid, though obviously he had been right about Ashlyn. He should have stayed on the boat, that was for sure. He was concerned for Mark, and wondered what they would do to him when they found him. Stewart still had no idea why they wanted Mark in the first place.

It had been a long time, maybe even an hour. He heard a sound outside that he couldn't identify, then a moment later Ashlyn walked in. Oh, great! His favorite person.

She glanced at him for a second and then told him, “I'll be back.” Then she left.

That was weird, what was the point of that? He waited another twenty or thirty minutes before she returned.

She walked in, sounding agitated, “come on, we've got to go quickly.”

He stood up and sarcastically retorted, “What? You want me to go somewhere else before you kill me. I guess then you won't have to drag my body so far, but then Justin could do it, couldn't he.”

Ashlyn shook her head, “Stewart, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry I got you involved in this.”

He gaped at her in bewilderment. “What do you mean? You just told them to get rid of me a couple of hours ago.”

“That wasn't me.”

He was ready to make a cynical remark in response to anything she said, but he didn't expect that. “What do you mean? You were having a bad hair day when you told them to kill me, or maybe it was PMS, and now you feel better?”

“No.” She focused on him seriously, “I mean it was not me.”

He didn't say anything for a minute, and then he asked, “What, like an evil twin thing?”

“It's something like that."

“Are you serious?”

“I'm dead serious, but we have got to go now, before they find… a, well, I'm not sure of his name. The big guy with the black curly hair.”

“Justin?”

“I guess, come on.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

She stared at him blankly.

“Her name?”

Recognition hit, “Dierdra.” She shook her head in apology and blinked, “I'm sorry, I'm just worried, let's go.”

They left the small building, and she ordered, “Help me get him in there.”

Justin was face-down in the sand, blood oozing from his head somewhere. Stewart gawked at Ashlyn, “did you do that?”

She glanced down at Justin and then back at Stewart, “yeah.”

Great, just when he was feeling safe.

“How did you?” He motioned with his head and eyes.

He thought of David and Goliath for a minute then he changed his mind, more like Beauty and the Beast. He just hoped that she wasn't going to turn out to be the beast.

They dragged Justin's body into the building and then locked the door.

Ashlyn prodded him, “let's go. We've got to hurry.”

He brooded over the six-foot corpse, and tried to imagine how long it would be until someone found it. Sound might not carry on the island, but he bet the smell would soon.

“How long does a body take to start smelling?”

She glared back at Stewart, who was taking his time. “How should I know?”

“Well, I got the impression that he isn't the first person you've killed.”

She didn't say anything, just turned away and headed off across the island. Stewart followed behind.

After a few minutes he asked, “Where are we going anyway?”

She stopped and faced him. “We have to get a boat somewhere and get off this island. She's with Mark.”

His face went a little white, behind the black and blue. He had stopped, dead in his tracks, “does he know she's not you?”

She considered that question. “No.”

“Oh, man, this is bad.” Then he questioned her uneasily, “why are you so sure he doesn't? Maybe she told him. Maybe she killed him?”

“No, she is pretending to be me, I'm sure of that.”

“Why?”

“Because that's what I would do.” She bit her lip subconsciously.

***

Mark was in the pilothouse, deeply focused and frustrated. He was headed back to the place they had been the night before, and it was getting dark. He would dive into his work, literally, and see if it made him feel better.

Dierdra walked up behind Mark. “Are you planning on anchoring for the night sometime? You look like a man possessed.”

He studied her face. “Why do you suddenly not care?” He stood up. “You know how upset I am about Stewart.”

She shook her head dismissively, “he's fine. I'm sure you can get him to come back if it matters that much to you.”

He couldn't believe his ears; it was like she was a different person. He glared at her. She didn't seem to notice or care. Then he sat back down at the wheel and began to slow the boat for the night. He hadn't slept in forty-eight hours, or however many hours it had been, and she hadn't slept much either. Possibly, that was the problem.

He didn't look back at her when he spoke, “go ahead and go to bed. I'm dropping the anchor here.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

A little less affectionate tonight? He thought, but didn't say, as he gazed unseeing out the darkened window in front of him. Maybe, just maybe, Stewart had been right about her. He felt angry because of the way she was acting and upset about Stewart, plus he was tired. Perhaps he wasn't thinking straight. Hopefully, things would be better in the morning.

***

Ashlyn had acquired a small motor boat somehow, and they were headed out. It was already dark and Stewart, nervous on a big yacht, was having a hard time keeping his anxiety under control. Ashlyn hadn't said much of anything to him, and it seemed that his questions just irritated her.

“Where are we going to sleep?”

She gaped at him, “where do you think? In the cabin. I know the beds are small, and you are used to traveling in style, but I really didn't have a lot of choices.”

“I was hoping we would dock somewhere for the night.”

Ashlyn slowed the boat. She hadn't slept, except for that nap after the missing night. She wouldn't be of much help to Mark if she wasn't up to par. Stewart had gone down to the small cabin. When she had the boat settled for the night, she headed down too. It was truly pathetic in comparison to the yacht, but it was a little faster, and she was glad for that.

Stewart glanced up at her when she came in. “Why didn't you just call him? He has that satellite phone on the boat that he never uses.”

She studied her hands and bit her lip again before looking at him, “I tried. I'm sure Dierdra would have disabled any communications on the ship first thing.”

“How do you know?”

She contemplated that. “That's what I would do.”

“You keep saying that, but how do you know she will do what you would do?”

She sat down on the port side birth, took off her shoes thoughtfully, and let out a long breath. “I'm really sorry for what has happened to you, Stewart.”

It was the first time that she had really looked at him. She got up and started looking through cabinets until she found a first aid kit, then she walked over to where he was sitting.

“Let's get you cleaned up.”

As it turned out, she was a pretty good doctor. “You're also good at first aid? Is there anything you can't do?”

She answered seriously, “I haven't found anything yet.”

He didn't expect that answer, it sounded quite egotistical. He smirked a little and asked, “Do you really mean that?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes.” She turned to her bed and pulled back the blanket. “I can do just about anything, without even practicing.”

Her expression had been strange, he thought, and she hadn't said anything more before shutting off the light and climbing into her berth. He just laid there in the dark contemplating her idiosyncratic behavior. He couldn't see why Mark even liked her, and then there was Justin. Stewart hoped he was safe; possibly, she was just insane. One thing was certain, he would find out soon enough.

***

Mark woke bright and early. He felt much better but he was still tired. He felt uncertain that the correct number of hours had passed. He laughed out loud at himself. That had been such an incredible experience the night before. He had a whole map full of magnetic anomalies and evidence, now he had seen it himself. He was going to figure it out. He was determined.

Dierdra was nowhere to be found. He went to her door and knocked, “Ashlyn, are you awake.”

She didn't answer so he went into the galley to get himself some food. I guess the honeymoon is over, he lamented, and it hadn't even begun.

Dierdra showed up just as he finished frying his eggs.

“You didn't make any for me?” She pouted.

He turned around and questioned her with his eyes.

“What?” Dierdra asked innocently.

“I thought our arrangement was that you would cook for me?”

He felt annoyed. Why was she so different? It was like; he didn't know her at all.

“I'm sorry.” She sounded sincere. “I just overslept.”

She was fumbling this and she knew it, but she had to find out what he knew before he found out that she wasn't Ashlyn.

“It's alright. It's been a weird couple of days I suppose.”

“So have you found anything really unusual out here?”

From the astonished look on his face, she knew she must have made a wrong turn. She cursed Ashlyn's interference silently. On the other hand, Ashlyn had set it up for her quite nicely.

“What's wrong? Did I dream the other night or what? You act like you don't even know what we did.”

Dierdra glanced away for a second, confused. Maybe they were romantically involved. “Don't be silly,” she said, “How could I forget something like that?”

She walked closer to him, put her arms around his neck, and gave him a sweet smile. He focused on her eyes, and then pulled back a little.

“What's wrong Mark? I'm sorry if I seemed insensitive about Stewart last night, I was just tired, you know?”

“I know.” He leaned down and kissed her. Her response was oddly passionate given her irritable behavior that morning, but he went along with it.

He had just started ignoring his confusion when she stopped suddenly.

“Feel better?” She tilted her head in a flirtatious manner, as if the kissing was supposed to change his bad mood.

He didn't answer; he just studied her.

“I thought you were in a hurry to get to your dive.”

“You know where we are going, right?”

She made a dismissive gesture, “of course.”

“And you don't have a problem with that?”

“Why would I?” Her nonchalant manner was more puzzling than anything else was.

“You were terrified before, I thought you said you never wanted to go back there.”

She hesitated, “well, I thought about it and decided that I was being silly.”

He was beginning to wonder if she had multiple personalities like that show on HBO, Tara something.

Mark had to get away from her. He headed up to the pilothouse then chose to go up to the flybridge instead. He had to get some air.

When Dierdra realized he wasn't in the pilothouse, she began rummaging through his papers and charts.

***

Ashlyn was pushing the motor as hard as she could and the waves were not cooperating. The boat was pitching a lot, and it seemed like the wind was fighting them too. She had to get to him, if it wasn't too late already. Stewart came up on the deck, he was practically having a panic attack from the way she was driving the boat against the waves. They were riding high in the water and going so fast that the boat felt like they were pounding speed bumps.

“Can you slow down at all?” The dread in his voice made her turn around.

“Are you scared?”

“I hate the ocean.”

“You've got to be kidding. Aren't you working on your Ph.D. in oceanography or something?”

“Yes, I'm trying to overcome my fear by being out here.”

She was so stressed out and worried about getting to Mark, and here she was stuck with Chicken Little.

She turned back to the ocean ahead and sped up the boat as much as she could. “Sorry, but I've seen what Dierdra is capable of doing, and I don't want Mark to...” She trailed off and tears started rolling down her face, but she didn't change her expression.

“How do you know where they are going?”

She didn't turn around but pulled a crumpled note out of her pocket, the one Mark had given her with the latitude and longitude. She flashed it at him and said simply, “GPS”.

Stewart needed to ask more, but he couldn't stand watching the waves, so he headed back down to the cabin.

***

Mark stopped the boat and set the anchor, then came down to the pilothouse where he saw Dierdra sitting on the sofa.

“I'm going to get my gear and dive here.”

He walked passed her to go down the stairs, but Dierdra stopped him.

“Mark.” He turned. “Sorry, I can't let you do that.” She said it with a smile, but she had a pistol pointing right at him.

Chapter 6

"Great occasions do not make heroes or cowards; they simply

unveil them to the eyes of men." Bishop Westcott

~

Ashlyn had been able to see the yacht before she was close enough for the boat motor to be heard. The wind was blowing quite hard now and the bumpy waves that Stewart had been complaining about earlier had turned into substantial swells that were going to make it hard to get close to the other vessel.

She got her boat as close as she dared then turned off the motor, hoping the momentum would get her close enough. The wind and waves were at least in her favor now, which was good for the moment, but could cause a potential collision if care was not taken.

“Stewart, get up here,” she ordered through the wind.

Stewart was beginning to wish that Dierdra had killed him instead of Ashlyn making him get on that boat. He was so sea sick that he could hardly raise his head without being overwhelmed with nausea. He didn't respond. She wasn't his favorite person at this point.

“Stewart,” she hissed at him, after opening the door of the cabin, trying to convey the urgency she felt without alerting Dierdra to her presence. She only prayed that Mark was still alive. “Get up here, now!” Her voice was so forceful that Stewart considered the possibility that he might end up like Justin if he didn't obey.

Stewart forced himself to go up on the deck. Seeing the waves moving the boat up and down, up and down, with relentless motion was worse than just feeling it. He looked like he might pass out. Ashlyn focused on his white face, covered with bruises and, just for a moment wanted to cry. He was suffering so much, but she couldn't help him yet.

“Look Stewart.” She took him gently by the shoulders and got close enough to talk softly, and still be heard in the wind. “I know you are suffering, and I want to help, really!” The look in her eyes made him hope that the nightmare would eventually end. “But, I have to get to the yacht before Mark is...” She didn't say it but just glanced at the yacht.

It was the first time that Stewart had realized that they had found it. He focused across the short distance separating the two boats and felt like he was on a bath toy next to it. Let me get on that boat! He wished silently to himself then pled with his eyes.

“I need you to take the wheel and wait until I'm on the yacht. Give me five minutes and then start the motor again. Get as close as you can, and then drop the anchor.” She glanced back at the Zephyr and then at Stewart. “Please try not to hit the yacht, okay?”

When he didn't respond she asked, “Stewart, do you understand?”

He nodded and held his stomach, his mouth opened a bit, and he began to stagger. Please don't let him pass out, she prayed again silently. She reached out her hand to steady him.

“How are you going to get on the yacht?” He asked, bewildered.

She judged the fifty feet of swelling ocean between the two vessels and then looked back at Stewart, “swim.”

He tried to pull himself together; at least he got to stay on the boat.

***

Mark studied Dierdra; gun in hand. He had ruined his relationship with his best friend for the woman he had been falling in love with, the woman who was now pointing a gun at him.

“Why are you doing this, Ashlyn?”

She didn't bother to correct the name, even now, when it didn't matter. It was obviously breaking his heart, and that pleased her. “You've been sticking your nose where it doesn't belong and some people are not happy with you.”

“Who, what are you talking about?” He hadn't been into anybodies business. “I haven't been doing anything, to anyone.”

“Well, at least you haven't put it all together. That's good, but I will probably still have to kill you.”

She said it, as if she was choosing between hash browns and toast. How could this be Ashlyn? She had seemed so different, so caring. This woman was cold as ice, no, he reflected, more like liquid nitrogen. Then it occurred to him that Stewart might not have sent that note willingly.

“What did you do to Stewart?” He demanded an answer, ignoring the gun.

She stretched her neck a bit as if she had been sitting too long. “He's dead.”

He felt sick, suddenly waves of nausea hit him, but it wasn't from the movement of the sea or the pitching of the boat. He sat down on the stairs leading down to the aft deck, his back to her. He didn't care anymore. She might as well shoot him and get it over with.

“Mark?” She said his name, but he didn't turn around. He sat there for a second and then just stood up and walked down the stairs.

Dierdra didn't shoot him because the curve of the staircase blocked him before she realized what he was doing. No hurry, she thought. There was no gun or weapon close by for him to use, she had searched quite thoroughly during the night.

“Mark,” she called, “there's nowhere to go, why don't you come back up here and make it easy on yourself?”

“No,” Mark responded with a resigned voice, “I don't want the blood to make a mess in my pilothouse.”

She considered that for an instant and concluded that it was a good idea. She might as well keep the ship after he was dead anyway, it was quite nice. In fact, she might as well make him walk the plank, so to speak. She would make him jump in the water and then shoot him just to be sure. He would make a nice meal for a shark, she mused. She had seen a fish book downstairs; no doubt, it was Ashlyn's. Ashlyn was always reading some boring informational book of some sort. It was nice that she didn't have to learn that way.

“Okay,” she said, “have it your way, I'll kill you down there.”

Mark was staring out at the water on the back of the aft deck. He didn't notice the boat bobbing up and down in the swells just off the starboard side of his yacht, but he heard something. He listened for a moment. There was somebody coughing softly. He walked further toward the steps. Someone was trying to get out of the water onto the lower landing.

She peered up at him. There was confusion written all over his face.

Ashlyn was hanging on to the rail on the back of the boat, trying to find purchase on the ladder with her feet, in the jostling water. She lifted her free hand, while trying not to lose her balance, and made a shushing motion with her finger and mouth.

He glanced back behind him in consternation and bewilderment, then quietly climbed down the stairs and helped her out of the water.

“Mark,” she leaned into him, and he put his arms around her dripping figure. Whispering, Ashlyn said, “She’s going to try to kill you.”

He glanced behind them quickly, “she already is. She has a gun and she is on her way downstairs now. Why does she want to kill me?”

“I'll explain later, right now I need you to hide.”

“But..."

She shushed him by putting her hand over his mouth. “Mark, I love you, now hide.”

She probably wouldn't have told him that just then but knew it might be her only chance. Mark didn't move. He tried to respond but she silenced him with her tone.

“Hide.” This time it was an order.

Dierdra was coming down the stairs. Ashlyn couldn't see her yet, but she could hear the movement. She made a wild gesture with her arm for Mark to duck. There was no way for Dierdra to see them from the stairs because of the sofa that blocked the back of the aft deck, and they were still down on the lower landing. They both crouched down and Ashlyn hoped the Dierdra would assume that Mark had gone the other way and go into the ship, giving him a chance to hide.

Ashlyn whispered into his ear as softly as she could and hoped that the wind would cover the sound a little. “She will probably think you went the other way.”

He considered that for just a second and then nodded his head in agreement.

“As soon as she is past the salon, I want you to go up to the pilothouse. No wait, she'll hear you, go into the closet at the bottom of the stairs.”

Mark was not liking this plan; he wasn’t going to hide. Surely, Ashlyn was in danger too. They had to be identical twins, but he doubted that there would be any family loyalty involved.

He was quite relieved to find out that the woman he had been falling in love with had not turned into that cold-hearted bitch up the stairs. Now that he knew Ashlyn was here, he was not going to let her get hurt protecting him.

“I'm not going to hide while you're in danger,” he whispered in her ear resolutely.

She studied him, brow furrowed, knowing that he would not cooperate with her. She was a lot more capable of taking care of herself than he knew. Ashlyn glanced over at the boat she had arrived on. Stewart was supposed to start the motor up at any moment to get closer to the yacht, but looking at it now, she was sure he wouldn't need to. If he did need the motor for anything, it would only be to avoid a collision.

She pointed to the boat so that Mark would realize where it was and then, while he was focused on that, she quickly shoved him as hard as she could so that he fell into the water. They were close enough to the water, that with the wind blowing, there was no audible splashing sound. He was a good swimmer and would be a lot safer if he wasn't trying to protect her.

He went under for a few seconds, and then came up shaking his head. He looked up just in time to see her running up the stairs after …? He realized that he still didn't know the other women's name.

Mark glanced at the boat and then at the yacht. It was only about ten feet away. Should he get back on the yacht or onto the other boat? He was sure what Ashlyn wanted him to do, but he wasn't sure how he could help the most. He took one more look at the yacht and then swam for the boat. He had no weapons on the yacht, he was sure of that, and no strategic advantage. Maybe he could find something on the little boat that could help. At the very least, the boat would be faster than the yacht if they needed a quick getaway.

He swam the short distance with the intention of getting the boat along side of the yacht if possible. Maybe he could then jump back on the yacht and save Ashlyn. His plan sounded weak, even to himself, but he didn't have a better one. He found the side ladder easily enough. Thankfully, it was facing him. He climbed up and over and then froze as he saw Stewart standing there, beaten and bruised and from the look of it, sick as a dog. Mark couldn't help himself, he ran the couple of steps in that was between them, and threw his arms around Stewart in a big bear hug, hoping that he wasn't hurting Stewart in the process.

“I thought you were dead.” He explained as he let him go, realizing that he was completely embarrassing himself.

Stewart smiled weakly, “I thought you were too.”

Then Stewart ran to the side of the boat and heaved. Poor guy, Mark thought, Stewart got seasick on good days and this one was a very, very bad one. Mark ran to the helm, trying to decide how best to maneuver the boat into place without being noticed. It was going to be really hard with the pitching of the two vessels. He wished for one of those calm days.

***

Ashlyn had flown up the stairs to the aft deck, and then she ran across it before Dierdra could see her. Dierdra's back had been turned away from Ashlyn, but she was sure that Dierdra would be chasing up the stairs any second, sure to hear Ashlyn's footsteps as she ran up into the pilothouse. Ashlyn was shoeless and dripping wet, being chased by someone with a gun and all she had was a knife and no plan. The only thing Ashlyn had in her favor was that Dierdra would think she was Mark. At least, that ought to buy her a second or two of surprise.

She heard Dierdra call out, “Mark, I thought you wanted to keep the blood out of your pilothouse?”

Ashlyn cringed. That must not have been a happy conversation, and she was sick when she realized that Mark had believed it to be her.

She glanced quickly around the pilothouse looking for anything that would help. She saw nothing more dangerous than a few throw pillows on the sofa and then had another idea. She ran up onto the flybridge, locking the door behind her. She spotted Mark on the boat with Stewart and waved at him to let him know that she was okay.

Mark scanned the yacht and saw Ashlyn waving from the flybridge. He was relieved that she was all right. Then just for a second he felt a dreaded question nagging at him, what if it wasn't her. He tossed the idea out, she was still sopping wet. He had thrown out a rope again, for the third time, this time catching it on the yacht hook he had been aiming for. He tethered the two crafts together and then pulled the boat as gently as he could. Even with so much care taken, there was still a small thud when it came in contact with the yacht.

Dierdra was in the pilothouse trying to figure out how to get to Mark when she felt some kind of an impact. They weren't near land. What was he up to?

Mark and Stewart were both trying to climb onto the yacht, where the two crafts had been tethered together, the starboard side of the yacht, to the port side of the boat. There was an outside walkway starting at the middle section and running up to the bow. Ashlyn was trying to climb over the edge of the flybridge to get to the same place, knowing they could then use the side doors to get in. She just hoped that Dierdra wouldn't catch on too soon.

Dierdra was trying to decide what to do. The door was locked. There was no point in trying to go up that way. She would have to go down; besides, she needed to know what that thump had been. She walked down the stairs. She was tiring of this game fast. She inspected the aft deck but saw no one. As she went through the glass sliding doors into the salon, she saw the small boat tethered to the starboard side of the yacht. It had been too short to see from the aft deck. Ashlyn, she thought angrily, it had to be.

She turned her head when she heard a noise and saw Mark and … ah, Mark's boy Friday. She had thought he was dead, she was sure she had Ashlyn to thank for that little surprise too. No matter, she had the gun pointed at the two of them now.

“Don't think you can get away from ...” She choked on the last of her sentence as Ashlyn grabbed her around the neck from behind where she had been waiting, simultaneously knocking the gun from her hand. They fought for a few minutes, and it was clear that they were fairly evenly matched and that they both had considerable training in that area.

Ashlyn had Dierdra in a choke-hold but Dierdra broke out of it with a full body jerk downward, flipping Ashlyn over completely in one swift move. Ashlyn landed hard on the floor but rolled over onto her stomach immediately and reached for the gun. Dierdra jumped her before she could get it. Ashlyn somehow managed to flip over, throwing Dierdra hard into the glass coffee table, shattering it as she landed.

By then, Mark had traversed the yards between them where the gun had landed on the floor. He grabbed it and pointed it at Dierdra. “Stop,” he commanded. Dierdra was bleeding from the wounds she had sustained from the shattered glass of the coffee table.

Ashlyn sat on the floor, taking the time to pull some glass shards from her arm.

Dierdra slowly stood up, but she wasn't going to give up that easily. She was sure Mark was too much of a softy to kill her without thinking, and she bet her life on it. She ran through the open glass door and flung herself over the half-wall of the starboard side of the aft deck and into the water.

That took all of them by surprise. Ashlyn was still sitting there, a bit dazed from the fight, and Stewart collapsed onto the sofa. His body couldn't take anymore. They could chase Dierdra if they wanted, but he was just glad to be on a bigger boat, so that hopefully, the nausea would finally subside.

Mark reached down to help Ashlyn up, but she stopped him, “the boat,” she said.

It took him a second or two to understand her meaning, and then he heard the boat motor start next to them. She had to have gone up that ladder fast to get the boat started so soon. He ran to the double doors and through to the outside walkway where he had climbed onto the yacht.

He still had the gun, but he didn't shoot as Dierdra smirked at him while pulling away. She had chopped the tether line with an ax and made quick work of her get away. There was no way to catch her.

Dierdra yelled at Mark through the wind, “I'll be back.”

He felt sure of that. He stood there for a moment, and then Ashlyn was beside him.

“Why didn't you shoot her?”

He gawked at her; he hadn't even considered doing that.

“Give me the gun.” Ashlyn grabbed the gun from him and shot at Dierdra, but she was too far away now with the boats pitching the way they were.

Ashlyn gave Mark a look of extreme frustration. She was obviously upset that he hadn't taken the shot when he had the chance. He followed her back to the aft deck, where she watched Dierdra's getaway.

“I couldn't kill her. I've never killed anyone.”

She glanced up at Mark after a little while. “I'm not mad at you, I just want her dead.” She turned away, staring at nothing.

Mark winced at her coldness, “but, she's your sister?”

She looked at him blankly, and then insisted, “She is not my sister!”

Ashlyn continued to watch the boat disappear, almost too far away to be seen now. Mark followed her.

She didn't say anything for a moment, and then she repeated softly. “She's not my sister.” She turned her face to him and met his eyes. “She's my clone.”

Chapter 7

“The best relationships--friendship and otherwise--tend to be those where you 'can say' anything to the other person but you 'don't say' everything.” Audrey Beth Stein

~

“What?” Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing. He and Ashlyn were still outside on the aft deck. The wind was blowing, and their voices were soft. Stewart had not heard what she had said. However, he heard Mark's alarmed voice clearly over the ambient noise and sat up suddenly. Stewart forced his battered body to get off the sofa and walk to where the other two were standing. Mark was staring at Ashlyn with an incredulous look on his face.

“What's going on?” Stewart was holding his stomach and looked worse than ever, now that his adrenaline was fading.

They didn't answer Stewart immediately. Ashlyn continued looking at Mark's face. “You had an easier time believing in time travel?”

Mark stared at his feet. “It's not that I don't believe it's possible...” He glanced back up at her, a disturbed expression contorting his face. Then he gazed out at the water and shook his head slightly. “I just hoped that no one would do it.”

He met her eyes; evidently, she was not happy about it herself. He finally turned to Stewart, and it was as if Mark was really seeing Stewart for the first time.

Ashlyn followed Mark's eyes when she saw the expression on his face. She took in Stewart's miserable appearance.

“Hey, what's going on?” Stewart repeated in a weak voice.

Mark started to answer, but turned back to Ashlyn. “By the way, I still didn't get her name.”

“It's Dierdra,” Ashlyn answered, and then she turned to see if the boat was out of sight. It was, and she turned back to the conversation.

“Anyway,” Mark began again, “Dierdra, is not Ashlyn's sister, she's a clone.”

Mark would not have believed it possible, but Stewart suddenly looked even worse than he already did. His mouth dropped a little, “what?” He asked it very slowly, as if he were drugged. He squeezed his eyes closed, not able to take in the information properly. “How is that even possible?”

Ashlyn stepped closer to Stewart and touched his shoulder, “come on Stewart, let's get you taken care of, we can talk later.”

Though he was confused about the situation, he was too sick and in too much pain to argue. She led him down to his room, and then she went up into the galley. She mixed up a concoction, poured it into a glass, and took it to him. “Drink this,” she prompted gently, as she helped him sit up.

It was green and didn't look very appetizing. He studied her imploringly, “do I have to?” For a moment, he seemed like a little child.

“Yes Stewart, It will make you feel better, I promise.”

“What's in it?”

She cringed. “You really don't want to know. Just trust me, okay?”

He nodded in agreement and drank it down as quickly as possible. Then she re-cleaned the wounds that she had cleaned the night before. When she was done, he lay down on his bed, and she sat there with him for a few moments stroking his hair softly. “I am so sorry Stewart. It's my fault that you got left behind on Bimini.”

His eyes had been closed but when she revealed that, he opened them and looked at her. “I shouldn't have left.”

“You were right about some things. Meeting Mark was no accident, but I wasn't trying to hurt him, or get anything from him, and I didn't think they would hurt you. Why don't you sleep for now, and when you feel better I will answer all of your questions?"

“Can I ask you one question first?”

“Of course,” she answered, grateful that she didn't have to keep any more secrets.

“Did you jump off the boat to save Mark, or was it to kill Dierdra?”

She smiled softly and her eyes teared up ever so slightly, “I jumped off the boat to save Mark.”

“Okay,” apparently that answer was good enough for him.

Ashlyn pulled Stewart's blankets over him. He closed his eyes and was fast asleep before she had even left the room.

Back up in the salon, Mark had just finished cleaning up the glass from the broken coffee table. When she walked in, he turned to her. “Thanks for taking care of him.”

She glanced down. “I am partly responsible for the treatment he got.”

Mark didn't understand completely, but there was plenty of time for that. He regarded her split lip and spoke gently, “you look like you need a little first aid yourself.”

She leaned against him and closed her eyes. He put his arms around her and whispered into her ear. “I love you too.”

His delayed, yet timely response made Ashlyn smile. She looked up at him, and when she did, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her cut mouth.

When he pulled his face away slightly, she apologized, “sorry I shoved you off the boat.”

He smiled down at her and almost laughed. He had actually forgotten in all the excitement, if one could call it that. She put her arms around his neck.

He shook his head a little, “I can't believe you did that.” Then he spoke more seriously, “do not ever,” he raised an eyebrow for emphasis, moved his face closer to her, while simultaneously pulling her tighter to him. “I repeat, do not ever, stop me from protecting you again. Okay?”

Her eyes teared. “You don't understand.” She followed her hands with her eyes as she ran them down his chest. She studied them while he waited, and then looked up at him. “I can't let her ever hurt you.” She paused and then almost choked on the words, “because she's me.”

She pulled away from him and walked out onto the aft deck. He waited for a minute and then followed her. He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. He pressed his lips against the side of her head and kissed her hair, dry now, but still messy from her swim. It smelled of seawater and wind, and he breathed it in.

He spoke softly into her ear. “She is not you, believe me, DNA means nothing.”

When she didn't say anything, he moved around in front of her. She had tears running quietly down her face, and she kept her eyes averted.

“Ashlyn.”

His voice was soothing and she wanted to trust him, but the only person that she had ever felt safe with, prior to meeting Mark, was dead.

“What happened? How did...?” He trailed off, not even know what to ask.

When she didn't answer, he led her to the sofa on the back of the aft deck, the very one that they had been hiding behind, only hours before. He put his arms around her and held her.

After a few minutes, she glanced around nervously, “Mark, do you have any kind of proximity alarms on the ship? Anything to make sure that Dierdra doesn't show up, and murder us in our sleep or worse?”

He reflected on her statement for a second. He wasn't sure what she meant by or worse, and somehow, he didn't think he wanted to know the answer.

“I do have an alarm system. I generally don't use it when I'm out at sea, but I can turn it on.”

“I think that it would be a very good idea. Also, we should make sure that the communication systems are working again.”

“What do you mean?” Mark hadn't known that Dierdra had disabled his radio and satellite phone systems.

“I tried calling you right after you left the harbor. I wasn't surprised. The first thing I would have done would have been to disable the communication systems.”

Mark felt violated. He hadn't had time to process fully what had happened, and a shudder ran through him at the thought of what could have occurred. It could have been so much worse.

“I guess we had better check.”

Mark and Ashlyn went into the pilothouse, and it didn't take long for Ashlyn to find Dierdra's sabotage.

“That was quick.”

“We do tend to think alike.” She didn't try to hide her disgust.

“I guess that makes sense,” though nothing in the last few days had really made any sense at all.

When they were done securing the boat Ashlyn asked, “Why don't we leave this place?”

She wanted to be as far away from that spot as possible. Not only did Dierdra know where they were, but it was also, where they had experienced the time distortion.

“I don't want to go far, because I need to go diving here in the morning.”

“You've got to be kidding, Mark? There are people trying to kill you. Why does it matter so much?”

“The very fact that they are trying to kill me, is the reason that I have to go diving. I need to find what it is I'm not supposed to know.”

“Mark, aside from that sounding like a deranged statement, what does this spot have to do with Dierdra trying to kill you?”

“I'm not sure. Why do you think she is trying to kill me?”

Ashlyn sat on the sofa in the pilothouse and let out a long breath. “I don't know. I only know that the people, who created her, sent her after you.”

“And who is that?”

“It's quite complicated. I will explain, but you didn't answer my question, what makes you think it has something to do with diving?”

“Dierdra told me.”

Ashlyn did a double take. “What did she say?”

“She told me I was getting too close, sticking my nose where it didn't belong. She had my charts and my notes. She had been looking through them. I asked her what they had to do with anything, and she just mocked me for not having figured it out yet.”

Ashlyn sat on the sofa, staring out the window at nothing.

“Do you have any idea at all? I mean, you know who she works for right?”

Ashlyn nodded. “It’s a bioengineering research company, called Neuronex Pathtronix. They have some kind of connection to the military, I think. I never got those details.”

Mark had been standing against the command desk, back to the window, facing her. He moved across the small room to sit on the sofa next to her and then turned so that he was facing her directly.

“You think there's a military connection?” The thought was disturbing, but he wasn't naive enough to think that the government didn't cover things up now and then.

“I don't know,” she answered, “but I do know that there was a Navy admiral, who was involved at some point. I saw him a few times. I don't know whether he was on official business for the Navy or just corrupt.”

Mark sat there thinking for a few minutes. “There is a naval base near here called AUTEC, on Andros Island. It's supposed to be for some kind of research and development pertaining to undersea warfare, but I'm not sure.”

“Well, they wouldn't have sent Dierdra after you if they didn't want you dead. I know that much.”

“How did you find me, Ashlyn, and why? It can't be coincidental that you have a clone,” he shook his head slightly as if he was still trying to make sense of it, “who just happens to be trying to kill me.”

She paused only for a second before answering. “I have been trying to track Dierdra down, but every time I have gotten a lead she's disappeared just before my arrival. This time I got lucky and got here before her.”

“What lead did you get that had to do with me?”

“I found the hotel she had been staying at, and there was a crumpled note on the floor that somehow missed the garbage.”

He nodded his understanding.

“It just goes to show how well they clean hotel rooms.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He smiled at her, “scary, huh?”

She shook her head, and then continued, “Anyway, it had your name written on it, and Nassau Bahamas. I found out as much as I could about you, and then came. It took me a few days of questioning people, but I found out that you were supposed to be meeting someone at the restaurant on Paradise Island.”

She felt guilty. “I paid him not to show up.”

Mark sat forward, surprised by the revelation. “Why didn't you just tell me then, that someone was trying to kill me, and that you wanted to protect me.”

Shamefully, she admitted, “I wasn't trying to protect you, Mark. I was trying to find Dierdra.”

Now that she knew him so well, she loathed the way she had used him, but she spoke honestly. “I knew if I was with you, eventually she would come to me. I concocted a story to get on board your ship with you. At that point, I didn't know you, or if you could be trusted.”

He eyed her warily. “So Stewart was right, you didn't just accidentally meet me?”

She nodded.

He felt sick at the way he had treated Stewart, his best friend, whom he now knew had only been trying to protect him from his own gullibility. Mark sat there for a while, questioning whether her declaration of love had been true.

“So the story about being raised in Hawaii, and your grandfather's boat, that was a lie? The reason you didn't seem to remember about it when I mentioned it later?”

“It's complicated. Part of it was true, especially living on the boat, only he wasn't my grandfather. I will answer all of your questions. I don't want anymore secrets.”

Mark studied his hands. Enough time passed that it made Ashlyn feel nervous. Then he finally spoke. “You told me you loved me, was that a lie too?”

The question took her by surprise. “No, absolutely not, I do love you,” she assured him. “Please don't ever doubt that.” She searched his eyes before continuing, “I never expected to fall in love with you.”

He felt somewhat relieved, that at least part of what he knew of her was true. The whole thing was so complicated that he wasn't even sure where to start with his questions. “How did you get involved with the company in the first place?”

She took a deep breath and considered his question.

He assumed that her hesitation in answering was because she felt ashamed. He moved closer and put his arm around her. “Ashlyn, you are safe here with me, and I love you no matter what.”

When she still didn't answer, he reached out his free arm and lifted her chin gently until she faced him. “I need you to tell me.”

She pulled away slightly, and stared down at the floor. He dropped his arm.

“Don't you trust me?” He asked, a little afraid of her answer.

She studied him now, sorrow in her eyes. “Yes Mark, I trust you.”

“Then talk to me,” he implored.

She sat back and leaned her head onto his shoulder. Then she pulled her knees up close to herself, and buried her face against him. “I'm sorry; this is hard for me to talk about. I've never told anyone before.”

He put his free arm around her, so that he could hold her tightly. This was strange indeed. She had seemed so strong and so composed for the short time that he had known her; her behavior seemed out of character. He didn't doubt her courage; she had not hesitated to risk her life to save him. However, now she was curled up against him like a child.

Finally, she began. “My biological parents put me up for adoption, I never knew them.”

She didn't look at him while she spoke, pushing her forehead against his neck. He was surprised that she was bringing up her parents, when what he had asked about was her company involvement.

“The corporation adopted me.”

“What?” He had been trying not to interrupt, but he couldn't help it, “I didn't know that could happen? What corporation?” He didn't connect her answer to his question at first.

“The same corporation that is trying to kill you, Neuronex Pathtronix.”

It was becoming apparent that this story was going to be a great deal more complex than he had assumed. “Why did they want you?”

She answered flatly, “experimentation.”

He opened his mouth a bit, but didn't say anything right away; he was trying to process the information. “I can't understand how any judge would allow that to happen.”

She sat up, shook her head slightly, and averted her eyes. How she wished she had an answer.

“I really don't know.” She leaned back again and put her head back down on his shoulder. “NP, that's what they always called the company for short, was based in Hawaii, but I pretty much lived in the lab. That's why I couldn't answer your questions about my childhood.”

“Wow. I can't even imagine.”

“They were experimenting with methods of activating dormant parts of the brain to create a human-computer interface.”

He felt sick at the implications of her story, especially when he considered that there might be a connection to the government.

She sat up all the way again, apparently edgy about the topic. This time he kept his arm around her. She leaned forward and put her face into her hands, then answered without facing him. “I try not to think about it much.”

“I don't even know what to say.”

She glanced at him and smiled weakly, “you don't have to say anything. I just want you to understand.”

She paused and stared at nothing again for a while. Finally, she continued, “they hooked me up to lots of machines and did tests. I guess I thought it was normal.”

She looked at him then and shook her head, “I didn't know anything different.” She paused, “anyway, in the end, they genetically altered my brain with some kind of a retro virus. It created an interface, and then they taught me things by direct transfer.”

He was confused by that statement. She lifted one side of her mouth a little. “I didn't have to read, or practice,” she averted her eyes, “they programmed me, like a computer. They called it DMDT, Direct Mind Data Transfer.”

She met his eyes again, worried that he would think she was odd, but she saw only grief in his face.

“I speak twelve languages. My brain is crowded with all sorts of trivial minutia about anything and everything, except, I'm a little weak on the sciences. They even taught me how to fight via computer link. I feel like a freak.”

“Wow,” it was a lot to take in, and he pounded his head softly with his open palm trying to make his brain work harder. When he looked at her, again he said softly, “you are not a freak.”

“Thanks, I wish I could feel that way.”

“So why do you think they left out the sciences?”

She stared at her hands in contemplation, and then met his gaze, “I'm not talking about all science. I know the basics. Things that would be taught in any high school.”

She made an inclusive gesture with her hands, and then tapped her forehead. “Plus they gave me a lot of information about technology, but things like genetics and physics,” she shrugged, “they just left them out. It's always bothered me. I spend a lot of time reading informational books.”

Her last sentence didn't seem to fit. “Why?”

She didn't follow his question. “Why what?”

“You told me that you spend a lot of time reading informational books, I don't understand how that fits with what you were saying?”

She moved her eyes off to the right, retracing the conversation in her mind. “Oh, sorry about that.” She laughed at herself, “I just didn't connect my thoughts out loud. I read lots of books because I want to know what else they left out.”

“So you never went to school at all?” He sounded amazed.

“Nope.” She let out a sigh of regret.

He studied her face, and then flashed a smile at her. “You know, most people would probably love to go to school that way.” He winked, but she didn't look any happier about it, still too deep in her thoughts.

“I've speculated about the science issue a few times, and I think that maybe they didn't want me to know more about myself then they did. Besides, I didn't need much science for what they wanted me to do.”

“Which was?”

She hesitated for a long moment before answering. “They trained me to be an assassin.”

She peered deeply into his blue eyes, and he could read the fear of rejection in the green of hers. She scanned her hands, which she was twisting nervously.

“They trained me to fit in with any culture, so that I could kill foreign dignitaries or whoever else they wanted dead, black ops stuff.”

Mark considered the Navy admiral's involvement and supposed the black ops involvement suggested that he was not operating as rouge, but as part of a government entity. He voiced his opinion.

She nodded. “I do know that the government was their biggest funding source.” She shook her head, “makes you feel safe, doesn't it?”

“Yeah,” he answered sarcastically.

“So why did they create Dierdra, if you could do everything they wanted?”

She didn't answer the question immediately, still agitated. “Let's go up to the flybridge.”

She arose quickly assuming he would follow. She was feeling claustrophobic and walked to the edge of the boat. The water was unbelievably clear, and the blue, so intense that it seemed almost make-believe. The weather had cleared and the water was now quiet and serene. It had been around 10:00 AM when they had fought Dierdra, and now it was nearing evening.

“I refused.”

“Refused?” She had taken so long to answer that Mark had forgotten his question.

“I refused to be an assassin.” She tried to gauge his reaction by the look in his eyes. “They wanted a trained monkey, to kill on command, without remorse.”

His eyes lit up a bit, “somehow I knew that you wouldn't do that.”

She met his gaze, “thank you.”

She let out a long breath, and sat down on the flybridge sofa. He followed her and sat down as well.

“I was their big investment.” She paused, “I guess they had spent too much money on me, to let me say no.”

“I don't understand, if Dierdra is your clone, why doesn't she just say no as well?

She just shrugged and sorrow filled her eyes, “I wish I knew.”

Mark was contemplating her words when another thought occurred to him, “so who was the guy you said was your grandfather?”

Her eyes misted, but she smiled from the memory. “He was the janitor at the lab; he used to talk to me everyday; the only one who treated me like a real person.”

Lost in thought she continued, “He just took me from the lab one day. We hid on his boat for that year, and he showed me so many beautiful things, sea shells and waterfalls.” She peered into the past. “He taught me how to scuba dive and he was old, maybe fifty, I don't know. He had gray hair and a beard. When you're twelve, everyone looks old.”

“That's true.” Mark put his arm around her again, not wanting the distance. She smiled at him. “So what happened to him?”

She didn't answer for a long time.

“Ashlyn?”

“I'm sorry,” her eyes betrayed pain. “They killed him and took me back. He was the only person that I was ever close to.” Her expression had not changed but her voice quavered.

He put his other arm around her and pulled her close to him. She sensed his worry, “I'm really okay, Mark. I didn't know any other life,” she shrugged a bit, “so I didn't know what I was missing.”

“I think I had a much happier childhood than you did, but I've spent my life feeling sorry for myself about it. I feel ashamed next to you,” he confessed.

She put her hand on his cheek and stroked his rough skin gently, then ran her fingers through his hair, also still a mess from the ocean.

“Just because you might think I had more pain than you did, doesn't mean that your pain wasn't real.”

She had the sudden urge to ruffle his hair, and she didn't resist it. It made him laugh, and then he kissed her.

“Ouch.” She pulled back and touched her lip.

“I'm sorry, I forgot.” He said and then leaned down again, but this time he was more careful.

“Okay, now, what about the cloning thing.”

“Dierdra is the last one and ...”

Mark interrupted, “wait, last one? There were more?”

“There were three, in alphabetical order. I suppose someone thought that was funny or maybe was just excessively organized.”

She clenched her jaw, and then watched him as she continued. “There was a B, for Belinda, and a C, for Ciara, and of course a D, for Dierdra, who you know intimately.” When she heard herself, she wished she hadn't used that verbiage and suddenly hoped that he didn't actually know Dierdra that well.

She tried to roll over her discomfort with, “they probably would have kept on going all the way up to 'z', if I hadn't managed to blow up their facility.” She hoped that he had not noticed her discomfort.

“What happened to the others?”

She took in a deep breath and didn't say anything at first, afraid of his reaction, then finally she answered. “I killed them.”

Chapter 8

“We can't solve problems by using the

same kind of thinking we used when we created them.”

Albert Einstein

~

When Stewart finally woke up and wandered up the stairs, he could tell that it was nearing evening. He was feeling almost human again, and he was hungry. He smelled food cooking in the galley and realized that it had been that smell, which had roused him.

Ashlyn was in the galley when he entered and Mark was out on the deck preparing for a dive.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Much better, thank you. Hey, what was that stuff you made me drink?”

She tossed him a smile and then turned back to her cooking, “sorry, family secret.”

“Oh, come on?” He pled in vain; she wouldn’t budge.

“Where's Mark?”

“He's getting ready for a dive.”

“Why, it's nearly dark?”

She didn't look away from the stir-fry she was making because it was at a critical stage. “He seems to think that this place has something to do with the reason that Dierdra wanted to kill him, and doesn't want to risk leaving until he figures it out.”

“Why doesn't he wait until morning at least?”

She faced him with a serious expression. “Dierdra's last words to him were that she would be back.”

That was a sobering thought. He was glad he hadn't heard it before his nap; he might not have been able to sleep. He had so many questions to ask her, but he felt too tired, and while the dive might not be able to wait, he felt his questions could. He trusted her now much more than he had before. She had confirmed that she had met Mark intentionally, which he had already been sure of, and her dive into a rough sea to save Mark scored her some trust points.

Mark was on the aft deck checking his gear. He had stopped Ashlyn from explaining the details of the cloning when he had noticed the time. Their conversation had convinced him that the dive was imperative and would not wait. The most puzzling aspect of the whole thing was that someone was trying to kill him over a mystery that dated back at least as far as 1492. Christopher Columbus had been the first to report abnormal occurrences in that area of the sea. What possible reason could anyone have, especially the Navy, for trying to have him killed? He was studying centuries old seismic and electromagnetic anomalies, nothing more.

He wasn't going to eat with Ashlyn and Stewart. It was more dangerous to dive right after a meal. Mark walked into the galley to tell Ashlyn he was ready to go and saw Stewart, looking worlds better.

“How are you, buddy?”

All pretense of employer/employee relationship was gone. This was his friend and he was going to make sure that Stewart never doubted that again.

“Much better,” Stewart answered, “but Ashlyn won't tell me what was in the green goo she made me drink.”

Mark eyed Ashlyn and she smiled. “Don't even try Mark; wild horses couldn't make me talk.”

He spoke to Stewart, “you should know better than to argue with a woman who knows how to fight.”

Then, more seriously, he put his hand on Stewart's shoulder, “I'm really sorry about what you've gone through, and for leaving you on Bimini. I'm sorry for not trusting you; I won't ever doubt you again.” He paused then uncomfortably disclosed, “You’re like a brother to me.”

He turned away and changed the subject quickly. “I just came to let you guys know I'm going to dive now.”

“Mark,” Stewart protested, “you know this isn't the safest time to dive.”

“I'll take a flashlight,” was his unconcerned reply.

“You know sharks are night feeders.” Of course, Stewart was well aware that Mark knew this, but he was trying to dissuade his friend from acting so recklessly.

Mark couldn't resist making a joke. “Well, I think I would rather be eaten by a shark than face Dierdra again, you guys are the ones in danger.”

He didn't really feel that way. He was nervous about the dive too, but he didn't want them to know it.

Mark was quite sure that Stewart would have protested much more loudly, had he already been told about the bizarre happenings at that very spot just a couple of nights before. There simply hadn't been time to fill him in on all the details yet.

Ashlyn turned the burner off, the food was ready. Stewart could eat it while it was hot, if he wanted, but she wanted to see Mark go under safely. She knew that logic didn't make sense, but she felt a nagging worry that she could not shake. She was pretty sure that it was their location, that was bothering her; day or night, she would have been spooked. They had also disagreed on the dangers of his diving alone, at night, but Mark wouldn't budge. He told her that Stewart needed her more right then than he did.

“Mark,” Ashlyn walked closer to him, “I want to put in one last vote of protest before you do this.”

“Duly noted.”

She scowled at him, “you know this is Halloween too, not a good omen. If you get hurt, I'm going to kill you.”

“Are you superstitious?”

“I didn't use to be.”

He laughed softly at that and gave her an overly passionate good-bye, partly to elicit surprise from Stewart.

Mark got the desired result when Stewart raised his eyebrows and said, “I guess I missed more than I thought while I was on Bimini.”

“Want a kiss too, Stewart?” Mark couldn't resist the tease.

Ashlyn rolled her eyes then glared at Mark. “You really need to grow up and stop teasing him so much.”

“Thank you, Ashlyn,” Stewart said.

Mark was wearing his CCUBA rebreather gear and full-face mask. It was 'state of the art', including a voice communication system, so they could talk with him while he was under the water. At least that gave some sense of security to all of them during this unusually late dive, in this worrisome location.

Ashlyn realized that they had yet to tell Stewart about what had happened at that very spot, only the night before last. She mulled over the idea of telling him while they ate. Maybe she should wait for Mark's safe return; she decided she would tell Stewart while they ate, so that she wouldn't have to worry alone.

She didn't even want to be in this place at all, let alone after dark with Mark in the water. The sun was just now setting, and she wasn't sure what he hoped to accomplish by diving that late at night. Mark didn't do the standard, fall backwards into the water routine that divers usually did; rather he climbed down the lower landing ladder into the water. His rebreather gear didn't weigh nearly as much as the usual air tanks so it wasn't necessary.

Ashlyn watched until Mark was completely submerged before heading back into the galley. She had dived with him several times when Stewart had not been with them, and she loved the rebreather system. However, this night, watching him go under, the lack of ascending bubbles bothered her. It was impossible to tell where he was, without the constant release of exhaled gases.

Stewart noticed how nervous she was. “You know, I wasn't really serious about the sharks. Mark has been diving for a long time, and the lack of noise with his rebreather system makes him almost completely invisible to them.”

She continued to stare at the water until she could no longer see Mark, then turned to Stewart. “It's not the sharks that are worrying me.”

He was puzzled by that. She walked over and turned the volume up on the radio that connected her to Mark. She wanted to be able to hear him no matter where they were in the boat.

“What is it then?” He was newly concerned by her statement.

“I'll tell you while we eat.”

As they sat in the galley eating dinner, Ashlyn recounted the eerie story of the green mist and lost hours that had occurred at that very spot. She gave such a detailed description that Stewart's bruised face grew slightly pale.

“I can't believe he is diving here at night after something like that.” Stewart went to the radio and asked Mark how he was doing. Mark responded that so far things had been uneventful except for an octopus that he had gotten to see close up.

“I wish I could have brought my camera with me.” Mark lamented, but he had too many measuring devices with him to carry a camera also.

Ashlyn and Stewart sat glued to the radio while darkness completely fell and the night stars shown brightly. Mark would not be diving more than one-hundred feet, but it was well past the depth that his flashlight would be visible to them. They both asked him if he was okay, so many times that Mark had to request radio silence.

“If you guys ever want me to come back up, you are just going to have to let me think, so I can get done more quickly.”

Stewart turned off part of the lights on the aft deck so that it would be easier for them to see Mark’s flashlight when he finally surfaced.

***

Bradley Sandstrom sat at his desk in his office in Arlington, Virginia. He was on the phone with the Hawaii office of Neuronex Pathtronix, a fresh, steaming cup of coffee sitting on his desk. It was filled nearly to the brim. He was listening intently to the person on the other end of the line, when a low rumbling began below, and then all around him. Everything in the room began to shake. He let the phone drift away from his ear, forgetting the conversation, as his attention was drawn to his coffee cup. It was vibrating so violently that the coffee began to spill over the edges onto his desktop. He put down the phone without saying good-bye and then looked toward the window.

Deep below the Mississippi Valley, an even larger twisting swirl of molten iron had spit out an electromagnetic ejection of energy. It had traveled up through the channel between the highly magnetic, indigenous rock formations of the Reelfoot Rift, and set off an earthquake even larger that the magnitude eight earthquake of New Madrid Missouri in 1812, whose violence had shaken the solid bedrock all the way to the east coast. This quake was registering as a magnitude nine, which was thirty times more powerful than the quake two centuries before. It tore through buildings and wreaked havoc in every city within nine-hundred-miles. Blasts of sand blew up in great out-gassings like mud volcanoes, and created an instant dam of the Mississippi River, causing it to run backwards before overflowing its banks. Because the quake originated from an aulacogen seismic zone rather than a normal fault line, the brutal shaking lasted for ten to fifteen minutes, slowly taking out its vengeance on the United States.

The energy surge had not stopped at that, but pierced through the atmosphere, slamming into the magnetic field of the coronal mass. The resulting magnetic reconnection was so fierce, that it caused a massive electromagnetic pulse to punch back against the magnetosphere. The EMP traveled south towards the equator convulsing through land, air and sea. It was followed quickly by the impact of the sun's ejected plasma against the magnetosphere. The plasma burned brightly high up in the atmosphere over the western sky, in bright undulating hues, even with the relative light still left of the day.

***

The intense darkness of the deep water at night left Mark frustrated. His instruments had not picked up anything unusual as of yet, and he still felt an urgency to find what Dierdra had been so ready to kill him for. It made no sense; there was nothing there. Then suddenly he began reading an anomaly on his small magnetometer. His pulse began to quicken as he followed the direction of the signal, which amplified with proximity.

He found the source of the odd reading and was looking at it; trying to identify it. It had an unnatural shape, but it was mostly buried in the silt, which had been washing off the land of the nearby Berry Islands for centuries. He began removing some of it with his hand, going slowly in an effort not to cloud the water and prevent visibility. The more silt he removed the more excited he got until he believed that he knew what he was looking at. He called up to the boat over the comm system.

“Ashlyn, Stewart, can you read me?” Mark's voice crackled over the radio.

The two of them had been sitting there in the silence, worrying without speaking since the last communication.

Ashlyn rushed to the radio, “yes, Mark, we are reading you.”

The radio was a little crackly from the depth, but they could understand him clearly and hear the excitement in his voice, “I found something. I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure... did....Ash.” The signal began to break up, and all they could hear was static.

Then they felt a strange feeling, almost a jolt. Pressure of some kind hit the boat and the air, and then the lights went out, as well as everything else electrical. Total blackness enveloped them.

Ashlyn tried in vain to make the radio work, “Mark?” No answer, then more frantically, “Mark?!” She swallowed hard as panic began to flow through her veins.

They felt a second jolt. Because there was a sliver of a moon, and the stars were still visible, Ashlyn had just enough light to feel her way through the rooms and up to the flybridge. Banging her knee on something as she went, she cursed under her breath.

Stewart was trying to follow as fast as he could, but he had no idea where she was headed. He found a flashlight in the pilothouse, but it didn't work. When he finally got up to the flybridge, he could see Ashlyn's silhouette against the backdrop of stars. They felt a third-jolt and far into the distance, a faint glow lit up the sky but beyond that nothing.

Ashlyn picked up the radio that was on the flybridge and tried again to reach Mark.

“Mark!” She almost screamed it this time.

“Is this what happened the other night?” Stewart asked, sounding slightly hopeful, but Ashlyn could only assume that was because that story had ended well.

Ashlyn studied the area for any sensation of a mist or green glow of any sort, but saw none. The boat also seemed completely stationary, no slow spinning as before.

“No.” She answered; the hopelessness in her voice was almost tangible.

She and Stewart alternated back and forth, trying to use the radio, they knew it was pointless, but what else could they do. Ashlyn began to call out Mark's name in the hope that by some miracle, he had surfaced and would hear them, but there was nothing. The frustration of not knowing what to do was making Ashlyn want to scream.

Stewart could hear her hyperventilating and tried to calm her. “Ashlyn, there is no reason to think he's not okay. We can't reach him because our radios are out, that's all.” He held her by the shoulders and tried to calm her.

“No, he's not okay.”

Her certainty prompted the question. “Why are you so sure?”

“Because that was an EMP.” She pointed to the northwest, where they had seen the faint glow.

Stewart stood there thoughtfully for a second before asking, “You mean an electromagnetic pulse?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that could make sense, but what would have caused it?”

“I don't know.”

“Are you sure this isn't the same thing that happened to you guys the other night?”

“I'm sure.”

“So Mark should be fine, all an EMP would do is fry electrical circuits. That's why our lights went out.”

She studied Stewart, trying to make out his face in the darkness. “Stewart, his rebreather system is electrical, it’s computerized.”

With that, he finally understood why she was so afraid for Mark. He was under somewhere around one-hundred feet of water and his breathing system would have stopped working just like all the ship systems had.

Stewart was silent and then suggested hopefully, “he should have a little air left, right?”

Ashlyn didn't answer at first then whispered, “the very best he can hope for is a very bad mix of gases.”

Stewart knew she was right, not only did the rebreather scrub the air with an electrical system; the mix of gases was regulated by a tiny, built in computer. Even if he did manage to get to the surface before he became unconscious, he ran the risk of dying from decompressing too fast. And if by some miracle he managed to get to the surface still conscious, and without dying from decompression sickness, he would not be able to find the boat in the total darkness.

The blackness of the night would also prevent them from finding him. She stood there, frozen in a nightmare of impossibility, when a thought struck her. She didn't try to explain it to Stewart or even say she had an idea, she just yelled. “Keep looking for him,” and she ran down the stairs.

In the dark she ran into another obstacle, she was wearing shorts, and this time it didn't just hurt. She felt sticky blood running down her bare leg, but she didn't stop. She made it into the galley and felt around for a box of matches she had seen. At first she didn't find it, and thought that maybe she had been mistaken, but then her hand made contact with the tell tale, rough, striking strip on the side of the box.

She ran back up the stairs, leg dripping blood, through the pilothouse and up onto the flybridge. Barely able to see by the sliver of the moon and the starlight, she ran down the short flight to the motor boat. She had examined the area her first day aboard, planning an escape route in case Dierdra had shown up unexpectedly.

“What are you doing?” Stewart was trying to make sense out of her deranged behavior, but she didn't stop to answer.

She pulled up on the tarp covering the boat, and felt inside where she had seen what she was looking for. She felt around until she found it. It was a can of diesel fuel.

Stewart repeated himself. “What are you doing, Ashlyn?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Better idea than what? I don't know what you are doing.”

Her plan was dangerous and a long shot at best. It might even end up causing more of a disaster than the one that she was trying to solve. She needed to see, to be able to look for Mark, and if, by some miracle, Mark was still conscious, he would need light to find the boat. Beyond it being a long shot, she wasn't even sure of how to pull it off without catching the yacht on fire, or worse yet, blindly hitting Mark with diesel fuel.

“Ashlyn,” Stewart was now yelling, “what are you doing?”

“The diesel will float on the water and the fumes should still ignite. The oil in the mix should help it burn longer than gasoline would.”

She climbed over the side of the boat, and onto the outside walkway where they had gone earlier that day to escape Dierdra. Could it have only been that afternoon? It seemed that things were moving impossibly fast.

“You are crazy,” he yelled after her, “you'll start the ship on fire!”

“Just keep looking for Mark.” She commanded without stopping to second-guess herself. She poured a little of the liquid over the side, trying to keep it as far away from the yacht as possible, and then threw a lit match at it. She was literally taking a shot in the dark. She couldn't even tell where the fuel was and even if she hit it directly, it might not ignite, since only the vapor would burn.

The diesel would float on top of the water and not mix. She was counting on the warm water of the Caribbean to help the gasoline part of the diesel to vaporize, and if it didn't disperse too fast, the fire above the pooled, floating oil/gas mix, should, in turn cause more fuel to evaporate, while hopefully igniting the oil part as well. She was counting on the oil flame burning long enough to create the needed light source to find Mark. It took three lit matches before she managed to hit a pocket of gas vapor.

She moved as fast as she could from one spot to another, starting small fires. The fires looked eerie floating on the top of the water. She wasn't sure where the yacht fuel tanks were located and hoped that she would not find out. The hull would probably be safe from the fire, as long as she didn't accidentally drip the liquid fuel onto it. She would just have to be very careful.

She was on the aft deck pouring fuel over the port side, when she heard Stewart yell, “I see him.”

“Where is he?” She nearly screamed the question.

“Port side, near the bow.”

She practically flew through the double doors, and ran out onto the external walkway that led to the front of the boat. She ran up onto the bow and studied the water. There he was, floating face down.

Not taking a second thought, she dived off the boat, and swam to him. She pulled his face out of the water, but it did no good. She couldn't get the full helmet and face mask off him until she had both hands to use. She swam as hard as she could, careful to avoid the flames that were still burning. Stewart was at the aft deck, lower landing waiting to help her to get Mark out of the water. By the time she was out as well, Stewart had pulled off Mark's helmet.

Ashlyn leaned over his limp body and listened for breath sounds then looked up at Stewart. “He's not breathing.”

Chapter 9

“You have rights antecedent to all Earthly governments: rights that

cannot be repealed or restrained by human laws; rights derived from the Great Legislator of the universe.” John Adams

~

Ashlyn didn't wait for Stewart to finish removing the rest of the rebreather unit. She began giving him mouth to mouth. The full-face mask had prevented fluid from getting into his lungs, but they had no way of knowing how long it had been, since he had quit breathing.

Stewart felt for a pulse. “Ashlyn.”

She didn't stop, “Ashlyn!”

“What,” she yelled, exhausted and exasperated simultaneously.

“He has no pulse.”

She froze for just a second before ordering, “Help me get him up the stairs.”

Stewart helped her carry Mark up the steps onto the aft deck, just as the power and lights came back on. She shook her head in amazement at the timing. With Mark's rebreather out of the way, Ashlyn started chest compressions, and then alternated back and forth with 'mouth to mouth'.

After a moment, she stared at Stewart in disbelief, “don't you know CPR?”

“Well, yeah but...” Stewart was just standing there, looking devastated.

She cut him off and demanded, “Help me!”

“Ashlyn, I think it's too late.”

She glared at him. “Start chest compressions!”

He began counting with each fast compression, “one, two, three...” Each time he stopped compressions she gave Mark two quick, deep breaths.

“Ashlyn, I think it's too late.”

She gaped at Stewart furiously. Tears were now streaming down her face.

“Go to hell!” She yelled at Stewart and pushed him out of the way to continue the compressions herself. Stewart took over the breathing, and they continued for a few more minutes.

Ashlyn stopped, exhausted and just stared at Mark, lying there lifeless.

“Mark.” She screamed at him, “Mark!” Then she started CPR again, unwilling to give up.

Stewart ran down the stairs to where the emergency equipment was kept, and brought it back up with him. He bared Mark's chest, then pulled open a preloaded syringe of epinephrine. Ashlyn leaned back while he plunged it straight through Mark's chest into his aorta. Ashlyn had already peeled the backing off the first of the two defibrillator electrodes. She placed the electrode on the right side of his chest, just below the clavicle. The second she placed on the left just below and to the left of the pectoral muscle and then connected the leads to the defibrillator machine.

She pushed the button on the automatic defibrillator and his muscles contracted with the electrical impulse. After three attempts with the defibrillator, and what seemed an eternity, Mark took a deep breath on his own, and started to cough. Stewart glanced at Ashlyn, relief washing over him as he realized that he had been wrong. The EKG monitor was now showing a strong, steady rhythm. Ashlyn had no way of knowing whether he had suffered any ill effects from the rapid decompression. She hoped that the advantage of using a rebreather would lessen the likelihood of the bends because of the oxygen regulation device.

She disconnected the leads from the defibrillator, laid her head on Mark’s chest, and sobbed.

Mark was still unconscious when Stewart went to make sure that all the fires were out and had done no damage. Ashlyn's heavy sobbing had lessened to a soft cry when Mark became aware of his surroundings. She still had her head on his chest, and hadn’t noticed he was awake. He put his hand on her head and stroked her hair once, before he ran out of energy. He felt like he had been beaten by a small army.

Ashlyn lifted her head and saw that he was looking at her, “Mark?” She questioned through her tears.

She needed to know that he was all right. He didn't remember much, but the tears and the pain he was in told him it had been a big deal.

“Ashlyn.” He spoke her name softly, as if he didn't have the strength to say it louder.

“How do you feel?” She was worried about the quick decompression when he answered, “Not quite ready to go dancing, but I think I'm in one piece.”

His attempt at humor flooded her with relief.

“I thought I had lost you.” The tears were beginning to flow again. He put his arm around her for reassurance.

“I'm okay,” he promised, but when he tried to sit up, he found out that he wasn't quite ready for that.

“Just stay here for now. I'll get you a pillow.”

She started to get up, but he held her arm and didn't release it. “I'm okay, please don't leave.”

So she lay down on the deck next to him, her arm across his chest, and her face buried against his neck so that she could be close, but still hear his every breath.

Stewart returned after a few moments. “I don't know what's going on but the fires are all out, no damage.” Ashlyn hadn't been thinking about them but was relieved to hear it anyway.

“Fires?” Mark asked in a weak voice.

“I'll explain later Mark; first let's get you to bed.” She didn't want to explain right now about the EMP, she realized that there had been at least three, and she feared for what might have happened. Stewart helped Ashlyn pull Mark into a sitting position and when his dizziness passed, they helped him onto the sofa. He sat there for a few more minutes before announcing that he was ready to try for his stateroom.

Ashlyn and Stewart gave each other a concerned glance, but they would explain to Mark in the morning. They helped Mark out of the wetsuit he had been wearing and into some sweats. Ashlyn brought him some of her green concoction, still refusing to reveal the ingredients, and he drank it obediently. Stewart still hadn't fully recovered from the beating he had taken so Ashlyn told him to go to bed. She would stay with Mark to make sure that there weren't any unforeseen complications.

After Stewart left, Ashlyn tried to fill Mark in with a rough sketch of the details, as they had happened topside. She wasn't sure that he wanted to hear about it then, but it helped her calm the adrenaline in her system. At some point during the part about the CPR, Mark started snoring softly. She wasn't surprised, she had always found the subject of CPR to be a little boring herself, but she suspected it had more to do with the green liquid she had made him drink.

She lay next to Mark on his large bed and listened to him breathe softly as he slept. It was hard to believe what little amount of time had passed since they had experienced the green mist and the apparent time travel. Only one night, she thought, only one night. She hoped the next day would not be so taxing. She had a feeling that the last thirty-six hours, which should have been forty-eight, had only been the beginning of something, though she didn't know what. Down in the darkened stateroom, they didn't notice as the night sky began to brighten or the auroras that burned more brilliantly than the one several nights before.

***

The third jolt they had felt had been from a nuclear power plant in Florida whose failsafe had malfunctioned. Weakened from the earthquake tremors, then overloaded suddenly from the tremendous power of the EMPs, it had created a fifteen-kiloton blast, instantly vaporizing a mile in circumference and knocking down every building within a three-mile radius. That blast had created a second, smaller EMP. All across North America disaster had struck. The initial electromagnetic pulse had reached nearly to the west coast, pushing down toward the equator, disabling and destroying almost every civilian electronic device in its path. The outage of power made it nearly impossible to respond to the destruction and fires from the earthquake, which had devastated cities for hundreds of miles in every direction.

It had blown every transformer and knocked out the entire electric grid and all electronic transmissions, including cell phones in the United States and Canada. A few, very well protected government systems, survived momentarily, but just as the first EMP had passed, the coronal mass had hit from the northwest. It took out every electronic device that had been spared. Virtually, all electrical systems and devices within the continental U.S. and Canada were destroyed from the blast of the solar plasma against the magnetosphere.

The coronal mass also took out a large number of orbiting satellites. Internet relay stations were destroyed and now even government communications were down. The loss of power and connection with each other, and the outside world, crippled even the U.S. Government, in spite of its preparations for a possible large-scale electromagnetic pulse. The U.S. was helpless against the ever-spreading domino effect of disasters that ensued. Several more nuclear power plants blew along the east coast, burning the night sky with their telltale, mushroom clouds that glowed like fire in the night skies.

Within a twenty-minute time frame, the earthquake, EMP and solar plasma impact had caused such disruption that every aircraft over the U.S. and Canada, large and small alike, experienced complete instrument failure and most could not maintain altitude. With no one able to guide them from the towers, they had no hope of staying airborne. The number of downed aircraft totaled well over six thousand and included Air Force One. The planes pummeled the Earth, like so many missiles. With not one single enemy weapon fired, in less than one hour, the United States of America had lost its military supremacy over the Earth with no hope of reclamation.

***

Mark awakened the next morning, sore but almost fully recovered from his ordeal the night before, oblivious to the disasters that had overtaken North America. He lazily observed Ashlyn as she laid there beside him and wondered if she had been there the whole night. Probably, he concluded. He vaguely remembered Ashlyn trying to explain what had happened, but it had all been a jumble to him. However, he knew that it must have been bad, based on her reaction the night before.

All he could remember was being on a dive and then nothing until he was back on the boat and Stewart had mentioned something about fires and the lights going out for a while. Ashlyn stirred a little and he continued to watch her. She was so beautiful and seemed so peaceful. He hoped today would be better than the one before. She opened her eyes and noticed him watching her.

“Do you make a habit of watching people sleep?” She asked with a sleepy grin.

“No, only incredibly beautiful women who happen to be sleeping in my bed.”

She yawned and stretched, “do you have a lot of those?” Her question was meant as more of a tease than anything else, but she realized as she asked it that she really did not want to know the answer.

The extra strong EMP protective devices that he had originally installed on his vessel, had shielded most of the electronics from permanent damage. However, most of their batteries were useless, but they had been far enough away from the devastation of the coronal mass to have been spared worse damage.

“What happened last night?” Mark was finally awake enough to ask questions about it.

“I don't know what caused it, but I'm quite sure we had an EMP, well more than one, I think.”

“Like the other night?” He had never been convinced that it had been an EMP.

“No, it wasn't like the other night, it was more like the EMP you described to me.”

He sat up looking more than a little worried. “Have you checked the news to find out what happened?”

“No, I woke up after you, remember?” She smiled but he didn't seem to notice.

“Stewart mentioned something about fires?”

“Oh, yeah, there was no light to look for you. I knew that if you were okay that you wouldn't be able to find the boat, so I poured diesel on the water most of the way around the boat and lit it on fire.”

She wasn't finished when Mark interrupted, “you did what?”

“I know it was dangerous for the yacht but...”

He interrupted again, “I wasn't worrying about the yacht, I was thinking about you.”

“Oh,” she was relieved.

He guessed the rest, “you used the fire to see me and then dove in after me? Is that what happened?”

“Yes.”

“Ashlyn, you could have killed yourself. What if you had...?” He didn't finish; he just shook his head.

She felt scolded, “I didn't know what else to do.”

“Didn't I tell you yesterday that you were not allowed to risk your life to protect me?”

She averted her eyes and then studied her hands, while she twisted them nervously.

She didn't look up and she spoke very softly, “actually, what you said was that I wasn't allowed to stop you from protecting me."

He considered that for a moment, realizing that it was true. “Well don't risk your life again either," he commanded.

She met his eyes, undaunted by his firmness. "Mark, I would dive into hell to save you."

He studied her eyes for a few seconds, and then he got up, went to the television, and turned it on, waiting for the dish to track a satellite.

“I'm going to fix breakfast.” She was hurt by Mark's lack of response.

“Okay,” he answered absently, trying to get connected with any satellite. “I wonder why I can't connect,” was the last thing, she heard him say on her way up to the galley.

***

Stewart woke to the smell of bacon cooking. His days in captivity had made him very appreciative of Ashlyn's cooking. He walked up the stairs and said good morning. She turned in greeting when she heard him.

“What?” He asked when he saw the way she was looking at him.

“I know you are getting better Stewart, but those bruises look worse everyday. I can't get used to them.”

When he realized that her look was from concern and compassion, he smiled. He liked this new Ashlyn. He suspected that she had always been nice but with all the secrecy gone, he felt quite a bond forming.

“Where is Mark? Is he still doing okay?”

“Oh, he's fine, trying to get the TV to work.”

Stewart sensed a tinge of jealousy in her voice. “You sound like you are a little disappointed about that.”

She didn't turn around, but focused harder on the bacon and eggs she was cooking, her eyes blurred a bit from moisture. She wasn't sure that she liked being so easy to read.

When she didn't say anything, he asked, “well?”

“Well what?” She knew exactly what he was asking but didn't want to admit it.

Stewart pretended to cough, “okay, whatever.”

She turned around and glared at him, but he could tell she wasn't really mad.

“Would you mind tearing Mark away from the television static he is so intently watching, and tell him that breakfast is ready?”

Stewart smiled and Ashlyn's face showed that she appreciated the fact that he hadn't pushed the conversation further; she was embarrassed enough as it was.

A minute or two passed before Mark and Stewart joined her in the galley. Mark was complaining to Stewart about his inability to get reception. Ashlyn had set the table beautifully, and the food looked and smelled delicious, but she didn't sit down with them, rather she walked out onto the aft deck.

Ashlyn's body language had been quite loud, and Mark turned to Stewart, apparently oblivious, “what's wrong with her?”

Stewart had just finished putting jam on his toast and answered nonchalantly, never taking his eyes off his food. “Oh, I don't know, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that she risked her life to save you, not once but twice yesterday, and all you want to do is watch TV,” then he took a bite of his toast.

Mark sat there, dumbfounded, “I was just trying to find out what could have caused the EMPs last night and...”

Stewart interrupted, “don't explain to me, she's the one who's hormonal.” Mark furrowed his brow, confused.

“Good grief, Mark, she is in love with you.”

Mark seemed even more puzzled, “I know that. She told me. I just...”

Stewart interrupted again, “you know Mark, you are the wealthy, tanned guy, with the obvious muscles around here, and I thought surely that you knew more about women than I do.”

Mark scowled and looked down at his nice hot food; no doubt, it would get cold if he left the table now. He then turned in the direction that Ashlyn had gone. After a minute, he got up from the table and headed toward her.

“Good call man,” Stewart called after him softly.

Ashlyn was looking out at the water over the back of the aft deck when Mark walked up behind her and said, “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” She asked, trying hard not to show any emotion. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

She really didn't think he had, at least not logically, but she had a very strong urge to punch him.

Her arms were folded across her body in a protective manner.

“I did something, Ashlyn, what's wrong?”

She still didn't answer for a long moment and then surveyed him sadly. “You didn't do anything wrong, I don't know what my problem is.”

Her eyes misted almost imperceptibly, and she averted them quickly. He let out a large breath and put his arms around her. She resisted slightly.

She looked up at him. “I …. You didn't do anything wrong, honestly. I just haven't ever...” She finally faced him directly. “I just haven't ever been in love before, and I don't know how to deal with these irrational feelings.”

He smiled, understanding that part completely. He leaned down and apologized silently with his mouth against hers.

When he finally pulled his head away, he apologized. “That's what I should have done first thing this morning.” He paused, still looking into her eyes, “thank you for saving my life, … again.”

She blushed, a little embarrassed by her school girl behavior. She smiled, “I love you Mark. If you keep doing that so well, you will never get rid of me.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise then gave her a mischievous grin. “What makes you think I want to get rid of you?”

That brought a smile and then he took her by the hand, and led her back into the galley. “Let's eat, I'm starving.”

“I'm sure your food is cold by now.”

He glanced at her sideways as they walked. “You know what they say, cold eggs, warm heart.”

She laughed, “I'm not sure that's how the quote actually goes, but I'll take it.”

Stewart was nearly finished eating by the time they returned. “I almost ate everything, assuming you guys weren't hungry.”

Mark knocked him on the head playfully; as the two of them sat down to eat.

After Stewart finished eating, he remained at the table and watched the two of them eat for a few minutes. He had missed having company during his nightmare week on Bimini.

“Hey Mark, what was it that you found last night?”

Mark looked at Stewart in confusion and then at Ashlyn, as if she would have the answer.

“Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you that too, I just forgot in all the chaos.” Ashlyn's statement made him even more confused.

“I don't know what you guys are talking about.” He shoveled another spoonful of food into his mouth.

Stewart and Ashlyn glanced at each other then Ashlyn spoke. “Right before the EMP you were trying to tell us that you found something. You sounded pretty excited about it.”

He stopped chewing for a few seconds, thinking hard. “I don't remember finding anything.”

“At least you are safe, that's what matters.” Ashlyn reached for her glass of milk.

“Wait.” Mark spoke.

Ashlyn put her milk down. Mark was staring at her, more like through her.

When he realized she thought he was talking about her food, he shook his head and motioned to her milk, “I didn't mean wait to drink your milk, I meant wait something is on the edge of my memory.”

She smiled and drank it while Mark pondered about what he might have forgotten.

Then suddenly, as if a light turned on, he answered, “I remember.”

He looked at the two of them and smiled as if he had already told them what he found. Stewart had his arms crossed with his chair leaning back slightly, front two legs off the floor.

“So, are you going to enlighten us or do we just get to watch you remembering?”

Mark eyed him for a second before he realized that he hadn't told them what he was thinking. “I found a pyramid.”

“What? No way!” Stewart was so surprised by what Mark said that he lost his balance and the chair tipped over backwards, leaving him sprawled on the floor.

Ashlyn couldn't quite stifle the giggle that escaped before she slapped her hand over her own mouth.

Chapter 10

“Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply

not giving the kiss the attention it deserves.” Albert Einstein

~

After Stewart regained his composure and put his chair in an upright position, he remained unconvinced. Mark had a notorious habit of pulling Stewart's leg, and he wasn't going to buy into it this time.

Ashlyn didn't look convinced either. “Mark, are you sure it was a pyramid?”

Stewart interrupted, “Ashlyn, he's joking.”

Mark shot Stewart a look. “Well, I could only see the top of it; the rest was covered with sediment.”

Stewart started laughing. “Okay, Mark, ha ha. This fish ain't biting this time.”

Mark looked hurt. They obviously didn't believe him. Of course, he mused, he probably wouldn't have believed it himself, if he hadn't seen it.

“I'm not joking. I saw the top of a pyramid. I brushed away sediment as carefully as I could, and couldn't find any bottom.”

“Mark, don't you think it could have been a naturally occurring rock that just happened to be that shape? You told us yourself that you only saw the top.” Ashlyn was trying to give him a graceful out.

He pondered on that. His memory was kind of messed up, maybe they were right. He tried to force his memory to reconstruct the images as carefully as possible.

Finally, he announced, “I'm sure, it was a pyramid, at least that shape, as I said, I couldn't get to the bottom. It was man-made, of that I am positive.”

Stewart and Ashlyn looked at each other, the unsaid words clearly saying, he must have been without oxygen longer than we thought. Mark saw their expressions and was offended, “come on guys, I didn't imagine it. Besides, it wouldn't be the first pyramid found under the sea.”

That was news to them both. “I've never heard about any under sea pyramid Mark.” Ashlyn was intrigued.

“There was one off the coast of Japan and one near India as well.”

“I've never heard of that, where did you hear about them?” Stewart was doubtful.

“On the Internet.”

“Oh, well, that's proof positive then. Everything on the Internet is true, right Ashlyn.” Stewart's sarcasm was unmistakable.

He was being more argumentative than his usual self, but his week long nightmare had made him unable to hold anything back.

Ashlyn turned to Stewart, “I think he's serious.”

“Of course, I'm serious you guys. Honestly, of all the people that I would expect to believe me, it would be the two of you.” Frustration was invading Mark's voice now.

“Okay, you think you saw a pyramid. I'm not calling you a liar, but it was dark you know, and then of course you had a near death experience immediately afterwards.” Stewart was trying to be more supportive, but he didn't find the report credible in any way.

“Mark, people dive around here all the time, wouldn't someone have found it before?” Ashlyn asked.

“Actually, there have been several people who have reported seeing pyramids under the water in this area and there is the Bimini Road that is well documented.”

Ashlyn glanced at Stewart for conformation.

“The Bimini Road has not been proven to be a man made formation and the people who have reported finding pyramids are almost always the ones claiming to have been abducted by aliens too.” Stewart couldn't believe he was hearing Mark say such a ridiculous thing.

“I'll show you, we can dive down today and...”

“Wait one minute Mark. There is no way I am going to let you dive today, you almost drowned last night.”

“What, you are my mother now?” Mark's sarcastic retort stung and Ashlyn looked away.

They were all silent a moment and then Ashlyn faced him again. “I'm not trying to mother you, Mark! You know perfectly well that you have to wait for a minimum of twenty-four hours before diving again.”

She continued, “You are lucky you didn't die last night.”

One of the first things taught in diving school, that all divers were required to have an understanding of, was the risk of decompressing to fast. Decompression sickness, more commonly known as the bends or caisson disease, was caused when gas turned to liquid under extreme pressure. When a diver decompressed too quickly, it would cause those liquids to turn back into gas. This could cause gas bubbles to accumulate in the blood stream or in other parts of the body. Much like shaking a can of coke before opening it, rapid decompression could cause anywhere from mild symptoms to death. The effects were also cumulative, so diving too soon afterwards could spell disaster.

“I'll be alright.”

She was incredulous, “Mark, even if you want to risk your own life, you need to think about the fact that we risked our lives too, trying to save you.”

Realizing that Ashlyn was right, Mark reluctantly agreed to wait twenty-four hours.

Stewart remained unconvinced about the pyramid and just shook his head.

“Okay, Stewart, I saw something that looked like a pyramid and people are trying to kill me because of something down there that they don't want me to see.”

He did have a point. Stewart didn't usually argue with Mark but his report just seemed so ludicrous.

“If there is a pyramid down there, and I mean if, why would it be such a big secret anyway? Answer me that?”

Ashlyn answered that one, “if there is one thing I know, it’s that academia doesn't like proof of things that they teach are impossible.”

Mark stood up and paced around the room for a minute then directed his question to Ashlyn. “How much time do you think we have before Dierdra decides to try and kill me again?”

“That I can't answer because I have no idea why she would be trying to kill you in the first place.”

“Okay, we wait twenty-four hours and then the two of you can take turns going down there with me, and I will show you.”

Ashlyn agreed but Stewart was still fighting the idea. “I say we get out of here as fast as possible so that Dierdra can't find us.”

“I'm not leaving!” Mark was non-yielding on it.

Frustrated and angry, Mark went down the stairs to try to find a television signal again.

Stewart looked at Ashlyn. “You can't be taking this seriously?”

“There is a lot that we don't yet understand about many things Stewart, and the ocean is a very big place.”

“I don't know.” He sounded doubtful.

“You trust Mark, don't you?”

Stewart gave her an insulted look, “I trust him with my life.”

“Then why are you so sure that there isn't a pyramid down there?”

He sat there studying his hands, and then he met her gaze. “I guess if there wasn't ample proof of the pyramids above the water existing, I would have trouble believing in them too.”

He pursed his lips and then continued, “I suppose it's as possible as anything else. Did you know that there was a Greek historian named Herodotus, who claimed that the Egyptians had some sort of lifting device?”

“No, I don't know much about the pyramids.”

“Each stone weighs about two and a half tons and ...” he drifted off, lost in thought.

“Where did you get that information?”

Ashlyn's question had been quite sincere, but Stewart felt like a jerk when he answered, “the Internet.”

Stewart changed the subject, “I'll help you clean up.” He stood up, and had just started carrying dishes to the sink, when Mark ran up the stairs.

“Ashlyn, I don't know what language they speak in Madagascar, but is it one of the ones you know?” Mark asked her as if it was a common household question.

Stewart stared at Mark, about having decided that he had found proof of Mark's mental instability, when Ashlyn answered him.

“Malagasy? Sure.”

Stewart took a double take at Ashlyn's answer. He was definitely missing out on too much information these days. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, when Mark interjected.

“Listen, I found a connection, and I can read Madagascar on a line at the bottom of the screen, but I have no idea what they are saying.”

Stewart was getting more confused by the moment, why in the world would Mark want to know what somebody in Madagascar was saying? And even more importantly, why in the world would Ashlyn speak …??? Stewart couldn't even remember the name of the language.

He followed Mark and Ashlyn down the stairs to his stateroom where the television was rambling on in some kind of foreign gibberish.

“What is....?” Stewart started to ask but Mark shushed him, “let her listen.”

Ashlyn watched for a second and then informed them, “It's some kind of news show. They are talking about....” She paused with a confused look on her face and then continued, “More people are vanishing with no explanation.” She shook her head in bewilderment.

“Are you sure you are understanding that correctly?” Mark asked.

“Sure, it's perfectly clear, I mean the language is, but what they are saying doesn't make.... wait.”

She focused her attention again, on what they were saying. “They think the cause of some downed airplane near Portugal was that the island the plane was supposed to land on actually moved?”

Stewart interrupted, “that doesn't make sense. Ashlyn you must not really underst...”

“Shush.” She held up her hand to stop Stewart from talking. “In other news," she paused then continued her translation, “authorities report that they still have no information on why they have,” she paused again listening.

She didn't say anything for a few minutes but her expression changed visibly. The news report ended and the show changed, but she continued studying the screen, without seeing.

“Ashlyn?” Mark prodded.

She turned to him slowly and furrowed her brow.

“What?”

Ashlyn shook her head in disbelief. “They said they still don't know why the world has lost communications with the United States and Canada.”

Stewart demanded, “will you guys, please tell me what is going on?”

Mark didn't answer, he just kept looking at Ashlyn, and then she turned to Stewart, “apparently, those EMPs last night were from something really bad. The entire world has lost communication with almost all of North America, including Internet, phone and satellite communications.”

Mark sat down on the bed hard, almost missing it.

“What do you mean lost communication? That makes no sense, right Mark?” Stewart wanted confirmation from Mark, but he had gone silent and quite pale.

“Maybe it’s not there anymore.” Mark was pensive.

Stewart looked back and forth between the two of them, trying hard to remember what he knew about electromagnetic pulses. Suddenly, he turned pale too. “Do you mean?”

He didn't finish the question, Ashlyn did. “Do you think there was a nuclear war?”

Mark considered that for a moment. “I don't think so, an accident maybe, but a war? No, there would be more evidence of that, besides, who would the war have been with, Canada? They didn't mention anything about other countries, right?

She shook her head in affirmation.

Mark continued, “I suspect it has more to do with the dramatic solar activity we have been experiencing.”

“Would that stop even Internet communications?” Ashlyn's question was valid.

“No, I don't think that would be possible. However, if the EMP was massive enough, it could have knocked out the Internet relay stations.”

Stewart disagreed, “those systems are tremendously redundant, and I don't see how it could have knocked them all out.”

Mark shook his head, “I don't have any plausible explanation, but I know that the solar storms we have been having, have been more intense than any, since we've had electronic communications. There is no way to really know what problems they might cause.”

Stewart conceded, “I suppose you're right. We'll just have to wait and see.”

“I don't see what else we can do.” Ashlyn added.

***

What had begun as multiple disasters the night before had initiated a series of unstoppable and unforeseeable events, which no amount of preparation could have forestalled. Beyond losing multiple nuclear power plants to meltdown and the additional, smaller EMPs created by each nuclear blast, the cascade of calamity continued. The intense heat from one of the adjacent detonations had created a floating river of destruction from the famed Chemical Alley in New Jersey, as massive amounts of chlorine gas exploded into the air. Storms generated from the sudden random changes from low pressure to high pressure pushed the deadly clouds hundreds of miles to the southwest, raining down death on the masses as it passed. Its path led it directly over Washington, D.C. with merciless disregard for political power or prestige, it left the bulk of the remaining United States leadership dead or dying.

***

The three of them spent the day trying to obtain information. The reports that they could get, through the static, were similar from one country to the next and when evening came, the Aurora Borealis shown even more brilliantly than it had several nights before. Mark suggested that it was evidence of an even stronger solar flare and might explain the loss of communications.

None of the three of them were completely convinced that the solar flare's electromagnetic interference was the cause of such a massive communications blackout, but there seemed nothing better to do than to wait it out, and hope that it would pass within a day or two. Their dive in search of the pyramid would help pass the time and if, in fact, it did have something to do with the reason Dierdra was trying to kill Mark, time was of the essence.

The next morning dawned clear and beautiful. The sea was calm and incredibly clear, leaving them with only one difficult decision, who would dive with Mark first? The rebreather unit Mark had been using during the EMP had its circuits fried beyond repair but Mark had two more, which left one for him and one for one of them.

Stewart went with Mark first, and it took them only thirty minutes to locate what Mark had reported. The two stayed in constant contact with Ashlyn.

Stewart was the first on the radio to report to Ashlyn. The radio signals had more static than usual, but she could hear them. “I can't believe it Ashlyn, Mark was right. I don't see what else it could be.”

“I wish I was down there.” Ashlyn could hardly wait for Stewart to return to the boat so that she could trade places with him.

Mark echoed Stewart's excitement, “Ashlyn, you have got to see this. There ought to be coral growing on this, but there isn't. It seems to be smooth on the surface, almost like glass.”

“You're right Mark, that can't be naturally occurring. Is there any evidence of the culture who built it?” Ashlyn wished that she was down there with them.

“No, only the top few feet seem to be exposed. That might explain why no one has previously noticed it.”

“Mark, didn't you say that Dierdra's reason for killing you is so that you wouldn't find what was down there?” Ashlyn was perplexed. Even a find like that, seemed like a strange thing to kill him for.

“I don't think this is what Dierdra was talking about, maybe they don't know about this.”

“That seems a little too coincidental to me. A pyramid would be a huge find, but... I just don't see how it all fits together.”

Surely there had to be something else, Ashlyn speculated, Neuronex Pathtronix was into technology, not archeology. She had the gun, they had confiscated from Dierdra, and another that she had brought with her in her suitcase the first day she came onto the yacht. She had very carefully concealed it in her stateroom, in a place that she hoped, not even Dierdra, would think of. Of course, she hadn't told Mark she had a gun until this morning.

Ashlyn would have used it when she was fighting with Dierdra in the first place, but she hadn't been able to get to her room without being seen.

“Mark,” Ashlyn repeated her concern over the radio intercom again, “I don't think that is what Dierdra was trying to keep you from finding.” Mark and Stewart seemed too excited about it to care at this point.

Ashlyn was worried about Dierdra returning, so she sat on the flybridge, keeping watch as best she could. After an hour, her concern was building. They needed to get out of there. Surely, this was not the big secret.

“Mark,” Ashlyn was insistent, “we need to get out of here. Dierdra promised to return and kill you, and I'm sure she meant it. I don't see how this could be so important to them.”

Mark interrupted her, “maybe you are right, but it adds up with the research I have been doing.”

She didn't understand what he meant because she wasn't familiar with his research and findings, and she was frustrated by his lack of concern. As much as she wanted to see it, she was getting more worried by the minute. “Let's just get out of here and come back after we've dealt with Dierdra.”

Stewart piped in over the intercom, “What do you mean when you say 'dealt with Dierdra'? You mean like Justin?”

Curious, Mark asked, “Who is Justin?”

“It’s a long story. We need to get out of here now, Mark.” Ashlyn didn't seem to be able to get through to him.

“Okay, but I want you to see this before we go. Stewart will come up and trade places with you.”

She wanted to argue. It would take a while for him to decompress safely. Mark had been exceptionally lucky with his fast ascent before, and she didn't think it was likely that they would be so lucky twice.

“Alright,” she conceded, still anxious to see it herself, in spite of her worries. “Just make sure that Stewart doesn't come up too fast.”

“Hey, Ashlyn, I've been diving around here for a while, I know what I'm doing.”

She supposed that was true, but she was baffled by the fact that he could dive at all, being so afraid of the ocean. Stewart was certainly an enigma.

Ashlyn waited impatiently until Stewart finally surfaced. He was all smiles and she questioned whether the guys even remembered how much danger they were in.

She began her descent, having received exact directions from Stewart. It wasn't going to be hard to find Mark. She had dived many times in previous years, but had only used regular scuba gear until she met Mark. She had come to the obvious conclusion that she loved the rebreather system and wanted one for herself. However, the fact that they were extremely expensive might end up being a deterrent. She wasn't sure that she would ever get used to how incredibly clear the water was in most areas, visibility was about one-hundred feet, which made it possible to see both the bottom hull of the boat above, and Mark, even though he wasn't directly below.

The feeling was incredible. Having a full-face mask made it so much easier to concentrate on her surroundings. On the other hand, it was strange; she was also accustomed to the sound of bubbling as she exhaled. With the rebreather, the air was re-circulated within the system, going through a one-way valve, and then returning through another.

There was no need for anything but a small oxygen tank because the air was scrubbed and returned through the looped system, with only small amounts of oxygen added, as needed. The helmets created an eerie quiet, except for the sound of her own breathing, and the periodic communications with Mark and Stewart via the voice activated radio system. They wore wetsuits to prevent hypothermia, which was possible in any temperature below that of the human body, if the dive lasted too long.

Now that she was under the water, she was glad for the warmth of the wetsuit. Though the water in the Bahamas never dropped too low to dive, it did become slightly uncomfortable and required a wetsuit by November, and it was now November first. The water today was 75 degrees, not bad on the surface, but they would be diving down a hundred feet or so, and the water temperature naturally dropped the deeper they descended.

On her way down, she passed through a large school of fish. She reached out to touch them but only managed to feel one slide against her hand. They were quite skittish and turned away quickly in unison. It didn't take long to reach the bottom with her weight belt pulling her down. She glanced up, making sure that she could still locate the yacht. The clearness of the water helped the sun to pierce through it quite easily.

The ocean was teaming with life, even here away from any coral reefs. She began crossing the short distance to where Mark was still carefully removing silt from the object. Even with the several yards she had yet to cross, she could easily tell that Mark had been correct. It could be nothing else but the top of a pyramid. She stopped suddenly when she saw a shark pass between the two of them.

“Mark?”

He looked over and motioned with his hand as well as saying over the comm system, “come on, what are you waiting for?”

She pointed to the shark. As an experienced diver, she knew that she was probably in no real danger, but held her ground anyway because of natural human fear. “There is a shark, did you notice it?”

He glanced at the shark, unconcerned, “actually there are several. Sharks have a natural tendency to detect electromagnetic fields, besides, it's only a Lemon shark, they tend to be more docile than some other types.”

Somehow, she didn't find his words very comforting, but realized that she had to move forward or Mark would never leave the area before Dierdra's return. She moved slowly forward, trying not to disturb the ten-foot animal. Once she got a little closer, she did indeed notice that there was more than one circling the area. She was not a timid person, but she found herself trying to calm her breathing, hyperventilating under one-hundred feet of water was not a good idea.

Suddenly, as if spooked by something, the sharks left the area.

“Did you see that Mark?” Ashlyn was grateful for the intercom.

Stewart, monitoring the conversation from above, interjected, “that happened before. I'm not sure what they are afraid of.”

Mark studied one of his meters and answered them both, “the electromagnetic field originating from this spot fluctuates, it just spiked.”

“But I thought you said they were attracted to electromagnetic fields?”

“They are.” Mark motioned for Ashlyn to come all the way to where he was. “They won't be back for a while.”

“How do you know?” Ashlyn asked even as she reached Mark's position.

“Shark electromagnetic senses are kind of like a dog's smelling ability. A little attracts them, but a lot seems to be unpleasant to them.”

“Okay.” She didn't really feel okay about anything. Her adrenaline was way over the normal line, but she didn't want to seem like a baby. After all, Stewart was afraid of the ocean, and he had been down here. She began gently wiping away the silt, copying Mark's behavior. He was right; the pyramid was smooth, almost like glass, with only about four feet exposed.

He pointed to a Lionfish that was hovering near where she was working and told her to be careful not to touch it because of its venomous spines. She had seen one before, although it had been a different color. This one was about a foot in length and orange with black stripes, it made her wonder why they weren't called tiger fish instead, but she didn't mention it.

“Mark, I still don't see how this point of a pyramid could be what Dierdra was talking about.”

He looked at her for a second, but didn't answer. It was clear that he didn't want to leave anytime soon, in spite of the danger. A few minutes of silence passed, “you know, I could have been down here all day yesterday but you...”

She interrupted him, “I don't think this is the time or place for an argument.”

He just smiled at her, and she knew that he had brought it up to silence her. Stewart had taken several pictures while he was under, and carefully marked the exact latitude and longitude down, so there was really no reason to stay now.

“Mark, are you planning to dig the whole thing out with your hands?”

His smirk was clearly visible through his facemask. “Right,” he shook his head, “I'm going to bring a vacuum down here when we come back.”

Ashlyn couldn't see the point of the slow removal of silt when his life was on the line. “I'm going to look around and see if there is anything here that Dierdra would be more likely to be trying to keep you from finding.”

“Okay,” he answered her absently, then added, “don't go too far, I don't want to lose you.”

At that moment, she wasn't so sure he would care if she totally disappeared.

Chapter 11

“If you shut up truth and bury it under the ground, it will but grow, and
gather to itself such explosive power that the day it bursts through, it will
blow up everything in its way.” Émile Zola

~

She headed toward what appeared to be a drop off in the sea floor about fifty feet ahead of her to the south. The seabed tended to have many sudden changes in elevation. She reminded herself that the sea floor frequently took sudden, unexpected plunges. She wasn't very fond of the idea of falling of an underwater cliff. Of course, in an emergency, she could always drop her weight belt, but that could cause her to ascend too quickly so she was careful as she looked over the edge.

It appeared to be a fairly gradual slope, in relative terms, and she decided to follow it down awhile. She realized that by going deeper, she would have to take longer decompressing on her way up. She looked back at Mark, who seemed quite oblivious to what she was doing, so she decided that she had plenty of time. Though it wasn't a sudden drop off, it was quite a bit steeper than she had at first thought, so she made sure to hold onto rocks and sea vegetation along the way.

She stopped at about 150 feet. She didn't want to go too deep, and since she hadn't found anything of interest she decided to head back up when her foot slipped, and she lost hold of everything. For a moment or two she tumbled, still wearing her weight belt. She had about decided to use its quick release when she caught hold of an outcropping. She looked at her depth meter, 175 feet now; she realized that she had probably made the wrong choice in the first place.

Holding on to the outcropping with her hands, she couldn't feel anything below her feet. Not a good sign she realized, but pride kept her from calling for Mark. The sunlight was not helping as much at this depth and so as soon as she made sure that she had a tight hold on the rocks above, and she was about to kick up, but she decided she removed the flashlight from her belt and shine it down below. Half expecting to see an unfathomable depth below her, she was surprised by the sight of the sea floor directly beneath her. Estimating it to be only a few feet she let go and landed gently on a rocky surface.

She used her flashlight to look around and realized that there was indeed a further drop off again, with a slope to it. She looked above and below and realized that the slope angle was similar. It occurred to her that it might have something to do with the shape of the pyramid above. Maybe it wasn't all buried after all, she thought to herself. She turned in a 360-degree circle and realized that the gap in the rocks where she had fallen was due to a cave entrance.

She was busy studying it when Mark called over the intercom, “Ashlyn, where are you?”

She smiled as the silly idea of hide and seek came to mind. She might find out how much he really cared, but then she decided that they neither had the time nor safety margin for a silly game. “Oh, I'm not too far.”

Her answer sounded cryptic and he wondered what she was thinking. He looked around in every direction, in spite of the incredibly clear water of the Caribbean, and with a one-hundred foot visibility, he couldn't see her.

“I thought you weren't going to go very far away, I don't see you and that's not very safe.”

She couldn't resist a little tease, “huh? Why is it safe for you to go wandering around on the sea floor by yourself, but I'm not allowed?"

“Ashlyn, come on.”

She could hear the worry in his voice now and felt a bit selfishly pleased.

Stewart interrupted their conversation, “hey, what's going on down there?”

Mark answered, “Ashlyn is hiding from me.”

She noticed an eel poking its fanged head out of a hole in the rocks, and decided she had better be a little more careful about where she put her hands.

“Ashlyn, where are you?” Mark was beginning to sound upset.

“Okay,” she decided her fun needed to end. “I'm about fifty feet south of you and about seventy-five feet below you.”

“What?! Ashlyn, why did you go down?” He looked in the direction she had given him and noticed the drop off. Suddenly, he found his irritation giving way to fear. “Are you okay?”

She could hear the concern in his voice. She had been so terrified when she thought he might be hurt or dead under the water. Just for a moment, she heard that fear reflected in his voice and knew he truly had feelings for her. Of course, he had told her he did, but she had never really been loved, and it was nice to have the reassurance that he really did.

“I'm okay,” she answered, not wanting him to worry more, “I think I might have found something down here that you might be interested in.”

Stewart was beginning to get nervous. Ashlyn had been drilling into them the need to get out of there before she went into the water, and now she had gone off sightseeing.

“Ashlyn, you were the one who was in such a hurry to get out of here. What's going on?” Stewart asked.

“I found something I need Mark to see.”

Oh great! Stewart thought, the anxiety was evident in his answer. “Alright, just remember Dierdra could return at any moment.”

Ashlyn had been exploring a little while. She was waiting for Mark, and had about decided that he may have been right about the pyramid being what Dierdra was trying to hide from him, but not where he was looking.

Mark stood at the top of the drop off and looked down into the darkness. “Ashlyn, are you down there?”

She walked out of the cave she had been exploring, onto the small ledge that had broken her fall and shined her flashlight up at Mark as she spoke, “Do you see my light?”

Mark sighed so loudly that it activated his intercom. “Ashlyn, why in the world did you go down there? You could have been killed.”

“I'll explain later, Mark, I need you to come down here, but be careful, it’s steeper than it looks.”

Mark looked back up at the ship overhead and considered for a moment having Stewart throw down a rope but Ashlyn interrupted his thoughts. “If you come straight down where you see my light, and try to hold onto things you will be okay.”

He took a deep breath and headed over the edge. He couldn't imagine why he would want to go down there except to rescue Ashlyn, and she didn't seem to be asking for rescue.

It only took him a few minutes to make his way down to her, but before he got there, she told him, “there is a drop off just below you, but it doesn't go very far. It's maybe ten feet."

“Don't shine your light up at me Ashlyn, I want to see, and now your light is blinding me.”

“Oh, sorry Mark.” She didn't turn her light off but instead pointed it down at her feet so that he could see the bottom.

When he finally stood on the ledge where she was, he couldn't quite decide whether to hug her or spank her. “You scared me half to death when I couldn't find you,” he scolded her.

“Sorry baby, but I think you'll change your mind when you see what I found.”

Stewart couldn't resist, “okay guys, remember I'm listening and cut the mushy stuff.”

“Sorry, Stewart I forgot you were up there.”

“Thanks a lot Ashlyn.”

She didn't respond but rather took Mark's gloved hand and led him into the cave. They didn't walk far before he saw what she had been so excited about. There before them, more of the pyramid was exposed along with an entrance.

***

Stewart's frustration led him to go in search of a distraction. He still couldn't find any United States broadcasting. He tried tuning into other satellites but without much hope of finding one in English. It was still better than waiting for Dierdra to show up and kill him. Ashlyn had given him a gun, but he had his doubts about being able to defend himself.

Greatly surprised, he picked up a channel in English. It was someone with a strong Australian accent, and he welcomed it. It wasn't a news channel but some kind of comedy show. He had a hard time following their jokes, but he watched it anyway. Finally, a news broadcast broke in for an update. Apparently, they still hadn't been able to make contact with North America. Stewart had to wonder why someone hadn't just flown over there by now to find out. Who knows, nothing made sense, maybe they had?

In further news the reporter announced, “More reports have been coming in from all over the world, of mysterious vanishings.” Apparently, it had gone beyond missing people to include buildings and vehicles as well. “That's it,” he said out loud, sarcastically, to himself. “North America must have gone missing as well,” not believing the ridiculous reports at all.

He had forgotten that he was still linked into the intercom with Mark and Ashlyn. “Wha.. did ….. say Stew..?” Mark's voice was broken up.

“I was talking to myself. You're breaking up.” Stewart answered, but there was no response except for static.

Great, he thought. Now he really felt alone. He assumed they were having interference from the electromagnetic field that had been fluctuating wildly for the entire time they had been over that spot in the sea. He couldn't wait to get out of there. He was losing interest in the pyramid. He had faced his fear out here in the ocean, and gone diving frequently. However, now that he was alone, he wasn't sure he could handle the anxiety. He put his head into his hands and prayed they would get back up to the boat soon.

Mark had been trying to contact Stewart, but apparently, the signal was being blocked by the odd material that the pyramid was made from. It must have been down there for centuries but even inside the tunnel entrance, it was slick as glass. The slippery surface was making progress hard because the shaft was sharply angled up and long. They had finally dropped their weight belts because it was difficult to ascend in the narrow shaft, they simply didn't have the room to kick properly. They could pick up their belts on their way out.

Ashlyn was ahead of Mark. He wanted to go first, but she was the one who found it, so he let her lead the way. The pathway was narrow and short, hardly enough room for a person to swim through. He couldn't imagine what it had been used for.

Suddenly, Ashlyn stopped and his momentum made him run right into her.

“Hey, why did you stop?” Thankfully, he could still talk to Ashlyn, even though he could not communicate with Stewart.

She didn't answer for a moment and then began moving again. It appeared that the tunnel opened up in front of her, and it seemed oddly lit.

“Mark, I can't believe this.”

He started to say what, when he realized what she was talking about. Not only did the tunnel widen to a room, a lighted room to boot, it was devoid of water.

Ashlyn climbed out of the central pool onto a marble-like floor, and Mark quickly followed her. They didn't speak; neither knew what to say.

***

At an underground depth of over five-hundred feet, lies the world's largest particle accelerator, the Hadron Collider. Contained in a circular tunnel, seventeen miles in diameter, it crosses under the borders of Switzerland and France several times. The collider uses a cryogenic system of liquid helium to keep the over one-thousand, six-hundred superconducting magnets cool.

Its mission is simply to provide a practical way to study and provide evidence of the unexplainable and previously un-provable theories of physics. Areas of research include such things as the understanding of anti-matter, dark matter, electromagnetic energy, magnetism, black holes, exotic particles, relativity, weak and strong forces and even gravity itself.

Over ten thousand scientists and engineers, with the cooperation of over one-hundred countries, make the Hadron Collider a project greater than any other joint project on Earth. On September 10, 2008, the collider began its first successful operations, but was closed down on September 19th, of that same year to correct unforeseen problems.

It had resumed operations again in the fall of 2009, ramping up to the most difficult and controversial experiments over the next three years. It was scheduled to begin its most important research in mid-December this year. Scientists from all around the globe were preparing to prove or disprove the existence of other dimensions, putting quantum physics and string theory to the test, in the hopes of finally changing theory to fact.

***

Stewart was anxiously trying to pass the time alone by continuing to watch the one and only English station, he had been able to keep the satellite dish locked on. He hadn't been paying that much attention until the word 'electromagnetism' caught his attention. Apparently, a group of scientists and concerned citizens in Geneva were gathering to protest against the tests being planned at the Hadron Collider, fearing the opening of a black hole.

He thought the argument was weak but then again, wasn't electromagnetism part of the theory that Mark was working on. Stewart suddenly wished he knew more about physics. He didn't really understand the research that Mark was doing, but Stewart knew that Mark believed that naturally occurring electromagnetic events were the source of many of the mysterious and unexplained happenings in the Bermuda Triangle.

Even Ashlyn had reported mysteriously traveling through time. Stewart was still not quite sure how much he trusted Ashlyn but Mark had confirmed the experience and Stewart trusted Mark with his life. Stewart switched off the television, finding that watching the mostly static intermingled with bits and pieces of news, was causing him more distress than the absence of Mark and Ashlyn.

He went up to the flybridge and looked over the side of the yacht on every side, hoping to see them, even though the radio communication system was not currently working. He tried the radio again, in the vain hope that it was functioning again, but it wasn't, and he couldn't see them anywhere. He had no idea what he would do if Dierdra showed up again. He had been her prisoner once and his wounds had not yet healed.

He was sure of one thing, she wouldn't think twice this time before killing him. He decided to stay on the flybridge until Ashlyn and Mark returned. It was at least the best vantage point for seeing danger or his friends. Stewart had not checked the time when he had lost communication with them, and he was sure it had not been very long, but it seemed like forever.

***

Mark and Ashlyn had sat on the edge of the undersea pool for several minutes not speaking. There appeared to be no exit except for the way they had come in. The shock of finding the chamber, not only full of air, but having its own light source had left them speechless.

Looking around the room for all that time had not revealed an explanation for the light source; it was just light. It was as if the light emanated from the walls and ceiling, although there was no visible glow. Mark finally decided that his facemask might be preventing him from seeing its source and began to remove it.

Ashlyn stopped him. “What are you doing Mark?”

“There is clearly oxygen in here, maybe I will be able to make some sense of things if I can see better.”

She still held his arm, trying to restrict his movement. “Mark, we don't know if the air in here is even breathable.”

He grinned at her. “Well, there is only one way to find out.” He disconnected the connection to his helmet and removed it, ignoring her argument.

He took a deep breath and then just sat there for a moment, waiting to see if there would be any side effects. The air smelled musty and old, like a wet cave, but it seemed quite breathable. He motioned for her to take hers off as well.

She did and they just sat there again, still unable to make any sense of their surroundings.

“You know, we will run out of oxygen, eventually?” Ashlyn looked worried.

“Then we will put our helmets back on.” His answer simply made her feel invalidated, even though she knew that what he was saying was true.

“Do you have any explanation for this?” She finally asked.

“Well....” He looked around at the walls and then stood up and pulled his right glove off. He ran his fingers down a way and then looked at her still sitting there with her feet in the water. “We don't know what this material is. It didn't allow any crustaceans or coral to grow on it in the water; I suppose it must also be air tight.”

She furrowed her brow in thought then he continued, “If the pyramid sank at an upright angle, the air would just be trapped in here.”

This was a huge archaeological find, no doubt, but she began thinking she had been wrong about believing that it was what Dierdra was trying to keep him from finding. What would be the point? Even if Neuronex Pathtronix had found it and figured out what it was made of, it wouldn't be worth killing over.

Ashlyn finally stood up and began to examine the room more closely. No exits, except the way they had come and the strange light. What was the point?

She was no archaeologist but she was sure the pyramid was neither Egyptian, nor Mayan. There was nothing, anywhere to indicate who had built it or why. She studied each wall, one after the next just like Mark was doing. He looked at her questioningly, and she shook her head, understanding what he was asking. She had no idea.

“We had better go back to the ship and tell Stewart about this. We will have to come back when we aren't in danger.”

Mark had almost forgotten about the fact that Stewart was alone on the ship with no way to communicate. Dierdra could have come back and killed him by now, he thought suddenly. It would take them time to decompress as well.

“You're right, we should go.” He leaned down to pick up his helmet from the floor when he noticed markings. “Ashlyn, look.” He pointed to the markings that she had obviously missed as well.

The designs were unfamiliar and there weren't many, but they were raised slightly. Ashlyn noticed that too, and knelt down to touch one of them.

“Mark, this one isn't just raised; it feels like it will turn.”

He raised his eyebrows in a gesture that clearly expressed the thought, 'then turn it already.'

She looked down at it again and hesitated for a moment, thinking of all the Indiana Jones movies she had seen.

“What are you waiting for?”

She bit her lower lip unconsciously and then turned the symbol. She had been right; it turned easily and then seemed to lock into place. Suddenly there began to be a small rumbling sound, and they could feel a vibration. 'Uh oh,' she thought, expecting a bunch of arrows to come hurling toward her, or a huge bolder to be dislodged.

She chided herself silently for her unspoken fears when nothing happened. She let out her breath that she didn't realize she had been holding, just as a door slid open. There had been absolutely nothing there previously to indicate that it was any different from the other parts of the walls. Her mouth dropped open in surprise and simultaneous relief, and then shut again.

Entirely forgetting Stewart, alone on the boat above, Mark walked through the open door into a much larger passageway than the one they had swum through. The hallway was straight and level and Ashlyn followed him through, also forgetting everything else. The hall was lighted just as the room had been, still with no obvious source.

“Wait Mark.”

He turned to her, confused.

“We should take our helmets; we have no idea if the entire pyramid is free of water.”

He nodded his head in agreement, and they walked back the few yards that they had already traveled. They retrieved them before continuing their journey.

***

Stewart was really beginning to worry now; the sun was now low on the horizon. Surely, they wouldn't just stay down there that long without communicating with him, besides, he thought, even the rebreathers might not extend the oxygen that long. He tried them on the radio again, but all he got was static. He pounded his fist in frustration on a panel, on the bridge.

He was feeling more anxious by the minute. There was no contingency plan in place. The original dive site was visible; at least it had been earlier in the day. Why had they ventured off somewhere else? Ashlyn had been at 175 feet, maybe they were just being careful to decompress properly. However, if that was the case, why had they not communicated with him? They had mentioned a cave; maybe it was blocking reception. He hoped that was it, but it still did not answer why they were staying down there so long.

***

With all sense of time lost in bewilderment, they continued until finally the hallway opened up into a great room. It too had a pool in the middle, as if planned that way by a master interior decorator. However, the room was not without a door, the way the first had been. It had several hallways leading in various directions.

They looked around the much larger room for several minutes taking in their surroundings.

Mark turned to Ashlyn. “Which way do you think we should go?”

Ashlyn opened her mouth to answer him, but before she could, they both heard a voice from behind them. “This way.”

They both turned in unison to see Dierdra, gun in hand, pointing toward a hallway.

Chapter 12

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
Arthur C. Clarke

~

It was now completely dark except for the brilliant light show that the Aurora was creating in the sky. Stewart had lost all hope that they were not in danger. There was no way that Mark would have stayed down there that long, especially at night, without communicating with him. Something must have happened to them. He had been sitting there on the flybridge for several hours thinking as hard as he could, when it occurred to him that the reason Dierdra had wanted to kill Mark, was so that he would not find something down there below them.

He meditated on the possibility that Dierdra could have found them down there and killed them both. It didn't make sense though. He had been on the look out nearly the entire time and there had been no other boats. Even the short time he watched the TV, the radar had been set to alarm loudly if any other vessel approached. Maybe the sharks had eaten them, possible, but unlikely. Mark had informed him that no one had ever been killed by a Lemon shark, a few rare attacks but.... Maybe Dierdra had a submarine. Ridiculous, the radar would have picked that up too, he mused.

He thought about Ashlyn's rushed decision to light fires on the water to find Mark. He would have never thought of anything like that so fast, or even at all. Maybe, they couldn't find the boat in the dark. That couldn't be it; he had the ship lit up like a Christmas tree. He considered calling the coast guard, and then he remembered Ashlyn saying that there was a Navy admiral involved somehow. Try as he might, he didn't know what he should do, so he decided to stay there, on the flybridge, and hope for the best. He went downstairs and got himself a blanket and pillow then went back up, though he doubted he would be able to sleep at all.

***

Ashlyn and Mark sat together on the floor in a locked room with no furniture. The walls were completely white, not paint, but a glass-like surface. They could not see even an outline where the door ought to be, but knew it was there because they had walked through it just before it shut behind them.

“I'm sorry Mark.”

He looked at her sadly. “What are you sorry for, I'm the one who wouldn't leave without exploring the pyramid? You've been trying to get me to disappear from the area ever since Dierdra left the yacht.”

She let out a long breath and looked down at her hands. “I shouldn't have gone off exploring. I should have stayed with you at the top of the pyramid.”

“Then we wouldn't have found this.”

As if finding it had been a positive thing, she thought. She mulled over her racing thoughts for a moment and then said, “I didn't really leave you to search for something more important. I mean, I told myself it was because I thought you were looking at the wrong thing, but that wasn't my real motivation.”

He eyed her curiously for a minute, but when she didn’t continue, he spoke. “So what was your real reason?”

She looked around, clearly not wanting to answer, and then down at her hands. “I was jealous.”

“Huh? Jealous of who?”

She looked up at him. “Not who, what.” She paused, looking embarrassed and ashamed, “I was jealous of the stupid pyramid.”

“What?” He chuckled softly then pulled her to him. He put his face close to hers and looked into her eyes. When he saw the sorrow there, he kissed her softly, “I'm sorry.”

She turned her face away and shook it slightly. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

He put his fingers under her chin and made her look back at him. “Yes I did. I tend to get lost in my thoughts and hurt people's feelings.” He paused, “I'm sure it's not the first time I've done it to you, and it probably won't be the last, but I promise to try harder.”

“I love you.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

He kissed the top of her messy hair and answered, “I love you too.”

It was cold and they didn't have any dry clothes, so they stayed in their wetsuits and tried to get some sleep on the hard floor.

***

Stewart had finally fallen asleep, though he didn't know when. When he woke to the bright sunlight of the morning, he felt nothing but despair. He tried the comm system again with no luck, and then looked around through the crystal clear water in the vain hope of seeing either one of them, but he saw no one.

***

Down below, Mark and Ashlyn had tried to sleep on the hard floor, still wet from the ocean. They had considered taking off their wetsuits, but they didn't have any dry clothing and the room seemed slightly cold. Even wet, their suits provided some insulation, but they were both quite miserable through the night.

Mark looked at his dive watch and realized that it was morning finally when the invisible door reappeared, as it magically slid open. A man entered the room, he was wearing blue and gray colored fatigues that Mark knew meant U.S. Navy. He had a tray with some food and orange colored jump suits for them to change into. He said nothing, then left, the door once again blending into the wall.

Mark and Ashlyn just looked at each other in surprise.

“Not quite a five star hotel.” Mark spoke sarcastically as he stood to get out of his wetsuit and into dry clothes. “I'm not sure why they haven't killed us yet.”

Ashlyn had experienced enough of her wetsuit as well, “I have no idea why they haven't. Dierdra must not be the one in command around here.”

Once they had changed into dry clothes, they ate their food quickly, not having eaten since the afternoon the day before.

***

Stewart went into the galley and sadly made breakfast for himself. He didn't feel hungry but logic told him that he should eat, just in case he finally figured out what was going on and had to act quickly. After his forced nourishment, he sat down in total despair.

***

At least an hour had passed since the food and clothing had been brought to Mark and Ashlyn. Again, the door opened and the same man who had brought them food bid them follow him.

Mark leaned over and whispered to Ashlyn, “maybe that was supposed to have been our last meal.”

She knew that it was meant as a joke, to help improve her mood. She rolled her eyes at his corny attempt, but surprisingly it did raise her spirits just a bit.

They followed the man down a long corridor, but they lost all sense of direction. Mark’s diving watch had a compass, but it was spinning hopelessly. The man led them into a large office. The modern furniture looked completely out of place within the ancient pyramid. A man in a Navy admiral's uniform sat at the desk. He had a grim expression on his face but smiled slightly, exposing a gold-canine. “Hello, Ashlyn.”

Ashlyn recognized him, of course, but she said, “I believe that you have me at a disadvantage sir. I have seen you a few times, but I never did catch your name.”

“Preston,” he answered, “Admiral George Preston.” His voice was harsh from years of smoking cigarettes.

***

Stewart was going crazy trying to figure out what had happened. He would have considered going under to look for them, but they had the only two working rebreather systems. Then an idea finally presented itself. He seemed to remember seeing regular scuba gear in the engine room somewhere. He ran down the stairs and searched until he found it. The oxygen tank wouldn't last as long as a rebreather, but it would do.

It didn't take him long to be ready once he had decided. He went to the lower landing behind the aft deck and did the traditional fall back into the water. He quickly made his way down to the tip of the pyramid, past the sharks, which were again circling. He had to force himself not to hyperventilate. He had thought he was afraid before, but now he was alone, and it was much worse. He followed the directions that he remembered hearing Ashlyn give Mark right before they lost contact.

Stewart looked down the side of what seemed to be a steep cliff to him. He almost felt dizzy and nauseas. This would have been bad to him on a good day, but he could not allow himself to panic, or even worse vomit, under one-hundred feet of water, or he would die. He forced himself forward because the madness of not knowing anything had become worse now than his fear. He had taken a rope with him, having heard the conversation about climbing down the side. It didn't take him long for him to find the cave that he had heard them discussing.

He swam in and then saw why Ashlyn had been so excited. It was clearly an entrance to the pyramid above. He took notice of the two weight belts that lay at the bottom of the angled, small, tunnel-like entrance. He dropped his belt next to theirs, and headed up the shaft. When he lifted his head out of the small pool, into the air-filled room, he was as shocked as Mark and Ashlyn had been. However, unlike their experience, he saw an open hallway. He pulled off his tank, flippers and facemask, and then quickly headed down the corridor. He was beginning to feel hopeful.

He assumed that their radios had not been able to penetrate the walls of the pyramid. The only question remaining for him then was why they hadn't come back to let him know what they had found. Then suddenly it all made sense, Dierdra had tried to kill them, so Mark wouldn't find this. They would have come back if it had been possible, Stewart felt sure of that. The only possibility was that they were either prisoners or dead. He found himself wishing that he had brought Ashlyn's gun.

***

The admiral's near hospitality left Ashlyn dumbfounded. It made no sense at all. She hadn't seen Dierdra since their initial run in, and Ashlyn was sure this 'nice' treatment had not been Dierdra's idea.

“The last thing I heard from Dierdra is that you wanted us dead,” Ashlyn eyed the admiral accusingly.

“Oh, Ashlyn, I have never wanted you killed, you are a very valuable asset. I admit I was upset when you blew up our facility, and killed one of my best scientists in the process, but I'm over that now. I am a very forgiving man,” he answered in his raspy voice.

She looked at him skeptically, not believing a word he said. “Why did you send Dierdra after Mark?”

“Clearly, I did not want him to find this pyramid.”

“So why don't you kill him now?”

Mark looked at Ashlyn, disturbed by the way she had worded that. It seemed almost like she was suggesting it, but she didn't look back at him.

“Circumstances change. I lost a lot of good men in the disaster, even my right hand man. I'm in need of a few people with, shall we say, special talents?”

She knew he was referring to Mark, “I don't know what you are talking about?”

“You don't think he has talents?”

The admiral was turning her words back on her, “I mean, what do you want from him? And what disaster are you referring to?”

He stood up, and walked around his desk, lessening the distance between them, while making Ashlyn's skin crawl involuntarily. “He found this place didn't he?”

She didn't answer. She wanted to say not quite, but she feared lessening the inherent value that the admiral had clearly placed on Mark. Hopefully, it would be enough to save his life.

“He is also a brilliant scientist in his own right. Two doctorates, correct?” He looked at Mark, who nodded affirmatively.

Ashlyn glanced at Mark, hoping he was handling this well. She was used to people trying to kill her and always having to be on constant guard, but she doubted that he had many enemies.

She probed for more information. “What has changed in the last two days since Dierdra tried to kill him?”

“I told you, the disaster changed our circumstances dramatically.”

“You never told me about what disaster you are referring to.”

The admiral looked at Ashlyn, then at Mark, surprised by their ignorance on the matter. Of course, he reminded himself, that they had been out at sea, with no contact with the outside world. “Why the virtual destruction of the United States, of course.”

“What are you talking about? We don't know about any destruction.”

Mark flashed a glance at Ashlyn before interjecting, “maybe that explains the loss of communication with North America and the EMPs.”

Admiral Preston looked at Mark, then at Ashlyn. “See, he knows about it, why don't you?”

She ignored his question but asked, “What happened?”

“NASA had informed the government and the military earlier during the week that the sun had experienced a coronal mass ejection, which was tremendous in size and headed straight for us. Nothing but panic would have been the result if told, so the public was not notified.

Any possible precautions were taken but there was a massive earthquake just before the coronal mass hit. It took out multiple satellites on its way. The coronal mass apparently caused more than one large, high-atmosphere EMP, as Dr. Turner mentioned.”

She looked at Mark and wondered what the admiral would say if she told him that Mark had been unconscious for those, and only knew about them because she had told him, but she didn't say anything.

“It seems kind of strange that there would be an earthquake at the same time as a...” she hesitated, “coronal mass thing, doesn't it?”

“You will have all of your questions answered in time.” He stated it as if it needed a long answer when she was only expecting him to say, yes, it was strange.

“It started a chain reaction of events, collapsed buildings, crashing airplanes, fires, and a total blackout of the U.S. and Canada, even part way into Mexico, we think.”

Ashlyn and Mark were both in shock, and Ashlyn was shaking her head as if unwilling or unable to accept the information.

He paused, still surprised that they didn't know. “Then some of the nuclear plants blew and created more EMPs. Hard to tell what order things happened in, but the disaster apparently blew out every transformer all the way across the United States. I was on Andros at the time, luckily for me.”

The admiral narrowed his eyes as he watched their shocked reactions. “Air Force One crashed, the president is dead, along with the majority of the government officials. Obviously, I lost a lot of people myself.”

Ashlyn gasped and looked at Mark, who was clearly having as much trouble believing this as she was, but it certainly explained the EMP that had knocked out Mark's rebreather. It seemed that they were incredibly lucky not to have had more damage.

“Are you saying that the United States of America is destroyed?” Mark felt like he had been punched in the gut.

“More like knocked back into the Stone Age technologically with no way to repair the infrastructure. Most of the people are still alive, just without power or resources.”

Ashlyn sat down on one of the chairs in the room. She looked like she might pass out.

Mark spoke, hoping that this was some kind of a sick joke. “I don't believe you! How do you know all of this if even the government communications were knocked out?”

The admiral leaned back in his chair. “I have my sources. Believe what you want, you'll know the truth soon enough. Come this way. ”

Mark looked at Ashlyn, neither one of them wanted to follow this man. Whether the admiral spoke the truth or fabricated the whole thing to get their cooperation, Mark wasn't sure. The EMPs had been real enough, and it fit with the news reports they had pieced together, but it seemed impossible to grasp. All he was sure of was that he wanted Ashlyn to be okay. Then there was Stewart, how he wished he could let him know what was going on, but there was no way to tell him.

Mark reached for Ashlyn's hand. She looked truly stricken, obviously she believed the man. He supposed it was true as well, but didn't want to accept it.

“We had better go with him.” She allowed Mark to help her up with his extended hand and then followed the admiral numbly.

He took them to what appeared to be an elevator. Mark looked at Ashlyn in the vain hope that she had an answer, but she just shrugged. It felt like they were going down fast, but they exited outside, onto what looked like an airplane landing strip with lights on both sides. Mark was more confused than ever. Ashlyn appeared to be just as bewildered.

The admiral directed them to the back seat of a golf cart. They hesitantly climbed on. Nothing made sense at all, they must have gone up...and sideways too. Mark almost laughed for a second, thinking of the Willy Wonka's Wonkavator, it sure seemed like they had gone in one. He looked up at the dark sky and then down at his watch, which read 10:00 AM. He flicked it a couple of times then turned to Ashlyn, who was also staring at her watch. When he leaned over, she showed him her's, which read the same. He shook his head at her.

Mark stared up at the sky again; he didn't know how they had gotten outside, or how day had turned to night. Nothing seemed, as it should be. He felt his mind must have been playing tricks on him. There ought to be stars, he thought, but all he saw was darkness as if the stars themselves had disappeared.

He motioned for Ashlyn to look up. From the expression on her face, she was as lost as he was. She leaned over, “do you think we've gone through another time travel thingy.”

He shook his head and smiled inwardly at her use of the term, time travel thingy, but didn't mention it, then leaned over and hummed the twilight zone theme to her.

“Cute.” She rolled her eyes at him and then leaned her head onto his shoulder. He put his arm around her. At least she was real, he thought, hoping the nightmare would be over soon, and he would wake up.

They traveled for nearly forty-five minutes, though the cart was only moving twenty-five miles per hour maximum, it seemed like a long way to go without seeing any kind of buildings, of course it was too dark to see very far. He did see some kind of towers at regular intervals along the right hand side of the road, which he now believed to be to the west. The road itself seemed to be angled slightly southwest. His compass had inexplicably begun to function again, though he would not have bet his life on its accuracy. Ashlyn and Mark sat quietly during the entire drive, not wanting to say or do anything that would alter the admiral's unexpectedly benevolent treatment of them.

When they finally arrived at their destination, there were a number of buildings that looked like typical military barracks to the east, though it was hard to see how many in the dark. It was apparently a base of some sort, but the building that they had stopped at was enormous and didn't look military at all. It was not a pyramid but seemed similar in shape, as if the architect had been trying to mimic the style. The outside walls angled gradually inward but ended with a flat roof, rather than a pointed one.

Mark had suspected that they were at one of the AUTEC Naval bases, but he couldn't imagine this kind of building at any of them. There were also several other buildings near them that looked something like motels or apartments, which were clearly not military in style. A couple of navy officers walked past and stopped to salute the admiral, but otherwise there didn't seem to be very many people around the immediate area. If it was indeed the middle of the night, as it seemed to be, it would make sense that most of the base would be sleeping.

Further south, in the distance, stood a large machine of some sort, difficult to make out in the dark. He wouldn't have noticed it at all if it hadn't been so large. It was high atop a tower and seemed to be spinning, or it at least had lights rotating around it. The top was too high to see clearly, Mark guessed that it had to be at least ten stories high.

They followed the admiral into the superfluous building, which had, at it center, a large gallery with a cathedral ceiling. Three stories high, Mark conjectured silently, based on the visible, indoor walkways around each level. Four, two-story high marble statues guarded the south end of the large room, with water flowing from the palms of their outstretched hands into a large pool. A fountain in the center of the pool completed the odd sight. Like outside, there was only a handful of people, who seemed to be casually visiting with each other. All wore the uniforms of naval officers but none seemed to be working.

Admiral Preston drew his hand through the air in a sweeping gesture. “Welcome to AUTEC.”

Ashlyn gave Mark a warning glance, communicating with her eyes. She was sure that Admiral Preston had something up his sleeve. He was not a good man, and his behavior seemed extremely out of character.

Mark noticed her body language and answered back agreement with his own. He had been correct in his assumption of their location, but he had never seen such an elaborate or artistic building in the middle of a military base. He added the absurdity of it to his mental list of nonsensical things that had been happening.

Mark addressed the admiral, “this seems kind of elaborate for a naval base.” The admiral just smiled.

Ashlyn turned to Mark, she remembered him mentioning something about it before, on the yacht. “What does AUTEC stand for?”

“Atlantic Underwater Testing and Evaluation Center,” Mark answered, pleased that he had done his homework on the naval bases located on Andros Island. Though they had been diving off the Berry Islands, they were far enough away to be nearly as close to Andros.

“Actually,” the admiral corrected, “that's what we tell people, as well as most of the officers and sailors that are not assigned to this specific base. This facility it Top, Top Secret, and we want to avoid too many questions.”

He paused for effect and Mark looked at him strangely, knitting his brow at that. Admiral Preston continued, “It actually stands for the Atlantis Underwater Testing and Evaluation Center.”

Mark stood there, trying to understand why the admiral would say that. The man was so full of it, he thought furiously, while trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

Ashlyn laughed out loud, obviously less afraid of the admiral than Mark was. “You have got quite an ego, did you name it yourself?”

Mark didn't give him a chance to answer. “I've looked at several satellite images of Andros Island, zooming in on AUTEC purposefully, and I've never seen a building of this size or shape in any of the pictures.”

George Preston smiled. “This facility is not visible from any satellite.”

Mark scowled, “the entire Earth is visible from satellite. The pictures are so good that people ought to think twice before skinny dipping in their own backyard pools.”

Ashlyn had to agree with that one. “He's right. So what is your explanation, you developed some kind of cloaking device?” Her words were sarcastic, neither Mark nor Ashlyn believed him for a second.

The admiral walked closer to the two of them. Just for a moment, his face showed contempt, and then it was gone. He was acting as if he were some kind of a diplomat, trying to entertain a foreign head of state who had unknowingly insulted him.

He forced a smile and answered. “This facility is not visible via satellite because it’s under the sea.”

Neither of his listeners said anything for a moment, not understanding how that could be. They stared at him, trying to read his expression. Then Ashlyn finally spoke. “Are you trying to say that this place we are in is... underwater? That this is...” she hesitated, “the Atlantis?”

“That is exactly what I am saying.”

Mark looked at him and then at Ashlyn. “You aren't buying any of this are you? I mean, Atlantis is a myth, and even if it was real, it was supposed to be over by Northern Africa, not in the Bahamas.”

She didn't turn her eyes away from Admiral Preston at first. She was trying to read the truth. Several moments of tense silence passed between them, and then she turned to Mark and answered. “I think he is telling the truth.”

Finally, things were becoming clear. Mark looked up at what he had though was a starless night sky, then realized that it was water.

Chapter 13

“In one drop of water are found all the secrets of all the oceans.”

Kahlil Gibran

~

Stewart had been trying to be stealthy as he walked through the corridors, but when he came to a large room with another pool in it, he heard someone move behind him.

He turned around quickly in surprise and then felt relief wash over him, “Ashlyn...Where have you guys been?” Then his heart sunk when he saw her expression and realized it was Dierdra.

***

Ashlyn followed Mark's gaze upward and realized what he was thinking. Then she looked at him for an explanation. “How can...?” She was shaking her head in confusion.

She didn't finish her question; she didn't know what to ask. Mark glanced at her but didn't offer an explanation. He turned to the admiral and asked, “What is holding the water back, or...I guess, I should say up?” Mark gestured up above him again.

“That is the question, isn't it?” Admiral Preston gave no further explanation. “I could use your help, now that the balance of power has changed.”

“I'm not sure what you are suggesting and that still doesn't answer my question.” Mark was feeling more confident. Apparently, this wasn't a hostage situation anymore, but rather a negotiation; one in which he had become a valuable asset.

Nothing would ever convince him to work for the man. However, he was beginning to think, that he ought to play along for a while. At least that would buy him some time to find a way for them to escape.

Ashlyn bit her lower lip unconsciously and shot Mark a look of, he's not trustworthy. He gave her a subtle movement of his eyes that reassured her that he was aware of the danger.

The admiral's driver appeared and handed the admiral a note, which he read quickly before dismissing the driver. “Let's go get something to eat, and then I will answer all of your questions.” The admiral motioned for the two of them to follow.

Ashlyn held Mark's arm for a moment, and he stopped and waited for her to speak. She looked around quickly to make sure that they were alone, and the admiral out of earshot, then she leaned close to him and whispered, “He can't be trusted.”

“I know, don't worry.” He looked into her eyes, “I love you. We are going to get out of here, I promise.”

She smiled and cocked her head slightly, just as the admiral looked back at them. “Are you two coming?”

Ashlyn gave Admiral Preston a full smile and answered, “Absolutely.” She was feeling somewhat intoxicated by Mark's presence in spite of their situation, and she figured she might as well let the admiral misinterpret it as cooperation.

He led them to a dining hall in the same building. It was as ornate as any five star restaurant, and maintained the same style as the gallery. Two officers were at the door. They did not appear to be guarding it. Mark could only assume the officers were simply there in case the admiral needed something. A waiter, in civilian attire, seated them at a small table and presented them with menus devoid of any price listings, apparently the food was free, or too expensive to list on the menu.

They ordered their food and didn't speak until it arrived. There was simply too much to process, and the surroundings were so bizarre, that it left them both speechless. However, Ashlyn was worrying about Stewart. He must be going crazy, she thought, but didn't say.

Almost as if Mark had read her mind, he spoke to the admiral. “My friend is on my boat. I would like to talk to him. To let him know we are okay.”

George Preston looked up from his food and answered, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin as he spoke. “Don't worry about your friend; he will be here very soon.”

Ashlyn looked at Mark, eyes opening wide in surprise, and then she bit her lower lip again unconsciously and tried to act normally.

“What?” Mark asked, “You sent someone to my boat to get him?” He tried to bite back the contempt in his voice. He was worried about Stewart, but angered by the invasion of his privacy. “Was it Dierdra?” The disdain in his voice was clear.

The admiral looked down at the T-bone steak he was cutting, not meeting Mark's eyes. He then took a bite of his meat before looking up and answering with his mouth full. “Actually, he came to us.”

“How?” Ashlyn asked in surprise.

“The same way you did.” The admiral looked at her suspiciously, as if she should know. “Didn't you tell him how you got here?”

Ashlyn glanced at Mark, then back, before she spoke. “Yes, of course, but I didn't think there was anymore diving gear on the yacht.”

Her answer seemed to assuage the admiral's doubts, but she looked at Mark for an answer. He looked down, thinking for a moment, and then suddenly looked up. “There was some regular scuba gear in the engine room.”

He turned to Ashlyn and saw the relief in her eyes. Not that either one of them was happy about Stewart being a prisoner as well, but at least they knew that Stewart was not alone on the boat worrying about what might have happened to them.

Ashlyn couldn't help smiling at the thought that Stewart, who was so afraid of the ocean, and who had been beaten up only a couple of days before, had found the courage to come after them. Certainly, it had been a heroic act.

“I've been so worried about him.” She said after a moment.

“So have I.” Mark was finally relaxing enough to get his appetite back. He began devouring his food.

“Excuse me, admiral.” Ashlyn felt sick that she had to speak to him, as if he deserved her respect, but at the same time, she realized that he held Mark's life in his hands.

He lifted his head from the plate of food he had been gorging himself on. He was a pig, she thought, but didn't say anything before he spoke. “What is it, my dear?”

She wanted to throw up, my dear, what he was thinking? He was a major player, maybe even the main player, who had been responsible for her life in a laboratory, and the creation of the clones, that she had sworn on her life to destroy.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice emotionless. “Are we going to have a room or rooms to stay in? I'm assuming we won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

“Quite correct. It is impossible to come and go freely from such a depth. Even though we don't feel the pressure because of the Atlantian technology, we are unable to leave without decompressing.”

Mark, who had been thinking about the fact that it was nearing noon, instead of the middle of the night, interrupted the conversation. “We can't see any sunlight at all, how deep are we, exactly?”

“Exactly 6,135 feet below sea level.”

Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise. “So we are in the Tongue of the Ocean?”

Ashlyn had no idea what he was talking about, but the admiral's quick response, with an exact depth, left little doubt that he was lying about it.

“Why are there so few people around?” Mark asked.

“As I said earlier, I lost a great many of my people in the disaster. Most of them were stationed topside until needed. Beyond that, this area of the base is restricted to VIPs and officers only.

“So we are VIPs?” Ashlyn asked doubtfully. “I'd like to go to my room now, if you don't mind.”

She had eaten very little but had lost her appetite from trying to be civil with the evil man, and watching him gorge himself on his nearly raw t-bone wasn't helping.

“I'd like to go and rest for a while as well. Our sleeping arrangements last night were a little sub par.”

“Of course, and you have my sincerest apologies for the poor treatment you received.”

“It’s okay; I realize it took you a while to decide whether or not to murder us.” Ashlyn spoke, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice any longer.

The admiral smiled sickly, “Ashlyn, you are one of my most valued assets.”

“You mean possessions don't you?” She stated caustically. She was too tired to play nice anymore. Her adrenaline was wearing off. If he was going to kill them, he might just as well do it now. “Just make sure Stewart has a room as well, and that we are not, any of us, treated as prisoners.”

It was clearly meant as a threat and Mark found himself wishing that she would be a little more careful about the way she spoke to him.

The admiral's face changed, as well as his voice. “Do not think you are not expendable, Ashlyn.”

Mark expected her to back off, but she didn't, “am I expendable? If you kill me, you won’t have your little science project to make copies from anymore, assuming you can build another lab. Don't think Dierdra will be around forever.” She looked meaningfully across the table at him without flinching.

The admiral just stared at her for a moment and then unexpectedly started to chuckle. This was not what either one of them was expecting. “You find my threat funny. You know that I could kill you before you even had the chance to call your guards, if I decided to."

Mark cringed inside. He didn't think it was wise for her to be threatening him so openly.

The admiral stopped chuckling and very serious now, narrowed his eyes. “I know perfectly well how easily you could kill me Ashlyn. I have no doubts about that. Of course,” he sat back a little more relaxed, “I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't put your friends in danger that way.”

There was something in the way he had said friends, and then had glanced over at Mark, that made her realize that the admiral knew how she felt about Mark, and then of course there was Stewart to consider.

She didn't say anything, but broke his hold on her eyes, for a moment and looked away.

Then the admiral continued, “anyway, that is not what I thought was funny.”

Ashlyn looked back at him, surprised, “what did you think was funny?”

Then his mouth widened into a full grin exposing his ugly, yellow teeth and gold canine. “You think you are that important. You think you are the reason we cloned you.”

This was new territory, Ashlyn realized. She had always made assumptions about why they did what they did. “So why did you clone me then?” She asked it hesitantly, uncertain for the first time.

He had a flat expression now, and she could not read any emotion at all, as he spoke. “You were a rat in a cage, nothing more.” The admiral let that sink in for a moment before continuing, “You were always just a rat. When you refused to do what we told you after the DMDT, we simply started testing plan B.”

Mark and Ashlyn sat there for a moment absorbing the information and then Ashlyn spoke, “so I was a test subject, simply to find out if your technology worked?”

She paused and the admiral gave a slight nod of his head in the affirmative. “When you found out I still had my own will, after the DMDT, you cloned me to see if....” she didn't want to ask, but realized that she already knew the answer, “so you could clone other people?”

One side of his mouth curled up slightly, like he might smile, and then his eyes narrowed again, and he looked at her appraisingly. “You cost me a lot of money little girl.”

The way he had spoken the words, little girl, made her feel ill all of a sudden, and dizzy. She started hearing noises in her head as black, suppressed memories began assaulting her senses. Research wasn't all they had done to her in that lab.

Mark was worried when he saw the blood drain from her face, and he spoke to the admiral, “about those rooms?”

The admiral's eyes were fixed mercilessly upon Ashlyn, and he did not move them as he motioned for one of the officers to come over. “Jackson, take them to the VIP barracks, and find their friend too.” His tone was flat.

As they stood up to follow Jackson the admiral added, “It was unfortunate that the work on cloning could not be duplicated.” Mark turned around to look at the admiral, but Ashlyn was ignoring his statement, her back already to him.

His eyes had a glint to them now, and he half smiled. “I have something much better in mind now.” He had remained sitting but now sat up straighter and continued. “Yes, I have something much, much better in mind, which is what I want Dr. Turner for.”

At the mention of Mark, Ashlyn stopped and turned back around to face the admiral, adrenaline suddenly giving her strength back. She glared, “if you hurt him, I will kill you regardless of the consequences...and I will make sure you suffer. Make no mistake about that.”

Mark started to say something to Ashlyn. He was worried that the admiral would have her shot right in front of him if she didn't stop threatening him. However, Mark shut his mouth again when the admiral smiled, only evil showing in his eyes.

Mark turned from the admiral and then prodded Ashlyn, who was staring, mesmerized by the admiral's malevolent disposition. It was as if the admiral could hypnotize her with his gaze, and she looked like she was lost somewhere in her mind.

“Come on Ashlyn, let's go.” Mark's palliative voice broke the spell, and she turned to him.

She looked into the safety of his eyes and took his outstretched hand without saying anything. They were led through the darkness, to their rooms across a short distance. The ground beneath their feet was paved like a parking lot. The building was sparsely decorated in gross contrast to the lavish building that they had first been taken to, but it was nicer than the barracks were, he was sure of that.

When Jackson, Mark wasn't sure if that was his first or last name, had opened Ashlyn's door for her, she had relinquished Mark's hand absently, and walked into the room without even looking back. The door had closed between them and Jackson pointed to Mark's door but didn't open it before walking away. Mark thought it strange that there were no locks on the doors. So much for privacy he thought. He stood there, unmoving while he listened to Jackson's footfalls quietly disappearing. After a moment, he knocked softly on Ashlyn's door.

When she didn't answer, he opened the door anyway. She sat alone in her room, staring at nothing. The VIP suite had a private bathroom with a shower, but beyond that, it was barren except for the twin bed and a useless window. There was, however, a pile of clean clothing. Another jumpsuit was folded neatly on the pillow, along with personal necessities and toiletries. Her dive gear sat there as if she was an honored guest.

He sat down on the bed, but she didn't move, almost as if she was unaware of his presence, but when he put his arms around her, she leaned into him. He could feel the shaking of her body and the soft jolts against him as she took each spasmodic breath between silent sobs. He didn't say anything but he gently pressed his lips against the top of her head and then leaned his cheek against that back of her head while she clung to him. He could only imagine the horrors that she must be remembering.

It was a long time before she finally pulled back a little and spoke, “I'm sorry,” her green eyes burning with pain.

He ran his fingers softly through her hair. She had tried to comb it out with her fingers as best she could after their cold, wet night, but it was still a little messy and held the soft aroma of seawater. She had no makeup on and was exhausted, but he knew, as he looked at her, that he had never seen anyone so beautiful.

“Why are you apologizing?” He asked her softly, his face was very near to hers.

She looked down and then back up at him. “I'm just...” she turned away, but he gently turned her back to face him, and saw the tears welling up again in her eyes. She closed them for a moment and when she opened them, she just looked at him for a long time and simply said, “thank you.”

He smiled and said what he had been thinking. “You are so beautiful.”

Ashlyn drew back in shock. “What?” She shook her head, “you must love me, I'm sure I'm a disaster right now.”

He raised one side of his mouth slightly. He was tired and unshaven. He laughed softly, “I do love you.” They looked at each other for a moment before he said, “I should let you get some sleep.”

“Wait,” she wasn't ready for him to leave yet. She put her arms around him again, and he pulled her close.

After a few moments, Ashlyn pulled back a little and looked up at him. She saw sadness in his eyes, “Mark?” She questioned him.

He didn't answer right away but after awhile said, “I think I started falling in love with you the first time I looked into your eyes, that first day.” He shook his head and stared past her out the darkened window at nothing. “When I thought Dierdra was you...I didn't think,” He was shaking his head, and he looked down and away, “I didn't think I could survive it.”

Then he was quiet, but she waited and didn't say anything.

When he finally faced her, he said, “I couldn't understand how I could have been so wrong.” He paused, “thank you for being you.”

She smiled weakly, "you're welcome.”

He stared at her long enough that she found it unnerving.

“What?”

He shook his head, “nothing.”

“Mark, you aren't a good liar, just say it and get it over with.”

He reached up and scratched his head, “she's not anything like you in personality but....” he paused, looking away, “she looks exactly like you. I mean, more than just a twin.”

Ashlyn was confused. “Is that a question?” She wrinkled her forehead. “I did tell you she was my clone, right?”

Mark gave a slight laugh at her attempt at a tease.

“How did they do it? I mean, clone her?” He looked at her intently. “We haven't had the technology for... I mean, I suppose it’s possible, but you are an adult and that makes sense, but how is it that Dierdra looks like she is exactly the same age? Did they use some kind of rapid growth hormone or what?”

She looked as if she was trying to find the right words to explain. “They didn't clone her like you are thinking. They didn't grow her from a cell. The copied me, every cell, in a machine.”

He looked confused. “That's impossible.”

She gave a mirthless laugh, “Mark, we are sitting in a building under six thousand feet of ocean, with no obvious barrier of any kind between us and the water, we traveled through time only a few nights ago, and you're talking about what's impossible?”

He let out a breath and then smiled, “well, obviously it must be possible. I believe you. It’s all too fast for me, and I'm a person who needs to understand how things around me work.”

He continued, “Nothing makes sense anymore. I have some ideas about how most of this is possible; at least theories, but I don't have a clue on that one.”

She looked at him, “surely you are familiar with nanotechnology?”

He looked surprised and then said, “Okay, well, maybe that makes sense.”

“It doesn't to me. I've just heard them use the word.” She looked hopefully at him. “Maybe you can enlighten me?”

He couldn't help but laugh a little at that. “I just told you I thought something was impossible two minutes ago and now you want me to explain it to you?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “well you said it made sense.”

He thought about it for a minute. “Well, theoretically, molecular nanotechnology is the science of building things at the molecular level, from the atom up.”

“Well, then you can understand how they copied me.”

He shook his head, “I know that they have been working on it for a while. At least since 1989, when they realized they could manipulate atoms one at a time and make them stay put.”

She looked at him with blank confusion.

“Anyway, it’s complicated, but the idea is to build machines so tiny that they can operate on individual atoms. Kind of like that movie where they shrunk a bunch of people and sent them inside a guy to do surgery on his brain. Only they wouldn't shrink people, just build robots that tiny, well, actually a lot smaller than that.”

“If they can do that, I mean, build things one atom at a time since 1989, why haven't I ever heard of it?”

“It’s more complicated than you would think. It’s a completely different world down there. The laws of physics that apply in the normal size world simply don't work.”

He paused for a moment, letting her take it in, and then said, “If you imagine a bicycle chain turning a gear, then you have a basic machine right?”

She shrugged, “I guess.”

“You have to lubricate that chain, or it won’t move; each link must be able to move without friction against another piece.”

“Okay, that makes sense.”

“Well, if your gear is made out of just a few atoms and your chain as well, how do you lubricate it? Putting oil on it would be like throwing bricks at it.”

“Yeah, I guess that would complicate things.” She crinkled her forehead as she thought about it.

“Then consider the fact that some types of atoms attract each other while others repel. You have to create the perfect machine that will run without any lubrication, based on the strong and weak forces of atoms and molecules. You would have to create the perfect balance between attraction and repulsion.”

She let out a long breath. “I can see what you mean about it being complicated. You lost me on that one.”

He opened his mouth to explain, but she stopped him. “Mark, never mind, I don't want the details.”

Mark looked slightly disappointed by that but complied. “I've always believed that we will figure it out eventually, and it will change the world more than anything else has. Even more than the discovery of electricity, but I didn't think we were that far along in the research and development. Obviously, I was wrong.”

“Maybe they got the technology from Atlantis?”

“That would definitely make more sense, I suppose.” However, nothing was really making any sense, anymore.

“With that kind of technology wouldn't we be able to do a lot of things that seem impossible to us now?”

“Absolutely, in fact, if my guess is right... well, I need to find out more before I start trying to explain things.” Mark's ego was kicking in a bit. He didn't want to go off on some tangent that proved to sound stupid in the end. He would wait before offering his explanations of things.

There was a knock on the door. Ashlyn looked at Mark, feeling dread at the idea of opening it. There was too much happening, too fast. “Come in,” she said hesitantly.

The door opened. It was Stewart.

Chapter 14

“It is the dim haze of mystery that adds enchantment to pursuit.”

Antoine Rivarol

~

Stewart shut the door behind him as he entered the room. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit that matched theirs. Ashlyn looked at him through her swollen, red eyes and relief flooded through her.

“We were so worried about you.” Ashlyn voiced softly.

Mark stood up and walked to him. “How are you, buddy?”

He hesitated for a moment as if battling with his manly pride, then gave Stewart a hug. He was going to have to stop this hugging thing, he thought, or Stewart might get the wrong impression. However, he reminded himself that these were some very unusual circumstances. Mark was not accustomed to daily near death experiences and the constant fear of being murdered or, worse yet; having the ones, he loved murdered.

“Worried about me? Good grief, I thought you guys must have been eaten by those Lemon Sharks.” He laughed from nervous relief, fatigue and hunger, all rolled into one.

“I thought Dierdra had surely killed you.” Ashlyn's voice sounded hoarse.

“Yeah, what's the deal? Dierdra found me sneaking around in the pyramid and then brought me here. She wouldn't speak to me, and I don't even have a clue where we are.”

Mark and Ashlyn looked at each other with an expression of, how are we going to explain this one? Ashlyn spoke first, “Dierdra didn't tell you anything at all?”

“That's what I said.”

“And you didn't see anybody else?”

“I didn't say I hadn't seen anyone else. I didn't speak to anyone else. There was a guy out on the tarmac, who motioned to us when we got on that golf cart, and several guys wearing naval uniforms who apparently gave her directions to get to you.”

It was apparent that he was as confused as they had been when he asked, “Hey, what's with it being night time? Do you think I went through one of those time warp things like you guys did, cause I swear it was morning when I went diving to find you guys?"

Mark eyed Ashlyn oddly and grimaced, then scratched his head. She didn't say anything, but looked equally uncomfortable. Neither of them spoke.

Stewart looked at them strangely and then affirmed his position, “really guys, I'm not kidding, it was daytime.”

“It still is, Stewart.” Mark answered him seriously.

Now Stewart was really confused. “Have you guys looked outside lately? It's dark, not even any stars.”

Mark didn't see any point in prolonging Stewart's naiveté of the matter. “We are six thousand feet underwater, that's why you can't see the stars or the sun. It just looks like night time.”

Stewart just gawked at Mark. When he saw Ashlyn's serious expression, he turned back to Mark and said, “Huh?”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck and had a pained expression. He spoke in a flat, expressionless voice after letting out a long breath, “we really can't explain it yet. Just that this is apparently at least part of the lost city of Atlantis, and there is some magical shield keeping all the billions of tons of water from falling down on our heads.”

Stewart raised an eyebrow and didn't say anything, it was apparent that Mark was suffering from some kind of oxygen deprivation, possibly from the dive; at least he hoped that it was something that simple.

After a pause Mark added, “Have you eaten yet, cause the food here is pretty good.”

Stewart's mouth opened into a, wha…? expression but he didn't make any sound.

Ashlyn patted Stewart on the shoulder. “I'm sorry to tell you this Stewart, but it's all true.”

Stewart thought she was going to confirm his former, unspoken diagnosis. He closed his mouth and wrinkled his forehead, rubbed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to wake up. “How?”

Mark just looked at him. “I'm really tired; you should have seen our sleeping accommodations last night. I'll have them get you something to eat, and then after we've slept awhile we can talk. I doubt it's going to matter too much if we get our days and nights mixed up down here.”

Stewart turned to Ashlyn, who just said, “sorry Stewart, I'm almost as confused as you, and as tired as he is.”

“Alright.” Stewart answered slowly.

Mark turned to Ashlyn, “I'll take him to the restaurant.” He winked at her, thinking how funny that sounded.
“Then after we've all had some sleep, we can tap our ruby slippers together and get back to Kansas.”

Ashlyn smiled at him, “you really should keep your day job, you aren't so good with the jokes.”

Mark furrowed his brow and smirked, “who said I was joking.” Then he leaned over and kissed her before they left.

***

Mark explained to Stewart why they were being treated like guests, instead of being threatened with death. Stewart had taken it harder than either one of them when he found out the situation in North America. He had some family and was concerned about their safety beyond the normal grief that they were all experiencing. He wanted to know more, but Mark didn't know anything else to tell him. Mark's one concern, beyond Stewart's well being, had been the status of his ship. Stewart had assured Mark that he had done all that could be done to protect the ship before he dove. They would just have to hope that it would be safe when they made their escape. It was clear that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

After Mark had shown Stewart where to get food, Mark returned to his room and Stewart was left on his own. Though Stewart had not slept very well the night before, he had way too much adrenaline to sleep. He found it hard to believe that he was being allowed to roam freely. He even found an infirmary of sorts, where they offered him, and he happily received, pain medications for his injuries. The new medication was working much better than all the Tylenol and ibuprofen that he had been taking.

He looked around. It seemed that no one was going to stop him from exploring. He walked further down the road he had arrived on, past the huge machine that was rotating high above him, and into the darkness. He had been allowed to keep his meager belongings, which amounted to no more than his diving equipment.

He left all of it in his room, except for his dive flashlight that he carried with him now into the darkness ahead. Stewart was thinking about how lucky he was to have it; the other flashlights had gone out because their batteries were blown during the EMP. He had thought Mark was paranoid the first day when he had shown Stewart all the extra precautions he had taken. Beyond Mark's specialized, high voltage, instant breakers, made for EMPs, which had performed perfectly, most of his equipment had been housed in a custom built-in Faraday cage. The cage was built to disperse any strong electromagnetic or static fields; he might come into contact with during his research.

Stewart walked for what seemed like miles without seeing anything except the regularly spaced towers that continued along the road. He was about to turn back when something ahead bounced a reflection back from his light. As he walked closer, he realized that it was very large and seemed completely white. He turned off his light to see if he was imagining the soft glow. He had been right, there was a soft light emanating from it. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, he realized what he was looking at. He stopped in his tracks and his mouth dropped open as he gazed at the sheer size of the glowing structure. It was another pyramid, only this one was fully exposed.

It stood proudly, in complete perfection. He walked close enough to touch it, and it felt as slick as glass on the surface. It was made of the same material as the one in the water. He felt sure, now that it must have been glowing too, but the ambient light from the sun above, filtering down through the clear seawater, must have obscured the glow. The monolithic structure appeared to be as large as the Great Pyramid of Giza, which he had seen once while on a study abroad. He had been doing his undergraduate work in ancient cultures and had the opportunity to go to Greece. Of course, he had done some traveling in the area, which is why he had gone to Egypt. It was the Mediterranean, which made him decide to go into oceanography.

In contrast to the pyramids in Egypt, this one was not made of natural stone, weathered over the ages, but some unknown, seamless material. He walked along the entire length of one side of the pyramid and then turned and followed it around at its corner. Now he could see a brighter light coming from what appeared to be an entrance. He looked around himself, hoping that he would not get into trouble because of his audacious behavior, but he saw no one.

He walked in the large opening and was stunned by dazzling light for a moment. Unlike the pyramids of Egypt and South America, this had an enormous open room with a cathedral ceiling. He couldn't tell where the light source was, but it was bright in comparison to the darkness outside and his eyes had to adjust. He now understood the elaborate, bizarrely out of place building back at the base; it had clearly been made to mimic the inside of this pyramid. Of course, he wasn't sure why anyone would go to such an effort to recreate something when the real thing was only a couple of miles away.

At the opposite side from the entrance, were the same great statues, with the same outstretched hands, water pouring from them into a large pool with a fountain in the center. However, these statues were impossibly large; their heads nearly touched the ceiling, which must have been six or seven stories high. They seemed to be made of the same, seamless, glowing material as the pyramid; the ones at the base were only made of marble. His mouth was partially open in amazement, and he was oblivious to her approach.

A woman dressed in a civilian skirt and blouse spoke to him, and he jumped in surprise. “Can I help you?”

He didn't answer just stared back at her and blinked.

She looked up and down at his orange jumpsuit and waited for a moment, and when he still hadn't answered she asked, “Are you alright, sir?”

“Uh.” Half scared that he was in trouble, and half-entranced by her sparkling, hazel eyes and long auburn hair, he couldn't seem to make a coherent thing come out of his mouth.

“Can I take you to the infirmary?”

Her question finally knocked him out of his trance. She must be looking at his battered face, he realized. “No, thank you, I've already been there.”

“Oh, so you do know how to speak, I was beginning to wonder.” She sounded serious, but her frolicsome smile gave away her cheerful teasing.

He took note of the fact that she was about five inches shorter than he was, give or take, and had a well-proportioned body. There had been too much, that had been happening too fast. He felt like he was Alice, and had gone down the rabbit-hole, but he pulled himself together. He noticed three other people, in an adjacent room, which had an open archway but no doors. They were also wearing civilian clothing.

“I was just wandering around. Am I in trouble for being in here?”

His question was serious and she looked at him funny. Then she furrowed her brow a bit and asked, “Why would you be in trouble?”

His first thought was that they had an odd lack of security for such an incredible find, but then it occurred to him that they were under six thousand feet of water and probably didn't have too many unauthorized visitors stopping in. He opened his mouth to speak but didn't say anything and then closed it again.

He looked around at the incredible sight before him, and then finally answered her. “I just arrived today.” He paused, “a guest of the admiral, and haven't had much explained to me yet.”

He was hoping that mentioning the admiral would give him the credibility, that he felt he so desperately lacked. It was hard to make sense out of the odd turn of events. Having his life threatened one moment, and seemingly royal treatment the next.

At the mention of the admiral, her beautiful face clouded slightly, and then she shook her head ever so slightly and said, “Okay.” She paused then, less sure of herself, she asked, “Can I help you with anything?”

“What is this place?” He was truly dumbfounded.

She looked at him as if that were an odd question, and furrowed her brow slightly, before cocking her head slightly to one side, but didn't answer. Then he realized that he had completely forgotten his manners and reached out his hand and said, “I'm Stewart Collins.”

She took his hand and a bit of her easygoing smile returned. “I'm Kathleen.” She didn't give him a last name. “Can I ask you a question, “Mr. Collins?”

“Uh, yes, but please call me Stewart.”

“Okay,” then hesitantly, “how is it that,” she paused, then started again. “How is it that you became a guest of the admiral at a highly top-secret naval base, and yet seem to know nothing about it?”

“Well,” he began falteringly, “my friends and I were diving, and we found an entrance into an underwater pyramid.”

She looked truly surprised. “There is an entrance to the Minora Pyramid through the water?”

“I don't know if that's what the pyramid is called but,” he hesitated for a second, this time furrowing his brow slightly, perplexed by her surprise, “yes.”

“Where?” She looked intently curious.

He paused for only a moment before answering, “Well, if you want to know the exact latitude and longitude...”

She interrupted him and shaking her head said, “No. I know where the pyramid is but only the tip is exposed isn't it?”

Stewart pulled back a little, confused that she didn't know about it. “It's about fifty feet south of the exposed tip and seventy-five feet down over the edge of a chasm, in a cave.”

She looked up and down at him appraisingly, and then echoed him, “and you and your friends,” she paused and pursed her lips, then shook her head slightly and raised one eyebrow, “just happened to be diving there,” she tilted her head in disbelief, “when you found it?”

He opened his mouth slightly and then slowly answered, “It wasn't quite that simple.”

She straightened her tilted head, “please, enlighten me.”

She appeared to be genuinely interested, and he decided there was nothing to lose at this point, they were either guests or prisoners, but either way they were probably going to be down here awhile.

“I work with a physicist,” he shook his head a little; “he's also an oceanographic seismologist. Anyway, we've been doing research on the electromagnetic anomalies in the Bermuda triangle for about,” he paused, “well, I've been with him for about six months, and I think he's been at it for about a year.”

She looked away slightly, shook her head and then looked at him directly again with laughter in her eyes as she said, “we didn't even know it was there until we started digging the tunnel and ran right into it.”

“Tunnel?” He was confused.

She rubbed the back of her neck slightly and said, “I guess, it would be what you know as the elevator shaft you came down in.”

He considered that for a moment, and nodded, “okay,” then he cocked his head slightly, “what made you decide to dig a whole in the ocean floor in the first place.”

She hesitated for a moment, as if she was considering what she was allowed to tell him. She looked away and pursed her lips again, then looked back at him. “Let's go sit down.”

“Okay,” he nodded an ascent as he followed her.

She led him to a seat by the pool that was in the center of the room. Though the room only contained the statues and the pools with no obvious source for the light or the water, for that matter, it was inordinately impressive in its magnificence and perfection.

She let him drink in his surroundings, and then began. “In 1959, the Navy was testing a top secret, deep diving submarine, here, in the tongue of the ocean. It remains classified to this day because it could reach depths far deeper than the public was told we had the technology for.”

She paused for a moment and Stewart interjected, “surprise, surprise.”

She smiled at him warmly. “I know the public doesn't like it, but if the government told everybody, everything we have the technology to do, our enemies would also have that information. The term, ‘loose lips sink ships,’ didn't come from nowhere. The navy actually lost several submarines that way.”

He thought about it for a moment, “I suppose that's true, but how do they decide where the line is between National Security and Government cover-ups, even the invasion of our privacy in the name of National Security?”

She glanced away for a moment, thinking about that seriously, and then met his eyes and sighed. “I know what you mean, but at least we have freedom, right?”

Stewart considered that for a moment. “I'm not sure that we have as much freedom as we think, and I'm not sure if some of the news we get is even true. We are being watched a lot more carefully than I'm comfortable with. Have you ever noticed all the camera views that you can look at on those free programs that show satellite views? I mean even people's front doors, and those camera views aren't from the sky. That bothers me.”

She didn't say anything, just looked away a little somberly.

“I mean, think about it, if the public gets to see that much, the government must have a lot more. Maybe they have pictures of the inside our homes, who knows.”

That made her look at him and raise her eyebrows.

“I know I sound paranoid but honestly, no one trusts a politician but for some reason everybody seems to trust groups of politicians. You have to admit, that makes no sense.”

She knitted her brow, looking at nothing then back at him and answered, “I suppose you're right to a point.” She tilted her head slightly and it made her hair fall over her shoulders. “I don't have any of those answers anyway, I'm not military, and I don't work for the government.”

“I guess it doesn't matter much now anyway, since most of them are dead,” Stewart observed sadly.

She looked at him in confusion, shook her head and asked, “What are you talking about?”

Now Stewart was confused. Weren’t these the same people who had told Mark about the disasters in the United States and Canada?

He cleared his throat and said, “The admiral said that there was some sort of disaster in North America that knocked out a bunch of satellites and blew out all the electricity coast to coast and some of the nuclear power plants blew.”

He paused when he saw her reaction. She looked stricken and it made him feel sick all over again. He looked away for a moment, thinking about his parents and his brother who he hadn't spoken to in years. The whole situation seemed so surreal, that it wasn't sinking in correctly, and he didn't know how to feel.

“I didn't know,” she said very slowly and then neither of them spoke for a few minutes. “Do you know how many people died and where?”

He shook his head somberly. “No, all he said was that the President and most of the government leaders are dead.”

Kathleen was silent again and Stewart didn't say anything. He didn't really want to think about it, he just kept hoping that he would wake up and find out that it had all been a nightmare.

Sorrow covered her face as she stared off in the distance, her eyes watering slightly. Finally, Stewart spoke slowly, “I'm sorry, I thought you knew. The EMP was so strong it knocked out our boat, which is almost directly above this place. Didn't you guys feel it?”

“When?” She asked without looking at him.

“Three night's ago.”

“No,” she shook her head slowly and grief covered her face as she spoke. “We didn't feel anything.”

He waited for a few minutes and then asked, “I'm sorry, but would you mind finishing what you were telling me?”

Another few moments passed without either one of them speaking. Again, she stared at nothing and then closed her eyes in pain.

Stewart didn't say anything for a while and then, “I'm sorry, I wouldn't have been so blunt about it if I had known that you didn't know about it. You don't have to answer my questions now. I'll come back tomorrow, if that's alright?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “No...” she shook her head. "Please don't leave. I'd rather have something else to think about right now anyway.”

“I think it hasn't really hit me yet. I feel like it’s not true, like it's a dream because of all of the new information, impossible information my mind is trying to process.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm so that she would know that he was referring to Atlantis.

She shook her head, “I still can't believe you and your friends just found an entrance. It took the Navy a year to build the framework and dig the tunnel down the seventy feet or so till they hit the pyramid, and then months of digging around it to find an entrance.”

“Why would the Navy want to dig a tunnel in the ocean floor anyway?”

“In 1959 when they were testing the sub that I was telling you about, they came upon the dome.”

“The dome?” He was puzzled.

She blinked a couple of times, trying to understand his question. “Oh, it’s the barrier above us that is holding the ocean back.” She looked at him seriously for a moment, “you did know about that, didn't you?”

He stumbled on his words for a few moments. “I guess I did. I only found out a couple of hours ago that we were even underwater.”

She cocked her head, “you said, you came through the underwater entrance into the pyramid, didn't you? Why would you not think that we were underwater?”

He let out a large breath. “I went in the elevator, and then came out. You have to admit, it looks like we are outside.”

She thought for a moment, “I guess that makes sense if you didn't know about it before you came.”

“It has been an awfully hard few days for me; forgive me if I'm a little slow.”

She looked at his bruised and battered face, “do you mind if I ask what happened to you? I mean you look like you got beat up.”

He thought about that for a minute then let out his breath. “Do you know who Dierdra is?”

“Yes, she works for the admiral, I'm not sure of her capacity.”

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Apparently, there is a lot that the admiral doesn't tell you guys down here.” He paused, “I didn't mean you were a guy.” He wasn't sure why he said that, even he could tell that he sounded stupid, but he continued anyway, “she's a mercenary.”

Kathleen let out an audible gasp at that.

He waited for her to digest the news before continuing. “He sent Dierdra and some other thugs to kill Mark, that's my friend, the physicist I was telling you about. They couldn't find him, so they kidnapped me and beat me, trying to get his location out of me. I didn't know it, so...”

He looked at her seriously, “I wouldn't have told anyway.” For some reason, he felt that it was important that she knew that he was a loyal person.

“Why did the admiral want your friend dead?”

“We didn't know at the time, but it was so that we wouldn't find this place. Mark is pretty smart.”

Kathleen thought about it for a little while and then said, “So why is he letting you and your friends stay here?” She sounded a little doubtful about his story.

“Apparently, some of the admiral's chief scientists were killed in the disaster, and he's trying to get Mark to help him with some project he's working on. Do you know what the project is?”

She shook her head, “no, I'm just here with my team to translate the Atlantian writings.”

“Oh,” was all he said. He couldn't figure out why he was having so much trouble sounding intelligent. He felt like he was back in high school, and he was the nerd, and she was the prom queen.

“So how did you get away? Did they just let you go?” She interrupted his thoughts and he had to think for a minute before he could figure out what she was talking about.

“No, Ashlyn came and rescued me. I wasn't sure I trusted her yet, but I went with her anyway, after I saw that she had killed Justin.” He looked at her, “he's the one who had been beating me.”

“Who is Ashlyn?” Kathleen was having trouble following his story because it had so many missing pieces, and he seemed to be telling it out of order as well.

He looked at her seriously, “Ashlyn is the person they cloned to make Dierdra.”

“Wait..., what?” Kathleen shook her head in confusion, “did you say...clone?”

Silence filled the room for a moment, and then he spoke, “yes, Dierdra is Ashlyn's clone.”

Chapter 15

“Nothing is too wonderful to be true if it be consistent with the

laws of nature.” Michael Faraday

~

Stewart had talked with Kathleen for several hours and then returned to his room. He was not sure of whether or not the other two were asleep, but now he found himself too tired to care. He climbed into his bed and fell asleep. Strange dreams invaded his night. As it turned out, they all slept on throughout the night. The exhaustion of not only the physical strain they had endured, but the emotional stress of constant revelations, some so amazing, and some so horrific as to be incomprehensible, had worn all of them out.

Very early in the morning, though it was hard to gauge the time with no sunrise, Ashlyn knocked softly on Mark's door. She thought she heard him say to come in so she opened the door quietly. He was lying on his bed, fully dressed and on the top of the covers, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

She shut the door behind her and said, “I hope you haven't been lying there that way all night. Did you get some sleep?”

He didn't move but looked at her, “yeah, I slept. I just woke up a few hours ago, and I've been lying here thinking, trying to make sense of things.”

“Good luck with that,” she said.

When she continued to stand there, he sat up and motioned for her to come and sit next to him. After she sat down next to him, she let out a deep sigh and leaned her head onto his shoulder. He put his arm around and kissed the top of her head. “Good morning,” he said gently.

She turned to look up at him and smiled. His kiss was gentle because he didn't want to hurt her healing lip.

“I love you,” she said as she looked into his eyes.

“I love you too.” He pulled her tightly to him, and mutual passion was beginning to dislodge the stress of their situation.

There was a knock at the door. It registered a little, in the back of Mark's head, but he ignored it. Stewart didn't wait for an invitation; he simply opened the door.

Ashlyn pulled away from Mark a little awkwardly and smiled at him before turning to look at Stewart.

“I'm sorry, I should have waited for an invitation,” his voice oozed discomfort.

Ashlyn answered him, “it's all right, come in.”

She glanced back at Mark to see if he agreed, and he gave her a quick nod. Stewart looked around the room. It wasn't really conducive to a conversation with no chairs, and he really didn't want to join them on the bed.

“Do you guys want to go eat breakfast? I'm starved, and I found out a lot of stuff while you guys were sleeping.”

That piqued Mark's interest, besides he was starving. They had slept quite a long time. He turned to Ashlyn and she agreed that she was starving too, so the three made their way to the dining hall. There were only a few people scattered around the room.

Mark kept trying to get the information out of Stewart, but he refused to talk until they had eaten.

When they were finally done eating Mark demanded, “Okay, now Stewart, spill it!”

Stewart just smiled for a moment, reveling in the fact that he knew a bunch of stuff before them. He had always seemed the last to know about everything, and now he had the mother-load.

Ashlyn prompted, “okay, enough gloating. You knew it first. We are happy for you. Now like Mark said, spill it.”

Stewart took a deep breath, “okay, first they found this place in 1959.”

“What?” Mark looked shocked, and Ashlyn said aloud, “no way.”

“Well, you're right, they didn't find this place.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “They found the dome in 1959.”

They both looked at him blankly and Mark asked, “The dome?”

“That's exactly what I said. It’s the thing,” he looked up and then pointed, “the thing up there that is holding the water back.”

“Oh, okay, duh,” Mark looked perplexed, “I guess I should have figured that one out.

Ashlyn looked at Mark and then at Stewart, “I guess I'm the dumb one. That doesn't sound obvious to me at all. You could have been talking about the top of the pyramid we found under the water or...”

Stewart interrupted her, “that's the cool part,” he was getting animated, “they never knew that there was an entrance from the ocean until we came through it.”

“Wait a minute,” Mark interjected, “they were there waiting for us in that room with the big pool. Even if they didn't know about the hole we came through, they must have known about that one.”

“No,” Stewart continued, “the other one doesn't lead anywhere, there is water, but the exit or entrance, depending upon how you look at, it is blocked by rocks.”

Ashlyn piped in, “I don't see how they could have missed the one we came through.”

“I don't know either,” Stewart said, “it was just down one of the hallways. I admit that doesn't make sense.”

They all sat there for a while, and then Mark said, “Unless the door only opened from inside the room.”

“What door?” Stewart asked.

Ashlyn glanced over at Mark and said excitedly, “that's probably it. We opened the door and they probably didn't even know that there was a room there, since the doors are all invisible.”

“What do you mean invisible?” Stewart asked. He had not spent much time in the upper pyramid.

Mark answered, “When the doors are closed there are no seams, so you can't even tell there is a door there. It took us a while to figure out how to open the door in the entrance room in the first place because there weren't any seams at all.”

Stewart looked to the side, thinking, and then back at the two of them, “that makes sense. I mean, nothing else the Atlantians made has any seams either.”

It was Mark and Ashlyn's turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“I'll show you later.” Stewart answered.

“All this is good information to know in case we want to escape. We definitely won't use the big pool.” Ashlyn was now sitting with her elbows on the table, holding her chin with her hands.

Stewart shook his head. “Why would we want to escape anyway, this place is great and a lot safer than top side? They didn't even experience the EMP down here.”

“Really?” Mark asked, “Who said?”

“Kathleen.”

“Who?” Mark and Ashlyn said simultaneously and then looked at each other funny.

“Jinx, you owe me a soda pop,” Mark said to Ashlyn, and she looked confused. “Haven't you ever heard that?” He smiled at her.

“Nope, must have missed that one back at the lab, I didn't get out much.”

Mark leaned over to Ashlyn and said, “I'm sorry, honey, I wasn't thinking.”

“Uh hum,” Stewart fake coughed, “enough of the mushy stuff, you guys are really starting to make me sick.”

Ashlyn rolled her eyes at Stewart, and she spoke with obvious insincerity, “sorry Stewart. We'll try harder.”

She put her face in her hands, and tried hard to stifle the laugh that would not stop. Then she couldn't help it, and she started laughing almost to the point of tears.

Mark and Stewart both looked at her in confusion. She couldn't stop laughing, but finally managed to pull herself together. “I'm sorry, hasn't that ever happened to either of you guys. You know, when you start laughing because you are under severe stress, and something little blows a hole in you like a volcano. Then the stress comes out in laughter?”

They both just stared at her, “sorry,” Stewart said, as he shook his head. Then she looked to Mark who just shrugged.

She pouted, then pulled it into a smile, and started laughing all over again. Mark had been pulling her leg; he knew exactly what she was talking about. After a minute or so, he started laughing with her, though not hysterically.

Stewart sat back and folded his arms across his chest, “okay, just let me know when the eruption is over, and I will continue.

Curiosity seemed to pull Mark back into line, and he apologized to Stewart, then Ashlyn solemnly vowed, “Okay,” with a snicker at the end.

“Where was I?” Stewart asked.

“I think it was something about escaping.” Ashlyn stifled another laugh.

“Are you drunk, Ashlyn?” Stewart asked, only half way joking. “You were talking about escape.”

“Oh, that's right, and no, I'm not drunk.” She paused for a moment and then stated emphatically, “but I wish I was! This is all too much, too fast.”

She shook her head in disbelief and hid her face in her hands to stifle the inappropriate laughter that was trying to take hold of her again.

Mark smiled at Ashlyn and shook his head, “okay Stewart, you may continue.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand.

Stewart looked at both of them, and Ashlyn finally lifted her face, forcing it to stay straight and listened. “Okay, the Navy discovered the dome in 1959, with a top-secret, deep diving submarine.”

“How far could it go down?” Mark asked seriously.

“Uh,” Stewart was embarrassed, “I didn't get that detail, but at least as far down as the dome.”

“It looks as high as the sky to me.” Ashlyn interjected.

“Okay, I guess that isn't the important part of the story, so go ahead.” Mark suggested.

Stewart continued. “They couldn't figure out what it was. It apparently extends for a lot of miles, don't ask the amount, I didn't get that detail either.”

Ashlyn and Mark listened now without interrupting as Stewart continued. “It's some very hard material, all they could tell was that it was transparent and that there were some light sources coming from beneath it. They tried cutting into it but everything they used just broke or burned up. So they decided to dig a tunnel down through the bottom of the sea, all the way down so that they could come up under the dome.”

“You're kidding? This is amazing,” Ashlyn interjected, “don't you think so Mark?” She looked over at him, and he nodded. “Especially the fact that it was only 1959.”

“That blew me away too,” Stewart agreed, “anyway, they built some kind of structure under the water all the way from top of the water to the sea floor. It apparently took them a year to dig the first seventy-five feet.”

He paused only long enough to take a breath, “they didn't even know about the pyramid we came through, until they ran into part of it, during the digging process. They couldn't cut through it, so they had to dig all around that side of it until they found an entrance.”

Ashlyn shook her head, “why didn't they just start digging right next to the dome and go around it instead of trying to cut through thousand's of feet of rock?”

Mark answered that one, “they wouldn't have been able to stand the pressure of the water. That’s an extremely difficult job now, and that was fifty-three years ago.”

She sat there thinking for a moment then asked, “Why didn't we see the top of the elevator shaft when we were diving?”

“That one I can't answer yet. We don't know how they access the elevator. I'm sure they have it hidden somehow.” Mark answered.

“You know Mark,” Ashlyn smiled, “we should send Stewart out to get information more often; he seems to be better at it than we are.” Mark shook his head in agreement and that made Stewart sit up a little straighter.

“Knowing that they didn't know about the entrance through the pyramid, I'm surprised they wanted to have Dierdra kill you.” Ashlyn directed her statement at Mark.

He thought for a minute and then said, “Imagine trying to keep this top secret place secret if I announced to the world that there was a pyramid under the water and could give the exact coordinates.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she answered.

Stewart waited impatiently for their interchange to be over then said, “The pyramid recirculates the air.”

“What do you mean by that? Like a HEPA filter?” Ashlyn was shaking her head, and had the silly urge to start laughing again.

“I mean like an air scrubber on a space ship, or the rebreathers that Mark has. You can be locked in a room for good in there, and never run out of good air to breathe because it removes the carbon dioxide.”

“But even with my rebreather, I need to have a small oxygen tank with me to replace what I use up.” Mark said.

“I didn't ask, but couldn't they take the needed oxygen from the water?”

Mark nodded his head, “sure, just like a fish.”

“Maybe that's how they keep the air clean down here,” Ashlyn added.

They both looked at Ashlyn and Mark said, “I hadn't even thought about that. I've been too busy trying to absorb all the other information.”

Stewart agreed, “I guess it would have to be that way, or eventually we would all die down here.”

Ashlyn cringed, “I don't want to think about that, I think I'm developing claustrophobia from this conversation as it is.”

Stewart went on, “okay, sorry Ashlyn. Anyway,” Stewart paused for a moment, looking perplexed, but the other two just waited. “Oh well, I'm missing some of the details, but when they finally got under the dome, they were shocked to find that there was no water down here.”

“You mean they dug all that way, still believing it was full of water?” Ashlyn queried.

“Apparently.” Stewart continued, “They started doing research on the things they found down here, and they built this base, but they had no idea what the dome was made of until the breakthroughs began on nanotechnology.”

“Okay,” Mark added, “now we are starting to have some connections.”

“What do you mean by that?” Stewart asked.

“That's how they cloned Ashlyn, with nanotechnology, but I thought it seemed far too advanced for what we currently have. They must have learned how from down here.”

That was a sobering thought for Ashlyn as she realized that her entire life had been tied to this mysterious place that she had only now discovered.

Stewart noticed Ashlyn's expression and waited, but she didn't say anything. He finally continued, “I don't know enough about nanotechnology to really have an opinion, but they finally figured out that the dome was made out of something like diamond fibers. Whatever it is, it’s the strongest material they have ever run across, and yet it is somewhat flexible.”

Ashlyn asked, “You mean it's not a force field or something like on Stargate Atlantis.”

Stewart looked at her funny, “Ashlyn, this isn't science fiction.”

“Okay, whatever, go back to the flexible part?” Mark wanted to understand, “if it’s flexible, wouldn't it just make the water push it downward and...” he paused for a moment. “The strongest design for keeping water out under pressure would be a sphere; the dome is already second best. You definitely would not want a bowl shape.”

“Apparently, it’s not that flexible, just enough to make it able to withstand the changes in pressure and temperature of the water above so that it doesn't crack. Here is the coolest thing about it; the entire dome is a super strong magnet as well.”

“Hold on, you said it was made out of some kind of diamond type material. You can't magnetize diamonds, in fact; diamonds are diamagnetic. Why would they want it to be magnetic anyway?”

“Apparently you can magnetize anything, if you align all of the atoms in the right direction, and reverse the spin of the electrons, or something like that. She also said something about adding boron during the crystal growing part. Since water is diamagnetic as well, they actually repel each other, but we are not really sure of the purpose of the magnetism. Maybe that is what protected us from the EMP.”

Mark thought for a minute, “that's possible. A strong magnetic force would have a protective effect in case of EMPs and things like that.”

“Wait, wait, you guys are losing me. What is diamagnetic?” Ashlyn asked.

Mark answered, “Diamagnetic things are materials that cannot be magnetized but are very slightly repelled by a magnetic field, like wood, carbon, and water. That's how they levitated that frog in the Netherlands, understand?”

“Frog?” She looked more confused. “No. Just go on, maybe I'll figure that part out later, but wait, why would the Atlantians have had to worry about EMPs thousands of year ago?”

Mark let out a breath. “Maybe it wasn't EMPs specifically, but remember that most of the damage that the admiral told us about was from a coronal mass ejection?”

“Okay, here is another dumb question; I didn't want to ask it in front of the admiral. What is a coronal mass ejection anyway?”

Stewart answered, “It usually happens at solar maximum, like now, when the sun is at its highest activity, but it can also happen other times. The sun normally ejects solar flares, I'm sure you know, which is mostly electromagnetic energy but in the case of a coronal mass ejection, the sun not only ejects energy but plasma made up of electrons and protons with some elements like helium, and even iron. Basically, some of the sun’s mass explodes out into space, kind of like a volcano.”

“Do they happen very often? If they can do this much damage, it seems like it would be something we would hear about more.” Ashlyn let out a breath.

Stewart shook his head, not knowing the answer to that one, so Mark answered, “I'm not sure how often they happen, but they pack a huge magnetic punch with them as well. The good thing is that they usually don't head directly for us. There's a lot of space out there and hitting us is kind of like hitting a bull’s eye blindfolded. I think the last one of this magnitude was sometime back in the eighteen-hundreds.”

Ashlyn, still perplexed, said, “I don't recall anything from history that amounted to the kind of damage the admiral was talking about.”

Mark was thoughtful for a moment, and then answered, “I think most of the damage, we are currently having, is due to our electronic lifestyles. Let's face it, back in the eighteen-hundreds, the teenagers weren't all walking around with cell phones and I Pods."

That was certain. Ashlyn didn't say anything, just shook her head in understanding.

None of them said anything for a few minutes until Mark finally conjectured. “So the ancient Atlantians had nanotechnology. That's amazing, I guess we have the wrong impression about our technological advances, but how do you know all this?”

“It says so in their writings.”

Mark and Ashlyn both sat up straighter when he said that. “They left writings?” Ashlyn asked excitedly.

“Yes, in their libraries.”

“Libraries?”

“Apparently there are a few down in the old city.”

Ashlyn looked at Mark and back at Stewart, “old city? I'd like to see that.”

“Apparently that part is off limits, because of its technology, and then part of it is outside the dome, we obviously can't go to it.”

“That sucks.” Ashlyn was disappointed then, “what type of technology is there, do you know?”

“No, except, I think that's where they got the information to reverse engineer the cloning technique. The reason they built the dome was to protect the part of Atlantis that was slowly sinking, most importantly their libraries and technology.”

No one said anything for a moment and then Mark spoke, “so you are you saying only parts of Atlantis sank? Then where is the rest of it?”

“The Bahamas, Cuba, Haiti, Puerto Rico, Belize, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama, and pretty much the entire Caribbean. It was a huge continent and most of it sank.”

“Why didn't they just move their libraries if it was sinking that slowly, it seems that would be easier than this dome under thousands of feet of water?”

Stewart shrugged, “I'm not sure how slowly it was.”

Mark was shaking his head. “I'm still confused, Atlantis was supposed to be in the Atlantic, over by Africa and close to the Straight of Gibraltar?”

“Yes, it was.” Stewart said simply.

“Um, Stewart that makes no sense.”

“See the thing is that there are several other places in the world, not just the Bermuda triangle, that have these weird electromagnetic events. Atlantis was in one of the other places.”

Mark and Ashlyn stared at Stewart while Ashlyn prodded for a more complete explanation.

“You know how you guys moved in time the other night?”

“Yeah, I don't think we're going to forget that Stewart, get to the point.” Mark couldn't get the information fast enough, and it left him feeling frustrated.

Stewart continued, “alright Mark, you are the physicist so correct me if I'm wrong, the fourth dimension is supposed to be space-time right?”

Mark nodded, “not exactly but close enough. So what's your point?”

“If you can move in time without moving in space, then you can also move in space without moving in time.” Stewart said it, as if he had just solved all the problems in the universe.

Ashlyn looked at Mark, who had a solemn expression on his face, “isn't that exactly what you said to me that night?”

Mark let out a breath and then nodded at her. “Stewart, are you trying to say that an entire continent moved in space?”

“That's what they say in their records. They describe an odd cloud formation and some rumbling. I really didn't get the details but suddenly their entire continent basically ended up in between North and South America.”

Mark was struggling with this one, “I can see a boat or a plane, but an entire continent it’s....” he drifted off.

Stewart continued, “The continents are basically floating on the crust of the Earth, so in some sense they are self contained vehicles.”

“So what, it flew over here?” Mark asked.

“No, it got stuck in something like a time vortex, while the planet turned, when it came back into this dimension, the planet was in a different position so in essence, Atlantis didn't move, the world did.”

Mark thought about that intently, “I guess that would make sense.”

“It doesn't make any sense to me.” Ashlyn piped in, disturbed, “I always thought of myself as intelligent until I got around you guys.” She pushed on her forehead as if it hurt.

Mark turned to her. “If the continent of Atlantis got stuck in some time tunnel, like a wormhole or something, anything that would hold it stationary in time, the world would keep on turning, and it would end up where ever the time tunnel let it out.”

“I got that part; I'm just saying the whole time tunnel thing doesn't make sense to me. I mean is that really possible?” Ashlyn's mind was spinning.

“According to the theory of relativity and quantum theory, even string theory might answer that question, but mathematically, yes, it is possible. That's what happened to us the other night, we moved through time; it was just the opposite thing. The harder part is explaining how people could be transported through these types of huge energy tunnels and not get hurt.”

He scratched his head for a minute and then said, “The existence of exotic particles could answer that, if they are maybe generated by the same high electromagnet power as the time-tunnel or wormhole? Whatever you want to call it.”

“What's are exotic particles?” Ashlyn asked, feeling dumber by the minute.

“It can be a lot of different things, the point is that they are unusual, and they don't exist, well at least we don't find them on any measurable scale in nature. Things like anti-mass, anti-electrons, anti-protons, positrons, or tachyons, which always travel faster than light.”

Ashlyn shook her head, “never mind Mark.”

Stewart jumped back in, “so after the continent moved, because the sea floor was irregular, parts of it began to sink into the sea slowly. Make sense?”

Mark nodded, but Ashlyn shook her head so Stewart tried again, “what happens if you take a hot, really soft cookie right out of the oven and put it on a cooling rack?”

Ashlyn raised an eyebrow, “not a good analogy, Stewart, the cookie would simply cool off.”

“Maybe you are right, but that's because the pressure is spread out evenly. But, what happens when you pick up that soft hot cookie in your hand, doesn't it fall apart?”

“Okay, I get what you are saying Stewart, but we aren't talking about cookies, we are talking about a continent. Isn't that more solid than a cookie?”

“Well, yes but it’s kind of like putting a dirt clod in a puddle of water, it might stay hard at first but eventually the water will soften it enough that it will fall apart.”

“So you are saying that parts of Atlantis, after it magically moved across the planet, slowly sunk into the sea?”

“Exactly! And they built this dome over their most important stuff, to preserve it once it was under water.”

“Alright, I can agree that it makes some sort of sense but how do we know this, you said they have writings?” Mark was trying to absorb it all.

“Yes, their most valued possessions were their knowledge and writings. One of the most important things down here is the big library.”

“And you know all this, how? You said you talked to someone named Kathleen?? Who is she?” Mark asked, tired from trying to think.

“Well, I guess you could call her the librarian.”

Chapter 16

“Those who'll play with cats must expect to be scratched.”

Miguel de Cervantes

~

They didn't wait to find the admiral before following Stewart down the road, still dark of course. All three had dive lights. Stewart hadn't told them about the second pyramid, only that they were going to the library.

After walking for some time, Mark asked. “How far is this library and why isn't it with the other buildings?”

Stewart simply motioned with his hand to keep moving. “It's not much further, and it's not with the other buildings because it's not part of the naval base. The base was built by us, I mean modern us not that I had any part in it. The library was built by the Atlantians.”

“What does it look like?” Ashlyn was intrigued by the idea of seeing such ancient architecture.”

“It's difficult to describe,” he lied, wanting to see their reactions when they finally did get to see it. It was his find, and he was enjoying taking the lead for once. They walked quietly, for the most part, each of them trying to organize the copious amounts of information pressing against their skulls.

“I think I see something,” Ashlyn said and then stopped suddenly.

Mark looked back at her appraisingly. “Why did you stop?”

She didn't answer him and Stewart, who had been watching the interchange, began to smile. Apparently, she had better night vision than either of them. Even knowing what it was; Stewart could hardly make out the shape.

Mark began to repeat his question. “Ashlyn...” He stopped when her mouth dropped open and then turned his head to follow her gaze.

He couldn't make out much of anything, just a light blur up ahead. Stewart turned off his dive light and the others followed suit. Ever so slowly, their eyes began to adjust and suddenly Mark saw what she had seen.

“Is that what it looks like?” He didn't move his straining eyes, to look at Stewart when he asked.

“Yes.” Stewart answered, drinking in their reactions.

Mark finally turned away from the sight to stare at Stewart in the darkness. “You said it was hard to describe, you liar.” Mark was teasing and the excitement in his voice was clear.

“Let's go,” said Ashlyn, her heightened anticipation now compelling her forward.

Mark picked up his pace so much that Ashlyn practically had to run to keep up.

“Wait up, Mark.” He slowed a little. “Sorry.”

When they got close enough to touch the softly glowing edifice, Stewart told them to feel it. They all ran their fingers over the surface, even though Stewart had already been there, he felt the excitement anew. He wasn't sure what hours Kathleen kept, and hoped that she was there. It hadn't looked like the kind of place that ever closed. As they entered the main room, Mark and Ashlyn both stood still as marble, mouths agape in astonishment. Glued to what they were looking at, neither one of them noticed Stewart's smile when Kathleen greeted him.

The 'Library' as they called it, was still quiet, but Stewart saw the same three people that had been there the night before, casually going about their jobs. He assumed that they were Kathleen’s team. She didn't speak as she watched Mark and Ashlyn, this time understanding their awe. Stewart had told her quite a bit about them, and that he would be bringing them. At least they had finally closed their mouths, Stewart thought to himself in amusement, and then realized why Kathleen had thought something had been wrong with him the night before.

He broke the spell with, “this is Kathleen.”

Ashlyn turned slowly, seeming to have difficulty in changing her focus. “I'm sorry.” She reached out her hand and Kathleen took it. Mark was still staring at the room.

Ashlyn poked Mark in the ribs. “Say hi, Mark.”

Mark looked at Ashlyn then turned a smile to Kathleen, “I'm sorry.” He paused in amazement, and shook his head, “Stewart, didn't tell us.”

Mark looked at Stewart and scowled jokingly. “In fact...,” He popped Stewart on the head playfully. “You did this on purpose. Nerd.”

“Nerd?” Stewart mocked, “aren't you a little behind the times?”

Mark smirked, “Sorry, dawg!”

Ashlyn noticed that Kathleen was eying her strangely. “Is something wrong?”

Kathleen looked embarrassed, “oh, I'm sorry, it's just that you...” she trailed off. She looked at Stewart for a second and then back to Ashlyn. “You look so much like Dierdra.” Kathleen cleared her throat nervously.

Ashlyn eyed Stewart and he shrugged. “I told her about Dierdra being your clone.”

Ashlyn glared at him for a second and then turned to Kathleen, who was looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, people have noticed that resemblance before.”

Tension hung in the air only for a little while before Kathleen spoke. “Would you like to follow me?”

Ashlyn looked sideways at Mark before answering, “Sure”.

They followed her to a much smaller room. The walls were covered with carvings on every surface. There were six pillars or balusters encircling the round room, supporting a circular balustrade about eight feet high, with a spiral staircase leading up to it. The upper level had small carvings covering every surface as well.

Mark touched the surface of one of the carvings; it was perfectly etched into the same translucent material that glowed like the rest of the pyramid. The inner portions of the carvings themselves were made of a darker material not dyed but inlaid, too perfectly etched to have been done by human hands.

He looked more closely, and then spoke. “These were not carved by hand, were they?” He didn't stop; apparently, the question had been rhetorical. “The inner cut is made of a different material.”

Ashlyn looked at Mark confused. “How can they not be carved, how else would they do it?”

He looked at her and smiled, “the same way they built the dome holding back the water.”

“Okay, that tells me a lot.” She announced blithely.

He looked at her, “oh, sorry.” He looked back at the carvings and spoke in soft admiration, “with nanotechnology.”

Kathleen, who had been watching them, looked surprised. “You're absolutely right.”

Mark turned to her, seeming to have forgotten that she was in the room. He gazed up at the walls above and began to nod his head as if in affirmation to an unspoken question. “I bet this place will answer a lot of unsolved mysteries.”

“It does indeed.” She agreed.

Stewart had been too overwhelmed the night before to have noticed the type of detail that Mark was seeing. Stewart stepped more closely to one of the pillars and ran his fingers over the carvings, and then suddenly his face changed. “These aren't just designs, this is writing. I've seen it before.”

Ashlyn turned to him with a disbelieving expression, then to Mark who was also staring at Stewart. “Where?” Mark asked.

Stewart turned to the two of them with a smile, “it's Mayan.”

“No way!” Ashlyn looked more closely at it, then, “I think he's right, Mark.”

“He is,” Kathleen interjected, “or close to it, but it would be more accurate to say that the Mayan's wrote in a derivative of Atlantian.”

They all turned to her. She smiled, and then continued, “It’s the reason that we've been able to translate so many of their writings. In fact, it's the reason I am here. I worked on Mayan ruins prior to this job.”

She paused and shook her head. “We couldn't make any sense of it until the last couple of decades, as we began deciphering the written language of the Mayan Pyramids. We used their work to begin translating these.”

Stewart smiled. He found it quite exhilarating to be the one with answers instead of the one with all the questions.

Mark looked at Ashlyn suddenly, “hey, why can't you read this?”

She looked at him oddly, “why would I be able to?"

“You speak all those different languages.”

She shook her head, and rolled her eyes slightly, “Mark, of what possible use would it be, for an assassin to be able to read ancient Mayan writing?”

Kathleen cringed. Stewart saw her face and answered her unspoken question, “Ashlyn isn't an assassin, just Dierdra.”

Ashlyn realized what that had sounded like, and turned to Kathleen to explain. “I was trained how to be an assassin,” she paused, “but I'm...” she wasn't sure what to say. She had killed several people and that flashed through her mind.

“It's okay,” Kathleen, told her, “you don't need to explain. Stewart kind of did that already.”

Ashlyn bit her lower lip softly.

Mark stepped closer and gently touched Ashlyn's back. “I suppose the Atlantians taught the Mayans how to build pyramids then?” Mark asked to break the tension.

“Yes, the Mayans and the Egyptians as well.”

Stewart turned to Kathleen, “the Egyptians didn't build pyramids until long after you said that Atlantis moved over here.”

Kathleen looked confused for a moment, as if the answer was obvious, “They were quite adept at building ships, as you can imagine.” She motioned around her and that ended that discussion.

“So, is there anything in there about that 2012 thing that everybody talks about in the Mayan calendar? I suppose it would be good to know since it's 2012.” Mark didn't think there was, but he was trying to change the subject, since they had all gone quiet.

“Yes, there is.”

All three of them looked at her in surprise and Stewart blurted out, “you have got to be kidding!” He turned to Mark and Ashlyn and saw their equally surprised faces, “doomsday stuff?” He was shaking his head as he spoke.

Kathleen didn't say anything for a moment, and then she said, “you did just tell me last night that the United States has been practically wiped out ...didn’t you?”

Silence fell over the group and then Mark asked, “Do you really think that the date has something to do with that?” His question was serious this time.

“The Atlantians were great astronomers. In fact, we found one of their telescopes, and it was several miles long with a diameter as large as a skyscraper.”

“How would they....” Stewart trailed off, “never mind, I know, nanotechnology.”

Ashlyn turned to Mark. “I don't understand how nanotechnology answers all these questions. I understand how nanotechnology can be used to build small objects but...” she shook her head, trying to make sense of it, “How does it explain huge things?”

Mark tried to explain. “Just because we are talking about small machines doesn't mean they can only build small things. The machines, or probably robots to be more accurate, would be self-replicating. They could build virtually anything out of any material lying around. Take the dome, for instance, which is made of diamond-like fibers.” He looked at Kathleen for a moment for confirmation.

She nodded her head and he continued. “That's just carbon rearranged. Because there is an unlimited supply of atoms, there is an unlimited supply of building materials. You would just program the design in and the robots would build it from the atomic level up. Kind of like the Replicators on Star Trek, they just tell the computer what they want to eat, and it gets made on the spot.”

Stewart chimed in, “oh, that's how those things are supposed to work. Maybe that explains the Holodeck too?”

“Alright guys, reality check, that's science fiction, again, let's get back on track. I don't get how that solves the size issue. Wouldn't it take a long time?” Ashlyn asked.

Mark twisted his lips, “um, okay, think of it like this. In the real world if you want to build a house out of ten thousand bricks, and you have ten guys to do it, they would each have to move one thousand bricks, very time consuming. However, if you had ten thousand men to move ten thousand bricks it would happen very quickly. In theory the robots could self-replicate at incredible speeds, their growth would be exponential.”

Ashlyn nodded her head. “Okay, I get it, unlimited building materials, unlimited labor force.”

Mark turned to Kathleen, “I have a question I've been thinking about.” She motioned for him to continue. “Even being made of diamond fibers of some sort, that dome would have to be incredibly thick. In order to hold back that amount of water. It seems like it's clear, and I think Stewart even mentioned that you said the Navy had seen the lights from below through the top of it?”

“Yes, that's true.”

“Were the lights from that big machine out there, or is that something the Navy built?”

“It was the machine, which is called the Meliorator, by the way. The Atlantians built it, and that's what they called it, as near as we can translate it anyway.” Kathleen answered.

Mark looked up, as if he could see the dome through the top of the pyramid. “I just can't imagine how it's strong enough and still transparent.”

Kathleen thought about it, and then took a deep breath. “I'm not entirely sure. There are descriptions of it in their writings, but I'm not a scientist. It says something like it's made of layers, sandwiched in between other layers, which consist of very thin areas of vacuum space. The internal spaces are separated by a gap only ten nanometers wide.”

She paused but when she saw that he seemed fascinated by what she was saying, she continued. “Then it talks about the angular spin momentum of the electrons and some kind of phosphorescent gas between the top and bottom boundaries that are supposed to negate the impact of the photons on the vacuum space. Maybe it was to force the light to bend around; something like that.”

She shrugged, “I haven't been able to make any sense of it, and I don't see any phosphorescent anything up there. Does it make any sense to you?”

Mark stood there thinking, excitement written all over his face. “I don't know but phosphorescent is not the same as fluorescent. That is when we are talking about quantum physics. A phosphorescent medium can absorb radiation, or light, at one intensity, and re-release it at a different intensity. Sometimes it even stores it temporarily. Maybe it is somehow preventing the passing light from disturbing the vacuum space.”

He thought about it again, “I thought you told Stewart that the dome had a strong magnetic field?”

“It does, but only the outer layer comes directly in contact with the water.” Her answer seemed to resolve something in his mind.

“I think, though I can't be certain from the limited translation, that they are using the Casimir effect or zero point energy. Depending upon the spin of the electrons the force can repulse or attract, but in this case, I'm thinking repulse. Each ten nanometer layer then could have the force of one atmosphere, which is directly related to the pressure of water at depth.”

They all stared at him and nobody spoke. Ashlyn finally broke the silence with, “Mark, we don't want you to explain that, okay?”

Mark shook his head in agreement, though he looked slightly disappointed by that. “Alright, Kathleen, you were telling us that the Atlantians were great astronomers before we got off on the nano tangent.”

“They had great knowledge about many things; they taught the Egyptians and the Mayans how to build pyramids.” Kathleen continued, “The entire continent was transported from the Atlantic to the Caribbean one day, unexpectedly.”

Ashlyn interjected, “yeah, that's the cookie thing; you don't need to explain it.”

Kathleen looked bemused by that and stared at Ashlyn for just a brief second before continuing. “It didn't take long for the Atlantians to realize that the continent had gone through a wormhole, they just didn't know why. Through their research, they found that naturally occurring electromagnetic forces occasionally caused wormholes to materialize, more than that, there had also been many other things that had happened that year, strange events.”

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, “I'm not going to go into details now, but they took core samples all over the Earth and studied the stars in comparison with what they had learned. They realized that the Earth has cycles, much like the sun does, only its every 5,125 years causing dramatic and cataclysmic events.”

Mark wasn't sure he could believe all of this. “Wait a minute, Atlantis was supposed to have been around nine or ten thousand years ago, so your talking about that happening, two cycles ago. If that's the case then what happened during the last one? We do have some recorded history back that far.”

Kathleen looked at Mark, “I guess you aren't a Bible scholar.”

“What does the Bible have to do with it?”

“The biblical account has the date a few hundred years off, but every culture has a record of a great deluge and the common consensus among the various cultures puts it at about 5,125 years ago.”

“Are you trying to say that the flood, Noah's flood, is what happened the last time?” Mark was incredulous.

Kathleen let out a sigh, “according to their records, the Atlantians that were still living at the time of the flood, they stayed right here under this dome to wait it out. The date was exactly as their research had predicted, so after the flood was over and the surviving people began to rebuild, the Atlantians came out of the refuge here, and taught the other cultures how to build pyramids.”

“Why would they want to build pyramids?” Ashlyn asked.

“The pyramids are calendars, to keep a record of the time, and information about the stars. These pyramids would stand the test of time and hopefully, help prepare the people of the future for the next set of cataclysms. They passed all of their knowledge on, except nanotechnology, which is why the Mayan pyramids are made of limestone rather than this.” She motioned around the room at the alabaster, glowing, seamless, glass-like walls.

Mark rubbed his eyes. “You're saying all of the pyramids, all over the world, are connected to the Atlantians?”

“Absolutely. In fact, all the pyramids, including the Egyptian, the Mayan, and the others found in Mesoamerica, are calendars. They were all built to align with the star cluster Pleiades during the next great galactic alignment. The Atlantians and the Mayans called the center of the Milky Way 'Hunab Ku'.

None of them said anything, but it was obvious from the expression on Ashlyn and Stewart's faces that they needed a break.

Mark said, “I have one more question. Where did the Atlantians go?”

“According to their records a great plague killed most of them. Enough died, that they were not able to maintain a culture. The few still alive mixed in among the other cultures of the world and remained for the duration of their lives as great teachers.”

Ashlyn took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes, “I don't mean to complain but my brain needs a rest, and I'm getting hungry too. Is there anywhere to eat around here, or do we need to go back to the main building?”

“What, do you think there is a Burger King? We are six thousand feet underwater Ashlyn.” Stewart teased.

Ashlyn rolled her eyes at him, and then looked pleadingly at Mark. “Yeah,” Mark said, “we need to eat something and rest our minds.”

“I'm afraid you will have to go back to the main building. Stewart's right, no Burger King.” She smiled at Stewart and tossed her hair a bit.

Ashlyn took note of Kathleen's body language and wondered if Stewart had any idea of what Kathleen was thinking. A tiny grin turned up just the corner of her mouth ever so slightly.

“Before you go,” Kathleen said, “let me just show you one more thing.”

Mark scratched the back of his head and Ashlyn glanced at him. He took a deep breath and then shrugged. The three of them followed Kathleen into a much larger room.

Mark was watching Ashlyn, who was studying something intently, when she turned to him, “do you see that?”

She pointed at a large block of limestone that had to weigh at least a couple of tons. It looked like it was floating just off the ground. Mark tilted his head as if to discover what was holding it up. Apparently, the block was what Kathleen had planned to show them. She walked over to it and pushed it gently. It moved easily.

“Just like an air hockey puck.” Stewart speculated.

“But there's no air.” Mark pointed out.

Stewart shook his head, “I didn't mean it had air, I just meant...Well, I'm not sure what I meant.”

Kathleen suggested, “It’s not really that different.”

At that, Stewart smiled and stood up a little straighter. Ashlyn leaned her head down and reached up to scratch her eyebrow, so that she could cover the little smile that was forcing its way to her lips. She glanced at Mark without turning her head. He had noticed her stifled grin and asked her what, silently with his eyebrows. She gave him an, I'll tell you later expression.

The Atlantians provided the Egyptians and the Mayans these devices. She pointed to a small object attached to the block. It looked like a remote control and was about the same size.

“What is that?” Mark couldn't resist.

“It's a nano remote control of sorts.”

Mark laughed, “Yeah, I thought it looked like my Sony remote, but where can I buy one?”

Ashlyn was shaking her head, “but how does it work?”

Kathleen answered. “The writings don't provide us with any information on how the devices were built.”

Stewart interrupted, “that sucks.”

Kathleen smiled at him a little too long and then said, “according to their writings, they thought the technology was too dangerous to share with others, so they didn't write it down. We've tried to reverse engineer some of it but...” She finished her statement with a shrug.

“Have you had any success with the reverse engineering?” Mark's brow was furrowed; he hated not understanding something.

“I believe that at least one of the scientists was having some success, though I haven't seen him around for a while.”

Ashlyn asked, trying to act casual, “what is his name?”

Kathleen thought for a minute and then answered, “I'm not sure of his first name, it was Bob or Robert or something but his last name was Sorenson.”

Ashlyn bit her lower lip and Mark looked over at her. She turned her eyes ever so slightly until she made contact with his and then nodded her head almost imperceptibly.

Chapter 17

“Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm
not sure about the universe.” Albert Einstein

~

Mark, Stewart and Ashlyn had walked back to the main building and were eating lunch, hoping to avoid the admiral all together. They knew, of course, that it would be impossible to keep that up for long, but after Ashlyn's last encounter with him, never would be too soon. The main building, which they had recently been told was called the Genesis Station, was not as impressive anymore now that they had seen the real thing. Ashlyn had guffawed when she heard the name, positive that the arrogant admiral had named it, chiding his lack of originality.

Mark was surprised every time he had entered the main building at how few people were there. He considered the possibility that the large numbers of barracks to the east were empty, but he doubted that. There must be troops somewhere, and he couldn't keep that thought from nagging in the back of his mind, especially since the admiral had hinted at some big project. Of course, the admiral had told them that the area in which they were staying was restricted to officers and VIPs, it still seemed like there should be more officers.

“Hey Mark, how do you think that levitation device works?” Stewart asked.

Mark shrugged.

“Come on, you have to have some theory about it, you always do. I saw the way that you were looking at it, and I've known you long enough to tell when you are trying to figure something out.”

Ashlyn was interested too, “yeah, give it your best shot Mark. I have no clue; you must at least have some idea.” Then she took a bite of her BLT.

Mark finished chewing a bite of his club sandwich then said, “Well, I think that it must be the same way that they are holding the water back from over our heads.” He took another bite of his sandwich casually as if he had answered their question fully.

“Mark,” Ashlyn spoke, “that doesn't tell us anything ...especially me, and you totally lost me on the whole diamagnetic, diamond fiber, phosphorescent frog thing.”

“I'm not sure I used phosphorescent and frog in the same sentence, but I'll try.” Mark couldn't help laughing at that.

When he finally stopped laughing because of the scowl Ashlyn was offering him, he continued. “It could be something like this. If they can reverse the spin of the electrons, and their writings say they can; then they would have access to the strong and weak atomic forces as well. They might be able to dramatically enhance the diamagnetic properties of the limestone.” He took another bite.

“I hope you aren't finished, because...” Ashlyn shook her head. “Honestly Mark, sometimes you forget that the rest of us don't have an IQ of 200.”

Mark rolled his eyes, “my IQ is not 200.”

“Then what is it?” Stewart chimed in, not really caring but enjoying the debate.

Mark ignored the question. “The problem is that we don't really know what gravity is. According to quantum physics, there is a hypothetical particle called a graviton, which mediates gravity. In string theory, gravitons still exist but they are in strings rather than points. The theory of relativity doesn't use gravitons at all.”

Ashlyn scratched her head, “sorry I asked. That's too confusing, isn't there any simpler explanation like, floating cookies or frogs?”

Mark started to laugh again but Ashlyn gave him a quick look this time that silenced him faster, “it could be related to the Hutchison effect.”

“The what?” Ashlyn hadn't heard of it.

“Back in 1979 a guy by the name of Hutchison discovered how to levitate stuff.” Mark to another bite of his sandwich.

Stewart chimed in, “there's no proof of that.”

“Well, both the American and Canadian governments have tried to take his equipment from him and NASA has been studying some of his research.”

“So he says.” Stewart argued, always playing devil's advocate.

“Actually, the NASA thing is true. I know because I personally found a reference to its use, on the NASA web site.”

“So tell me more about this, what did you call it? Hutchison effect.” Ashlyn prompted.

“Well, the guy was trying to reproduce some of the tests and equipment of Nikola Tesla in a small apartment and objects just started doing random things. Pretty much everything that happens in the Bermuda Triangle has happened in his lab. He's shown like, seven-hundred people, maybe it's more, I don't remember.”

“So, if all this is true, why can't he prove it?” Ashlyn was really curious now; she and Stewart had both finished their food and were just listening.

“The weird stuff doesn't happen on demand, it happens at random times, and it does random things. So, it can't necessarily be duplicated in a lab.”

“Yeah, it's like paranormal stuff, ghosts etc. You can't prove it. I think it's bunk myself.” Stewart argued.

Mark said, “I don't know about that. Here's the thing, he doesn't claim that the equipment is doing the levitating and such, rather channeling some random, unseen energy that is naturally occurring like zero-point energy, or the Casimir effect that I mentioned earlier.” Mark drank the rest of his soda then finished with, “you can't just say things are impossible when it comes to science. You have to keep an open mind. Doesn't this place prove it?”

“You have a point about keeping an open mind, but you lost me on the zero-point energy and Casimir effect. What are those?” Stewart asked.

“They are pretty much the same thing. The Casimir effect is basically a measurable proof of zero-point energy; Kind of like an apple falling from a tree, is proof of gravity’s existence. Zero-point energy is the energy that exists in a vacuum or in the absence of matter.” Mark answered.

Ashlyn and Stewart both looked at him blankly.

Mark tried again, “um..., when you add heat to water it boils, or moves faster because you have added energy. Zero-point energy is what is left over, if you remove all the heat. In a sense, free energy.”

“Also, Hutchison suggested that you could use certain fundamental frequencies to block the forces of gravity.”

Mark seemed to have an unlimited number of theories; Ashlyn thought but said, “Isn’t that zero-point thing something from Stargate?”

Mark laughed, “yeah, the zero-point module, ZPM. I'm guessing they got the idea from real science. Zero-point energy has been proven to exist.”

Ashlyn shook her head. “I don't think I want to try and figure it out if it's that complicated. It would all be guessing anyway, since we can't prove anything. If the Atlantians could manipulate atoms, and hold them together somehow, why worry about gravity or all those other things at all? Why not just create a pillow of air under the blocks, using nanotechnology to bind it together somehow? Then it would be like the air hockey puck Stewart was suggesting, right?”

Mark and Stewart both stared at Ashlyn until she said, “what?”

Mark shook his head to get out of his thoughts, “sorry, I just hadn't ever thought of anything that simple. Maybe it could work. We know so little about nanotechnology now; obviously, the Atlantians were far more advanced.”

“I think I'm gonna go with Ashlyn's theory.” Stewart smiled.

Ashlyn's expression changed and Mark could see the blood draining from her face. “What's wrong Ashlyn?”

“We have company.” She answered softly.

The admiral had come in and was walking up behind Mark. “May I join you?” He asked the group.

As if any of them had the power to say no anyway, Ashlyn thought. He came around the table and sat next to Ashlyn because she had been sitting across from the two of them alone. Her skin was crawling and she was trying to maintain her composure.

“I see the three of you have all rested, and I'm told you visited the Library. I'm sure many of your questions have been answered by now.”

No one answered but the admiral went on, undaunted, “Mark, I want you to help me on my project.”

“You mentioned that last night.” Mark said dryly.

“Yes I did. I'm going to fill you in on the details, and you can choose if you want to help. How does that sound?”

“I guess that would depend on what would happen if I chose not to help you.” Mark allowed.

The admiral sat back. “Well, that is the question, isn't it? Let's just say, it would be unwise of you to refuse my invitation. If you work with me, all three of you will continue to be free and even have a high position in the new order, if you would like.”

Mark leaned forward, “new order?”

The admiral just smiled. “Since 1959, when the dome of Atlantis was discovered, the information became Top, Top Secret and Eyes Only to a very few elite personnel. Over the years, the number has grown some, but it still remains a small number with an extremely classified level of clearance.”

Mark interrupted, “you've been doing tests of some sort down here, haven't you? That's why my readings were off the chart over here and the reason you sent Dierdra to kill me.”

“Very astute.” The admiral seemed to hold some kind of genuine admiration for Mark. “You are the first person that has been able to find us, in all these years.”

“So Atlantis, or shall I say, some things...devices or such, in sunken Atlantis are the cause of all the Bermuda Triangle events? I'd like to blame it on you guys, but I know that even Christopher Columbus reported strange events in the triangle, and that rules out military experiments.”

Ashlyn looked surprised by that.

The admiral raised his eyebrows slightly. “You have that a little backwards. The Triangle events are naturally occurring and there are several other places on the globe with similar activity. It has to do with the Earth's core.”

Mark looked a little surprised, and encouraged the admiral to continue.

“The Earth is a gigantic dynamo, if you will.” The admiral motioned with his hands, “huge rivers of liquid molten iron spinning around the core create the strong electromagnetic field the Earth has around it.”

“Yes, that is the accepted theory.” Mark agreed.

Preston continued. “The Lorentz force causes eddies to form in the currents of magma. These eddies create the random electromagnetic anomalies around the world. They are just like sun spots, as simple as that.”

“And you have proof of this?” Mark asked.

The admiral sat forward, “that is what the Atlantians believed. It's in their writings and they seem to have known what they were talking about.”

“Okay,” Mark accepted the information, “what is your project?”

“Originally the plan was to reverse engineer technology from Atlantis to reprogram the human brain. Ashlyn was one of our test subjects, as you know. The idea was to reprogram the minds of high ranking leaders throughout the world to spread democracy.”

“Ha!” Mark said, “You expect me to believe you were going to take over the world by reprogramming people's brains in the name of democracy? That's a lot more like secret dictatorship.”

The admiral shook his head, “and why not, that's what we have now?”

“We elect our officials, and we aren't programmed to act like robots.” Mark had to admit to himself that he wasn't really sure that what he was saying was entirely true.

Ashlyn and Stewart were both listening intently to the conversation, but didn't want to be involved.

The admiral laughed and leaned back against his chair. “The media programs the public to our will. Believe whatever you wish Mark, if it makes you happy, but what I am saying is the truth. Everything is controlled, and it has all been orchestrated so perfectly that it has created a flawless illusion of freedom for the people.”

The admiral leaned forward and stared at Mark with his loathsome eyes. “But it's all a lie,” he said as he flashed a sneer of disgust that exposed his repulsive teeth.

Mark glanced at Ashlyn's disquieted expression. Stewart too was looking troubled. No matter how much they wanted to deny it, surely some of it was true.

Admiral Preston waited for a moment to let the information sink in and then continued. “Ashlyn showed us that reprogramming wouldn't work, we couldn't overcome the aspect of free will. So we moved on to the idea of replacing leaders and officials with clones who would see things our way.”

He turned his head and regarded Ashlyn for a moment. He was so close that she could feel his repugnant breath on the side of her unturned face; she had no desire to look at the man.

“Of course, you know that Ashlyn destroyed the lab, with all our work. Then she murdered the only scientist who had been making progress on reverse engineering the Atlantians nanotechnological devices.”

He let out a disgusted breath, “all that work ...years of work,” he was still looking at her, “gone up in flames.”

He continued staring at her but didn't say anything. He leaned a little closer to her and she almost winced.

Finally, he turned back to Mark. “So Mark, you have the ability to help me, and in the process, settle all debts.”

It was quite clear that by the word debts, he meant Ashlyn's debts. Mark felt the desire to recoil from the man, and he was clear across the table from the admiral. Mark could only imagine how Ashlyn felt. He also hated the idea of helping the evil man, but wondered what horrible things might be done to Ashlyn if he refused. Then of course, there was Stewart, who had already been beaten once because of all this.

“What is it that you want from me?” Mark asked flatly.

The admiral sat up straighter. “Every 5,125 years, this planet goes through a Time Storm.”

Mark furrowed his brow, “a what?”

The admiral smiled. “A Time Storm, very similar to a solar maximum, which as I'm sure you know is when the sun switches polarities and ejects massive electromagnetic explosions from what we call sun spots.” Mark nodded his understanding and he was certain that the rest of them had become more familiar with the sun's solar maximum than they had ever wanted to be.

The admiral continued. “The Earth simply has a slower cycle.”

It was the same thing that Kathleen had been telling them about, Mark was sure.

He contemplated this for a moment, and then asked, “Are you saying we are going to have a pole shift?”

“Well yes, in fact, that has already begun, but that process happens rather slowly. The Time Storm is caused by the increased activity of the earth spots.”

Ashlyn chimed in, “earth spots?”

The admiral looked at Ashlyn. “As I mentioned before, underneath the Earth's crust there is a tremendous river of molten iron spinning around a solid metal core. There are some areas where the current is not regular, it forms into eddies or to put it more simply, in places the liquid spins in circles, caught on chunks of more dense material.”

“You are talking about the magma that shoots out of volcanoes right?” Ashlyn asked.

“Similar, however, at a deeper level, and made of liquid metal instead of liquid rock,” the admiral answered. “We call these eddies earth spots. The only reason we can't see them is that our view is blocked by the Earth's crust and mantle. The earth spots periodically build up enough of a charge to shoot out electromagnetic flares much like the sun, but the Earth's crust generally prevents the visible light from passing through.”

The admiral paused a moment before continuing. “Many scientists have recorded seismic and electromagnetic variances at various places on the Earth. They tend to be in predictable patterns, as I mentioned. So our modern research validates what the Atlantians believed.”

Mark nodded, disturbed by the fact that this was making sense. That was basically, what he was researching, and he had found a great deal of evidence to support it.

“This area where we are now, the so-called Bermuda Triangle, always has a few active spots that come and go as temperature and other variables come into play, which is why people experience temporal disturbances occasionally.

“During the peak of the Earth's cycle however, which is now. When the sun reaches solar maximum as well, and the Earths magnetic poles begin to shift, unusual things begin to happen. This Time Storm is predicted by the Atlantians to be the worst yet because the Earth and the sun are now in line with the galactic center of the Milky Way. The earth spots have clearly increased in quantity and intensity. These factors combine on an exact timetable and spread all over the planet. To put it simply, the entire Earth becomes one gigantic and very active, Devil’s Triangle where anything can happen.”

He let that sink in a moment before going on. “Many people have been anxiously awaiting the date the Maya predicted, but it doesn't all happen in one day. I'm sure that you are aware of the reported vanishings of people, and objects, some reappearing, some not. CNN has even reported that an island in the sea changed its location. Levitations, transformations, and the like, it's all happening as predicted. Furthermore, the balance of power has changed completely. These earth spots can be used as doorways into the fourth dimension.”

Ashlyn jumped in again, “explain to me again what exactly the fourth dimension is.”

He answered, “There are three dimensions of space, that's why we call the world around us three dimensional. Time is the fourth dimension, the combination of them all we call space-time.”

She considered that for a minute and then nodded her head.

“I still don't understand what you need me for.” Mark wished the admiral would get to the point.

“On the date, December 21, 2012, the Earth and the sun will be in exact alignment with the center of the Milky Way. It will be the apex of the Time Storm. At that time, we will harness the energy of one of the known earth spots, right here, directly below us with a machine that will take us back in time.”

Mark jerked forward and Ashlyn gasped. Stewart bolted up so fast that he knocked over his chair. It was clear that this man was insane.

Ashlyn looked at Mark, shocked by the Admirals licentious attitude, but Mark didn't look back at her, he was focused on the admiral. “Who is the, we, you keep referring to?”

The admiral didn't answer for a minute then finally said, “We, refers to a very top, top-secret program that the Navy is working in conjunction with a civilian research organization called, Neuronex Pathtronix.”

The admiral continued, “As I was saying, the next eruption of electromagnetic energy will occur on December 21st at 10:00 AM. Then we, all of us beneath this dome, by turning on the machine and channeling the energy from the earth spot, will be submerged into the event horizon of a wormhole that will take us back in time.”

“So you want me to help you build a time machine?” Mark was incredulous, "even if I wanted to help you, going back in time is impossible, it breaks all the laws of physics.”

The admiral just stared at Mark then said, “Who are you to say what is possible and what is not?”

Mark didn't have an answer, but he didn't back down, “the best physicists in the world have worked on the possibility of time travel and I'm sure they are much smarter than you. The only possibility that has any merit would only allow you to go back as far as the point at which the time machine was built. So the machine you are building won't work!”

The admiral let out a licentious laugh. “Of course you are right about only going back in time to the point at which the time machine was built. It's already built. The Atlantians built it thousands of years ago. It's only the fine calculations I need your help with.”

Mark felt sick; it seemed that the admiral's plan might actually be possible. “Even if you went back in time, what would be the point?”

“Isn't that obvious? With the military might even on this one base, and the technology we have, we will” then he changed it to, “I will, rule the world, and those who have helped, but are not going with us, have been assured that they will be given great power in the new world government.”

***

Kathleen was sitting at her desk working on a translation when Stewart ran into the small room. He was out of breath and his demeanor alarmed her.

“What is it Stewart, what's wrong?”

He didn't answer for a minute; he was trying to catch his breath. He had sprinted the entire way. She offered him a chair and brought him a drink of water.

He finally answered with a question. “Do you know what the admiral is planning to do?”

She was taken aback. She did not like the man; there was something off about him. She had noticed from the beginning, but her job was to translate. She stayed in the Library with her few assistants. She lived in a building just on the far side of the pyramid. Her assistants each had small living compartments themselves, so she rarely saw the admiral and had no idea of his plans.

“I'm sure that I don't know anything that would make you run here to tell me.” She answered finally.

“On December the 21st,” He paused to see if her face changed at all, he didn't think she could be in on such a thing, but he had to be sure.

When he didn't continue, she interjected, “you mean at the apex of the Time Storm.”

He must have looked surprised by her answer because she added, “it's in the writings of Atlantis and also the Mayan calendar.”

“Does it actually call it that?” He was sure he had not heard the phrase in all the things he had read about the Mayan calendar.

“It says it in the Atlantian writings but not in the Mayan calendar.”

That satisfied him and he continued, “he is building a machine, no, I mean he is going to use a machine built by the Atlantians.”

Kathleen's brow furrowed, “a machine? What kind of machine?”

He took a deep breath, “according to him, he is going to open a wormhole to take us, all of us here under the dome, sailors, marines and all, back in time.”

Kathleen looked incredulous, “but that's impossible isn't it?”

They both just stared at each other, who could tell what was impossible or not anymore. “Mark seems to think it is possible.”

The fact that Mark thought it was possible was somehow more alarming than anything else. “Why would he want to take us all back in time?” She asked, truly afraid of the answer.

“He wants to take over the world. With the advanced technology, even with the small number of sailors and marines he has here, he should be able to do it.”

Kathleen just sat there, not having a clue about what to say or do. Stewart obviously believed it. She might not have even believed his story of the assassin, beating, and clone thing, had she not seen Ashlyn herself. He seemed to be trustworthy.

“What do you want me to do?” She finally asked.

“I'm not sure yet, but we are going to try and stop him. Mark says that, even if the admiral's plan backfires, and we don't go back in time, he might end up opening a black hole, instead of a wormhole. If that happened...” He didn't finish; there was no need.

Kathleen's mouth had opened but no words came out.

Stewart asked her, “I just need to know, if when the time comes, we can count on your help?”

She just looked at him in confusion until his sentence finally turned into English in her mind. Then she answered, “of course!”

Stewart hadn't really needed to run to tell her so quickly, they had nearly a month and a half to figure out a plan, but he had run because he didn't know what else to do, because it helped ease the fear.

***

Ashlyn was with Mark in his room. They were sitting on his bed, since there were no chairs. He was holding her in his arms, while leaning back against the wall for support. They had been talking about the admiral's plans, trying to figure out what to do to stop him. When they couldn't come to a solution, they stopped talking and sat there together in the silence, thinking.

Mark finally spoke, “Ashlyn?”

She looked up at him, so thankful that he loved her.

“I've been thinking.” He said slowly, “we will find a way to stop him. I promise. The best way for us to do that is for me to work with him, let him think that I am going along with it. I need to see that machine, I need to understand how it works, or I won’t have any way of preventing him from going through with it.”

She shook her head in agreement, “do you really think he can go back in time and take over the world?”

“No.”

“You sound pretty sure about that.”

“I am. I think it is theoretically possible but he will not succeed, that much I know.”

“How do you know?”

“I have no memory of him being in charge of the world, do you?”

She looked confused, “but I thought, he wouldn't change the past until he goes through the wormhole in the future.”

“Some people believe that it works that way, but I think that's mostly science fiction. It didn't happen; it won’t happen.” His certainty brought her some measure of peace.

“So if you are sure that it won't happen, why are you so worried about it?”

He just shook his head. “Maybe nothing will happen,” he took a deep breath, “but with the kind of technology we are talking about, and this cosmic alignment thing...” he raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, “that does seem to be happening, I think some very bad results might come of it.”

She sat up straight and faced him, her knee bent under her, with one leg partway off the bed, so that she could look at him. “Like what? Can you be more specific?” She had missed the short conversation that he had previously had with Stewart.

He clinched his jaw. “Maybe he will open up a black hole, maybe the end of the world.”

She stared at him for a minute and then looked down.

He continued, “I don't think our experience just happened to be a random Bermuda Triangle event, directly over the pyramid.”

She looked back up at him, they had been so busy surviving, that she had not really had time to think about it. “Do you think he was testing something out on his machine?”

“Dierdra did say that I was getting to close, and that is why she was going to kill me. She had been looking at my research and,” he shook his head slightly, “on the top of the pile was where I had written about our experience, and the very latitude and longitude of the pyramid.”

Ashlyn let out a long breath, “you're right, I don't think that could be a coincidence.” She paused for a moment then, “but we moved forward in time, not backward.”

“That's true, but we did move in time.” He locked eyes with her, “that means he at least has the ability to open a wormhole of sorts.” He shook his head, “If that was only a test, I can only guess at what the real thing will be like, with the full power of the galactic alignment and...” he sighed, “whatever he is planning to do with the machine.”

“If the Atlantians built it, why do you think they never used it?”

He was thoughtful, “maybe they did, how would we know?”

Still facing him, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest. “I'm so glad we are at least together.” She brought up her other knee, and twisted until she was leaning against him. He put his arms around her again.

He was quiet for so long after what she said, that she started to feel a tinge of insecurity.

Then he finally spoke, “Ashlyn?”

She looked up. “What?”

“Will you marry me?”

She wasn't expecting that. They hadn't even known each other for an entire month yet, though she believed that love had nothing to do with time.

“Mark?” She spoke softly.

“Yes, my love.” The sound of that sent a thrill through her, and she nuzzled her face up against his neck and kissed it softly.

After a moment, she sat up again and was hesitant as she spoke. “I love you very much, and I do want to be your wife...but” she looked down for a moment and then back up and smiled crookedly, “isn't your timing a little off?”

“I'm sorry, I know this isn't a very romantic setting, I should have flowers, a ring, be down on my knee, but the fact is we may not have time to wait till we have those things. I'm not even sure that the world will live to see the New Year.” His grave expression was not comforting. “No matter what happens, I want to be married to you while I'm sure we still have time.”

She thought about that and he was silent, not wanting to push her into it. Finally she spoke, “that's what I want too but...How?” She shook her head and shrugged, “where could we even do it? It's not like we can go down to the courthouse in the morning and I haven't seen any churches.”

He was quiet for a moment and she could tell that he did not want to say what he was thinking. “I know where we can get married.”

Surprise covered her face and she lifted an eyebrow, “where?”

“Right here.”

She looked around the room and shook her head in confusion. “What do you mean, here?”

“Maritime law.”

“I don't understand.”

“Ship's captains can marry people at sea.”

She paused and laughed slightly, “Mark, we are not at sea.”

“Yes we are. The law doesn't say anything about being above or below the water.”

She laughed and shook her head, “you are cute when you're crazy.”

He didn't say anything, just shrugged and smiled hopefully.

Ashlyn countered, “We have no ship so how do we qualify. It has to be the ship's captain, doesn't it?”

“Well technically, we are at sea because we are under the Tongue of the Ocean, and clearly not on any island or mainland.”

She was beginning to see that he had really thought this out. He continued, “And the only point in having a ship is to keep you from drowning right?”

She didn't answer for a minute and then said, “sort of, I guess.”

He went on, “so the dome does that for us and counts as our ship.”

She laughed outright. “Now that's a stretch if I've ever heard one.”

“I could build you a raft to stand on if it makes you feel better.”

She giggled at the thought, “I don't think the raft is necessary.” She paused for a while then spoke, “I suppose it makes some sense … in a twisted, sort of crazy way,” she smiled at him mischievously, “and I'm sure you are right, the law does not say you can't be under the water rather than over it.”

“So you'll do it?” He smiled like a little boy asking for a new toy. She reached over and rumpled his hair.

“Only one problem left for you to solve.” She raised one eyebrow.

“What's that?”

“Well,” she cocked her head to one side, “following your train of thought on its wild tangent, only leaves room for one conclusion.” She paused, and made a nauseated expression, “the admiral must be the captain who marries us.”

He didn't say anything at first and then took a deep breath, “I was hoping you could overlook that nasty little part.” He paused, “we could make him wear a sack over his head while he does the ceremony.”

She laughed again; she couldn’t help herself. “You are a nut Mark. You are crazy enough to be locked up, and I think I must be crazy too, even talking with you about this.” She thought about it for a long while then spoke. “I really don't think putting a sack over his head would make any difference.

Then she was quite again and contemplative, staring at nothing. Mark was silent. They were going to have to be here, under the dome, pretending cooperation for a month and a half, she thought. It would be difficult at best.

She didn't speak for a long enough time that Mark began to feel stupid for bringing it up. He shouldn't have asked he realized, but... he wanted so much for them to belong to each other, when everything else was so uncertain.

“Ashlyn,” he spoke softly, “do you want me to leave?”

She looked startled for a second, and then reached out and touched his shoulder and then ran her hand part way down his chest before looking up. She spoke softly, “no, I don't want you to leave, just let me think about this for a few more minutes. Besides,” she laughed, “isn't this your room?”

He had forgotten that little detail. He grinned; “okay,” then he leaned back against the wall.

She knew they would have to at least pretend to be cordial with the admiral, if they were to stay alive long enough to stop the disaster he was planning, but this would be her wedding. It was what every little girl dreamed of; at least that's what people said. She pondered on that. When she was a little girl, that's not what she had dreamed of. She had dreamed of having a family, or anyone with whom she belonged, all those cold, long nights, alone in a laboratory.

How could she even think about letting that horrible man, who had been party to the nightmares of her childhood, perform the ceremony? Then she had another thought, it would be kind of ironic, in a sense. Maybe she could think of it as the admiral releasing her from that life, by affirming that she belonged with Mark.

She looked up at him when that thought struck her and finally spoke, this time so softly that he had to strain a little to hear her. “In the end, it's not about him,” she paused, “it's about us.”

She was silent for a long time and then finally answered him. “Yes Mark, I will marry you here under the sea.”

Chapter 18

“You have rights antecedent to all Earthly governments: rights that

cannot be repealed or restrained by human laws; rights derived from the Great Legislator of the universe.” John Adams

~

Meteors, comets, and rocky masses regularly pass the Earth. Some are orbiting the sun, while others seem to be just passing through the neighborhood. NASA refers to them collectively as Near-Earth Objects and studies them, both for research purposes, and for the purpose of protecting the Earth.

Solar flares from the sun are carried on the solar wind and push against the Earth's magnetosphere, which is not a sphere at all. Quite the contrary, the harder that the solar storm pushes against it, and forces the magnetic field to bend inward toward the Earth, the longer the magnetic field on the other side of the planet, called the magnetotail, pushes outward like a comet's fiery trail, only invisible to the eye.

The coronal mass that had slammed into the magnetosphere had pushed it inward far more than normal, causing the magnetotail to be far longer than expected. NASA had been left blinded by the disaster. No doubt, many astronomers were still looking at the sky, but most of the analysis had been done by the NAS, NASA's Advanced Supercomputer, named Pleiades, which had been destroyed by the EMPs and the massive solar storm.

If things had been normal, they might have noticed the havoc that the magnetotail was creating among some of the near-Earth objects. The incredibly strong magnetic field was pulling on some of the metallic asteroids and causing them to pound others like billiard balls, sending one of the smaller ones hurling directly towards the Earth.

***

When Stewart heard about Mark and Ashlyn's plan to get married, he flat out told them that they were insane. However, Stewart had Kathleen on the brain and so insane was making some strange sort of sense to him these days, and what could he do about it anyway, it wasn't his wedding.

The admiral had been surprisingly agreeable to the idea, and consented to perform the ceremony if Mark would stay and work on calibrating the machine. Mark did plan on working on the machine, but not for the reasons that the admiral believed. The admiral was probably the highest-ranking American leader, military or other, left alive, which made him the legal authority to marry them, regardless of maritime law.

In the end, they had decided to. They were married in the Library, in front of the fountain with the cathedral ceiling and the four colossal statues standing as silent witnesses. Stewart acted as best man and Kathleen as maid of honor. Luckily, Kathleen had lent Ashlyn a dress so she wouldn't have to wear the orange jumpsuit and one of the officers had a suit that Mark wore. The ceremony had turned out quite nicely, in spite of the man officiating and the contingency of guards who accompanied him. Ashlyn had to admit her wedding was one of a kind.

Two weeks had passed since then, and Stewart had been spending most of his time with Kathleen helping with the translation. He didn't know the language of course, but he did have a bachelor’s degree in Ancient Cultures and had a few insights. Stewart was also highly skilled when it came to using any kind of technology and although Kathleen had a Ph.D. in Ancient Linguistics, she wasn't very comfortable with computers. Stewart designed a computer program that helped greatly with the translation process.

The arrangement worked out very well, but by far the most important part of it was that it gave Stewart a chance to be with Kathleen. The admiral had made translating the ancient writings top priority, second only to the calibration of the machine. No doubt he was hoping to uncover more technology, which would further his plans for world domination.

The admiral had given Ashlyn the assignment of teaching the sailors some hand-to-hand fighting techniques. She had been surprised to find out that there were one thousand troops living in the barracks to the east. They were made up of a mixture of sailors and marines; apparently, more than one branch of the military was involved in this project. However, they didn't mingle with the officers and VIPs, and were restricted to their own area.

She hadn't seen Dierdra since that first day and assumed that she was still standing guard in the pyramid above the elevator shaft or off on another assignment. It was just as well, she wouldn't want to rock the boat by killing Dierdra before they had figured out a way to shut down the machine and get out of there.

***

Mark and Ashlyn were sitting on a bench outside the Genesis Station, it was supposed to be evening, at least that's what their watches told them. He had his arm around her as they looked up at the starless sky, which of course was really the dome, covered with thousands of feet of water.

“It's strange, living in this world of perpetual night.” He mused.

“I wonder what is happening out there.”

The admiral had communications with the base above and satellite feeds from what was left of the communication systems, however he kept most of the information to himself.

“I don't know; I can’t even imagine it. With the balance of power changed so dramatically, the world could be in total anarchy or totalitarian rule by now. Maybe there is wide spread radiation sickness from the power plants that went up.” Mark was somber.

His list of possibilities had not brought her any hope. “Are you any closer to a solution for destroying the machine?”

Mark looked at her, “the physics involved are quite complicated. I can see why the admiral wanted my help. Apparently, the disasters in North America took out some of his best scientists.” He sat up, looked down at his hands, and did not answer her question, “I think it will work.”

“What?” Ashlyn, asked in surprise. “You were so sure that it wouldn't.”

He looked at her, “I still think it won’t.”

“Baby,” Ashlyn looked at Mark, “you are contradicting yourself.”

He shook his head and gave a mirthless laugh, “that's how relativity is. It's nearly impossible for the human mind to understand a fourth dimension. Even when we describe it, we use three dimensional terms.”

Ashlyn thought about that. “I suppose you are right, but I still don't know what you mean when you say you think it will work and you think it won’t.”

Mark scratched his head, “I think the machine itself is capable of working, if everything happens as predicted in the writings of the Atlantians, but I still don't think it will happen. I think we will be able to stop him from going back in time.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.”

“I hate to even imagine how horrible a world it could be with what he plans.”

“Do you know what year he is trying to go back to, or is it a shot in the dark?” Ashlyn asked.

“The calculations make it pretty easy to pinpoint the date. It will be 1930.”

Ashlyn nodded her head as if that made sense, “right at the beginning of the Great Depression.” She let out a long breath, “that ought to make it easy for him.” She was quiet for a moment, “hey, maybe if he does succeed, at least he will be able to stop Hitler and the Holocaust?”

Mark didn't answer for a minute and then finally said, “No, he won’t.”

She looked at him oddly, though she couldn't see him well in the darkness. “You sound so sure.”

“He's not going to stop Hitler, he agrees with him. He wants to join forces.”

“What?” She shook her head as if trying to force the awful thought from taking hold. “No! Even he can't be that evil, can he?”

“I've spent a lot of time with him now; I can assure you he is completely deranged and evil. With the kind of technology he has,” he breathed deeply, “I think the world might be better off if the machine ends up creating a black hole.”

She was going to ask him if he was serious, but she could tell he was. She asked again, “have you figured out any way to sabotage it yet.” She spoke very softly, unsure of what surveillance the admiral might have.

They had discussed that issue several times. Mark had been working very closely with the technology and had pretty free access to whatever he wanted. It seemed that the admiral believed Mark. It was apparent that In the admiral's delusional world, everything made sense. That being the case, why wouldn't Mark want to help?

Ironically, it seemed a distinct possibility that there had been more surveillance in the United States urban neighborhoods, prior to the disaster, then there was here, under the dome. Mark didn't answer her. The only thing he had been able to think of doing to stop the admiral's plans involved Mark's death, so he hoped she wouldn't press him for an answer.

***

The world above was indeed in distress. Canada had faced its own domino effect of disasters, and the United States had not been able to re-establish any kind of routine. The bulk of the American government was dead and there was no infrastructure left, worth mentioning. There was no way to enforce the law to protect the people from the anarchy and riots that were running rampant. Troops stationed across the globe had not returned because they deemed it pointless.

The grocery stores had been devoid of food and supplies within the first seventy-two hours, and people were killing in the streets for the smallest items. Even running on generators, the hospitals, already overwhelmed with the injured from the many airplane crashes and the riots, were ineffectual at best, having lost most of the electronic equipment. The fact that nearly every transformer had been fried by the EMPs made it impossible to restore electricity on any large scale, which in turn made it impossible to process waste.

Fresh water supplies had gone with the electricity that had pumped it to people’s homes and public buildings. Disease, chaos and starvation were becoming the norm. Because the people were so used to the conveniences of modern life, no one even knew how to grow food, make candles, dig a well or any of the things that their ancestors had done on a daily basis. That simple knowledge, which had been lost through apathy and through the passage of time, would have made their lives immeasurably better. Things were simply going from bad to worse.

Fear of plagues and pandemics were no longer considered the paranoid delusions of the few, but were now common to every American. Those further away from the cities were the least affected. Mexico had not sustained nearly as much damage as her northern neighbors because her infrastructure had not been so dependent upon technology.

***

Almost another week had passed and it was Thanksgiving Day. It was extremely hard to keep track of the time of the day, let alone the days of the week or the date, but Ashlyn had told Mark that it was very important to her that they celebrate this day as much as possible. She desperately needed something normal in her life.

Kathleen had a small apartment with a kitchen behind the Library. Ashlyn had mentioned more than once that it made no sense to call that huge, magnificent pyramid the library, while calling the much smaller main building at the base, the Genesis Station. Kathleen had agreed but had informed her that she was not the one who had named things, and calling it, the library had sprung mostly out of habit. The pyramid had a name of its own but it was in Atlantian and hard to pronounce, the nickname was much easier. Ashlyn had asked once what the name was and from that point on, joined the crowd.

Kathleen's assistants were taking the day off for the holiday, no doubt spending it at the Genesis Station, which Ashlyn had learned over time had quite a few recreational sections to it. It had a game room with all sorts of electronic toys, if you were into that, a TV room; although it didn't have cable if that even existed anymore. The officers made use of it anyway by watching videos, it did have a nice sized screen, and believe it or not, there was a bowling alley. The entire place was an enigma.

To Ashlyn, the most bizarre thing of all was the ridiculous combination of things and people in such an unfathomable world there under the dome. Ashlyn was helping Kathleen bake pies. The two had had become fast friends, once Kathleen had become accustomed to the idea that Ashlyn, who was trained as an assassin, was still be a safe person to be around.

“How long have you been down here?” Ashlyn asked, as she rolled out a pie-crust.

“Three years.”

“Really?” Ashlyn looked up from the crust, with a bit of flour on her cheek. “Do you like it? I don't think I could stand a world without sunshine for so long.”

Kathleen put the turkey she had been stuffing into the oven. “Oh, you get used to it. I suppose I wanted to run away when I came down here anyway and you can't get much further away without going to the moon.”

They both laughed, that was surely true. Kathleen had taught Ashlyn how to make the pie-crust and flute the edges to make it decorative. She was practicing now on the edge of a crust that was destined for pecan filling.

“Where do we get all the food?” Ashlyn had wondered about that on more than one occasion. It seemed that they ate like royalty in the restaurant at the Genesis Station, and money seemed to be non-existent and completely unnecessary.

Kathleen took a deep breath, and was about to answer. “Ouch,” she pulled her hand back suddenly.

“What's wrong?” Ashlyn asked.

“Oh, I burned my finger.” She put her throbbing finger in her mouth for a second to cool the burn, and then pulled it out and looked at it.

Ashlyn leaned over to evaluate the damage, but there wasn't much to see.

“I hate how much a little burn or paper cut can hurt on your finger. I've had major surgery that bothered me less.” Kathleen told her.

They were both laughing about that, when the guys came in. Mark and Stewart had been watching a recorded football game at the Genesis Station. The women had teased them mercilessly about their need to watch a game simply because it was Thanksgiving, even when they knew the outcome. Mark had said that it was the principle of the thing. It seemed that they all craved some kind of normalcy in this truly abnormal world, and it eased their fears about the world above and the unknown future.

“Man that looks great.” Stewart went for the chocolate cream pie.

“Don't you dare touch that,” Kathleen threatened him, and then she turned to Ashlyn. “I never answered your question.”

Ashlyn looked over at her, “yeah, I almost forgot.”

She slapped Mark's hand just as he was about to dive into the pecans. “Those are for the pie. Honestly, how old are you guys?”

“Um,” Mark started to count on his fingers, pretending it was hard.

Ashlyn just rolled her eyes at him and looked over at Kathleen, “sorry, please continue.”

“Actually,” Kathleen began, “the entire base is self-sufficient. You guys probably haven't been over to the farms.”

All three of them looked at her strangely and Mark chimed in, “Farms?”

“Yeah, if you go east from here about two miles you'll get to them.”

“How big is this place?” Stewart asked what they had all been wondering.

Kathleen thought about it for a minute, “I believe the dimensions I've heard were ten miles wide and forty miles long.”

“Forty miles?” Ashlyn repeated in amazement.

“Yes.” Kathleen took back the stirring spoon that Stewart had stolen from the chocolate frosting bowl. Then she gave him a warning look and threatened him with retaliation if he didn't back off. “Remember,” She continued, “the Atlantians who were still living at the time waited out the entire flood down here, five thousand plus years ago. They had to be completely self-contained.”

“I guess that would have to be the case.” Ashlyn said, “But how do you grow things without sunlight?”

Kathleen sat down, tired from all the cooking, “if you look off in the distance to the east, you might be able to see a soft glow.”

“Yeah, I've noticed that before.” Mark added. They hadn’t had time to do any exploring; the admiral was pushing them all hard because of the deadline. Besides, they hadn't really known there was anything else down there.

“There is some kind of artificial lighting that helps with the plant’s photosynthesis. To be honest, we haven't been able to figure out where it's coming from. It's much like the lighting in the pyramids, you see it in the room but pinpointing it's origin seems to be impossible. The plants also help with the supply of oxygen, but the entire dome seems to scrub any excess carbon dioxide or other harmful substances itself. Don't ask me how, Mark, I haven't seen anything in the archives yet.” She was getting to know him quite well.

“Who does the farming?” Stewart asked.

“I bet I can answer that one,” Ashlyn took a guess; “I've seen rotations of the marines and sailors leaving every day to go somewhere.”

“That's right,” Kathleen confirmed. “There isn't much else for them to do down here, beyond growing food, and there are animal farms too.”

“It's no wonder the admiral wants to take the whole place back in time with him. Nobody in the 1930's would even be able to find this place, let alone fight him with all the technology.” Ashlyn said.

Mark let out a long breath and played with his straw. “Imagine, never having to go out for supplies, perfectly clean air. Hey, we might all get healthier if we hang around here long enough.” He grinned, knowing, that none of them wanted to do that.

“If we have this nanotechnology thing, like the replicators on Star Trek, why don't we just replicate the food?” Stewart asked.

“I don't think it's really as simple as they make it look on Star Trek. Then again, it could just be that real food tastes better,” Kathleen guessed, not knowing the answer for sure.

“What about power generation and water?” Ashlyn continued.

“All that is automatic,” Kathleen answered.

“How?” Stewart asked.

“Yet another gift from the Atlantians that we don't yet understand, though I'm sure the water comes from the sea somehow and is processed.” Mark answered for her. “I bet they wouldn't be too happy if they knew that someday a tyrannical maniac would take over.”

“You really should be more quiet when you say things like that Mark, we still don't know if the admiral has any places monitored.” Ashlyn frequently worried about that possibility.

“Oh, I don't think I need to worry about it,” Mark sounded completely unconcerned as he stretched his back, “I think he would take it as a compliment.”

He was completely serious and they all silently agreed.

“Maybe that's why the Atlantians built the time machine. I bet some of them went forward into the future just so they could go back and fix anything that got messed up.” He wasn't serious and it didn't really make sense but everyone laughed at it anyway.

When they had finished all the meal preparations and were sitting before a beautifully dressed table, Ashlyn raised her glass and spoke softly. “I think that we should try to remember how oddly lucky we are, at least for a couple more weeks, to have food and shelter. I hate to think what is happening in the world above right now.”

They all joined her in the toast, but the mood was now somber. Her words had left them all deep in thought about the world above, and the world of the unknown yet to come. They enjoyed most of their meal in relative quite as each of them contemplated the future.

“Mark, have you had any ideas about how to stop the admiral?” Kathleen asked.

Mark looked sedate, “I have an idea, but it's too difficult to explain and unfortunately, if I don't come up with a better idea, I will have to wait to implement it until right before he flips the switch.”

Ashlyn looked at Mark. She was making sure she didn't miss out on a single moment with him. She didn't know what he was planning, but she could tell from his expression that it wasn't going to be very safe for him. She had never had a family of any kind, and this was the first and maybe only Thanksgiving she would be spending with him. She prayed for a Christmas.

The admiral had seen fit to give the two of them slightly larger accommodations as a wedding gift. He seemed just off enough mentally to actually believe that they were working with him. Ashlyn supposed that most of the barbarous tyrants of the past had been somewhat mentally unstable as well. When they were finally alone in their room, Ashlyn sat quietly on the edge of the bed, staring out the darkened window.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Mark said as softly as he slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

She didn't answer at first and then finally asked, “Mark, do you believe in the bible?”

“I'm not sure, why?”

“I read it once.”

“The whole bible?” He asked.

“Yeah, I was curious.”

“And what did you decide?”

“I didn't decide anything.” She looked down at his arms holding her tightly and leaned back against him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mrs. Turner.”

She laughed quietly, “I still can't get used to that, it sounds strange.”

He kissed the back of her neck suggestively. “I like it,” then he kissed her hair.

She didn't seem very responsive. “What's wrong?”

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. “I'm sorry; I'm still caught up in that thought about the Bible. The Book of Revelations is full of prophecies of doom and gloom. About the end of the world. It talks about a star falling from heaven and burning a third part of the Earth, and hailstones mingled with fire, Earthquakes, plagues, pestilence, just about every kind of disaster.”

“Sounds scary.”

“What if it's happening?”

“I don't think it mentions anything about a time machine or black holes.”

“No. That's true. Still... there is a line in it that keeps going through my head, ever since we heard that report about that island moving. Remember?”

“Actually, you heard it; it was in a foreign language.”

“Oh yeah, but the admiral repeated it.”

Yeah, but do you believe it?”

“Atlantis moved, so why not an island, besides who knows what to believe anymore?”

He had no answer for her.

“It says that every mountain and island were moved out of their places.”

He didn't say anything, he just held her.

Chapter 19

"Chance favors only the prepared mind." Louis Pasteur

~

A Japanese man stood patiently on his trawling boat just off the coast of Ishikawa, Japan. He and several of his workers were waiting for the winch to finish pulling in the day's last net of fish. It was dark, but the sky lit up and he heard a sound like a rocket engine. He turned toward it and saw a large flaming fireball shooting through the evening sky. The asteroid had been a small one on an astronomical scale, but large enough to create wide scale devastation as it plunged through the water and hit the ocean floor of the Sea of Japan. There was no warning for the people, beyond the fire in the sky, followed shortly by a great sucking noise as the water pulled, away from the coastlines.

The explosive impact of the asteroid into the water had created a mega tsunami, over two thousand feet high. It traveled out in every direction, hitting all the surrounding coastlines, including Japan, North and South Korea, Russia and even some lower parts of China. It traveled inland more than sixty-miles in some places with explosive force and engulfed large parts of Japan, while completely swallowing North and South Korea before receding. The trawling boat was picked up and carried on the wave over twenty miles inland, and deposited in the mountains, southeast of Tonami-Shi. Surprisingly, the men in the trawling boat, though stranded on a mountain peak, all survived unharmed.

When the asteroid hit the bottom of the sea, it had flash-melted large quantities of methane hydrates that had been trapped in the fast ice of the sea floor. It bubbled to the surface, and into the atmosphere with eruptive force. The methane gas then mixed with the massive amounts of vaporized seawater, dramatically changing the atmospheric pressure, and creating a hurricane sized storm within hours. Nebulous, methane clouds circulated among those made of water vapor and passed over parts of Mainland China and Russia. Random bolts of lightning ignited fiery balls of flaming methane gas, sometimes high in the sky, and some low enough to cause harm to the hapless crowds below. Acid rain poured down mixed with methane hailstones, ice that burned in the air and on the ground.

In the United States and Canada, starvation, and disease were becoming the norm. Violence and anarchy reigned. Flies fed on the bodies of the unburied dead. Everywhere was death, dying, and sorrow. Earthquakes shook the ground with an ever-increasing frequency, across the entire continent making most of the large cities unsafe for human habitation. Constant, unseasonable storms of tremendous force plagued the homeless millions who had escaped alive. Ironically, it was now Mexico trying to keep the American citizens from crossing her borders illegally.

***

December 21, 2012

The plane of the Earth and the sun were lined up perfectly with the dark rift of the Milky Way galaxy. The sun had continued sending out the huge solar flares, and the solar winds continued to blast against the magnetosphere of the Earth. It caused continued brilliant light shows in the sky, all over the planet, as the plasma in the upper atmosphere burned from the intense radiation.

It was the winter solstice and the sun was at its greatest angular distance from the equatorial plane of the northern hemisphere. The Earth, which had rested more than five thousand years, for the last few months had been gradually pulling out of its long, deep slumber. With the sunrise, she awakened fully.

The roiling, river of molten iron under the Earth's crust was teaming with swirling eddies. Tremendous electromagnetic storms that would have looked like inverted hurricanes, if they had been visible, were exploding all over the planet. Random unseen landfalls, left those unfortunate enough to be caught in the whirling squalls, trapped in the fourth dimension. Sometimes swirling clouds and mists accompanied the storms and other times they were completely invisible.

Randomly, people vanished, some moved in time, some moved in space, and some were lost completely. Small islands moved from their long defended homes, unnoticed by the world. Deep underground, below Switzerland and France, scientists at the Hadron Collider, undaunted by the protests of citizens, continued their experiments, claiming that the knowledge that they might gain could help the disastrous situation.

The starting pistol had fired and the race had begun. The accelerators pushed particles faster and faster. Now the victory would go to the electron, proton, or neutron that would be the first to reach the speed of light or beyond. The course they would travel was a track, seventeen miles for each loop. The second race began in the opposite direction. The winners of the first, colliding into the winners of the second, in an atomic conquest to determine what would remain.

***

The night before had been long, and Mark hadn't slept. He had lain there quietly next to Ashlyn for hours. She had not slept either, but neither knew about the other's wakefulness so they didn't talk. Stewart and Kathleen had both been there to wish him success on that sunless dawn.

“How will you stop the machine?” Stewart asked, not for the first time.

Mark's response was the same as always, “it's too complicated to explain,” but that wasn't the truth. In fact, his plan was quite simple, but telling them would only cause them grief.

Stewart and Kathleen backed away to let Ashlyn and Mark say goodbye in private.

“Mark, tell me what you are going to do.”

They were standing outside the fence surrounding the Meliorator and the door to the underground cavern where time machine was housed, directly below.

Mark didn't answer her as usual, but she knew anyway. She didn't know the details, but she was sure that he would not be coming back.

“Mark?” Her voice broke and he took her in his arms. “You aren't coming back are you?”

He looked down into her beautiful green eyes, barely visible in the darkness of the morning, but didn't say anything.

“I know the answer Mark, please admit it so that we can at least say goodbye.” Her voice was pleading and his heart broke.

He was shaking slightly but she knew that it was not from fear; it was from not wanting to let her go. “I love you Ashlyn!” His voice was hoarse and his words broken. “How can I say goodbye?”

She was trying to hold it together for his sake. She would let herself break down after he left, but not before. She didn't want to make it any harder on him than it already was. Stewart and Kathleen were there waiting to comfort her. She thought how odd it was for the members of the funeral procession to be standing there waiting for her to say goodbye, to the one she would most likely never be able to bury.

He hid his face against her neck, his body convulsing involuntarily, but no sound came out. She held him, tears streaming down her face, but she was quiet and stood fiercely strong. She had to let him go. She had to let him try to save the world. If it had been any less than the entirety of humanity, she would not have let him do it at all.

He lifted his grief ravaged face and ran his fingers through her hair, and then he wiped some of her tears with his hands so gently that she could barely feel his touch.

Then he pulled her too him and kissed as if he was trying to fit a lifetime of love into the small moment. When he stopped he said, “You are my life, I'm doing this for you.” His lips brushed hers again, but this time so soft that she could hardly feel it.

“Mark,” her voice could barely speak his name. “I love you. I love you so much.” She closed her eyes against the pain. When she opened them again, she took his hand and pressed it to her, guiding it downward. “I'm having your baby.”

He made an agonized sound, but when he tried to speak nothing would come.

“I wasn't going to tell you, I thought it might make it harder for you, but I thought you would want to know.” Her eyes were still wet from the tears that would not completely stop.

He was aching, short sobbing motions throbbed through his body but he made no sound and his eyes were moist, but no tears fell. Then he slid down her body until he was on his knees and kissed her belly. He put his arms around her so that he could pull the baby close, the child he would never know.

Ashlyn broke down when she saw his torment and forgot her vow not to cry openly. They grieved together for only a few moments, and then said he had to go. He looked up at her, then stood back up and pulled her gently to him. Shaking, and broken, the words came out, “Tell him or her...,” he couldn't finish.

Ashlyn answered through her tears, “I'll tell our child about you, what you did for the world.”

He shook his head, “No... tell him.” He stopped suddenly and had a strange expression on his face. Then he repeated, “Tell him that I loved him. That his daddy would never have left if he had a choice. Tell him.”

“Him?” She couldn't help asking, he had said it so emphatically.

“He's a boy Ashlyn, I know he is.”

She shook her head almost imperceptibly, “how do you know?”

He didn't answer for a moment and then breathed deeply, suddenly seeming more peaceful. “I'm not sure,” he paused, “I really don't know how I know, but I do. I feel it; I know it. It’s just there, undeniably.”

It sounded strange, coming from him, a scientist, who always had to know the why of everything, and have proof. “Okay, I'll tell him.”

“One more thing.”

“Okay.”

He paused, knowing it would sound silly, but it was important to him. “Take him deep sea fishing for me.” His words broke a little and would have sounded strange, if she hadn’t known his past.

She understood, it was what his dad had always promised him but never did. More importantly, it was what he had always promised his own boys before that fateful day on the ice. “I will Mark. I promise.”

He pulled away, “I have to go. I love you so much.”

He felt like his very insides were ripping apart as he turned and walked toward the entrance to the underground lab.

He knew he had to pull himself together, to act as if nothing was wrong, or the admiral would suspect. He walked as straight as he could through the darkness toward the fence, to what lay beyond.

“I love you.” She whispered as he walked away, but he could no longer hear her.

As soon as he was through the fence, the only place on the whole base that was guarded, and had walked through the door and out of sight, she sat down on the ground and the tears poured out freely. She sobbed harder than she ever had in her life.

Stewart and Kathleen came to her then, they both sat down on the ground with her. Stewart put his arms around her. She was like the sister he had never had. Kathleen put her arms around both of them and though Stewart shed no tears, his pain was obvious. Kathleen hadn't known them long, but tears ran down her face at the sight of so much pain. She knew also, that she would miss Mark too.

***

The admiral's plan required precise timing with the Earth's electromagnetic, explosive pulse. Meters, monitors and devices covered with dials and buttons filled the observation room, now teaming with scientists, workers and guards. The machine that was built to take them all back in time to 1930 had been calibrated perfectly, and was to be powered by a conduit from deep within the Earth. The energy pulse released by the eddy directly below them would have easily pushed its way through the Earth's mantle and crust on its own. However, in order to channel that power more efficiently into the machine, they would use a downward tunnel that reached nearly all the way through the crust of the Earth, just above the mantle several miles below.

The downward passageway had been cut using a reverse engineered, nanotechnological drill. The cutting edge of the drill bit itself, made of a similar material to that of the dome, was harder than any material known to man, and any break in the bit would simply repair itself. Attached to the boring machine above, the nanotech-drill built its own rod as it descended from the very materials through which it was cutting. Once at the desired depth, the rod and drill bit reassembled themselves, along with several meters in diameter of the surrounding indigenous rock.

The end result was an opening one foot in diameter, wrapped in a dielectric or insulating fiber that was four feet in circumference. At the bottom of the tunnel was a device that would separate out the microwaves from the intense electromagnetic ejection. The microwaves would then traverse the void and be collected in the machine above. The shaft minimized the disbursement of the electromagnetic energy, while at the same time channeling it upward and into the machine.

The core of the machine stood in the center of the room they were viewing through the window. The underground room was the size of a basketball stadium. There was a row of breakers in the control room, which all had to be pulled in unison. The timing must be perfect. Several guards stood around, watching for any sign of sabotage. Once the machine was started, there would be no way to stop it without starting a disastrous chain of events; it was an all or nothing gamble. The exact calculations had taken months of planning.

Mark had considered killing the admiral, but ever since the admiral had told them of his plan, he had been accompanied by a contingency of naval guards by day, and at night, he stayed inside a heavily guarded fortress. Even Ashlyn, with all her stealth and training, was powerless to get to him. The machine had also been under constant guard with a high security fence and alarms. The yard around it looked like a prison, the scene completed by a man in a watchtower, armed with a machine gun.

Mark had also considered simply supplying the admiral with false information, but that would have only ensured a cataclysmic event. There was simply too much raw power involved, and it had to go somewhere. Besides, there were other scientists were checking and double-checking each other's results. In the end, he had found only one way to sabotage the device.

Six pillars, each eighteen feet tall and ten feet in diameter, made of nano-manufactured loadstone, were wound tightly with copper wire. Out of the top of each extended a long rod. Looking like gigantic Tesla coils, each was capable of releasing untold amounts of energy. All six pillars were joined by spokes to a hub in the center, which was raised several feet off the ground with an inverted bowl shaped magnetic channeling device. Directly below that, exactly six feet down, was the opening to the downward shaft that would carry the massive microwave burst.

Several coolant valves and gauges connected to each one of the massive, coiled columns. Once started, any malfunction might need to be corrected manually, and due to the lengthy time intervals between electromagnetic flares, the admiral didn't want to leave anything to chance. For that reason, one person was assigned to be in the actual room with the machine when it was turned on.

The admiral had several volunteers; oddly enough, he had chosen Mark. That was exactly what Mark wanted. Once the machine was turned on, the center part would start to spin. Once the wormhole was established, the entire area would begin to spin like a carousel. The centrifugal force of the spinning would push the event horizon outward toward the towers they had seen the first day that they were there. The towers were spaced evenly and were receivers for the tornado of energy that would soon be released, taking them all back in time. If all went according to plan, the towers would all light up and shoot out connecting beams of energy.

Mark would be wearing a protective suit made of a special flexible, nano-diamond fiber. His plan was simple, once the machine was started, he would jump onto the spinning central section and place his body over the hole. No one would be able to stop him by the time his sabotage had become evident. He didn't have a prayer of stopping the microwave surge, the powerful force would probably vaporize his body within seconds, but it was the nano-diamond fiber suit he was counting on to deflect the beam just enough to change the delicate balance, and overload the machine. He would have rather used the suit alone, if he could take it off quickly enough, but the overload of the machine would kill him anyway.

They had less than ten minutes until they turned on the machine and Mark was in position. Then the admiral sent an order for Mark to come and talk to him. He had no idea what it was about and he hoped that admiral would not notice how much he had been sweating in the extreme cold. The room, out of necessity, had to be cold to help offset the heat that would be generated, even though the machine itself had liquid nitrogen cooling tubes wrapping around it like octopus arms.

He reported to the admiral. “Yes sir.”

The admiral looked at him, then turned away to look out through the window and said, “I am replacing you as monitor.”

Mark felt like he had been punched in the gut. He had no backup plan, and could see no other way of preventing the disaster. He tried to remain calm so the admiral would not suspect anything.

“May I ask why, sir?” Mark had learned to be formal with the admiral overtime because he felt like it would help him earn trust.

The admiral didn't look back at him, he simply stated, “I have my reasons.”

He didn't know what to do. Arguing would only put him under suspicion and he would lose the chance forever, but he had to try.

“May I ask what your reasons are, sir?”

Dierdra walked into the room. “Hello Mark, long time no see.” She looked at the admiral and smiled, then back at Mark, an evil glint in her eyes. “The admiral doesn't trust you.”

Mark didn't say anything for a moment, he was sure he knew exactly where that lack of trust had come from. He turned to the admiral. “I would not do anything to disrupt the plan sir, because my wife and my friends would be, let's be real, they would be executed.”

The admiral looked at Mark as if trying to divine the truth, then at Dierdra, and then back to Mark. “Nevertheless, I've replaced you. I won’t hear anymore about it or I will believe you to be a traitor and summarily execute your wife and friends while you watch, and then you.”

That made the decision for him. If he could not stop this from happening, he wanted to be there with Ashlyn, to protect her no matter what.

The count down finished and they flipped all the switches right on time. First, the center started to spin and exactly on schedule, the power surge traveled up the shaft and into the waiting machine. Mark watched as the event horizon of the wormhole began to appear, then the whole machine began to spin like a centrifuge, but rather than test tubes, it had gigantic Tesla coils.

***

The Hadron Collider had just reached full power, opening a small wormhole. The scientists measured the results without too much surprise. This was the second time they had run this test and they were getting the exact results that they had been expecting. However, across the sea, the admiral's time machine too had just opened its wormhole, and the inter-dimensional tunnel through space-time which was supposed to attach itself the a point in the past, jumped and combined with the one from the Hadron Collider. The unbalance and opposing forces spun together and formed a gravitational singularity.

The scientists at the Hadron Collider started yelling to each other to shut down the power as soon as they saw the readings, but it was too late for them. Outside, the ground began to shake and the snow covered Earth, above the seventeen-mile circular particle collider, began to pull together, as the hole opened up. It began to suck in the Earth like a giant vacuum cleaner pulling downward on a rug until it was completely gone and the ever-widening cavern began swallowing up parts of Switzerland and France.

***

Under the dome, the admiral could tell that something was wrong. He wasn't getting the desired effect, even though he saw the ever-widening event horizon. There should have been a gradual green mist and a swirling cloud-like formation. He ran outside to see if it the towers were lighting up as planned but he saw nothing and knew that something wasn't right. Mark was studying the readings and realized what was happening, although he did not know why it was happening.

“We have to shut it off!” He yelled to the other scientists, but they ignored him.

He started to run up the stairs but Dierdra blocked his way.

“Listen, Dierdra, you've got to let me talk to the admiral.”

She didn't budge and he was about to consider taking her on, when he said, “Dierdra, the reason the admiral has me here is to be a scientific advisor. You don't know much about science but trust me; I have to talk to him.”

Just for a second he thought he saw Dierdra flinch as if he had struck a cord and then her face became impassive again, but she moved aside.

He ran up the stairs, two at a time. “admiral, we have to turn it off, something is wrong, we've created a singularity.”

The admiral just ignored him while he looked for the greenish mist that he knew should come, based on the much smaller tests they had performed.

“You've got to shut it off; it could take the whole planet.” Mark yelled at him.

Again, the admiral just ignored him.

He grabbed the admiral by the shoulders facing him and began to shake him. “Listen to me. We have got to shut it off, it’s going to suck us in to the...”

Mark's words were interrupted by the roaring screech caused by the straining of metal. The admiral looked shocked by the noise and ran down the stairs into the underground monitor room. Mark contemplated just for a second before running back down into the control room as well. He headed straight for the large breaker switches, which were now being ignored by the alarmed scientists. He began shutting them off one by one, hoping to break the connection causing the singularity. They were difficult to push up, because of the huge amount of electricity running through them; each one required a tremendous effort. The imbalance from the lack of synchronization in the power started causing sparks and lightning like bolts to shoot through the machine room.

One of the large liquid nitrogen tubes, a foot in diameter, was hit. It ruptured and started spraying the highly pressurized liquefied nitrogen in the direction of the control room. The sudden temperature change of the glass when it hit made the bulletproof window shatter. The liquid continued to spray through the breach into the control room, like the stream from a fire hose. It hit one of the guards full on. He screamed in agony right before his torso froze solid, and he broke in half, his eyes were still wide and aware, as the top half of him toppled to the floor and the disembodied legs crumpled and fell as well.

“No!” Yelled the admiral when he saw what Mark was doing and ran toward him, careful to avoid the spray of liquid nitrogen that was beginning to lose pressure fast, but ignoring the liquid on the ground.

The Leidenfrost effect was causing the liquid on the floor to boil into a gas almost instantaneously, but not before the sheer quantity of liquid had frozen the floor in spite of the rapid change to gas. The admiral's feet hit a pool of the liquid just before it evaporated, and it froze his feet solidly to the floor. He looked down in shock. He tried to pull one of his feet away, but it broke off instead. The admiral's scream was a horrible sound. Several other people in the room also found their feet frozen to the floor but didn't move because of the fear caused from what they had just witnessed.

Dierdra leveled her gun at Mark, who didn't stop. Thankfully, the liquid had not spread to where he was. He was pushing up the fourth breaker when a bullet whistled by him. He was sure that Dierdra would not have missed if not for the tremendous shaking of the ground that had just begun. The guards were trying to get to him, but the Earth below was bouncing them like a fun house. They were hampered as well because they were trying to avoid the last of the liquid nitrogen, which had finally stopped spraying, but was boiling all over much of the floor. Several people and one of the guards whose feet had been frozen now fell to the ground from the shaking of the Earth, their ankles snapping as they did so. The room was filled with screams of agony.

One of them reached Mark just in time to catch the bullet intended for him. The guard dropped to the ground just as Mark pushed up on the last of the breakers. He ran as fast as he could, slipping on the bouncing, frozen floor. He was feeling dizzy as the nitrogen gas began to pull the oxygen from the air. The Earth below was now tossing all of them around violently. Another guard tried to stop him but slipped and fell backwards from the shaking of the ground before he could attack. Mark fell to the ground as well, the liquid nitrogen was now gone, turned to gas, but the floor was frozen and his hands burned from the contact.

He felt like he was about to pass out from the lack of oxygen as he crawled his way up the stairs. The screaming people in the room now began to fall silent, as they lost consciousness from the oxygen depletion. Dierdra was in the open doorway, still unaffected by the lack of oxygen because of her location. She aimed her gun right at him as she held onto the door to steady herself, but he plowed into her like a football player. As she fell, the gun went off but barely grazed Mark's shoulder. She was unable stop him when he practically flew over the top of her.

Dierdra turned over onto her stomach to try to get up and pursue him, but Mark looked back just in time to see her reaching out as the whole underground building began to be sucked into the Earth. He turned toward the fence and sprinted as fast as he could, revived by the oxygen that was once again filling his lungs. Alarmed by the shaking of the Earth and the noise, Ashlyn, Stewart and Kathleen were all running toward the fence as Mark plowed through the gate and yelled at them to turn around and run the opposite direction.

They all turned as they heard the screech of bending metal as the Meliorator fell into the void, but the shaking of the Earth had stopped and so did Mark. He stood there staring at the hole in the ground.

Stewart asked in a frantic voice, “what happened?”

“We opened a singularity.” Mark answered him, still staring at the scene before him.

“What's a singularity?” Kathleen yelled over the noise of sirens that we beginning to go off in the barracks of the enlisted men.

“It's a black hole.” Stewart answered her over the newly added sound of voices yelling in the distance.

Ashlyn's face went white as she called out to Mark, “what should we do?”

“Stewart, get the cart, fast.” Mark yelled in answer to Ashlyn's question, and Stewart took off as fast a he could run in the direction of the golf cart.

Mark cursed the fact that there weren't any faster vehicles available, but electricity was an unlimited resource here, while gas was unavailable. What he would give now for a regular electric car instead of the pathetic golf carts they used. Ashlyn reached for Mark's hand as they both stared at the newly formed crater.

Kathleen asked loudly over the noise, “shouldn't we be running?”

Mark didn't turn, but answered her, “I think it's stopped.”

“How do you stop a black hole?” Kathleen sounded nearly hysterical.

“It was not exactly a black hole, more like a gravitational singularity.”

“What?” She didn't understand, but decided she really didn't care about the scientific explanation, at the moment.

Ashlyn threw her arms around Mark's middle and he finally turned from the hole he had been watching so carefully. “It's alright,” he said, “we are going to be alright.”

He tried to pull her into his arms but she stopped him, looking at his shoulder. “You've been shot.”

He looked at his shoulder as if it was the first time he had noticed it, then after a minute, he consoled her, “don't worry, it's just a graze, I'm fine.”

Within minutes, Stewart showed up with the cart. “Come on, let's go!” Stewart yelled.

Kathleen was staring up at the sky toward the south. “Look!” She pointed at what looked, for all the world, like a crack in the sky.

Mark looked up at the phosphorescent fissure, and knew that it was a bad sign indeed.

Ashlyn pulled on his hand, “Mark, come on, we've got to go,” but he didn't move.

Ashlyn had climbed onto the cart but Mark continued studying the sky for another minute until Ashlyn yelled at him. “Get on Mark!”

He obeyed, jumping onto the back seat. Stewart took off, pushing the cart as fast as it would go toward the elevator shaft.

“I guess we know what the Meliorator was for now.” Mark said from the back seat of the cart. He was still turned, trying to look behind them.

“What?” Kathleen hadn't put it all together yet.

“I think it was holding up the sky.” Mark said somberly as he turned to face her.

“But...” Kathleen didn't say anything more for a moment as she looked at the fracture, which was now spreading like a crack in windshield. Then she furrowed her brow as she spoke. “From all the writings we have translated, I was under the impression that the dome was a permanent structure.”

“If that machine was holding up the sky, how come it hasn't all come down on us yet?” Ashlyn added.

Mark had turned to look at the fracturing dome again, with its phosphorescent glow, then answered, “I don't think it was holding it up, per se,” he spoke to the others, still fixated on the site, “remember you said the diamond fibers were slightly flexible so that it could respond to changes in temperature and pressure? The Meliorator must have been regulating that somehow.”

Kathleen thought for a moment and then said slowly, “yeah, I think you are right. We had difficulty translating some of the writings about that, but it makes sense.” She shook her head, “it's so simple, and I don't know why we didn't get it. Meliorator, something that meliorates.”

“Of course,” Ashlyn said, “that makes sense, from the Latin word meliōrātus.

“What? Latin, Ashlyn, if it's translated from Atlantian, how would it come from a Latin word? That would have come into existence much later?” Stewart asked.

“Latin came from somewhere, maybe it's a derivative of Atlantian like the Mayan language.” Ashlyn answered.

Mark was looking at the sky while he spoke. “I hate to break your reverie on the origin of the word, but the point is that without it the dome might loose that flexibility, become brittle and crack under the variable pressures and temperatures. It appears to be doing just that, and the phosphorescent glow we are seeing emanate from it is direct evidence that it has indeed been breached. Remember Kathleen, you said the outer layers contained a phosphorescent gas layer?”

Kathleen let out a deep breath. “You're right; it certainly looks like that is what's happening. What are you planning to do?” Kathleen asked.

“The elevator,” then Mark swore under his breath.

“We will have to decompress. We are under six thousand feet.”

Kathleen corrected him, “we only have to decompress at 175 feet, that's what the stable pressure is at, it's roughly the depth of the middle floor of the pyramid.”

“What are you talking about? The admiral said...”

Kathleen interrupted, “he lied,” she could guess what he was going to say. “He tells everybody that so that they won’t try to leave.”

“But how?” Mark wanted to know how the elevator shaft was pressurized that way; it didn't make sense.

The Kathleen answered, after we got into the pyramid we found an already existing shaft, clearly built and used by the Atlantians. It was pressurized all the way down. The Navy shaft is camouflaged with rocks, at about twenty-five feet, and is only accessible by submarine.

“We will still have to decompress, a little. 175 feet for a month and a half, we had better do it slowly, because time under, is a factor in developing caisson disease, how do we get to the shaft the Navy built?”

“We can't get out that way.” Kathleen said.

“Why?” Mark asked.

“We can go up to the pyramid, but beyond that it takes the admiral's code and he's...” She didn't say it; she just looked back.

Mark swore under his breath. “Turn around Stewart.”

“What?”

“Turn around.”

“I heard what you said I just don't understand....” Stewart was saying.

Mark cut him off, “just turn around and I will explain on the way back.”

The crack continued to spider out but there didn't appear to be a full breach yet.

“We've got to get the scuba gear; we'll have to leave the way we came in.” Mark finally answered.

Ashlyn closed her eyes and thought about it, they should have enough oxygen left but they only had three sets of gear. Maybe Kathleen and Stewart could team breath but Mark and Ashlyn could not share, there systems were self-contained. In addition, Ashlyn realized that she really wasn't sure how much oxygen Stewart had in his tank. She didn't see how they would be able to get down the long entrance tunnel, that they had to swim up to get in, while team breathing. It seemed impossible, but Ashlyn didn't have a better idea so she didn't say anything.

“Wait a minute, I've never scuba dived before!” Kathleen's voice was panicked.

“Don't worry,” Mark, said emphatically, “we'll help you.” Mark was very worried about it himself, only three sets of scuba gear and one completely inexperienced person, with the need to decompress slowly, that spelled trouble for sure.

Kathleen looked terrified and Ashlyn reached forward and put her hand on Kathleen's shoulder. “We'll be okay, I promise.”

That finally seemed to calm her a bit, and then Kathleen turned to Stewart. “What about my assistants and the one thousand plus other people down here?”

Stewart didn't answer as he kept driving but had a grim expression on his face. He finally turned to her and answered. “There is nothing we can do for them. We will be lucky to get out ourselves with only three sets of scuba gear.” Then he turned back to the dark road in front of them.

Kathleen began to cry softly in the front seat. Ashlyn was having a hard time with it herself, she had come to know quite a few of the sailors, but Stewart was right, and she was sure that Mark had already thought about that himself.

When the dome finally broke, all those people would drown. There was nothing that any of them could do about it.

Chapter 20

"Nothing can harm a good man, either in life or after death."

Socrates

~

At the same time as the machine had fallen into the singularity under the dome, the Earth around the Hadron Collider had stopped slipping into the void. However, not before the chasm had widened enough to clip of the edge of Lac Lemon or Geneva Lake.

An Australian tourist family, on a sleigh ride returning to a nearby resort, had felt the rumbling and then as the chasm grew they caught the sight of the drop off into the gorge. The youngest boy, only five years old, stood up shouting, “someone unplugged the drain.” They watched in amazed horror as the lake began draining into the newly formed pit.

***

Stewart and Mark ran in as fast as they could make themselves go, got the scuba gear, and jumped back in the cart that was again going at its maximum speed of twenty-five mph.

“Can't this thing go any faster?” Ashlyn complained as she looked at the ever-spreading cracks in the top of the dome.

“No, unfortunately, just pray we don't run out of charge in the battery.” Stewart said.

“Oh, great. Why did you remind me? I hadn't thought of that.”

“Sorry Ash.” Stewart had taken up calling her 'Ash' half the time. She didn't really like it and had told him so, but that just made him do it all the more, as a tease. It didn't really make her mad, though sometimes she pretended it did. After their rocky start, it was a good feeling to have the deep friendship that had developed.

This time Ashlyn and Kathleen were sitting on the back seat together, they had rearranged when the guys went to get the gear. Now as they sat there, Ashlyn noticed Kathleen's face. It looked like it had been drained of every ounce of blood.

Ashlyn almost asked what was wrong and then decided that would be stupid, because it was extremely obvious that the sky was literally falling and at any moment six thousand feet of water pressure was going to be bursting through that dome.

“We are going to make it.” Ashlyn tried to comfort her, “it's going to take a while for that water to break through, and then it will probably not come all at once.”

“That's not what I'm worrying about,” Kathleen confessed.

That took Ashlyn by surprise and she wondered if there was something, they still didn't know about.

Kathleen closed her eyes for a second and tried to breathe evenly. “I'm terrified of the water and I've never been scuba diving, not even snorkeling.”

It was going to be even worse than Ashlyn had envisioned. There was no other way they were going to escape. The shared breathing between two divers would be hard enough, but...” then she knew what she had to do.

“It's going to be okay, I promise. You can use my suit, it's easy, you don't have to know how to scuba dive.”

Kathleen shook her head, “then what will you use?”

“Don't worry about it, I can share with Stewart.”

Mark looked back at Ashlyn. “No you will not! She can use my system. You are pregnant, and I'm not taking any chances with you depriving yourself of oxygen.”

Kathleen and Stewart both asked simultaneously, “you're pregnant?”

Ashlyn just smiled a bit. She was too worried about them getting out to think about that now. “Mark, I will be fine, if you want to give your rebreather to anyone, you should give it to Stewart, I have more diving experience and you know...” she trailed off.

She was going to say, you know Stewart is afraid of the water as well, but she didn't want to embarrass him in front of Kathleen. She and Stewart seemed to be getting very serious about their relationship.

Stewart put in his emphatic, “no, Ashlyn, you will wear the rebreather. Mark and I will buddy breathe.”

Ashlyn didn't want Kathleen to realize how dangerous that was going to be so she didn't speak. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were just going to go straight up, but they had to swim down that tunnel first. It was only big enough for one person at a time. Secondly, and probably more dangerous, was the fact that they had to stop and decompress at several levels, they had been down here a long time and failing to decompress would surely kill them.

Moreover, assuming they didn't run out of air in that tank, they had to hope and pray that the yacht was where they left it. It had been anchored to the spot, but thieves could have taken it or a storm could have... She decided to stop thinking about it. Fear was the most dangerous foe of all.

They had no idea how much farther they had to go in the dark. There were no landmarks and on the way in it had seemed like forever. The cracking of the dome was spreading out more and more and they could still hear people yelling in the distance. There was a loud rushing sound somewhere behind them. They looked back to see what it was, but it was too dark to see much of anything. The only reason they had been able to see the cracks, was that they had been radiating phosphorescent light.

Assuming the base had been in the middle of the dome, and that would make sense, because that's where the Meliorator had been, they would have to travel about twenty miles. They were going as fast as the cart would go. It looked like there might be a few carts following frantically in the distance, but sadly there would be no escape for them. Even if the others had scuba gear, which they might somewhere, there was no time to tell them about the way out of the pyramid. Kathleen had made it quite clear that they hadn't known about that entrance until Ashlyn and Mark had come through it.

Ashlyn asked Kathleen, “Do you think anybody else has clearance to get through the top of the elevator?”

Kathleen shook her head, “I don't know of any and I don't think we should wait around to find out.”

“I just hope the yacht is still there,” Stewart voiced the fear that Mark had been holding back. It had been over a month and a half.

They were all sober for a moment, but nobody wanted to discuss that possibility. They would have to cross that bridge if they came to it.

Mark had calculated the distance, comparing it to their trip in and guessed that they were still about a mile away from the elevator, when they heard a hissing noise then the unmistakable sound of water exploding inward. There had been a breach, but looking up and around they couldn't see it, apparently, it was still too far away.

“Hurry,” Ashlyn yelled at Stewart in frustration.

“I'm going as fast as this thing will go, you can get out and push if you want.”

Mark was looking ahead, trying to focus on their planned exit. Only half a mile left, he calculated. Kathleen was looking behind and she grabbed Ashlyn's arm. Ashlyn turned to Kathleen and when she saw her face, she looked behind them. A wall of water was now vaguely distinguishable in the darkness, and it was headed their direction. The breach must have been on the south end of the dome, thankfully, but it was traveling fast.

“Here comes the water!” Ashlyn informed the men.

Mark looked back but Stewart didn't move his eyes from the road ahead, he was willing the cart to go faster. With only a quarter of a mile left to go water washed forward, under the cart, ahead of the rushing rampart, so that they were driving through water at least six inches deep.

They were close, very close now, but so was the mountain behind them that was becoming more visible every second. The water underneath them was deepening and the cart's electrical system shorted out making the cart come to an abrupt halt.

“Run!” Stewart yelled, not having time to explain why the cart had died.

They had already divided the scuba gear, so that no one was carrying too much of a load. They ran as fast as they could, impeded by the now twelve inch deep water they were trying to get through. They reached the elevator and hit the button. The doors shut behind them. The floor was covered with a foot of water but the elevator began to ascend. It was a fast elevator but they had only gone a short way up the shaft when the wall of water hit. They couldn't see it but they felt the impact below them. They breathed a collective sigh of relief but knew the danger was far from over.

The lights in the elevator car went out, but against all logic, they continued to ascend though the shaft vibrated wildly. They held on, praying that the cables wouldn't break as the traveled, at high velocity, up the six thousand-foot tunnel. By some miracle, they arrived at the top and exited into the pyramid. There were people running helter skelter, trying to ascertain the cause of the vibrations. They looked curiously at the four people, three of them in orange jumpsuits, running through the halls.

As they finally reached their destination Ashlyn asked, “Mark, will the water reach this high?”

He looked at her and thought for just a second. “It will eventually, after the area under the dome is completely full, it will push up the elevator shaft like a straw.”

She looked back, the sorrow evident in her voice. “So those people we just passed, they're going to drown too?” She already knew the answer but asked anyway.

Mark looked at her grimly and nodded his head ever so slightly.

As they entered the poolroom, Mark commanded Ashlyn, “put on your suit.”

She tried to protest again but he wouldn't hear it. Stewart helped Kathleen figure out how to put on the wetsuit, which was too large for her but would work, then the rebreather.

“You don't have to do anything but breathe normally,” he said as he put the helmet over her head. “You will be able to talk to Ashlyn, she is an experienced diver. Do what she says no matter what.” That statement had an ominous sound to it but Kathleen had no other choice.

Stewart quickly donned his wetsuit and tanks, leaving Mark the only one with neither a suit or oxygen tank; it had been his choice.

“Mark?” Ashlyn protested again before she put on her helmet.

“This is the best way to do it and you know it. I'm the most experienced diver, I will buddy breathe with Stewart. You two will go first, then Stewart so that he can wait for me at the bottom of the shaft.”

He turned to Stewart, “have the air ready for me when I get there, alright?”

Stewart nodded his head in agreement.

Ashlyn still hadn't put on her helmet. “Mark I...” he cut her off by covering her mouth with his. He held her close for just a moment then put the helmet over her head ignoring her protests.

Kathleen was terrified, and Ashlyn knew that a terrified diver could be deadly to herself as well as the people she was diving with.

She took Kathleen by the hand and spoke to her over the comm system. “Just follow me.” When she saw Kathleen hesitate she encouraged, “you can do this, trust me.”

Kathleen nodded and Ashlyn climbed into the pool and swam down the shaft, followed fearfully by Kathleen. The shaft seemed much longer to Ashlyn then it had before and she couldn't help fearing for Mark.

The two women swam out of the shaft into the cave. Ashlyn looked down and saw the three weight belts lying where they had left them. She picked them up and put one of them on Kathleen, who asked over the comm system, “Why do I need this?”

“We must not rise too quickly or...It would be bad, just trust me. We will need to swim up. All you need to do follow me, exactly. Stop when I stop. Got it?”

Kathleen shook her head, still looking unsure. Then Ashlyn added, “Oh, keep your legs straight when you are kicking, bending your knees too much can cause you to rise to quickly.”

The cave was illuminated by their dive lights and was full of various types of fish. One of them brushed up against Kathleen and she jumped, looking at Ashlyn for reassurance. “They won’t bother you, just ignore them.” Ashlyn was far more concerned about Mark making it down the long shaft without oxygen.

On the other end of the shaft Stewart was ready to go under, before putting the mouthpiece in he said, “I will be ready for you.”

Mark nodded and Stewart started down the angled shaft. Once at the bottom they all waited for Mark.

Mark took several quick, deep breaths to hyperventilate himself a bit before taking his last deep breath and going under. He swam as fast as he could, reminding himself to stay calm to conserve oxygen. Stewart had given Mark the flippers and the mask to use for the descent. It would make it easier for him to swim down and in case Mark started to blackout, it would make it easier for him to keep the water out of his nose. Hopefully, that would not be an issue.

The water was colder than he had expected. It was late December and he had no wetsuit, at 175 feet under, even in the Bahamas, he was in danger of hypothermia, if he took the time to decompress properly. Decompressing was usually calculated based on the depth, and how long a person had been under that pressure. He didn't even know how to do the math for a month and a half dive.

The corridor seemed longer than it had been on the way in, he thought as he swam down by himself. Of course, he had a wetsuit then and air to breathe and the woman he... Mark was starting to get dizzy and he was afraid he was going to black out. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he was no longer swimming and that his positive buoyancy was dragging him back up. He had to force himself to fight it, to swim again but...

“It's taking too long,” Ashlyn said, “I'm going after him.”

Stewart was giving her hand signals that meant no. She knew what he meant, if Mark was on his way, she could block his exit and with seconds counting, those seconds could be disastrous. She swam up the tunnel only a short way before she saw Mark. He looked unconscious. She just prayed that she wasn't too late; it wasn't like you could do CPR under the ocean.

She reached out to grab him, her dive light creating just enough illumination to notice that he opened his eyes and looked at her. He wasn't unconscious after all, she thought, but he was on his way out. She had her weight belt on and it had made it hard to swim up the short way she had gone but she was glad for it now. She held him by the hand and towed him down the tunnel. They suddenly started going faster and then she knew that Mark was helping.

As Ashlyn's flippers and legs started out the opening, Stewart and Kathleen both grabbed her and pulled, using the cave and exposed pyramid wall as leverage. It was only a few seconds before they could see that she was towing Mark only half-conscious. As soon as his face was exposed, Stewart took the mouthpiece out of his mouth and put it in Mark's. That would only work if Mark remained conscious enough to breathe.

Mark let out the last of his old air into the mouthpiece to clear it, and then started breathing in deeply. His mind began to revive. He took two more deep breaths and then handed the mouthpiece back to Stewart. He blew his air out into the mouthpiece to clear the water as Mark had done and then took three breaths, and then handed it back to Mark. Now they were finally ready to begin the ascent. Stewart found it uncomfortable, not having a facemask but he at least had the wetsuit, he couldn't wait until they surfaced.

Mark gave the flippers to Stewart because Stewart would be wearing the weight belt and would need them to push against the water, while Mark would have fight to stay down and not ascend to fast. When they got to the edge of the cave Mark was happy to see the rope Stewart had used to get down. Mark hadn't known it would be there and gave Stewart the thumbs up.

Mark had a decompression computer built into his dive watch. He had previously programmed a rough estimate of their situation in and they would all stop at the same time. It wouldn't be completely accurate, because the variables were so different for Mark, his temperature would be lower, and the women had a different mix of gases because of the rebreathers. Furthermore, they had to base their stops on the ambient pressure, rather than linear feet.

Now the men went first because Ashlyn was an experienced diver and she and Kathleen had plenty of oxygen and both had wetsuits. That way Ashlyn could also keep an eye on Mark to see if was displaying any signs of hypothermia or hypoxia. These dangers had to be carefully balanced with the need for a slow ascent.

The rope made the ascent up the slope of the hill much easier. When Kathleen got to the edge of the cave and looked down, she started to hyperventilate. Ashlyn spoke to Kathleen, trying to calm her while at the same time warning her that hyperventilating could be deadly, and that she must control her fear. They stopped to decompress for three minutes at the top of the drop off. Stewart and Mark were doing a good job buddy breathing, but Ashlyn was acutely aware of how cold and miserable Mark was looking.

Mark retrieved the rope as they continued their ascent. Although Ashlyn was trying to help Kathleen, she seemed to be having a difficult time fighting against the weight belt. At the next decompression stop, while they were just hanging there, Mark swam around and removed her weight belt and put it on himself, Ashlyn was careful to help her stay at depth.

This made it a little more difficult for Mark not to sink so after taking several quick, deep breaths from Stewart's tank, he let gravity pull him down a little until his face was at about the level of Kathleen's feet. He removed the flippers from her feet and then quickly put them on himself, then swam rapidly up to Stewart for more air. This arrangement worked better but the ascent, of necessity, was far slower than Mark wanted it to be.

Ashlyn had warned Kathleen before they went under that panic was the most dangerous thing she would face, nevertheless, Kathleen was finding it difficult. Her first dive should not have been one that would have been considered dangerous for most recreational divers, but it couldn't be helped.

A shark swam by Kathleen and her eyes widened. Ashlyn, who had been trying to pay attention to both Kathleen and Mark, noticed Kathleen's expression. Ashlyn spoke calming words through her headset but in spite of her words, she was worried when she saw the shark circling around them.

“It won’t hurt you!” Ashlyn reaffirmed, when Kathleen's terrified breathing sounded in her ears, but the thought of her own trepidation on the dive down crossed her mind.

She suddenly wanted to laugh, the kind of laugh a person can't help when stress has pushed them beyond the breaking point, but she didn't, the situation was too dangerous. She looked up at Mark, fighting the cold, then at the shark, and then at Kathleen, who was trying so hard to remain calm.

Ashlyn had at first, been concerned when they didn't see the yacht, but the water was not nearly as clear as usual, maybe there was a storm topside, it was still hard to tell. They hadn't stopped to look for the anchor to guide them up. They were in too much danger to take the time.

At about fifty feet, she saw the hull of the boat, it was right where it should be and she felt a wash of relief. She was just starting to feel hopeful, but noticed the shark was swimming around a little too aggressively. She didn't say anything about it to Kathleen but when a second shark appeared circling Mark, Ashlyn suddenly remembered Mark's gun shot wound. His shoulder was bleeding, and now looking at it, she could see the swirling blood.

They were at about thirty feet, and Ashlyn was finding it hard to control her fear for Mark, while at the same time trying to calm Kathleen. Stewart suddenly signaled Mark that the tank was empty. The two men suddenly dropped there weight belts and began to ascend rapidly. Kathleen watched in horror, not understanding what was going on.

Ashlyn quickly explained to Kathleen what was happening, at the same time praying that the sudden movement wouldn't encourage the already interested sharks. The sharks didn't follow Mark thankfully, and Ashlyn forced herself to continue their slow ascent. She wasn't a religious person, but she prayed hard the entire time that Mark and Stewart would be alright. They had been very careful to decompress and hopefully it had been enough. Mark and Stewart were both strong swimmers and she figured they would make it to the surface and the boat without too much trouble.

Mark and Stewart hit the surface, gasping for air. The sea was not at all calm. The sky was overcast and there was lightning. The water was tossing them around like toys in a bathtub. There was a pull in the water that they couldn't quite understand. Mark had noticed it underneath, but had dismissed it as turbulent seas. Now he wasn't so sure. They had been moving in the direction of the boat as well as upward once it had become visible, so that now they were right next to it.

Strangely, they still had a difficult time getting to the boat and up the ladder. It seemed more than just the tossing of the waves but the two managed to climb onto the lower landing of the ship. Stewart wanted to kiss the boat and felt like crying with relief, but wasn't about to behave that way in front of Mark and Stewart was still worried about Kathleen.

Mark was shaking severely from the cold. They climbed up onto the aft deck and dumped the scuba gear.

“Mark, you need to go get warm, go jump in a hot shower.”

“No,” he said as he shook, “I'm waiting for Ashlyn.”

“I can wait for them Mark, go, you have hypothermia.”

“I said no.”

Stewart could see that Mark was not going to budge. The women had taken their last decompression break at twenty feet and were now ascending the rest of the way, when the boat began to twist around from the pull in the water. Mark, who had been watching their ascent, noticed the turn because the boat was moving away from them.

He told Stewart, “watch them, make sure they are okay.”

He didn't really need to give that instruction, Stewart was quite smitten with Kathleen and was already glued the lower landing, watching for them to surface. Mark ran up the stairs, through the pilothouse and out onto the flybridge to have a better vantage point. Something was going on and he needed to see it.

There was wind, lightning, and electricity in the air. The clouds above were circling in an odd fashion, almost like buzzards waiting for the dying, though they weren't directly overhead but slightly to the west. Below the circling clouds, in the water, he finally saw what was pulling on the ship. There was a whirlpool, spinning like a bathtub drain, not more than one-hundred feet from them. He stared at it in confusion. He was so tired and so cold. It seemed that these bizarre and unexplainable events would never end. For once, can't something just make sense, he prayed.

Then he did a rough calculation in his mind. It was about where...??? Suddenly he understood, he thought about the anchor for a second and decided it would hold and then ran down the steps into the pilothouse and then down onto the aft deck. He practically jumped on to the lower landing, relieved to see that they were all on board.

“It's the elevator shaft,” he yelled, “it must have breached near the top, now the water is pouring into it. He would have thought the world underneath the dome would be completely filled by now but he realized that it wasn't. There had been a wall of water, but it had only been about ten feet high.

The dome was ten by forty miles and there was no telling how deep. It was clearly not full and now the water was draining in from above the elevator shaft. Kathleen had told him that the Navy shaft was only accessible by submarine, twenty-five feet down she had said, just twenty-five feet. It was clearly close enough to them to be creating a drain effect, just like when the plug is pulled in a bathtub.

“What?” Stewart and Kathleen looked at him in confusion, but Ashlyn was busy trying to get her helmet off. The anchor chain must have suddenly gone taut, because there was a tremendous jolt to the ship. Ashlyn hadn't been holding on to anything, and had just dropped her helmet on the lower landing, when the jolt knocked her over the edge and back into the water.

“Ashlyn,” Mark screamed her name, “help me get her,” he pled, but even as he spoke, he saw her being pulled quickly away from the anchored boat and knew that the current was too strong.

She was being ripped away, pulled into the churning, spinning water of the whirlpool. She was trying to swim, trying to pull against the current.

Mark was about to jump in the water when Stewart barred his way. “You won’t be able to save her that way, the current is too strong.”

Mark looked hysterical; she was no longer at the back of the boat. He ran up the stairs to the aft deck, flew up the stairs to the pilothouse and nearly broke the door as he went through out onto the flybridge.

He looked around at the life preservers up there, and threw one to her that was attached to a rope. It hit the spot he was aiming at, but the current had pulled her further than he had anticipated and she could not reach it, she almost seemed to be moving in slow motion, no doubt she was exhausted.

“Ashlyn!” He screamed but his voice was lost in the wind as the water took her under. He stared at the sight with unbelieving eyes. He thought about diving in after her but knew that it was too strong a current even for him.

Stewart showed up on the flybridge just as Mark was about to dive in anyway. Stewart looked over at the whirlpool and the life preserver attached to the rope, but no Ashlyn. Mark began to climb over the edge to get to a better diving position but Stewart stopped him.

“You can't save her, Mark.” Stewart felt pain coursing through him and could only imagine what Mark was feeling.

Mark was breathing heavily, the hypothermia gone from his panicked running up and down the stairs. His mouth was open as he stared at the water where he had seen Ashlyn go under. A million ideas going through his mind, one after the next, but none of them would save her.

When he finally accepted the fact that she was gone and he could not save her, he fell to his knees and sobbed openly.

Chapter 21

"The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen
at once." Albert Einstein

~

All over the world, clocks were going haywire. Some were running backwards, some were spinning wildly. People were vanishing and reappearing in different places. Things were levitating and metal was randomly melting. Strange non-combustible objects like concrete were bursting into flames randomly. In some forests, trees were turning to metal. Swirling clouds and odd mists, openings to the forth dimension, were touching down in random places like tornadoes, across the entire globe. The Time Storms predicted by the Atlantians had arrived.

***

Stewart stood next to Mark on the flybridge. He was sobbing uncontrollably now.

“I'm sorry, Mark.” Stewart touched him on the shoulder but didn't know what else to say.

Mark leaned his head against his friend's leg and Stewart knelt down and put his arms around Mark. His grief was so powerful that Stewart felt like a knife had gone threw him as well. Kathleen slowly followed up to where the men were but when she saw Mark's wrenching sobs, she felt like she was intruding.

She was about to leave when Stewart looked up at her and pled for her to stay with his eyes. Stewart sat there with Mark, until his tears were finally spent and Mark finally pulled himself up off his knees and sat mournfully on one of the captain's chairs.

He stared over at the swirling water, as if he was willing himself to have died with her. It was not only losing her that hurt so much, but he was also reliving in his mind the images of his boys, under the ice caught in a powerful current. There had been no way to save them and no way to save her. He wished he had gone in after her, drowning with her would have been so preferable to this agony.

“Mark,” Stewart spoke quietly, “we should get you warmed up.”

Mark neither stirred nor answered, rather he just stared at the spot that he had seen her go under.

Stewart realized that Mark was not going to move, and so he motioned to Kathleen and they quietly left Mark alone with his thoughts.

Mark sat there for an hour, then two, never taking his eyes off the spot where he had seen her go under. The water was still turning in its never-ending spiral into the abyss below.

A bird flew by him so closely that it nearly hit him, no doubt as lost in the storm, as he was lost in his pain.

It continued its flight into the sun and then slowed down to nothing, suspended in the air, wings frozen in place. He stared at the bird, not comprehending why it didn't fall into the green tinged water below. A few moments passed while he tried to understand what he was seeing. The bird was still there, suspended in the air, as if time itself had stopped.

He suddenly sat bolt upright and then stood and looked at the water under the suspended bird. Something had been bothering him, nagging at the insides of his mind like a demon. The water was the wrong color. He had been so busy looking at the whirlpool that he hadn't noticed. He looked around at the surrounding water, and he was right, it was different. A soft green glow, unnoticed in the late afternoon sun.

Mark looked up at the bird, still perfectly motionless above the spinning water. Now he looked closer, the water was shaped in a perfect funnel shape but it was not spinning anymore. He wondered when it had stopped. He noticed for the first time how the life preserver he had thrown into the water was not bobbing on the waves, as it should be or circling in a path down the spiraling drain. There it sat, impossibly serene below the still bird, with its wings outstretched.

He jumped up like a man possessed and ran down the stairs. He had been wrong about the elevator shaft. Stewart and Kathleen, who were sitting in the salon, stared at him in disbelief as they watched him putting on his wetsuit.

Stewart stood up, “what are you doing Mark?”

“I'm going to get Ashlyn.”

“What? Mark, she's gone, I'm sorry but I can't let you.”

Mark ignored him and ran through the salon and down the stairs to the engine room where he picked up a full oxygen tank, he wasn't using his rebreather system this time, but a plain scuba tank and mask. Then he ran back up the stairs and back to the aft deck.

Stewart, alarmed, tried to stop Mark again.

Mark continued to ignore him, while Stewart pled in vain, his voice drifting in and out of Mark's consciousness. He didn't hear Stewart anymore. Mark picked up the long rope, which they had brought back up from the side of the underwater cliff. It was long, at least 150 feet. Mark looked at it to make sure that it was in good condition.

Kathleen broke through the silence that had enveloped him. “Mark, are you doing?” She shrieked in horror.

“I'm getting Ashlyn,” was his only response again.

He tied the rope to a hook on the lower landing of the boat and made sure that it was secure, and then he tied it tightly to his waist. He was so determined that he didn't even register Stewart screaming at him not to do it. Stewart tried to physically block Mark, but Mark easily shoved him aside and then, air tank on his back and mask on his face, he plunged backwards into the water and the current carried him away, away toward Ashlyn. Stewart stared at the back of the boat where Mark had been in horror. Mark must have gone mad, Stewart thought.

He considered pulling Mark back with the rope that was attached to him, but he was too far-gone and now under the water. Stewart knelt on the lower landing and then fell down, more than sat. He opened his mouth. Grief was pummeling him worse than the beating Justin had given him. Even with the rope, it was unlikely that he would be able to get Mark back. The whirlpool that was draining into the abyss below was too strong. Stewart had seen how it had pulled the ship hard against the anchor chain.

Even if he managed to pull Mark back, he thought, the mouthpiece and facemask would be ripped from him by the force of it and Mark would drown, he didn't dare try. Kathleen came down the steps and sat on the lower landing with Stewart.

She put her arm around him and then leaned her face against his head and whispered softly, “I'm so sorry.” He didn't look at her but he felt her presence and it gave him some amount of comfort.

***

Mark let the current take him toward the place Ashlyn had gone under. For a moment, he stared in wonder under the water, through his mask. There she was, just under the surface, fighting to break free of the current's grasp. She was suspended in time, just like the bird above her, the one that had shown him the way.

He saw the particles of debris in the water glinting from the sunlight, their movement slower and slower until they just stopped. He allowed himself to be dragged with them, past the barrier to where time had stopped.

Suddenly, she was moving, thrashing and fighting to break the surface, to get air, he swam with the current as fast as he could. It was pulling her down, and he too felt the pull. He reached her and held onto her tightly, just as his line went taut. With no more than two feet to spare, he had caught her.

She opened her eyes in confusion as he pulled the mouthpiece from his mouth and placed it into hers. She expelled the last of her air into it to clear the water, and then took a deep breath. She took several more quick breaths, and then handed it back to him. She held on tightly to him, and he watched the amazement on her face as she saw him through the clear water.

He pointed to the rope and motioned for her to hold onto him as tightly as she could, signaling that he would pull on the rope. She did exactly as he wanted, he gave her the mouthpiece, and he pulled against the current with all his might. Hand over hand he went, stopping only to take a few desperately needed breaths of air from time to time, and then turning back to the rope. She held him tightly and he made slow progress, it seemed an impossible force was pulling them back, but he didn't stop. Finally, he reached the barrier of time.

He could tell where it was because, like before, he watched the debris in the water. Only this time instead of slowing to a stop, the debris on the other side sped up so fast that it was all a blur and he could barely see through it. He stopped again, only for a moment to take in some air, and then he pulled them both through the barrier of the Time Storm.

The pull against them was intense but suddenly things slowed down and there was no more blur in front of him. He knew they were through and could see the hull of the yacht before them. He took a few more quick breaths of air before pulling them closer to the yacht.

***

When the line had gone taut, the boat turned toward the swirling whirlpool. It had only been seconds since the boat had finished turning its tail to the sun, when Stewart saw Mark's head break the surface of the water. Kathleen watched with him as their previous horror turned to relief and then to shock, as Ashlyn's head also broke the surface. Stewart stood up. The current was still strong as Mark grasped the ladder tightly and finally let go of the rope. Stewart grabbed Ashlyn by the hand and with the combination of all their strength, they both made it onto the landing.

Mark stood behind Ashlyn as she went shakily up the stairs to the aft deck and crashed down on the sofa. Mark landed carefully next to her and then pulled her to him. He buried his face in her neck and sobbed silently. She just held him but she couldn't understand the confused looks on the faces of Stewart and Kathleen. They didn't say anything and then finally went into the salon so that Mark and Ashlyn could have some privacy.

“It's alright, Mark.” Ashlyn soothed, “we all made it.”

He looked up at her in amazement, and she looked at his eyes, which seemed far more bloodshot and swollen than they should have been. She knitted her brow.

“Mark, are you alright?”

He smiled and kissed her passionately for a few moments.

When he finally pulled back, she asked, “How did you get to me so quickly?”

He just looked into her eyes, shaking his head, and said, “I didn't.”

“What do you mean, you didn't? You were there almost as soon as I went under, how did you get there so fast?”

He just gazed into her eyes in a way that took her breath away, as if he was looking through them into eternity itself.

Then he stood up and reached for her hand. “Come with me.”

She followed him up the stairs through the pilothouse and up to the flybridge. He looked over and it was still there. He pointed to the bird suspended in midair. She looked at it in amazement.

She opened her mouth to ask how, and then saw the slight green glow from the water below and looked up into the sky and saw the clouds above swirling ever so slightly, and then she understood. He was standing behind her with his arms around her. He kissed her wet hair and then kissed her neck.

“I love you so much, Ashlyn.”

Tears welled up in her eyes because she knew that he did. She turned around and her mouth found his again before asking, “I thought what happened here was because the admiral was testing his machine?”

He leaned back his head in shear joy, and took a deep breath then looked at her, “I guess not.”

She looked back out at the water. “It looks almost normal, if not for the bird. How did you know?”

She turned back to him and saw the sorrow that crossed his face. “I didn't,” his voice broke.

She waited for him to regain control then he looked at her and pressed his lips against her forehead before pulling back to look at her again. “I thought you were...”

He couldn't even say the words. He glanced away for a moment and then looked back. “I was sitting up here, right here.” He pointed to the chair. “That bird flew past me so closely that it almost hit me, and then it stopped, right where it is.”

She saw the amazement in his eyes. “How long Mark? How long was I under before you realized?”

He shook his head and took a deep breath then looked down at the spot where he had collapsed on to his knees in pain. She followed the path of his eyes and then looked at him.

“Hours,” he breathed out finally. Their eyes met and he knew that she understood. They stayed that way for a little while, and then she looked back at the water.

She turned her eyes again to him, “Mark, when that happened to us,” she let out a breath of air, it seemed like a million years before, “there was no whirlpool, why do you think there is one now?”

“I don't know. Maybe there was and we just couldn't tell because we were on the ship but...” He paused for a minute and looked at the water again, “I thought it was the top of the elevator shaft draining into Atlantis or what's left of it.”

She opened her mouth a little in surprise and then closed it and looked back at the water again. “I can't believe you dove in there after me believing that.”

She searched his eyes again, and he smiled, “I would dive into hell to get you.”

The exact words she had spoken to him just over a month and a half before, the morning after she had lit the fires on the water. She had been hurt because she had thought that he had not been listening to her. She smiled now and threw her arms around him. He held her so tightly that she finally felt safe, and knew that all the world would turn out right.

They were both still wearing their wetsuits and their hair a mess from the ocean, but after awhile she turned her back to him and leaned up against him. He wrapped his arms around her, and they stayed like that, watching the suspended bird for a long time.

Then, suddenly, the bird began to flap its wings again, and it continued its flight into the sunset.

Epilogue

~

The world suffered through great losses of life, plagues, pestilence, famines and heartache, more that it had ever known in the modern world, but through that pain, the Earth was purged of much of its anger and hatred. The balance of power had changed. Those who were once the starving and the under privileged, led the world on a new path of learning how to live in harmony with the Earth. Once again, the old ways of farming and making the necessities of life began to be taught.

A great deal of technology had been lost in the disasters, but more of it had been discarded intentionally as people began to remember what it was like to know their neighbors, and to communicate face to face. Most of the pain and suffering had taken place in the areas where the people knew nothing but convenience and had yet complained about how hard their lives had been. In one day, it was all lost, but that loss brought with it a new day of peace and hope for the world.

After a time passed, the people of the Earth began to heal and learn a new way of life in harmony and gratitude for the natural world that they had been destroying. The people of the world together erected shrines in every village and town. It was to be a memorial to all those lost, and a mantra for all those still living. The inscription on every one of them read:

“And they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruninghooks:
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more.”
Isaiah 2:4

Notes

“Truth is stranger than fiction.” Lord Byron.

~

The electromagnetic field around the Earth called the magnetosphere is a real, though not a completely understood phenomenon. It is estimated to be ten times the size of the Earth and does have a strong magnetic pull on metallic space debris.

Although no one knows for certain what the Mayan calendar is referring to, it is believed that the calendar does mark the end of a cycle in the year 2012. Some scholars have interpreted the Mayan writings as prophecies of cataclysmic doom and disaster.

The story of the USS Eldridge is rumored to be true. However, it is considered to be an urban legend.

Flight 19's dialogue was taken from the popular accounts, most likely urban legend. However, there was at least one unexplained report of a telegram reportedly sent from one of the missing pilots after flight 19 was lost, saying that they were alive and that the government was lying.

The “Hutchison effect” has been demonstrated many times over the years and has successfully recreated, on some level, all of the unexplainable events in the Bermuda Triangle. Both the United States Government and the Canadian Government have offered large sums of money to buy his research and equipment.

Many reputable sources have documented anomalous readings, in and around what is commonly known as the Bermuda Triangle. NASA also has maps that show satellite imagery of anomalous electromagnetic spots on the Earth.

AUTEC is a real naval facility. However, any top-secret sections mentioned in this book are purely fictitious. There are, however, unexplained submarine trenches in the vicinity, which can be viewed via satellite.

NASA has reported a spike in solar activity on or around the year 2012 when the sun's polarity is expected to flip, and the Aurora Borealis has been seen as far south as Mexico during past, extreme solar activity periods. In 1859, the Earth was reportedly hit with a coronal mass ejection and the sun experienced what has been called a solar superstorm. Light shows filled the night skies for an entire week over the entire Earth and all telegraph communications were lost.

The Earth does experience pole shifts, and many reputable scientists have suggested that it is already happening. However, some scientists say it won't cause any major disasters because they believe it will happen slowly, over a long period of time. Http://www.nasa.gov/vision/Earth/lookingatEarth/29dec_magneticfield.html

Near Earth objects that are large enough to harm the planet pass the Earth, every few days, see the NASA web site. Http://neo.jpl.nasa.gov/neo/life.html

The magnetotail is real and does extend far out from the Earth. Its length is based on the strength of solar winds impacting the magnetopause. Many near Earth objects are believed to be metallic in nature and therefore, could be drawn in unexpectedly with sufficient solar activity.

The theory of relativity does, in fact, suggest a connection between, gravity, electromagnetism and time. Forward time travel is accepted as possible under the right circumstances. Quantum and String theory cannot rule out the possibility of backwards time travel so long as it only goes back as far as the date the machine was built.

More than one underwater pyramid has been reportedly found in various places around the world dating back as far as nine thousand BC according to current dating methods. Several people have reportedly seen pyramids under the waters near or in the Bermuda Triangle, though no one has ever been able to provide exact coordinates to verify the find.

Wormholes have been conjectured to be naturally occurring in nature, though no one has been able to prove their existence as of yet.

The existence of exotic matter (anti-matter, anti-protons, tachyons, anti-energy, possibly anti-gravitons etc.) is predicted by quantum and string theories, and anti-matter has been produced and harnessed in a controlled environment, however, only in small quantities.

Scientists have not yet been able to explain how the pyramids were built without any mechanism known, which could have lifted the stones into place at such a rapid speed. It is a well-documented fact that our modern civilization has lost some of the technology had by many ancient civilizations. At least one historian did, in fact, record that they had some sort of device for lifting the stones.

The Hadron collider is real and is supposed to be ramping up its experiments over the years from 2009-2012. Some scientists have argued that the possibility exists that they could, in fact, open up some kind of corridor in space-time, which could be dangerous. Http://www.lhc.ac.uk/ The purpose it was built for was to find a way to prove or disprove the existence of things like, dark matter, other dimensions, and even wormholes.

NASA's supercomputer (NAS) is called Pleiades, named after the star cluster and is expected to be able to do ten thousand trillion operations per second by 2012.
Http://www.nas.nasa.gov/News/Releases/2008/05-07-08.html

Some scholars have suggested that all the pyramids, Egyptian, Mayan and other Meso-American ones line up with the specific star cluster, Pleiades.

The Casimir effect and zero point, or vacuum energy has been proven to exist.

The New Madrid earthquake of 1812 was, in fact, a series of four quakes over a two-month period of time, each one lasting ten to fifteen minutes. The quakes have been estimated to have been around a magnitude eight, and were said to have rung church bells all the way to Boston.

A magnitude nine quake in that same spot has been predicted as likely by scientists. Each step in magnitude is thrity times larger than the lower magnitude. It is believed that the solid bedrock at the epicenter of the massive quake, rather than a sliding fault line, is the cause of the longer duration and stronger jolts. The Reelfoot Rift is believed to have been created during the first super-continent seven-hundred million years ago, prior to the three-hundred million year old super-continent of Pangaea. Scientist do not completely understand the reason for the quakes it causes.

If I had put in all the possible disasters, which scientists are predicting will happen soon, and for which there is ample evidence of, the book would have been far too long to be enjoyable. This might be a good time to become familiar with the Book of Revelations in the Bible, and the scientific predictions for disasters that will happen in the near future.

About the Author

Juliann Farnsworth is a native of Mesa, Arizona

and is the youngest in a family of nine.
She is the mother of two, a son and a daughter.
Beyond her work as an author, she is also a

composer and graphic designer.
She has a Bachelor of Science Degree in

Health Care Administration and a Master of Science

Degree in Psychology.

~

Juliann is also the Co-Founder of the Center for Women's Strength and Empowerment, and is the author of

“This Side of Forever”