Isle of Man

CHAPTER 10

The Isle of Man



Cold winds and high swells meet us in the Irish Sea.

This is a shame because I just catch a glimpse of the steep cliffs on Ireland’s distant southern coastline when the professor calls us down to close the hatch so we can dive.

It’s strange seeing everything for the first time. I have a strong sense of déjà vu because I’ve been building these images in my mind ever since I could read. And sometimes they’re just as I’d imagined. Other times, they’re not. The most shocking difference is that I always imagined the world in the past, as it was written about in the old books—a world filled with people. But not so up here now. Other than our misadventure with the ’Mericans, as they called themselves, we haven’t laid eyes on a single ship or any coastal signs of civilization for the twenty-three days we’ve been at sea. It’s a far cry from the busy but humdrum routine of my childhood life in Holocene II.

I’m in the head—that’s what the professor calls the shitter, although I don’t know why—when Jimmy comes knocking on the door.

“Hurry up,” he says.

“You feel sick, too?”

“No,” he shouts through the door. “We’re here.”

“Where?”

“The Isle of Man.”

Junior lies in the corner of the control room, chewing on something (probably the professor’s slipper), and Jimmy looks over the professor’s shoulder at the controls. I step up to the professor’s other shoulder and look over, too.

A pop-up LCD screen displays a rugged coastline covered in snow. And the snow is still falling, being driven in flurries by the wind, providing only peekaboo views through the digital periscope. Waves crash against rocks. Steep banks rise from the water. Hills roll inland like so many snow-covered swells.

“Doesn’t look very friendly,” I say.

“No,” the professor replies. “The weather is unfortunate. It’s usually much milder here, I think.”

“How big is it?” Jimmy asks.

The professor sighs. “Quite large, I’m afraid. I suggest we patrol the coastline at periscope depth. See what we can see.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I say.

Other than brief restroom breaks and snack runs, we stay glued to the periscope’s screen. But my hopes sink with each passing kilometer. More jagged shoreline, more unwelcoming cliffs, and more falling snow. Eventually, Jimmy drifts away and passes the time by running down the passageways dragging his rabbit fur for Junior to chase. Every time they come skidding into the control room, the professor jumps with surprise then mumbles profanities, as if he were caught completely off guard, even though it just happened moments before. In time, Jimmy and Junior head off to hunt up food, and the professor nods off in his chair and snores. I stay alert and watch the screen.

It’s mesmerizing to stare at the coastline as it crawls by, its rugged beauty enhanced by the anticipation of what might roll next onto the scene. In a strange way, I feel like I’m back down in Holocene II, watching some ancient educational in our Level 3 theater. I have to keep reminding myself that what’s on the screen is happening right now, and that I’m only five meters beneath it underwater, not five miles beneath it underground.

I think about the people in Holocene II, going through their daily motions and still believing that this is a wasteland up here. I can’t wait to get this encryption key and stop the drones and invite them up to see for themselves how gorgeous it really is. My thoughts drift to my father—to his dreams of someday seeing a butterfly. I wish more than anything he were still alive. Him and my mother. Then I think about Hannah and Red back at the Foundation. I’m pretty pissed with Hannah right now, not just for staying last minute, but for letting the professor bring the antimatter along without talking it over with Jimmy and me first. But that doesn’t stop me from worrying.

“Is that a light out there?” I ask, turning to the professor, only to remember that he’s sleeping. His response is a snore.

Nightfall came to the winter world above while I was daydreaming, but I swear that I catch a glimpse of light on the dark screen. I reach over and shake the professor awake. He yawns, rubs his red-rimmed eyes, and blinks at me.

“What is it?” he asks.

“A light. On the screen.”

“I can’t see it.”

“Wait for the snow to clear for a second. There!”

The professor springs to life, adjusting the controls and bringing the submarine to a halt. He zooms the camera as far in as it will go. The light grows on the screen from a tiny speck to a square glow, as if from a high window. But the driving snow and darkness make it impossible to discern the light’s source. And moments later, it disappears. The professor drops anchor and marks our position just in case we drift overnight. Then he stands and stretches, yawning.

“Good eye, kid,” he says. “Nothing to do now but wait for morning. Let’s get some rest.”

If the others really sleep, I’m not sure how. I toss and turn all night, wondering what we’ll find in the morning. I’m curious. I’m nervous. Several times I lean my head over the bunk and look down on Jimmy, but his shadow is as still as can be, his arm flopped over the bunk and resting on Junior’s back. I hear the professor snoring across the way, and once he gets up and stumbles to the head. But otherwise, it’s just dead silence and an occasional light rocking as the submarine is pulled against the anchor chain by the currents. At least the cooling system seems to be working again.

I’m the first one in the control room, anxiously awaiting sunrise. Jimmy shows up next, carrying cups of hot algae tea. By the time the professor joins us, the dark screen has lightened to gray. And that’s all it does—gray and more gray. The entire island is swamped in with a thick fog. We rotate the fiber-optic periscope every which way, but can hardly even see the water more than a few meters from the lens. I suggest we move the submarine in closer, but the professor says it’s best to stay put, after mumbling something about the impatience of youth. And maybe I am impatient. But it seems to me that every extra hour we spend looking for this encryption key is an extra hour that the drones spend hunting humans.

“Let me take over,” Jimmy says, several hours into my vigil at the screen. “Go take a shower or somethin’.”

“You saying I stink?”

“No,” he laughs. “Jus’ that you need to relax a little.”

Despite my protest, it sounds like a good idea. So I head for the shower and let the hot water wash away my worry. I hadn’t realized how anxious I am until Jimmy noticed it for me. I wonder what else he notices about me that I can’t see? It’s a strange feeling, standing in a small, cramped shower, beneath a stream of steaming water, knowing that just a few feet away is the frigid water of the Irish Sea and above that the snowy Isle of Man shrouded in fog and mystery.

When I arrive back in the control room refreshed, Jimmy and the professor are pressed up close to the screen.

“What is it?” I ask, pushing myself in between them.

“Hard to say,” the professor says. “It’s just now clearing.”

Sure enough, the fog is thinning. I can make out the waves hitting the shore. But it’s not a rocky shore. Rather, it’s a stone seawall of some kind that runs straight out of the water. Waves crash against the wall, then roll back out and slam into other oncoming waves, creating a turbulent sloshing of white-capped water. The fog clears a bit more, and a set of stone steps comes into view, cut through the seawall and leading into the water. Then a sloping terrace covered in snow. Then another set of steps. Another terrace. Then the wind sweeps in and pulls away the foggy veil, and a sprawling castle appears from the gray.

“Is that a castle?”

“It appears so,” the professor says.

“What’s a castle?” Jimmy asks.

“Basically, a big fortified residence,” the professor answers, “mostly popular during the Middle Ages.”

I’m sure Jimmy has never heard of the Middle Ages, but he accepts the professor’s explanation with a polite nod anyway and then asks: “What’s a castle doing here?”

The professor shakes his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. Although I’d be willing to wager this was an ancient site that’s been reclaimed and restored.”

“Restored?” Jimmy asks. “Like fixed up? By who?”

The professor tosses up his hands. “I don’t know. Perhaps King Arthur is immortal after all.”

“Who’s King Arthur?”

The professor appears frustrated with Jimmy.

“Just an old myth from these parts of the world. I was making a poor joke. It’s not important. All right. Enough questions already.”

“I never heard of King Arthur either, Jimmy,” I say. “But regardless of whose castle it is, what are we going to do?”

“I say we go on up there,” Jimmy says.

“You mean sneak up and spy?” I ask.

“No. Go on up and say hi-dy.”

“Just knock and introduce ourselves? That’s crazy.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But if we’d of caught people sneakin’ on us, I know for sure we’d treat ’em like enemies. When folks approached us needin’ help, we usually lent ’em a hand.”

“He actually makes a good point,” the professor says. “As hard as that is to believe. Nothing removes suspicion as well as an honest plea for help.”

“So you’re saying we should just walk up to the castle and tell whoever lives there why we’re here and then ask for the encryption key? That’s goofy!”

The professor shakes his head.

“I’m not saying that. I’m suggesting that you could approach them as a stranger in need. Keep your mission secret. Tell them you’ve shipwrecked and washed ashore. Or tell them you come from another part of the island and are lost. Ask for help. Then, once you’re inside, you can snoop around and discover what you can.”

“You want us to lie?” Jimmy asks.

“No,” the professor says, “just bend the truth a little.”

“The truth dun’ bend, it breaks. That’s what my pa said.”

The professor looks up as if addressing the ceiling.

“Great, he’s a philosopher, too.”

“I think he has a point, Jimmy,” I say, jumping in before they start arguing. “It’s smart to keep our business private.”

“Fine,” Jimmy says, “I’ll jus’ keep my mouth shut. How’s that sound? You’s better at talkin’ anyhow.”

The professor checks his charts.

“Sunset is in four hours,” he says. “It should be dark enough to go in five.”

“You want us to swim to shore after dark? In this cold?”

“We have to be sure they don’t see the submarine,” he says. “Plus, it will help your story, won’t it?”

“Well, how will we get back?”

“Let’s triangulate some landmarks with the periscope now, while it’s light. After nightfall, we’ll surface long enough for you two to get on deck, then I’ll submerge again and re-anchor. I’ll wait here for you.”

“For how long?” I ask.

“For as long as it takes.”

“What if we never come back?”

“That’s a good question. Okay, I’ll wait for a week.”

“And what then?”

“Ah—ah—ah,” he stammers. “I don’t know what then.”

“How about you wait two weeks then head back without us and take care of Hannah and Red?”

“All right then,” he says. “I’ll wait two weeks.”

“Hopefully, we’ll be back in a day or so, though. Right?”

“Wait a minute,” Jimmy says. “How we gonna get back in the submarine when we swim out?”

“Another good question. What’s wrong with me? Stupid, I tell you. Just stupid.” The professor paces the control room for a minute, pulling at his hair. “I’ve got it. Stones. Three stones.”

“Stones?” Jimmy asks. “What for?”

“There’s bound to be no shortage of stones on the island. Or right off shore for that matter.”

“Yeah. So?”

“You just swim out here with three stones and drop them on the roof of the sub, and I’ll surface and pick you up.”

“Submarine,” I say.

“Yes,” he replies.

“No,” I correct him. “You said sub.”

“I did not.”

“You did so.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Three stones and I’ll surface.”

“What if yer sleepin’?” Jimmy asks.

“I’ll try not to.”

“Try not to sleep?” I question. “For fourteen days?”

“I’ll sleep light. I’ll stay at five meters. You can easily dive that depth and pound on the walls if you have to.”

“Okay,” I say, more nervous than relieved. “We’ve got a plan then. We’ll leave an hour after sunset. But let’s make sure we get some good landmarks before that fog comes back.”

After identifying landmarks and then committing them to memory, I pace the submarine, playing potential scenarios out in my head. Who might answer the door? What might they ask us? How will we answer? As the hours creep past, fear creeps in. Jimmy disappears into the bunkroom, and I know he’s there saying goodbye to Junior. The professor keeps coming out from the supply room and checking on me, looking me over in a strange way before leaving again. I finally figure out why when he comes out carrying homemade pants and shirt stitched together from fabric scraps.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“You look entirely too civilized in those clothes.”

“What about Jimmy?”

“Have you seen what he wears? Ha! He’ll fit right in, no doubt. He could eat his outfit in a pinch.”

“Good point,” I say, chuckling.

When I enter the bunkroom to change, I find Jimmy lying on his bunk, petting Junior. He turns and props his head on his elbow, watching me change.

“Where’d ya get those ugly clothes?”

“The professor patched them together. Said I looked too civilized, if you can believe that.”

“What’s he gonna do about yer attitude?”

“You think my attitude’s too civilized?”

Jimmy laughs.

“Not the exact word I’d use, but I ain’t too good with words anyhow. Hey. Are you worried? I mean, do ya think we’ll make it back safe and all?”

“I don’t know,” I answer, not wanting to lie. “But I’m not coming back without that encryption key.”

“I’m not even sure what an encryption key is.”

“It’s just a set of numbers, I guess. A password, basically.”

“And you expect to find that in the castle?”

“All we have is that clue to go on.”

“‘In the hand of David’ or whatever?”

“Yep. ‘Where man rises from the sea, so in the right hand of David you shall find your key.’”