Future Writer Chapter 2 (8 pages)

Chapter 2.

It all started one day when I was working on an off shore oil rig located thirty seven miles off the coast of Corpus Christi Texas. I, Sampson McKain III (Sam), was standing at the south facing railing and watching the approaching storm.

Storms have always fascinated me. I couldn't help but think of the power each storm generated. Each storm has hundreds, and sometimes thousands, of lightning bolts, each capable of electrifying an entire city. The wind has the power to move thousands upon thousands of ships across oceans.

Each storm supplies enough rain to provide life for the entire planet. Here, I am given the opportunity to bear witness to the most powerful force on earth.

"Sam!" yells Zeke, my supervisor, "Slick detected at eight mile. We need an welder with your expertise, and you're the only one we've got."

"You can count on me Zeke," I told him. "Where is the muster?"

"On the Blue Gill," Zeke replies.

"What about an assistant?"

"We have a new guy that is trying to make a reputation for himself. I think we can talk him into it."

"Get him down there and I'll brief him on the way to the site."

I scurried to the berthing compartment for my thermal underwear, foul weather gear, and personal spare oxygen supply.

I entered my stateroom to find a package on my bunk. My cell-mate (roommate) Jose, tells me that he collected my package at mail call. The package is the size of a large phone book.

"Aren't you gonna open it?" asked Jose.

"I don't have time. I've got an immediate muster on the Blue Gill."

"Really, what’s up?"

"A slick was detected at eight miles along main line."

"You'd never catch me going out there in this storm."

"I guess that's the difference between you and me."

"I like it safe. Safe is good."

"Safe is ... is... boring." I said while removing my shirt and revealing my upper torso.

"Who's the fool?" Jose asked.

"Some new guy Zeke told me about.” He replies, “He doesn't know any better."

"I'll say. Anyone that would go out in a storm like this, especially with you, is either foolish, crazy, or doesn't know what he's getting himself into."

"Unlike others on this crate, I think that this guy probably just has a spine, and doesn't cower at a little work from time to time."

On the Bluegill, Zeke was starting the engines and checking the welding supplies. The water was becoming choppy as the storm came closer. Randy (the new guy) was just stepping onto the boat's main deck from the gangway.

"I want to thank you, Mr. Rodriguez, for inviting me along on this job," mentioned Randy nervously.

"Zeke responds, "It's Zeke. You're not a child anymore. You call most adults by their first name," Zeke mentioned as he opened the argon valves to check the pressure.

Then Zeke continued while walking passed Randy and placing his hand on Randy's shoulder, "It is 'I' who should be thanking 'YOU' for coming."

"I don't understand."

"You will," Zeke adds while removing the diving gear from the locker.

I walked along a cat-walk while surveying the situation on the boat. On the fantail I saw Zeke, the support crew, and the new guy.

"He looks like a mama's boy," I mumbled under my breath.

I climbed down the ladder to the floating dock then walked up the gangway to the boat's main deck. Once I was on board, the gangway was hoisted, the mooring lines were removed from the cleat, and boat was underway. The storm seemed to close in around us. The rain was so hard that the oil rig could no longer be seen, even though it was still less than a mile away.

"You must be the new guy," I said to Randy.

"Yes sir," snapped Randy.

"Sam!" I told him.

"Excuse me?"

"Sir is for under respected military officers. You may call me Sam."

"Yes Sirrrrr... ah... Sam."

"Am I to understand that this is your first commercial dive?" I asked him.

"Yes it is. I've cleaned barnacles from hulls but never anything like this."

"Step out onto the fantail with me and I'll brief you on the diving gear, and what to expect."

I began to brief Randy on the do's and don'ts of the situation.

"CRACKKKKK!!!!" Lightening streaked across the sky.

The rain continued to pour down as I continued to go over the diving equipment with Randy.

"Do you own thermal underwear?" I asked.

"No, I can't say that I do."

"After this dive you may want to consider that as your next investment."

We walked into the cabin, dried off slightly then begin getting outfitted into the dry suit.

"I've always heard that dry suits stay warm." said Randy to me.

"They'll keep you as warm as a dry winter's day."

"I see," said Randy.

"Oil slick, just ahead!" yelled back Zeke, "launch the Zodiacs!"

Two zodiac rafts were released off of the fantail, circled around, and hooked on to a drape designed to entrap the oil.

Meanwhile, Randy and I were just completing our pre-dive check list.

"Do you feel comfortable with the situation?" I asked Randy.

"You bet."

"Mark your decompression start time.... ready ....Mark."

Randy and I both fell backwards over the railing of the boat. Once in the water, we orient ourselves just under the surface.

"Bluegill base, Diver one, Do you copy?" I said as I checked my radio.

"Bluegill base, loud and clear. Diver two, do you hear me?"

"Bluegill, this is Diver Two, roger." Randy responded in a nervous voice.

"Base, One. Send down the umbilical." I ordered.

On the boat, the support crew unreeled a cable from a spool on the deck. The cable was a bundle of hoses, water tight electrical welding supply circuit, pressurized air to run pneumatic tools, and a basket filled with tool, diving accessories, and a blast stick (12 ga. shark gun).

"Diver Two, Diver One, Where are you?"

"I don't know. I can't see a thing. Visibility is maybe ten feet."

"Light your strobe and I'll find you."

"Diver Two, roger."

Randy flipped the switch on the strobe light that is mounted on his SCUBA harness. The blinding light gives feeling of lightning flashing through the silty water. I spun around to determine where the light was coming from. The light is faint.

"Diver Two, Diver One, I'm picking up a faint light flashing through the water.

Say your depth."

"My... ah... depth... is... ah... thirty three feet. What is going on? I don't like this feeling. I'm having difficulty hearing you."

The radio became cluttered as the current distanced him from the boat.

"Diver Two, can you hear me?!!" I shouted over the radio.

There was a faint garbled sound.

"Base, Diver One, He's in the jet stream. I'll have to get in the current myself to locate him. I'll surface down current. Send out the Zodiacs when we surface."

"Diver One, Base. Don't risk it. We'll send the Zodiacs to find him."

"How are you going to find him under water? Keep your eyes open. I'm out. Later."

Before Blue Gill Base could respond, I released myself from the umbilical and allowed myself to be taken by the current. Upon releasing, I took note of the compass heading from the boat which I is drifting. I swam in the reciprocal direction in hopes that I'd catch up with Randy.

"Diver Two, Diver One?" I inquired.

In a garbled and faint sound, I could make out, "Get me out of here! I can't see a thing. I don't know where I am."

"Diver Two, Diver One. Minimize your radio traffic. Is your strobe still on?"

"That's affirmative!"

Sam noticed that the radio signal is getting clearer.

"Diver Two, Diver One. I need you to inflate you B.C. and surface."

"Surfacing... Roger."

I swam to the surface but the rolling sea was too rough to see Randy's bobbing head.

"Diver Two, Diver One. Have you surfaced?"

"Roger that, but all I can see is water and a lot of rain."

"Can you see the boat?"

"Negative. The sea is too rough."

I was having better luck pursuing the strobe lights.

"Diver Two, Diver One. Dive down to forty feet and keep your strobe on."

Randy had questioning thoughts as to why I would suggest diving rather than staying on the surface. He did not tell me of his thoughts. He did as he was told, "Forty feet. Aye."

Once at forty feet Randy understood why I suggested forty feet. The water at forty feet was significantly calmer and visibility had increased to thirty plus feet while looking down. Randy began to feel better.

At that depth, the water was much darker which allows the strobe light to be more noticeable. I swam in the direction of the strobe light's glow.

"Diver Two, Diver One. I have a visual on your strobe."

"Good," replied Randy.

Randy watched as I appeared from the darkness, "How you doing Buddy?"

"Much better now."

"Let's go up and look for the boat," I said.

Together, we went to the surface. When we got there, we look in the direction of the boat. All we could make out was dark spot between us and the horizon.

"They'll never see us in this whether. I'll try the radio. Blue Gill Base, Diver One. Do you copy?"

"SHHHH ShhhhDive Shhhh Not Shhhhhh Base Shhhhh," responds the radio."

Randy had an idea, “How about this? The current is strongest at the top due to the wind. What do you say we drop down to the bottom where the current is less?”

“Okay I’m listening.”

“We swim into the current,” he continues, While the boat and the zodiacs which is in the stronger current come to us. We surface and we should be near the boat.”

I’m game if you are,” I replied.

Together we descended. As we did, the water became clearer, calmer, darker, and much, much colder.

"I just got really cold," Randy told me.

"Thermal underwear, the best investment ever."

At eighty feet, we reached the bottom. Using the compass as a guide, we made our way back to the surface.

"Diver One, Base. Do you copy?" announced the boat over the radio.

"Base, Diver One. Roger. I have Diver Two."

"Diver One, say your depth."

"Depth is eighty seven feet."

"Eighty seven feet. Roger. You have approximately five more minutes before you exceed your no-decompression limit. Say your ETA."

"ETA is unknown. Send the umbilical down with a strobe."

"Sending it down now," replied the base station.

Soon there were rhythmic flashes in the water.

We latched onto the umbilical where the boar hovered over the ruptured oil line. Repairs were quick and surfaced just prior to relying on reserve air.

Zeke came down from the pilot house, "You gave us quite a scare."

Randy just apologetically nodded

"Sam, you've done this to me before. You know that, even though I'm your supervisor, I have to follow your judgement. I have no other choice."

"Lighten up, Zeke," I remarked, "It's like a walk in the park."

I turned to Randy, who is just drying of his hair, "Let's go get something to eat."

Meanwhile the oil slick had become smaller and smaller as the crew pumped and filtered the seawater that has been trapped between the drape.

Later that evening, I was lifting weights in the gym on the oil rig. After showering, I walked back to the stateroom to find the package that was received earlier at mail call. In the package was a letter from my grandmother telling me that this was my grandfather's ledger. She thought that I could use this ledger for writing in, being that I enjoyed writing.

I began reading parts of the contents of the ledger to find out that my grandfather was very much like myself. This is where my story really begins. I began to use the remaining pages in the ledger for my own writings. I no sooner began when Jose enter the room with our tickets to Caracas, and Rio de Janeiro.

Every year our company purchases discounted tickets to some remote place in the world for its employees to take planned vacations. Of all of the employees going on this trip, I was the only one that chose to continue on from Caracas to Rio de Janeiro.

It was on this flight that the ledger came alive.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

Once again you have, through story-telling, displayed knowledge of a profession few are familiar with. Having lived in Corpus Christi for five years, and being friends with an underwater welder who worked on the rigs, I at least have some insight into this dangerous job.
I saw very few small errors and typos in this one--good job. For what it may be worth, (I'm just an amateur like everyone else here) I believe this chapter would benefit from some condensing. The high point of this chapter is the dive with all it's dangerous complications. This is the tasty part with which you hope to satisfy the reader, so providing a smoother and less wordy path to it would be in your interest, I think. Often, less is more.

[Dave Potter]

Thanks Sam and I agree that less is more... I'm working on that. This version is actually a trimmed copy of what it was originally. Since being on this site I have found more enjoyment out of short shorts than the longer ones. I really enjoy writing stories and this was my second most enjoyable store that I've written. The most enjoyable story mimics a song with the underlying message about the inexplicable chemistry between two people. I have requested permission from the copyright owners of the song to post it but I have not heard back from them yet. The story that you are reading now has a very good underlying message but you'll have to read well into it before realizing what that message is. thanks again and I hope that this story holds your attention to the end... Thanks for the review. Dave