The Bound Eye-Part 2

Click here for Part 1

            The winter air was crisp and clean but bitterly cold. It was the kind of cold which slams into one’s face and immediately begins to bite the nose and cheeks upon its arrival. A fresh snow had fallen the night before; a clean, unbroken white sheet lay upon the campus yard, covering up any hint of the dead grass that lay beneath it. There was only the slightest wind blowing, but even that little movement made the cold seem all that much worse. A few birds could be heard chirping in the bell towers, huddling together and trying to stay warm. There were almost no students walking the grounds at this time, and the few who did brave the chill were bundled from head to toe, staying as much in the sunlight as they could.

               Miguel Romero begrudgingly trudged through a pile of calf-high snow, breaking the near silence with the thick crunching of ice beneath his boots. He had covered himself in more layers than anyone: long-johns, sweatpants, and thick jeans that would normally be two sizes too large for him covered his legs, while four layers of shirts, jackets, and parka wrapped his torso and arms. He had on both a hood from one of the jackets and a beanie on over his head, as well as a thick scarf covering his nose and mouth. His friends teased him for, “looking like an arctic explorer,” but he didn’t care. While he had only been to his parent’s native home in El Salvador a few times he had grown up in Texas, and the sub-freezing temperatures of Ann Arbor, Michigan did not agree with his upbringing.

               Freeing his last step from the snow’s frosty clutches, Miguel stepped back onto the cleared path of the sidewalk. He turned down the path and continued his hurried march toward the lab, his arms pinned to his side in a vain effort to keep warmer. He breathed heavily under his scarf, muttering to himself about how much he hated the snow, when he saw her coming down an adjoining walkway. Alyssa Pike was a doctoral candidate who oversaw one of the other lab groups under Dr. Gupta. She was working on her thesis in anthropological archaeology, lead the analysis team for early American hominid remains at the university, and was the hottest girl Miguel had ever met.  They talked every so often in the lab, but being on different research teams, and her being in a leadership position, made flirting difficult. But none of that would matter out here in the bitter cold morning. As subtly as possible, Miguel picked up his pace to ensure he could walk with her on their way to the lab.

               When the two did meet on the connecting path Alyssa gave Miguel a slightly concerned look and a reserved smile. “Is there a person underneath all those clothes?” she asked playfully.

               “Nope,” he replied. “Just a ball of Texan stress and caffeine.” Alyssa laughed loudly, and Miguel gave back a warm smile that was completely lost behind his scarf. They kept walking together, discussing the work each of them was doing in the lab and how they both believed Dr. Gupta would still tell them they needed to do more. They laughed and joked, and for a short while Miguel didn’t even feel the cold as he strode beside this lovely woman.

               Just before they went into the lab building Miguel pulled Alyssa off to the side of the path. “Hey, if you’re not busy this weekend, would you like to go and see a movie with me?” There was a two second silence, then he hastily added “My friend may or may not come along too.” It was a complete lie, but he thought it would make him seem less desperate. Alyssa seemed to notice that and gave another reserved smile, her cheeks turning a slightly deeper red out in the cold. She opened her mouth to reply.

               Instead of words, a loud honk of a car horn bellowed forth from her mouth. Miguel looked to the right and saw two bright headlights speeding towards them through a torrent of rain. Alyssa simply stood there smiling at him while the car let out another blaring honk and continued its unstoppable assault. Miguel too was frozen in place and could only look on in horror as the car careened forward. In an instant it was there and smashed hard into Alyssa.

               With a sharp jolt, Miguel woke up in a cold sweat in his seat on the airplane. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes from the disturbing sights of his dream. Dr. Anita Singh gave a little jump of her own and looked over from her seat next to him. Both sat is a surprised daze for half a moment before the reality and realization settled in. Dr. Singh put a gentle hand on Miguel’s shoulder and gave her best comforting smile. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth deepened with a sense of empathy, making Miguel feel a bit more grounded again. He put one hand on hers to show thanks for the gesture and rubbed his eyes with the other, half wiping away the sleep, half wiping away the tears. He didn’t usually fall asleep on plane rides, especially short ones like this trip from Perth to Albany, but the jet lag from the much longer flight into Perth had him more out of sorts than anticipated. Combined with the lack of sleep he had been getting since the funeral, this lead to him knocking out before this layover had even taken off.

               Now in mid-flight, Miguel looked around the cabin to reassess his bearings. The seat and legroom were much smaller than on the last flight; there was no first class on the hour-long trip from Perth. Miguel sat in an aisle seat just behind the airplane’s wings. Directly on his left was Dr. Singh, who had taken her hand off his shoulder and resumed reading her book. Across the aisle and one row up was Alex Field, the Ph.D. student from Alyssa’s research team, who was utterly engrossed is a show or video on his phone. Somewhere in the rows ahead of that sat Dr. Gene McMullin from Yale’s anthropology department. He and Dr. Singh had worked together on a field expedition exploring some ancient sunken ruins near Greece. It was on her recommendation that Miguel had invited him on this trip. When they had met at the airport back in the U.S. Dr. McMullin had certainly been very animated and optimistic, but had simply disappeared and become silent when they boarded. Now the flight attendant came down the aisle politely telling each row that they would be landing shortly and to put away all electronics and stow carry-on luggage.

               After they retrieved their luggage, a few large boxes with the heavy and fragile equipment, the group made its way down to the lobby of the small airport. Alex fairly quickly spotted an older man holding a sign labeled “AIMS Research Team.” He was a taller man, with salt-and-pepper hair and a deep tan. He wore a sky-blue button-down shirt with short sleeves over cargo khaki shorts. As the group approached, he turned towards them an gave a very wide smile, revealing very bright white teeth. “Hullo, you must be Mr. Romero and the research team.” He had a very strong and very stereotypical accent which, for some reason, made him seem very genuine and welcoming. Miguel shook his hand as he went on, “I’m Dr. Kepper from the Institute, I’ll be takin’ you lot out to your hotel and introducin’ the captain to ya.”

               “Will you be joining us on the expedition?” Gene asked.

               “Nah, mate. I’m just here to collect you all today. But I will be mannin’ the radio while you’re out there, so give me a ring if you ever need anything from dry land.” In his mind Miguel let out a sigh of relief. He was glad for the enthusiasm that the team showed, but in his current state he didn’t think he could handle both Dr. McMullin’s and Dr. Kepper’s aggressive friendliness. Curtly excusing himself from the group, Miguel stepped out of the automatic doors to the drop off/pick-up area and lit a cigarette.

               The weather outside was gorgeous. The sun shone brightly in the April afternoon and warmed everything in its radiance. The display board inside had said that the current temperature was 20 °C, though it felt a little cooler in the shade of the airport’s overhang. There was a bit of stickiness to the air, but since it wasn’t hot enough to sweat it was neither bothersome nor overbearing. Miguel stood off to the side of the door and out of the way of the little bit of foot traffic. He sucked on his cigarette listening to the sounds of the cars and airport around him. He closed his eyes and his thoughts began to drift back to Alyssa’s face.

               His musing was broken by the boisterous words of Dr. Kepper. “Don’t get too used to the weather, mate. It gets rainy and overcast near everyday ‘round this time of year. And out where you’re goin’ there’s been known to be some wild storms that whip up right quick.” The rest of the team stood behind Dr. Kepper with all the various bags and boxes. Miguel gave a small nod in response, then picked up his own gear. Dr. Kepper lead the group down the length of the pick-up area and into a small parking lot. They loaded into a big white van with the AIMS logo painted on the side and started heading toward the sea-side part of town.

               Two hours later everyone had settled into their rooms at the inn and were meeting in the bar. Miguel put out the butt of his latest cigarette with his shoe and stepped back inside. The low lighting in the bar area made it seem rather sleepy, and the light grey clouds that had started gathering gave no help. Inside, Anita and Gene sat at the bar reminiscing about past work together while Alex stood close by studying the drink menu hard. Miguel shuffled over to the group and began looking over the bottles on the shelf.

               Just then Dr. Kepper strode in from the lobby of the hotel with four other people in tow. With his normal enthusiasm he began introducing the members of his party. “Alright mates, this ‘ere is Captain Shelly Barton, the one in charge of The Barrier Bess.” As he said this, he motioned to a short woman in her mid-thirties with course auburn hair and dark brown eyes that were deep set, yet kind. “These three are Corwin James, Steven Marshal, and Millie Hartwell. They’re the crew who’ll maintain the tub and pilot the submersible.” Corwin and Millie were clearly younger, seemingly in their mid- to late-twenties. The former was tall with pale skin that had been roughened and callused by work on the ship, while the latter was squatter, with rich dark skin and large round glasses under her wiry hair. Steven, however, was clearly the oldest crew member, with tufts of wire-like grey hair around a bald head and a hunched posture over his barrel chest.

               Everyone exchanged greeting and handshakes for a short time before Captain Barton took control of the meeting. “Now then,” she said with authority, “the location you sent the Institute was 46° 23’ 16.8” S and 120° 12’ 10.8” E. Is that still where we’re headed?” Miguel gave a silent confirmation. “Good. The Bess cruises at about 11 knots, so it’ll take about two-and-a-half days to get out there. Well anchor down best we can and only use engine power for small corrections to keep us over your site. Corwin and Millie here are our sub pilots, so once we get there they’ll be taking it down and fetching up anything you all deem worthy of surfacing. The sub has an exterior camera on its arm, so you all can watch what’s going on down below. Steven is my first mate and anything he says goes. How long do you expect to be rummaging around this site?”

               “We’ll know more once we see what kind of artifacts we find, but we initially plan to be out as long as fuel and food will allow,” answered Miguel.

               “Well the Bess can stay at sea for a month-and-a-half on her own. Storms can brew up pretty nasty and real suddenly out that way though, so we’ll have to be careful about them. I want to make this clear right now: no matter what you all do or don’t find out there, safety is priority number one. If me or my crew thinks something isn’t safe, we don’t do it. End of discussion. I’m not risking their necks or yours for ‘one more rock.’” The whole party gave their nods of understanding and Shelly continued, “We’ll depart first thing tomorrow morning, so be sure all your gear and tools are ready tonight. Other than that, get a good night’s rest and be ready to be put to work.” With the matter of factness in her final sentence Shelly ended the meeting and her and the crew departed. The research team decided to stay in the bar and have a few drinks, but Miguel said he was still feeling jet lagged and headed back to his room.

               The rooms at the inn were small, consisting of a single sleeping space dominated by the bed, and adjoining vanity area, and separate bathroom with toilet and shower. The walls were lined with a dark wood finish that tried to make the space feel more open, but instead just made it darker. Generic pictures of boats and docks hung sporadically on the walls, and in Miguel’s room there was an oar placed long-wise above the headboard. Miguel stood at the open window, smoking another cigarette and looking out to the harbor beyond. He could see the research vessel anchored in the inlet, the waves breaking against its hull without bobbing it at all, at least not visibly from the room. The overcast clouds had begun started to let their droplets fall and the soft plinking of the rain on the road was all that could be heard. The scene was one of quiet tranquility, but it did little to soothe Miguel’s nerves.

               A knock on the door brought Miguel out of his trance. He walked over and opened it to find Anita standing outside. She had a look of motherly worry on her face as she stood in the hall. “May I come in?” Miguel nodded, and she walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. “I wanted to check in with you and make sure everything’s all right. Are you okay to make this expedition?”

               Miguel sat down beside her and forced himself to make eye contact. “I will be all right. I understand and appreciate your concern, but this expedition meant so much to us. I have to make sure it goes well.”

               “But are you capable of doing that right now? There is no shame is taking some time for yourself. You and Alyssa were always so driven, especially in organizing this whole thing. Perhaps a short break would be good for you. The structure hasn’t gone anywhere in 3 million years, I think it will still be there in another month or so.”
               Miguel gave a small laugh and smile to her joke. He looked down to his feet and said, “I know. I won’t lie to you and say, ‘I’m fine’ or ‘it will be easy’, but I think continuing this work is the best thing I can do to honor Alyssa. Besides, it’s a little late to back out now, don’t you think?”

               “Okay, but know that we’re all here for you. You don’t need to cut yourself off and face this alone. Why don’t you come down and have a drink with us?”

               “Thanks for the offer, but I wasn’t lying about that jet lag thing. I’m gonna try and get some rest for tomorrow.” With that they both stood up and Miguel held open the door for her. Anita gave him a small hug on her way out and went back down the hall. As soon as he shut the door, Miguel felt a warm stream of tears start to roll down his cheeks. He went back to the bed and softly cried into his hands. He stayed like this for ten minutes before picking himself up and washing off at the sink. A few small sobs still welled up and he tried to catch them in his chest.

               He went over to the bedside table and opened the drawer. Inside, as always, was a pocket bible bound in black leather with a golden crossed on the front. He had always found solace in prayer, and so he picked up the small book and turned to a 2 Corinthians 4:17-18. He read the verses aloud, with a quiver in his voice, “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving us for eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not upon what is seen, but what is unseen, for what is seen is temporary and what is unseen is eternal.” The words did help to cease his tears but did little for the sunken feeling in his heart. He put the bible back in its drawer and laid down to try and get some sleep.

               A fine mist surrounded Miguel as he walked through a vast emptiness. Even as he went forward he knew this was another dream, but he could not seem to either wake himself nor control anything within the dream. The mist was warm and damp and stretched as far as the eye could see. Despite there being no light he could see perfectly well. His feet moved on their own, turning and stepping with confidence in their path through the nothingness. The silence of the void was overwhelming, but Miguel dare not try to cry out or break it. He simply went along with his feet, letting them guide the rest of him.

               Finally, without his knowing where or why, he stopped and simply stood in the mist. He felt as through he could see everything, and yet was blind at the same time. Then, from out of the mist in front of him, a dim light appeared. The light grew brighter and Miguel saw that it was something approaching him. As it came closer and closer, the light became increasingly intense, until it was directly before him and nearly blinding. Yet he could not look away.

               At the heart of the light was a figure that seemed both human and inhuman at once. It had the general shape of a person, with a distinct silhouette with arms, legs, and a head. But instead of flesh it was made of light, a light which moved and writhed like a swilling mass of snakes. From behind it extended two more rays of bright light that tapered off into the darkness beyond. Standing before this creature, bathed in its radiant warmth and light, Miguel knew he was looking upon an angel.

               There was a short moment of further silence before the angel spoke. When it did, its voice seemed to resonate off of walls that weren’t there. “Weep not for the dead, for theirs is the kingdom of God. Seek not which faith forbids. The eye sees what is unseen and must be kept as such. As the Lord commands, so must the disciples obey.” As it finished, the angel raised its arms and wings and their glow grew even brighter. Finally able to control his body again, Miguel closed his eyes and averted his gaze as the flash became absolutely blinding.

               Miguel felt the warmth return and was aware of little taps all over his body. He opened his eyes again and found himself standing out on the docks of the harbor. Above him loomed the massive hull of The Barrier Bess, its black paint eerily reminiscent of the void from his dream. A soft rain was still falling from the now pitch-dark night sky overhead. The shirt and pants he had fallen asleep in clung to his body, telling him he had been out in the rain for some time. He tried to calm his violent heartbeat, taking deep breaths as he looked around him. Up the road he could see the sign of the inn lit by its small bulb. He started making his way back, crossing his arms and trying his best to stay dry.

               Back in his room and drying off from a shower, Miguel still could not shake the sense of unease from the dream. He thought about the angel he had seen, what it had said, and what any of it could mean. Was it a sign that Alyssa was safe beyond death? Was it a warning about the voyage? What unseen things did it mean? He thought back to Father Kingsley’s vision from nearly four weeks prior. The priest had seemed very convinced that it was a warning against the trip, but with his own vision and the bible passage he had just read that night, Miguel was not quite as certain. But he had become sure of one thing. Whatever answers he sought were resting with that structure four kilometers beneath the sea.

Click here for Part 3