Atlantis Read online

Atlantis

  Written by John M. Davis

  A City of the Past Becomes Our Future

  Copyright 2015 Serenity Valley Publishing

  Editing: Daniél Lecoq

  Digital Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to johndavisbooks.wordpress.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Settling In

  Chapter 2: The Incredible Journey

  Chapter 3: Once Upon An Ancient

  Chapter 4: Not As They Seem

  Chapter 5: Just The Beginning

  Chapter 1

  Settling In

  Rain splashed against his wipers as life prepared to deal him the bad news.

  It seemed as though a cloud had burst onto the cityscape of downtown Charlotte, but Josh continued to drive. Cautiously easing his vehicle down a road filled with the outline of bright streetlights, a clear-set goal. He was coming home.

  A soldier for eight long years in the United States Army, Josh Pierce had seen a lot of things. Some good, others – not so much. He'd pulled his time; given his service to the country he loved so dearly. Finally, after eight years of wearing the uniform, he was returning home to the love of his life. Amanda.

  From the time Josh and Amanda met in grade school, he'd known she was the one. At that age, of course, nobody believes people are capable of loving. Nothing more than a very cute crush to everyone around them, Josh felt something inside of him the day his eyes fell onto that little girl with fantastic finger-painting skills.

  And during the journey from childhood to adulthood, they'd hit a few snags. Typical for budding love, no matter the circumstances. Josh had made his fair share of mistakes, as had Amanda. Something that was finally past the both of them.

  Josh was careful to do things right this time. He'd carefully planned his return, and that included one of the largest bouquets of flowers he'd ever seen. Vibrant colors speckling the large assortment which tied together snugly with a nice red bow, coupled with a large bottle of rather expensive wine.

  He was oblivious to either when it came to selecting properly, but with the amount of cash he'd spent in doing so, Josh felt confident he'd done the job right.

  Still, for all of the service gone by – the memories he planned to make with his lover...he'd have to get through the damn rain. He couldn't remember a time when rain fell any harder. The sound of pounding water atop his sedan nearly drowning out the stereo within in.

  As Josh hurried from the glisten of rain which covered his blue sedan, he immediately sprinted up the handful of steps which led to their front door. Preparing his hair with a quick comb through by hand and imagining Amanda's face. He momentarily struggled with the large arrangement of flowers as a pleading hand did what it could to align his key with its accompanying lock. Rain still pouring down beyond the front porch in drenching fashion, nearly rivaling Josh's nerves.

  His dreams, however, came to a crashing halt as Josh entered slowly to see an emptied house. No red velvet sofa that had been chosen together the evening of signing for the house. No precious photos hanging from the walls. Nothing but empty walls. Josh's heart immediately knew his lover was not to be found.

  Clasping the door behind him and trying the lights, to no avail, Josh finally sat on the hard floor, preparing to read a note which awaited him. Understand with the mere sight of the note that an end to their romance had truly arrived. Taking him completely by surprise and devastating him with a new dimension of pain.

  Josh.

  I can't do it anymore. I believed my heart would explode when hearing of your return home. I honestly did. I was wrong. I will always cherish the memories we have together, and consider you a friend. I care for you, I truly do. I just don't love you.

  I honestly didn't think it was possible. Now, I know otherwise. Perhaps it's your absence that has slowly pulled me away from you emotionally. Maybe there is something wrong inside of me, I don't know? I just want to be honest about it. You deserve that much. You've been good to me throughout the years and I want you to understand that there is no one else in my life right now. Truly. I just need a bit of space.

  Rather than watch us both continue to be unhappy, I think it's best that we go our separate ways at this very moment. While the feeling of being apart is so fresh to both of us. It may help to ease the sting a little.

  Sorry about taking our things, but I know you well enough to know you'd throw them out anyway. I'd rather keep them than have a stranger holding them close.

  If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. Just as long as you know that I'm here as a friend, nothing more.

  Take care of yourself Josh Pierce.

  -Amanda

  “Well. I didn't see that coming.” Josh uttered as he flicked his wrist a bit, releasing the letter in the process. Slinging the sheet of paper as far away as possible, not that it would change anything between the two of them. Not now. For so many years they had been inseparable, but he'd never take her back after such a move. No matter how unbearable the pain felt in the moment, he was tough enough to absorb the hit and maybe, eventually, move past Amanda. Only time would tell.

  Moments later Josh began concentrated his efforts on opening the large bottle of wine. He would have his welcome home party – drama be damned.

  Welcome home soldier.

  The slamming of a fist to his front door sent Josh straight to his feet, though he'd soon regret it. A combination of bright light and a hangover to blame.

  Daylight funneling through his curtains as the beating to thick wood continued, making him wonder if it were even humanly possible to knock any louder. Josh was finally able to stagger over to the front of his very empty home.

  “Amanda?” he asked, swinging the door open with desperation in his voice.

  He was met, however, by a man decked in United States Army green.

  “”Lieutenant Joshua Pierce?” the soldier asked.

  His eyes continued to adjust, but he knew the visit was serious. Only two people had ever called him by the name Joshua. His kindergarten teacher and his superior officer in the armed forces.

  As his eyes finally eased themselves back into proper working order, the mysterious man had the look of a soldier, no doubt. Brush-cut hair and chisel of experience upon his face. His uniform, however, was a lot different. Combat pants of black with several cargo pockets, a finely-pressed black shirt with blue trim and a handful of medals pinned to his chest – none of which Josh recognized.

  “Yes,” he replied, trying to cast the sunlight from his eyes by holding a single hand to his brow. “I mean no. Not as of last night. It's just Josh now.”

  “I need you to come with me, sir.”

  “Look, I'm not trying to be rude here, but it's been a very long night. I have a lot of things going on right now. I'm clouded. Except for my resignation from good old Uncle Sam. I'm pretty clear on that. They offered me a signing bonus of twenty-five thousand, I told them to shove it up their ass and, well, the rest is history.” Josh replied.

  “I'm here to escort you, as a civilian, to a meeting with someone very important. You can come voluntarily – or I can radio it in and you'll be there by nightfall by more drastic means. Your choice.” the soldier stated.

  Right away, Josh understood the soldier's line of speaking, or rather, the government's way of operating. Uncle Sam did what he damn well felt like doing. You played ball like a major leaguer or you kicked and bitched about it, only to end up p
laying ball like a major leaguer in the end. Josh wanted anything but to go scurrying off with a stranger, hangover intact, but saw absolutely no way around it. The man had flashed his identification and, sure enough, he was a government suit and tie.

  “Alright, alright. Let me grab my phone and I...”

  “No phone. Not where we are going.” the soldier replied with a stern warning.

  At that moment, Josh noticed a second man waiting in the car, also dressed in strange military gear.

  “Jesus man, what is this? No phone, no shower?”

  His words should have struck a humor cord with the man, but didn't. Letting Josh know the trip was one of top priority.

  “Alright then,” Josh agreed, turning to lock his door before shutting it, but stopping short. “Then again, my lady has just taken off with every damn thing I own. I say, let the vandals have at it.” he added, slinging the door wide open and preparing to leave with the men. Expecting some type of reaction.

  None came.

  Josh had intended to track their course mentally, but after passing the second hour of their trip, he gave up on the idea. Simply concluding that it was a long damn way from home, especially with a hangover.

  Making it more awkward, however, were the two soldiers travelling along – neither of them saying a word throughout the entire trip.

  Nothing.

  “You guys really aren't much on conversation, are you?” Josh asked.

  Again, both men seemed to ignore his question. Aggravating the former soldier with a mighty hangover.

  “Look,” Josh said loudly. “I'm not asking for a damn password or treasure map here, I'm just trying to make this long car ride a little less, well...long. I mean, conversation, music – something?”

  Moments later, one of the men put the car's stereo on. Something about a bald girl licking a sledgehammer, from what Josh could tell.

  “Oh hell no. Is this really happening right now? Am I dreaming?” Josh asked. “I'm thinking it couldn't get any worse and then it does. This kind of music has no heart, man. No soul. It's what's wrong with the world today.”

  Click.

  “Agreed.” one of the men said, putting a quick end to the ridiculous noise being passed off as music.

  The two uniformed men glanced to each other for a moment. The driver finally speaking up.

  “Had a woman leave out on me too. Left me sitting in an empty house,” the driver said. “The bitch.”

  “Well, Amanda's no bitch.” Josh replied.

  “They're all the same when it comes down to it.” the passenger remarked.

  Maybe I liked you guys a little better when you were sitting there with your mouths shut instead of reminding me that my love life is in ruins.

  “He's not trying to offend you,” the driver added. “He just means that you find the right one and fall for 'em, get used to having them around and then they skirt out on you when you need 'em the most. It happens to the best of us.”

  “That I'll agree to.” Josh said with a nod.

  “Just want to say,” the passenger said, turning to face Josh. “We glanced over your military records prior to picking you up. Appreciate you serving this great country of ours the way you did.”

  “Alright, this just got weird.” Josh replied.

  He could see the men growing a bit nervous. Their actions certainly not the expected normal for a couple of stiffs.

  “You guys are serving too though, right?” Josh asked.

  “Not exactly,” the driver replied. “At least, not in the same sense that you did.”

  “So, you guys here to kill me or something?” Josh asked. “Because, if I owe someone money it's news to me. I mean, there's this cell phone contract I terminated early, but other than that.” he added with sarcasm.

  Fucking spotty signal.

  “No, Josh. We're not here to kill you. In fact, if it were to come down to it, our job would be to take a bullet for you.” the driver replied.

  “Oh yea?” Josh questioned. “Why is that? Why would two strangers be willing to take a bullet for a man they've never met before?”

  “Because, Josh, you're a very valuable asset to our cause.” the passenger replied.

  “Oh yea? And what cause would that be?”

  His question went unanswered, as expected.

  “Well, as fun as this all has been. The conversation is starting to bore me a little. If you guys don't mind, I'm going to lay my head back and catch a little sleep?”

  “By all means.” the passenger replied.

  Josh would eventually doze off for the remainder of their car ride, though it would take a while. The stinging headache of too much wine accompanied by the longing of his former lover to blame.

  He would never admit it and had promised himself to never show it, but Josh missed Amanda to the brink of giving up. Over time she'd gotten by just fine without him there, but he'd not been as lucky. Thinking of her warm touch and beautiful smile every single waking moment.

  The thought of a return to her arms had pulled Josh through the roughest of times, and now he felt as though life had cheated him at the finish line. His life in total reset as he'd now begin struggling to find his way.

  McClellanville, South Carolina. Or so the sign read as the men readied themselves and informed Josh that they were getting close to arrival.

  Josh reached a hand up to wipe the fatigue from his face a bit, readying himself as well. He could tell, from the look of the two men in the front of the solid black SUV, that whatever matter awaited them was a matter of seriousness. A very long drive from Charlotte to McClellanville proof enough that something very important was going down.

  “Is this the place?” Josh asked.

  “It is.”

  A very large building of concrete, completely fitting of the description Josh had formed in his head. Absolutely no windows, a single flag and hedges that looked like shit. Nicely tucked away atop generic mulch. True government style.

  “Seems like a long damn way to drive for a meeting. They could have just chatted with me through the webcam,” Josh commented. “If, of course, I still had a computer. Or the girlfriend who took the fucking computer.”

  “Perhaps your fortunes are about to change.” the driver replied as the SUV pulled directly in front of the large building, which bordered the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Go directly inside and hand them this,” the passenger added. Taking a moment to enter his key code into a briefcase which rested on his lap. A single identification card inside. “It will clear you through the main lobby, at which time the rest will be explained to you in detail.”

  “And you guys are just gonna park it outside and wait on me?” Josh asked.

  “No,” the passenger replied. “We're off to pick up the next member of your team.”

  My team?

  “Well how the fuck am I getting back?”

  “You won't be going back,” the driver replied. Pausing momentarily as his eyes looked into the rear view mirror. Giving Josh cold chills throughout his entire body. “At least not with us.”

  “Hurry, Mr. Pierce. They're waiting.” the passenger said.

  “There's either a leprechaun in here waiting with a pot of gold or someone is getting a mouthful. I'll promise you that.” Josh said bluntly, opening the door and growling a few obscenities as he slammed it behind him.

  Before they could walk toward the building, however, the SUV window zipped down.

  “Good luck, Mr. Pierce.” the passenger said.

  You can go fuck yourself. Josh thought, turning without a word and making the short walk from the curb to the front door of the building with no markings.

  Upon entering, he immediately recognized the military look and feel of the place. Industrial-strength everything, including the smell of floor cleaner which nearly knocked him back through the front door.

  Two well-armed soldiers approached him, each of them outfitted in the same fashion as the two he'd enjoyed an extended car ride wit
h. It was as if he were invisible – the soldiers completely ignoring him in favor of his identification card.

  “Josh Pierce has arrived.” one of the man said through a shoulder-mounted com.

  “You're damn right he has, and he wants some answers.” Josh demanded.

  A single man behind a large wooden counter logged his arrival. Finally looking up to the soldiers.

  “Good,” the man replied. “Please sequester Mr. Pierce until the others arrive. Room thirty-seven.”

  “Now wait a damn minute.” Josh began to protest.

  “Move.” one of the soldiers demanded at gunpoint. Pushing the confused man a bit and further pissing him off.

  “Man, you've got to be kidding me,” Josh commented, though he moved into the direction they had demanded, walking slowly. “You'd be better off just strapping me into a wheelchair and rolling me wherever the hell you want to.”

  After several minutes of silent walking, the three men had passed dozens of doors. Each of them marked with a number, leading Josh to question how many of them contained people just like him. Probably just as clueless. Finally arriving at a single door marked thirty-seven.

  “You're to remain here until the door opens. When that time comes, you will enter the hallway and follow the others to the conference room. Are we clear?”

  “Yea,” Josh replied as the other soldier punched in a very long key code to unlock the door. “But damn. I just rode from another state and I feel like death warmed over. I haven't eaten since I can't remember when.”

  “You'll be fed on schedule, along with the others.” the soldier replied.

  “Be glad you came from only a state away. Many are travelling from out of country.” the other soldier replied as the very solid door finally opened to allow entry.

  “We'll if they rode in a fucking car, I hope the music was better.”

  Neither soldier seemed to get the punchline.

  “Yep,” Josh replied. “If you think it sucks leaving your loved ones and flying a few hours, try leaving an empty house after finding out you're a bachelor...again.”

  He began to walk into the room, which was rather small and closely resembled an upscale prison cell.

  “Leaving one house with no furniture and coming to a jail cell with almost the same. Yay.” Josh said with heavy sarcasm as the soldiers sealed the door behind him.

  A solid white room, a single bed attached to the thick walls of concrete with industry-standard bolts and a urinal. At least back home his empty wooden floors shined a bit.

  “This is bullshit,” Josh said aloud. “I get done serving my country to find out I've been dumped. Then I get dragged away from it all and thrown into a cell so I can do nothing but think about it,” he added. “It's official. I'm having a shitty twenty-four hours.”

  Several hours later, Josh awakened to the sound of steel scratching across steel. Jumping to his feet.

  A tray of food had been delivered, along with a newspaper. He felt like bitching about it, but found it would be hard to do. A complete rotisserie chicken, a baked potato with garlic, one of the largest pieces of chocolate cake he'd ever seen and a bottled soda. Certainly not the food of a prisoner, and laughably, much better than Amanda had ever cooked up for him. Not that she ever gave it much effort.

  Perhaps it was simply hunger pangs amplifying things, but every damn bit of food he tasted seemed to be some of the best he'd ever had. Making his stay a bit more comfortable.

  Josh wasn't sure about the newspaper. Surely they knew him well enough to know he wasn't the type of guy who bought into the mainstream media propaganda that was national news. Maybe it would serve him for ass wipe, should the need arise. Josh hoped he wouldn't be sequestered long enough to go there, but given his recent run of luck, he wasn't ruling anything out.

  The bright walls of pure white seemed to eat at him a little, and Josh wasn't quite sure why that was? It forced him to think on issues he'd rather not. His master plan to get over the heartache Amanda had left, quite simply, was a string of nights at a local bar where the beer flowed freely and nobody asked about anyone's history.

  Now, he was living the exact opposite of that. There was no question in Josh's mind that whoever had him sequestered until further notice had dug pretty deep into his history. Hell, they might have known his relationship was over before he did. A fact that truly pissed Josh off if it were true.

  It was just an environment that forced him to think. Is it possible that the same people had taken Amanda away from him and left the note? It was her handwriting, for sure. But had she been forced to sling words to paper prior to Josh arriving?

  They knew everything about him and he knew nothing about the situation around him. It left Josh more bitter by the minute and a mass-printed newspaper didn't smooth things over. The chocolate cake was damned sweet, but not as sweet as a pile of answers would have been.

  Everything about this white room was pissing him off even further. He'd been given no details about this meeting and thrown into a room with no details on the wall. Nothing. Just a foot broken off into his ass and a proverbial don't call us, we'll call you.

  In truth, the entire event had the fingerprints of the United States Army all over it. Josh knew that much in his heart. He also knew that the uniforms he'd been greeted with were anything but the standard United States Army dress code.

  He'd get his answers in due time. Until then, Josh decided to clear his mind of everything, as best he could, and throw himself at the mercy of a deep sleep. The only certainty from the moment forward, was that his body needed more of it.

  Having been sequestered in such a quiet environment, the easing of his room's door instantly awakened Josh from a world of dreams. Fully opening as a shuffle of bodies began to walk past with confusion.

  Jumping to his feet, Josh joined them. Feeling a bit like sheep in line and hopefully not heading for some type of slaughter. The past few days had been bad enough already, he didn't need a painful death on his plate.

  The hallway was more of the same. White walls that were void of anything distinguishable, along with the same head-splitting smell of government floor cleaner. Overkill at its finest by the artistic hand of a half-ass janitor.

  A bit of whispering could be heard throughout the crowd of people which walked in a single direction, their voices not clear enough to make out conversations.

  “Any idea what in the fuck is going on?” a man asked.

  Josh turned to see a man in his early thirties with the experience of a sixty year-old. He'd no doubt lived fast and by the seat of his pants, from the looks of it. A shade above six-foot in height and a slightly above average build at his disposal, the man grinned a bit. Short cut hair of shaggy brown.

  “No,” Josh replied. “Not a clue. Sorry.”

  “Not half as sorry as the son of a bitch responsible for dragging us here, as soon as I find out who it is.” the man replied.

  “I'm right there with you on that, my friend,” Josh replied. “It's been a shitty seventy-two hours.”

  “Winston Stills,” the man said with introduction. “But they call me Churchill”

  “Josh Pierce,” he replied with a nod. “But they call me Josh.”

  With a laugh, Winston nodded. “You're the type of son of a bitch I'm gonna get along with. I can already see that.”

  “Now, if we only knew what we had been volunteered for?” Josh asked.

  “We are about to find out, good buddy.” Winston said, pointing to the end of a very long hallway, which opened up into a theatre type setting, though very bright.

  “Thank you for coming,” a decorated soldier offered, extending his hand into the theatre where plenty had already taken a seat. “Please find a place and wait for our speaker.”

  “Your speaker better have his damn listening ears on,” Winston growled, though he followed the herd of people to be seated. Grumbling all the way. “Cause I plan to give that son of a bitch a mouthful he won't forget anytime soon.”

/>   The room had plenty of seating and a podium near its front – several seats lining the back side of the large wooden podium as well. A single framed photo hung at the room's rear. It was the size of several theatrical posters, though it contained only a single logo, and a strange one at that. Certainly nothing Josh had ever seen before.

  In fact, things began to feel very strange to the man who'd been involved with military service for such a long time. He had been trained to notice things which seemed out of place, and this place was becoming a hotbed for strange. Everything about it seemed to fit the profile of the typical army digs. However, nothing about the uniformed soldiers here resembled what he'd been accustomed to throughout the years.

  Their weapons were similar, but the colors of their uniforms, medals pinned to their chest and insignia which matched the logo hanging from this very room were all very out of place.

  There are very few moments in life that give you a warning. The type of feeling that forces you to grind to a halt and pay attention. The first time Josh had met Amanda, he had a feeling about her. Like the moment was truly life-altering. And, of course, the night he'd returned home from military service to find his lover gone and his house empty, he again felt that it was life altering. Those two moments were very far apart and Josh had never expected to be dealt yet another so quickly.

  “She's way out of your league, my man.” Winston said in discouraging fashion.

  “Who?” Josh replied, though his mind remained in a single place.

  “The girl you're eye-fucking, pal. She's well above anything you or I could ever fetch. You eye her any harder and she'll need to take a pregnancy test.”

  Josh had been caught red-handed, no alibi to be had. He'd literally never seen another girl who was so damn breathtakingly beautiful. The moment she had walked into the room, everything else left. His eight long years of service, a childhood crush and breakup that had, until moments ago, actually mattered.

  A few inches shorter than he was, she had long red hair that commanded attention. Not bright, not by any means; her hair shimmered just enough to remind him of everything beautiful in life. Very lightly-colored eyes of blue stood out against skin that was both very white and very pure. The mere sight of it soothing to Josh's soul. The essence around her spoke to him like that once in a lifetime song.

  “Oh, her,” Josh finally replied. His eyes continuing to watch the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen as she found a seat across the room. “Why do you say she's out of my league?”

  “Look. I know a thing or two about women, alright? Girls like that are at the top of their species, man. They literally have guys throwing themselves all day long for any hope of a date. Girls like that have their pick of the litter and they usually pick the nicest dog in the group. They seldom choose runts.”

  “Who's a runt?” Josh asked. “I've a got a few tricks, my friend. I have humor.” he added, leaning in to deliver the words in a whisper.

  “Yea, I'll give you that. Because if you think you have a shot with a fine woman like that, you're a fucking comedian. No offense.”

  “None taken.” Josh replied.

  Truthfully, he couldn't have agreed with his new friend any more strongly. Still, when the heart falls at first sight, there's not a lot that can be done about it. Sometimes you have to try, even if it means facing overwhelming odds.

  “Look sharp.” Winston said, nudging his buddy with an elbow as several officers entered the quieting room.

  “I always look sharp.” Josh replied with a grin.

  “Good afternoon, everyone. I'm General Linstrom and I'm sure you're each wondering why you're here.”

  “You're damn right we are.” Winston said, though he did so with only a grumble. Knowing his words would never reach far enough the front of the large room.

  “Just over two years ago, our country's naval units were executing a triangular search over the Atlantic Ocean as they looked for a downed passenger jetliner.”

  “Hey, I remember that shit.” Winston said with a whisper.

  Josh agreed with a nod. Worldwide news for several weeks until the crashed jet was finally located.

  “As many of you already know, we found pieces of the wreckage in another area. Far from our original search area,” the general said. “However, during our search over the Atlantic, our deep water equipment recorded some baffling information.”

  With his words, the general began to slide through several photos using a digital projector. Most of them very grainy photos, similar to an ultrasound; others compilations of numbers and information that most in the room didn't understand.

  “We thought it was a very unique rock formation, nothing more. Months later, our own scientists confirmed something a lot more shocking,” the general said. “A city.”

  “A city?” Winston asked loudly as commotion broke throughout the room.

  “Yes.” General Linstrom replied.

  “The fuck?” Winston asked.

  “After confirming this through multiple sources of intelligence, the United States opened a small, but very specialized branch, to learn everything it can from this city.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” a voice asked. Immediately capturing Josh's attention as the new woman of his affections was asking the question. She sounded British, and very well-educated. “The city in question. Is it an archeological find? How large will the dig be?”

  “Good question, Miss...”

  “Miss Erica Lawson, sir.” the woman replied warmly.

  “Wait,” Josh said. “Did she say miss? As in single?”

  “Ah man, you've got to give that shit up already. I just met you. I don't want to see you get heartbroken so soon.”

  “I need to remind everyone in this room that our meeting is fully confidential,” the general said. “Punishable by prison time.”

  “Remind? It's the first I've heard of the shit.” Winston grumbled.

  His reminder – or threat, depending on point of view, was a stern reminder that their meeting was indeed top secret.

  “Miss Lawson, we know two things about this city as of this very moment. It's a mighty long way down. Farther than anyone has ever been able to venture before, aside from both recorded Challenger Deep missions. Neither of which included a search for the treasured city of Atlantis. And we also know that, because of its design and unique composition – whatever built the city in question is not of this world.”

  “The fuck?” Winston said. This time, very loudly as he stood to his feet. “Sgt. Winston Stills, sir and I'm a bit pissed off about being carted off in the night like some kind of low-rent hooker. But, besides all of that, did you just say this shit was built by aliens?”

  “Sergeant, I believe he's referring to the lost city of Atlantis.” Erica Lawson replied.

  “Actually, folks,” the general replied. “I'm referring to both. Nothing about the structure is consistent with anything we've seen before, leading us to believe it was built by something other than mankind,” he added. “But its location is also consistent with the area of the mythical sunken city. Or so my scientists tell me.”

  “Sir, if I may?” Josh asked. Standing to his feet and using a moment to glance at the beautiful woman across the room.

  “Absolutely, Lieutenant Pierce.” the general replied.

  “If this city, or whatever it is, sits further down than we're able to go. I'm not sure what all of this is about? If we can't get to it for a dig or any type of reconnaissance mission, I'm not sure why we're here. I can't speak for everyone here, but I have a lot going on back at home. A lot of people who miss me.”

  “Do you, Lieutenant Pierce?” the general questioned.

  “Well, a lot of friends”

  The general's look continued to bead down onto Josh with questioning intentions.

  “OK, a dog. And it's my neighbor's dog, at that. But it's a damn cute one and I'd like to get back to it.”

  Josh's confession brought a smile to Erica's face, which is what he'd h
oped for.

  “Well, Lieutenant Pierce, now that we're all being honest here,” the general said with a chuckle. “You're all here because you're the best at what you do. Some of you are soldiers – others are among the finest scientists in the world. I see a few experts on mythology, archeologists and even the finest submarine captain the United States has to offer. From the moment our government first discovered this sunken city, we've been working with the best engineers around the globe to construct a submarine that can make this type of voyage. And now, I'm going to hand this meeting over to our chief engineer, David Saunders.”

  “You buying this shit?” Winston asked.

  “You believe I got her to smile?” Josh asked in reply.

  “Never going to happen, friend. I'd bet a box of the cigars that made me famous. She's out of your league entirely.”

  Josh extended his hand with a grin. Willing to take on the bet, though he needed no added motivation. The lightning bolt that had struck the part of his gut Amanda tried to rip from his, that was motivation enough.

  “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen,” the man said as he stepped to the podium. Nearly bald with a patch of hair combed over, thick glasses and the look of a man in serious need of a social life. “I'm David Saunders and I'm here to assure you that we've constructed a submarine I feel is good enough to reach the submerged city in question.”

  “Y'all hear that?” Winston asked loudly. “We can all rest easy, now. We're not going to die because some perfect stranger has promised us we're not going to.”

  “I assure you, we've thoroughly tested the submarine and feel there is a good chance for success.” David replied.

  “And I assure you that I don't give a shit,” Winston said. “I'm not getting on any damn piece of metal unless somebody puts down, in writing, that it's completely safe.”

  “Excuse me,” Lieutenant Pierce said. “Exactly what is your definition of good chance, in numbers?”

  “Fifty-percent.” David replied.

  “Holy shit, who do you work for, the lottery department? That's a horrible fucking number when you're talking about life or death!” Winston cried out.

  The general stood to his feet once more to calm the crowd of folks as they began to talk to one another loudly. Discouraged by such a number.

  “People, please.” David said. “This mission is not mandatory. We're not going to send you down there unless you sign off on it, so we just ask that you hear us out.”

  He quickly left the podium, making way for a very professional looking woman. Middle-aged, the woman wasted no time in introducing herself shooting off pleasantries. Instead, cutting right to the chase.

  “If you are not willing to volunteer your services, please form a line at the same door in which you entered this room. Those who plan to accompany our team to the greatest historical find mankind has ever known, please make your way up to the podium. You'll be asked to sign off on a clipboard, which will release us from any responsibility moving forward. For those who decline, please understand that you will be sequestered until the mission is completed – for the purpose of confidentiality.”

  “You doing this shit?” Winston asked.

  “Hell no,” Josh replied. “Sign up for a mission that's almost guaranteed death? Hell no, it would be suicide.”

  “That's what I'm saying,” Winston replied. “Let's go back to our cells and eat some more of that award winning cake. Wait for this to blow over, then I'll buy you a beer and introduce you to a few women that are well within your league, my friend.”

  Josh's mind was made up. At least, until he saw Erica Lawson to the podium. Putting the young man into the most important decision he'd ever made.

  Nothing about Josh wanted to die – especially inside of an over-sized tin can at the bottom of an ocean. To be crushed from the pressure of water like a defenseless grape. That said, what did he truly have to return home to? He'd always considered Amanda his soul mate and wondered what he'd possibly do after she'd left. A question that was easily answered with his very first glance onto Erica Lawson.

  Everything about the young woman with subtle red hair and a British accent spoke to his heart. Having to return to a room of thought and nothing else simply wasn't an option, not if it meant going back to regret the biggest chance of his entire lifetime. He couldn't let Erica walk away, never to see her again. Sure, she was completely and utterly out of his league, but he had to try. Otherwise, what was the sense of living?

  “Wait,” Winston said as Josh began walking toward the podium as well. “I thought you'd decided to go this way?” Finally catching sight of Josh's love interest, Winston “Churchill” Still understood what was taking place.

  Ah fuck me!

  “You and I made a bet,” Josh replied. “We'll never know the outcome unless we take a chance.”

  “It's a fucking box of cigars, chief. I'm willing to cut my losses.” Winston replied.

  “It's more than just cigars,” Josh said. “It's life. It's doing something that's never been done before, as opposed to going back home to an empty house.”

  “I'll say this,” Winston replied. “You've got to be the most depressing damn comedian I've ever known.”

  Josh smiled for a moment, turning to finish his walk to the podium. His brand new friend behind him and bitching every single moment of the way.

  “I'm impressed,” General Linstrom remarked. “I wasn't sure if you two would be up for this.”

  “Well, sir,” Josh said, standing closely enough to Erica for words to carry weight. “Sometimes you just get that lightning bolt and realize the greatest opportunity in life is standing right before you,” he added, glancing up to make eye contact with Erica Lawson firmly. “Sometimes the heart just wants what the heart wants.”

  She smiled back to him a bit. Not a single word spoken, although their look spoke volumes.

  “If we live through this shit,” Winston grumbled as he scrawled his signature down onto paper. “I want mine imported from somewhere nice. None of this domestic shit. You're a long way from the finish line, my little runt of the litter.” he added. Patting Josh on the back and crashing the love-struck man back down into reality.

  Glancing over the large room, a handful over eighty people stood in line to return to their sequestered rooms. Meanwhile, just a handful over thirty had signed on for the mission. Many of them hoping for the best but expecting the worst.

  “This isn't that large of a crew, sir.” Josh said.

  “Most of these folks are civilians. We've also got three full units of marines and a complete engineering core on standby – waiting to ride along.” the general replied.

  “They volunteer as well?” Winston asked.

  “Not so much,” the general replied. “This way, folks,” he added, welcoming them into a set of double doors which led further into the large building.

  Wondrous moments rarely occur in life. Only a handful of them, and when they begin to play out, you instantly know the following seconds will forever be remembered. The kind of moments worthy of framing for a wall.

  Such was the case as Josh, Winston and the rest of the volunteers entered the large chamber hall. A submarine rested high onto steel bridging which held the craft in perfect position as engineers worked on its underbelly. Sparks flooding in bunches as accurate welding slowly took its course.

  “This is your future home,” General Linstrom said with confidence. “The Iliad.”

  “I love the name.” Erica replied with a smile. Very keen on great literature.

  “We thought it was fitting.” the general replied.

  “It's a lot bigger than I thought.” Josh admitted.

  “That's what she said.” Winston replied. His words bringing a moment of silence as nearly every volunteer looked back at him with concentration.

  “What?” he asked. “Bunch of fucking stiffs in here.”

  “Don't,” Erica said. Sensing Josh was nearing the point of adding to Winston's statement. “P
lease don't encourage him.”

  Daring not cross the woman of his dreams, Josh remained silent. Finding it very hard to do, though.

  “People,” the general said. “Meet Captain Bruce Ellis.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Bruce replied with a firm salute.

  “At ease, Captain,” General Linstrom said, returning the salute. “I need you to get these people up to speed,” he added, turning to the group of highly-specialized volunteers. “Captain Ellis will be directly in charge of the military aspect of this operation.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Bruce replied.

  “Very well.” the general said, returning the captain's salute once more and leaving him to it. Walking away to check on the submarine's progress.

  “We are in the final stages of strengthening the submarine's outer shell, at which time our mission is scheduled to begin,” the captain said. “Each person will be allowed a single pack, so pack wisely. We're limited on room. Anything that you feel will be imperative to this mission – bring it. If it fits in the pack, it comes along. Otherwise, I will leave it behind. Is everything understood?”

  The entire group nodded slowly. Understanding the need to pack only essential items as the submarine was rather short and oddly shaped. Each of them beginning to go through a mental checklist. Most of what they had intended to bring would now have to remain behind, due to such limited space.

  “We have supplies aboard for an extended stay. Rations, clothing and the lot. Plenty of computer and data equipment. What you will need to select are clothes for duty and anything you cannot live without.”

  “Sir,” Josh said. “If you don't mind my saying so.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “There seems to be a lot of firepower riding shotgun with us. I understand the need for protection, but...”

  “Precautionary.”

  “I see.” Josh replied.

  His glance shifted to a soldier who seemed to stare daggers into him. His eyes never blinking in the slightest.

  There's something they aren't telling you.

  At least that's what Josh's eyes saw, assuming his lip-reading was still on par. The soldier's lips moving without sound.

  Between the message and look upon the soldier's face, something was wrong. Very wrong. Josh had seen the look way too many times before and it was a look of panic.

  “The rear of our submarine is off-limits to civilian personnel. That's my one and only rule. Weaponry is to be handled by military-trained only, and it remains at the rear of the shuttle. This applies during our trip and once we make contact with the submerged city. Understood?”

  His question was answered more quickly this time around, though it was done with silent nodding. Just as before.

  “Civilians will answer to our lead scientist, David Hopkins. Military answers to me. It's very cut and dry, people, and there can be no grey area once we launch below sea level. Our priorities are one in the same. To keep our crew as safe as possible during this mission, while seeking answers about this lost city. David is the man down below. Red shirt. If you are not military-trained, you will follow this row of steps down to the lower deck and report to him at this time. If you are military-trained, you will remain here. Everything clear?” he Captain Ellis asked. Waiting for any questions on the matter. “Good. Go!”

  A majority of the group broke away and began their journey down to the lower levels of the secret compound. Feet clanging to grated metal flooring and alarming David Hopkins that he had scientific experts' incoming.

  Four people remained, including Josh and Winston.

  “I have one rule and one rule only. You do as I say, when I say and you do it without question. If you adhere to this rule, we'll get along just fine. Otherwise,” Captain Ellis said. “I'll shoot you. Clear?”

  “Yes sir.” Josh replied, as did the others.

  “Very good,” he replied. “Now, regroup with the others and meet our civilian team. When we're all done here, you four will accompany the military-trained and be armed. At which time I will give you further instructions.”

  “Sir.” Josh said.

  “What is it?”

  “Permission to hit the head, sir?”

  “Make it quick, Pierce.”

  “Yes sir.”

  His bladder would be easy to empty as no visit was necessary. Josh had seen the panicked soldier head into a restroom only seconds before and he planned to get some answers.

  “You've got two minutes.” Josh said as he entered the rather large restroom. Taking a stall beside the panicked soldier, though neither man went through with the act, using their positioning as cover.

  “We are not the first group to go down.”

  “What?” Josh asked with shock. “What do you mean we are not the first?”

  “I don't have details. I'm not high enough on the chain for that. I just know this is the second group to go down. The first was nearly three months ago, and, as you pointed out, they were very lightly armed compared to us.”

  “Why would they not tell us this up front?” Josh asked.

  “I don't know. I don't even know how high this secret goes up. I just know they're keeping it from everyone for a reason.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I know a few people.” the soldier replied.

  “Who?” Josh insisted.

  “Trust me,” the soldier replied. “We'll leave their names private for the sake of everyone involved. But their roots reach high up into the infrastructure of the United States Government.”

  “Alright then.” Josh replied, easing away from the stall.

  “There's something they aren't telling us, Lieutenant,” the soldier replied. “So keep your eyes open and know that I have your back if it comes down to it.”

  “I appreciate that, friend. But I'm retired.” Josh replied with a smile.

  “Either way,” the soldier acknowledged. “I've read your military history. You're more of a soldier than anyone here.”

  Josh heard the man's statement, though he didn't reply. Choosing to make an exit and take the blinders off moving forward.

  His exit from the restroom was noticed by General Lindstrom, who also saw the other soldier leave seconds later. Glancing to Captain Ellis, there was an unspoken communication of certainty. The captain nodding with agreement and understanding.

  “Why the funny shape?” Josh asked in a hushed tone. Rejoining his group down below.

  The submarine looked like a drill bit at its front, while its rear was home to several long pieces of flat, spiraling fins. Like octopus arms, only a bit more uniform. Helping with the propulsion of the shuttle under water, no doubt.

  “The sub is shaped in such a way that it will be able to hold up against immense water pressure.” David Hopkins replied.

  He was a medium built man with short brown hair and the look of book smart. Which, in Josh's experience, meant a very lacking social life.

  “The front things twisting around like that help with water pressure?” Josh asked. “Interesting.”

  “Indeed,” David replied. “And you would have known that already if you'd have been down here minutes ago when I told the rest of the group.”

  “I had other business to take care of.” Josh fired back.

  “Indeed,” David replied. “Hope you washed your hands.”

  “Indeed.” Winston added with a smirk.

  Winston's sarcasm was answered with a smug look.

  “This is a very small submarine by typical standards. The exterior may look like it's fairly large, but the actual crew area inside is about the size of five school buses,” Bruce stated. “The rear houses military weaponry and a large oxygen compressor which feeds into the crew area and is capable of recharging our portable tanks. Other than that, most of what you see is in place to give us the very best chance of reaching the ocean's floor at one of its lowest points.”

  “Five school buses, that's it?” Winston asked. “That son of a bitch looks as big as a footb
all field. Bleachers and all.”

  “Well,” David replied. Appearing to look a bit aggravated – having to explain himself to someone who was obviously a lot less educated. “There is quite a bulk of metal on the exterior of the craft, which, once submerged at profound depths, will help hold up against the immense pressure down below.”

  “What the fuck did he just say?” Winston asked. His short list of terminology completely bewildered.

  “There's a lot of steel,” Josh replied. “Otherwise, the ocean would crush it like an empty beer can.”

  “Oh,” Winston replied proudly. “Well why in the fuck didn't he just say that?”

  Using all of these damn Harvard terms. Winston thought. Still trying to make what he could of the lead scientist.

  “I apologize,” David said. “I understand how difficult it must be for the military-trained to understand what I'm saying.”

  “Actually,” Josh replied. “I've been with you every step of the way. I just don't understand why you drag your words. It's kind of, well, it's kind of slangy.”

  “Yea, slangy.” Winston replied. Backing up his newly found best friend while holding his chest out a bit.

  There was a very awkward moment of silence in which the decorated soldier and acclaimed scientist exchanged glanced. Both men considered one of the best in their respective field.

  “Look. I'm not trying to rub you the wrong way or anything,” Josh said. Backing off of his tone a bit. “I'm just trying to make sure we have a good chance of getting down there in one piece? For everyone's sake, including my own.”

  “I understand,” David replied. “And I can assure you that only the best scientists we have to offer are working on that. Much like yourself, I want to discover the lost city of Atlantis AND live to tell about it.”

  “Well now we're talking,” Josh commented. “What do you need us to do?”

  “For the time being, stay out of our way. Just stand there and hold your weapons. I don't know, whatever you army guys tend to do.” David replied. Quickly turning to introduce the remainder of volunteers to the scientific aspect of their journey.

  “We don't even have guns yet?” Winston said with a questioning tone and low voice.

  “Just look mean,” Josh replied. “Give everyone a scowl or something.” he added with a smile.

  Everybody wants to be a damn comedian. Winston thought. Exchanging the grin with a sarcastic one of his own.

  “What do you make of everything?” Winston asked.

  They had returned to their living quarters for a few hours, which was a fancy term for large rooms with four beds a piece. The rooms perfectly in a row and stretching down a very long hallway leading to a large room filled with supplies. The mandated uniforms, additional high-lifetime L.E.D. flashlights, extra packs to be filled and placed within their one mandatory pack, navigation equipment, team communication radios and so forth. A shopping spree of sorts for a group of highly-specialized team members in need of supplies.

  “Well,” Josh replied. Pausing to completely zip his grey jacket. “If the water doesn't kill us, the conversation just might.” he added. Speaking of the group of scientists which would be among their team.

  “Sure enough,” Winston replied. “Bunch of book smart clowns probably have never seen action.”

  “And I'd bet these uniforms haven't either.”

  Josh had stated the obvious. The uniforms resembled military combat uniforms in use, except for the color. Solid grey with occasional block patterns of vivid blue. A logo slapped to the upper portion of each sleeve and a name placard sewn over the left chest area.

  The logo was one of interest. It slightly resembled the letter A, though two portions of its composition were in the design of ocean waves. The third portion representative of the lost city, which splintered away from the logo a bit. Its color one of almost holographic nature, forcing onlookers to immediately pay attention.

  “Yea, they're shitty.” Winston replied.

  “I don't know. They kind of have that,” Josh said, looking down to defend the standard issue clothing. “Yea, they're shitty.”

  Their conversation was halted as a third man entered. Nearly a foot smaller than either Josh or Winston, the pale white man with a very tight brush cut divided them on his way to the other side of the quarters without a word.

  “Hey, that's my rack.” Winston said sternly.

  “My rack now.” the smaller man replied.

  “Hey.” Winston said again, grabbing the man by his elbow.

  The confrontation quickly escalated as the smaller man dashed up, a combat blade to Winston's throat.

  “I said it's my rack now.”

  “You mind taking the blade away from my friend's throat?” Josh asked. “This isn't prison.”

  “Stay out of it.”

  “Not until you let my friend be, you little munchkin. Now take the blade away from my friend's throat.” Josh insisted.

  Angling his blade, the smaller man dashed onto Josh. Finding him to be a much tougher target than Winston.

  Grabbing the man's knife hand at the wrist, Josh then gripped the backside of the man's elbow and shoved him to the wall. Causing the blade to spill. With a single motion, Josh then spun his attacker around and placed his own elbow against the man's throat with pressure.

  “Like I said, this isn't prison. If it were, we'd be caking you with lipstick right about now and sizing you up for a dress. You get me? We're in the middle of a conversation and you storm in here and interrupt us like you're selling vacuums. Very rude,” Josh said, turning to his good buddy. “Continue.”

  “I forgot what the fuck we were talking about?” Winston asked.

  “Well, looks like it's your lucky day little man,” Josh said, turning attention back to the pinned soldier. “Now. If I let you up from here, can you play nice?”

  The man obviously was pissed off, but saw no choice in the matter. Finally submitting and nodding with compliance.

  “Good. Now, what's your name?”

  “He, uh,” Winston chimed in. “He can answer you partner. I think you're choking him out.”

  “Oh,” Josh replied. “My apologies.”

  With that, Josh eased off of the man's throat and slowly let him regain a bit of composure.

  “Well?” Winston asked.

  “Flea.” the soldier replied with anger.

  “Flea?” Josh asked. “Your parents didn't like you or is it a nickname you picked up along the way?”

  “The fuck do you think?” Flea asked.

  “I'm gonna go with nickname,” Josh said. “So why come in here and start swinging blades on us, Flea?”

  “When you're my size. You either make your intentions damn well clear or you get pushed around. I'm not one to get pushed around.” Flea replied.

  “Yea. I'm getting that.” Josh replied.

  “Hell buddy, we weren't planning on pushing you around.” Winston said.

  “You'd be the first.” Flea replied.

  “We have extra beds like crazy in here, big man. No need to do any kind of pushing.” Josh said.

  “It's because nobody wants to bunk with you. Hell, I didn't want to bunk with you, if you want to know the truth of it.”

  “Why the hell did you, then?” Winston asked.

  Flea replied with a stern glance.

  “Oh. Yea. Because you are the flea.” Winston added.

  “Why doesn't anyone want to bunk up with us? We're likeable?” Josh asked. “If it's Winston over here, I'll ask him to sleep outside.”

  “No, it's you.”

  “Me?” Josh asked.

  “What did you do?” Winston asked with an investigatory tone.

  “I didn't do anything,” Josh replied, turning to Flea. “I came along at virtual gunpoint, got shuffled into a cell and ate the fucking cake. What did I do?”

  “You don't outrank the man in charge, but you out experience him. I think that rubbed the captain wrong. He's not a big fan of yours and nobody
in the unit want to bunk up with you. Afraid they'll be linked to you, I guess.”

  “It only takes one bad apple.” Winston said.

  “Bad apple?” Josh replied. “I'll have you know I don't even like apples. I'm a man of oranges,” he added. “Well, orange juice and vodka.”

  “Now I could go for a pack filled with that.” Winston replied with a grin.

  Taking a moment to remove a small bottle from a lower cargo pocket hanging from his pants leg, Flea offered the men a swig of just that. The clearest vodka they'd ever seen.

  “Between us, right mates?” Flea asked.

  “Come here and give old Winston a hug.”

  “No,” Flea replied. “Stay back. I'll cut 'ya.”

  “So,” Winston said, pausing long enough to blister a path to his stomach with raw vodka. Clinching his teeth with regret. “What kind of experience has the men in charge pissed off?”

  “Don't really want to talk about it.” Josh replied.

  “What? We're all military here,” Winston said. “Eighth Armored Division for me. Tank jockey, baby.”

  “Where did you get the vodka,” Josh asked. The juice of submission punishing him on contact. “On the home improvement isle?”

  “Hey now,” Flea warned. “If I'm giving it out for free you have no right to complain.”

  “Got me there.”

  “I figured a man of your experience could handle its bite.” Flea added.

  “What experience?” Winston demanded to know.

  “10th Special Forces Group, Fort Carson, Colorado.” Josh finally replied.

  “No shit?” Winston asked.

  “His record says twenty-two confirmed kills in combat during the Iraq War. Topped off with a bronze star.” Flea added.

  “That's a pretty high number.” Winston said, handing the vodka bottle to his more deserving friend.

  “It's complicated.” Josh said.

  “His jacket says that he and a few in his group were pinned down in Iraq while trying to salvage what they could of a downed copter. Every single one of them should have bought it, but his valor in battle proved to be enough to bring home a handful of soldiers. Including the copter's pilot.”

  “Yea, yea,” Josh replied. His words thrown at Flea. “They keep telling me what a good job it was, but it's not like I had a choice. Kill or be killed. Any one of us would have did what he could have to stay alive.”

  “I've been shaking up with a hero.” Winston admitted.

  “Not hardly,” Josh said with regret. Stuffing a hand-sized flashlight into his pack. “I couldn't even hang on to my girlfriend back home.”

  “A soldier's life indeed.” Flea commented.

  “I'll drink to that.” Winston said. Finishing off the bottle of vodka, much to Flea's surprise. Displaying very poor Vodka etiquette.

  It's never a good stretch of moments when a person lays their head against a pillow – their soul filled with regret, and Josh was no different.

  His thoughts were consumed late into the night, understandably, by the lover who had left with only a letter of regret. He'd truly survived unspeakable horrors in combat, only to be cast off like an ailing dog. A burden to a beautiful woman that, ultimately, deserved better. Josh knew it to be true.

  But he loved Amanda into the pit of his very soul. Everything Josh was and everything he would ever be, had been tailored around the only woman he'd ever loved. For all of his training and combat against nearly insurmountable odds, Josh found his toughest opponent to be facing the cold hard truth of it all. Wanting someone who doesn't want you back hurt badly.

  As the rest of whatever team that had been assembled for the Atlantis trip lay soundly asleep, Josh simply couldn't. He understood that the mission in front of him presented hazards at every turn. Josh and his team could easily be swept under the rug of water, never to be heard from again. To the military, they were the very best in their respective field of training. Also, to the military, they were expendable.

  For more than a year, Josh had longed to see Amanda's face once more. He'd be dumped with a very short letter and now faced almost certain death. Still longing to see her face. And, as a thick sweat fell from his brow, Josh remained in bed. Wondering what the future could possibly hold for him. Wondering if he would ever see her face again.

  Many times over the past twenty-four hours, he had shrugged it off in public. Simply laughed it off around others and moved on. But, beneath it all, there was no moving on.

  The loss of Amanda hurt badly and he would have an entire night of longing for her embrace. The thoughts of her luminous smile and gentle voice left to haunt him every waking hour of silence that his life had planned out for him.

  “Up and at 'em,” Winston said. Shaking the arm of his new buddy a bit. “You'd think a man of your background would be easier to wake up. You guys are supposed to sleep with your eyes open and I thought I'd have to drag in a damn symphony orchestra.”

  “It was a long night,” Josh replied. “Actually, this whole week has been downright brutal.”

  “Well, I hate to be a messenger of ill news, but it looks like you're a hair or two away from losing your bet.” Winston commented with a grin.

  “Come again?” Josh asked.

  His head pounded from the abuse of too little sleep. Wondering if he would be able to function normally.

  “Your girl. She's really warming up to a lieutenant out there. Or he's warming up to her. Not really sure which it is, to be honest.” Winston replied.

  “What?” Josh asked. “I'm a lieutenant. What's wrong with me?”

  “Well, for starters. You look like you haven't slept in a week.” Flea chimed in. Securing the straps around his pack tightly.

  “Yea. You look like shit, man. Try shaving.” Winston added.

  “Thanks guys,” Josh replied. “You're too kind.”

  “If it were me, I'd get on out there and make a play on her anyway. Before it's too late.” Winston suggested.

  “Yea,” Josh said. “I think I may just do that.”

  “Go get 'em tiger.” Winston replied.

  “Sorriest damn tiger I've ever seen,” Flea whispered. “He looks more like a shaggy, abused mutt.”

  “Let's hope.” Winston replied.

  “Eh?”

  “I got a stack of mighty fine cigars riding on the fact that he strikes out with her.” Winston confessed.

  “Well then,” Flea replied. “Make it two stacks. I've always been one for the underdog,” he added, beginning to clap a bit. “Go get 'em tiger.”

  Dear God. Why didn't they just string some empty beer cans from my waist. Josh thought as he approached the most beautiful girl in their ranks. Trying his best to ignore the loud encouragement of his friends.

  “Good morning.” Erica commented.

  “Not really, I feel terrible.” Josh replied.

  “I'm sorry to hear that. Something I can help you with?” she asked.

  “Not unless you can speed dial my ex-girlfriend and, well, I'm not sure after that,” he replied. “It's been kind of a crazy night.”

  “I can see that.” Erica replied with a giggle.

  “It's just, well,” Josh said with confidence. Hoping it would mask his look of having just woken up. “I always walk out onto the deck of my tiny little apartment and watch the sunrise. There aren't any windows in this place.”

  “Or decks.” Erica stated.

  “Or decks. Thank you. And you are really the only woman in here casting off the same warm glow.”

  Erica laughed a bit. Choosing not to share her thoughts.

  “What?” Josh asked. “I'm not kidding here.”

  “Oh, I believe you. It's just that you smell like,” she added with a bit more laughter. “Well, like alcohol.”

  “Damnit.” Josh said. Cursing the cheap vodka which rested heavy on his breath, its indistinguishable stench lingering.

  “It's kind of refreshing though,” she admitted. “To be hit on by a guy who isn't throwin
g everything at me at once.”

  “I would be. Trust me. But like I said, it's been a hell of a night. Week actually. I don't know. I just stumbled over here to let you know that I think you're fantastic, and, well, I'm pretty much convinced we're going to die while confined inside of a submarine. And I don't want to do that. You know?” he asked.

  “Oh, I understand. I don't want to die either.” Erica replied with a bit of a whisper.

  “Why are you whispering?” he asked.

  “In case you have a headache.” she replied with a warm smile.

  “That is extremely thoughtful of you,” Josh admitted. “I mean that. Anytime you feel like swapping out with one of my roommates, I think it would be great. I mean, just take a look over my shoulder. They have me shacked with the absolute worst. Anytime you'd like-””

  “Doubtful.”

  “Moving in a bit quick for you?” Josh asked.

  “No. Well yes, but I meant that we are set to dive today.” Erica confirmed.

  “Get out of here?”

  “Unfortunately.” Erica replied.

  “That sucks.” Josh said.

  “It does? Why?”

  “Well,” he replied, turning his voice into a whisper. “I'm afraid of small places. And that's our little secret.”

  “You're what?” Erica asked with laughter. “Then why in God's name would you sign up for a mission aboard a submarine?”

  “What can I say? You just have that warm glow.” Josh admitted with an incredibly serious face.

  Their conversation halted for several moments. Silence piercing the ears of both as they locked into a stare.

  “Well, I'm going to go now. I have a last will and testament to finish up and vodka to curse. I hope to see you aboard. I'll be the trembling guy with garlic and prayer beads.” Josh said, casting a smile her way as he prepared to walk away.

  “Why the garlic?” Erica asked.

  “I don't know,” he admitted. “It just kind of fell out without any thought. Always happens when I'm nervous.”

  “Well, I hope you have a better morning.” Erica said.

  “Thank you,” he replied. “I'm going to try.”

  “I like sweet cigars, just so you know.” Flea commented as they continued to watch Josh from a distance.

  “It ain't over yet.” Winston barked.

  “I don't know,” Flea said. “I think I may have placed my money on the Seabiscuit of romance.”

  “Yea,” Winston said. “I hear 'ya.”

  “Buckle up real snug now, 'ya hear?” Winston said with a cheese-filled grin.

  The team had begun boarding the submarine and securing themselves into five-point harness systems which closely resembled those found in stock car racing.

  “This is funny to you, isn't it?” Josh replied with fear. His hands gripping the seats accompanying armrests tightly. He reminded those around him of that guy at the local fair, regretting his decision to ride the “big” ride.

  “Well, I'm not going that far, but,” Winston replied. “Well, yea. I won't even lie about it. It's funny. You look like a man boarding a commercial flight that has never flown before.”

  For all of the joking inside of his statement, there was also truth. The interior of the high-tech submarine looked eerily similar to the interior of a commercial passenger jet, only smaller. The isle which separated seating was thinner in diameter and the windows which looked out into whatever would surround them, a bit tiny compared to the standard windows aboard a commercial flight. Josh had also been a bit discouraged as he, Winston and Flea were placed among scientists, rather than the military-trained, which seated in a separate compartment at the submarine's rear.

  They were outcasts among the military, outcasts among the scientists and, quite frankly, outcasts in almost every imaginable setting outside of the compound. Flea was rather small and loved his adult sauce. Usually in the form of vodka. Winston was as close to a Sasquatch as human genes would allow. His body covered in fur, or, as he called it, man-hair. His face no different and his vocabulary borderline primitive. Josh, of course, carried a broken heart and a black mark in the eyes of his commanding officer, for whatever reason. Perhaps it was his outstanding service record, which had seemed to captivate the military-trained among them. Perhaps it was something else.

  Of course none of it matter as Josh gripped the seat like a child and clinched his teeth with fear.

  “Won't be that bad, mate. We'll either make it all the way down or be killed so quickly that our minds won't time to register it.” Flea said.

  “Not funny.” Josh replied.

  “He's right, buddy,” Winston said. “Of course, there's the question of freezing to death vs. strangulation under tons of water. Helpless to do anything but accept it.”

  Josh glanced to his new friend with extreme fear. His mind consuming every word.

  “Then you really have to wonder how long we'll be laying on the ocean floor before something tears into us with shard-like teeth. Ripping flesh from bone...”

  “Alright,” Josh finally said. “I get it.”

  “No worries mate. I'm sure everything will go exactly as planned. The military has its intelligence department in on this one.” Flea added.

  Sarcasm, of course, and Josh knew it. He'd been a soldier long enough to know that nothing ever went as planned. Especially when the intelligence department was involved.

  We are minutes away from dive time. We ask that everyone ensure their packs are secure at this time.

  As the man's voice broadcast throughout the interior of the submarine, reality began to set in for everyone aboard. Including the small patch of misfits who continued their discussion.

  “Well, there it is. You better make sure your...” Winston began to say.

  “I'm not worried about a damn sackful of uniforms and flashlights. To hell with it.” Josh replied loudly. Gaining the attention of several people inside of the cabin.

  “Calm down, mate. You're scaring people.” Flea said.

  “They should be scared,” Josh fired back. “This could very well be a one way trip, and for what? I don't even know the first thing about Atlantis!”

  As Erica walked past, moving to her seat among scientists, she began to see the fear on Josh's face. His gripping hands into leather armrests a dead giveaway.

  Stopping for a moment, she contemplated her next move. Assigned to be seated near the front of the current cabin, she also worried about any man who couldn't disguise such a painful fear of small places.

  “Are you coming?” a scientist asked.

  “Um,” Erica replied. “No. I think I'm going to sit back here and keep these people calm. If they'll have me?”

  Winston began to offer his opinion, but found Josh holding his bag outstretched and giving his friend no chance for argument. Winston had been reassigned to a different seat in the front of the cabin, against his will.

  “I see how it is then.” Winston growled.

  “Hey. Be a wingman.” Flea replied in a low voice.

  “How about you be a fucking wingman, you scrawny bastard.” Winston blasted back, not that it mattered.

  “Absolutely,” Josh said loudly. Doing what he could to overpower the squabbling men while showing full attention to the beautiful woman. “Winston was just asking how he'd be able to move closer to the front. He loves his science.”

  “The fuck?” Winston asked.

  “Oh. I hate to be an intrusion in any way.” Erica replied with a warm smile.

  “Intrusion?” Josh asked, grabbing a fistful of Winston's jacket from behind and helping pull him to his feet. “You would be doing this man right here a favor.”

  “Well, in that case. Thank you.” Erica said.

  “My pleasure.” Winston replied, though it was anything but. The brushy faced man turning to scowl at both of the men he called friends.

  “Decide to sit back here so I could keep you safe, did 'ya?” Josh asked.

  “Well honestly, you look
ed a bit tense.” Erica replied.

  “She means you look scared shitless.” Flea added.

  “I know what she meant,” Josh said, turning to the small soldier. “Why don't you read a magazine or eat something.”

  “But I'm not hungry.”

  “Yea,” Josh said with dedication. “You really are.”

  Using the palm of his hand, Josh wiped across his face. His way of bringing a laugh to the vibrant young woman.

  “What about now?”

  “Yea,” Erica replied with a laugh. “You're still a little bit tense looking.”

  Erica answered him with a glance down. Strong fingers biting into the thick of leather as he gripped tightly – his fingertips flush red.

  “Yea. You got me red-handed.” he said.

  Erica burst with laughter. Catching on very quickly to Josh's quick wit, though Flea struggled with it. Still wondering why he was being forced into eating when he wasn't hungry. The absolute worst of wingmen.

  “Where is Erica?” one of the scientists asked as Winston plopped down quickly into a seat near the front of their passenger compartment.

  “You are looking at her.”

  “Huh?” the scientist asked.

  A scowl from Winston answered his question. Setting the pecking order straight from the get go.

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Just don't get all touchy feely with me and we won't have any problems.” Winston warned.

  With his warning came a shifting of the submarine. Stern reminder that their voyage into whatever rested on the ocean floor was about to begin – for better or worse.

  “Wake me up when we get there.” Winston demanded.

  “Wake you up?” the scientist seated beside him questioned. “Don't you want to see the wonders of the ocean below us?”

  “Fuck no,” Winston confirmed. “I'm just here for the fine tobacco, my man.”

  Understanding that his new friend had ushered him away so damn quickly because of his own personal quest for something fine, and it wasn't tobacco.

  After several days of being sequestered inside of the private military building, Josh and those around him were finally seeing the outside once more. The small submarine pushing itself away from the building and into deeper waters off of the coast – albeit slowly. Their craft remaining atop the water, no longer surrounded by any sight of land.

  The plan as everyone understood it, would be to get the submarine to a secure location on top of the ocean's tantalizing waves and then begin a controlled dive beneath the calm of blue water, angling slightly. It would give them a better chance as it would ease them deeper, rather than plunge them quickly into severe depths and the water pressure which came hand in hand. The science team had worked up a specific chart which would be used as the submarine descended, altering its speed depending on the water pressure and allowing the crew to safely reach the ocean floor. Or so they had hoped.

  If, during the angled descent, their sub began to show signs of breaking down, they could abort back to the surface of the ocean. Otherwise, their angle should put them very close to the sunken city, if maps and mathematics proved correct.

  It would take several hours to accomplish, if things worked out exactly as planned. But Josh didn't anticipate that happening. Aside from his obvious fear, the former special forces soldier thought of another man's statement. Was something larger at work during this mission? Did higher ups within the government, in fact, know more about this sunken city?

  Most importantly, would it matter? Josh had been in firefights and conflicts aplenty, and wasn't the least bit frightened of battle. In those situations, he had control, so long as he had a weapon to fight with. This was a different type of combat. A submarine built by scientists was about to enter war against the punishing depths of water that could very easily crush everyone aboard the ship, and Josh was completely powerless to do anything about it. He had no control over the situation and found himself trusting his life to a group of scientists he'd never met before.

  That was his true fear. No control and no input, not the idea of death. He'd already died, for the most part, the moment his soul mate had left.

  “Try to stay calm,” Erica said. “It'll work out just fine.”

  “I hope so,” Josh said. “Otherwise I'm going to be very upset that my heart told me to take a chance.”

  “On...” Erica asked. “The mission?”

  “Not so much.” Josh replied.

  Erica seemed to do a bit of math in her head in an attempt to put his words together. Still, a part of her understood his statement. She offered no real reply, just a turn of the head. Looking away from Josh, though her hand remained on his.

  “Vodka is a lot less complicated,” Flea said. Rambling his words to a complete stranger who sat beside him. “That's why I prefer that route.”

  “More simple than what?” the stranger asked.

  “Anything,” Flea replied. “Everything. It's very direct and you know what you're going to get each and every time.”

  The stranger nodded, but still had very little idea what Flea alluded to. Choosing to give such a quick response and move forward, thinking the soldier already drunk. Especially given the small man's limited frame to hold beverage.

  The submarine had become a cruise ship of sorts, pushing further out into the flat landscape of ocean and leaving a trail of turbulent water behind it. Escaping into a sun-filled horizon and slowly approaching the designated spot in which it would attempt to make history.

  Chapter 2

  The Incredible Journey