Heather Graham - The Vision

“I hope so,” Genevieve said. She looked at Thor again, clenching her teeth. “I haven’t worked rescue and recovery all that often, but we’ve gone up to the Glades a few times. I don’t know what this was.” She waved a hand in the air. “It had to be someone’s idea of a joke. A mannequin or something.” She didn’t believe it for an instant, but she was sick to death of the topic.

“Hey, anybody want to head out for dinner?” Bethany asked as she and the others came walking over.

“I was thinking about eating here,” Alex said. “We were planning a pretty early morning, at least three dives. I’m going straight to soda water after this beer.”

“You?” Genevieve inquired skeptically.

“We should call it an early night,” Thor said. “We’re supposed to meet back out here on the patio tomorrow at seven-thirty.”

“Seven-thirty?” Genevieve said. “I thought it was eight-thirty? All we have to do is get up and walk out to the boats.”

“Our advisers are going to be here in the morning,” Marshall said. “Preston from the Coast Guard and Professor Sheridan, from the university.”

“Oh?” Genevieve said.

“Thor got the call when we were out today. Sorry, I missed telling you,” Marshall said.

Had her own boss decided she was too far gone to receive information like everyone else? she wondered. Didn’t he want her in contact with the higher-ups?

“Great,” she said. “I guess we should call it an early night.” She started to rise, but Marshall smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“I say we let the crew of The Seeker buy us dinner tonight.”

“Sure,” Elizabeth said cheerfully. “The hamburgers here are cheap enough. We’ll let you guys buy us steaks after our first discovery.”

“I’ll go give Clint our order,” Thor said, rising. “Though what Marshall isn’t telling you is that all our meals go on an expense account. Hamburgers, cheeseburgers? Any vegetarians in the group?” He looked at Genevieve.

Of course, she thought. He already considered her a bit strange, so no doubt she must be a vegetarian in his red-blooded, rough-and-ready, American-male world. She suddenly wished she were a vegetarian, just so she could see the look on his face when she told him.

She decided not to answer him. Instead, she rose determinedly. “I think I’ll skip dinner. I’ll see you all at seven-thirty in the morning. Good night.”

Elizabeth looked at her in concern. “You really should have some dinner.”

“Yeah,” Bethany said, frowning.

Easier for you all to talk about me, if I just disappear, she thought, forcing a convivial smile.

“I’ve got snacks in the bungalow,” she said. “Thanks.”

She left then. Thor, ordering the food from Clint, didn’t even glance her way.

The bungalows were set no more than twenty feet apart, but they managed to feel private. They were nestled against a thin forest of sea grapes, pines and spindly oaks that shielded them from the rush of Duval Street and beyond. A stretch of beach lay in front of some, while the deeper water and the docks flanked others. The property wasn’t big; there were only three piers, one with local boats and two for guests. She could see Jack’s ramshackle fishing boat and Jay’s pleasure craft rocking gently at one pier, their work boats at another, awaiting the morning.

She entered her bungalow and looked around, admiring the casual plan. Each unit offered a refrigerator, microwave and wet bar, with a screen between the parlor/kitchenette/sitting area and the bedroom.

She turned on the television, feeling restless and eager for the sound of a human voice. Luckily, the television wouldn’t rib her the way her so-called friends had.

She had a package of breakfast bars by the sink and decided they would have to do for a meal. She would be seen if she tried to leave their small resort, and she didn’t want anyone to know she had just been seeking her own company—or company other than theirs, anyway.

Munching an oat-and-honey granola bar, she stared at the television, then started flicking the channel changer. Nothing drew her attention. The sound of laughter filtered to her from the bar area, and she found herself annoyed that they all seemed to be getting along so well. She’d been disturbed enough that her own friends were making fun of her. The Thor Thompson thing was more than she could stomach. The man was arrogant beyond belief.

She threw herself on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She had to make the first discovery now.

The bet was ridiculous. Totally immature. She should just tell him in the morning that it was off. Except that she was the one who had started it.

Eventually the exertion of the day began to take its toll. She left the television on for company but changed into an oversize T, turned off the lights and tried to get some sleep. At first she could still hear the sounds of conversation and laughter, just as annoying as before.

But she needed rest. Last night she had slept at last but not long enough. At least today, she hadn’t seen a thing in the water except fish and coral.

The world was well, she told herself.

A little voice crept in. Bull!

At last she drifted to sleep.

In her dreams, she was diving again. The sound of her breath through the regulator was soothing. The water was clear. Tangs and clown fish darted by. A very large grouper, a good six feet, hovered by the reef. The sun struck the water, the rays arrowing down. Anemones wafted with the current.

And then…

She saw the woman. Hair drifting in golden streams. Head bowed, arms lifted in the easy current. White fabric drifting against the length of her body Feet tied to the weight that held her down.

Her head lifted. Her eyes opened. Her mouth worked. No sound came, but her eyes pleaded, filled with an infinite sadness.

Then, from behind her, they rose….

Skeletal forms with decaying flesh cloaking their bones. Skeletal forms brandishing knives and swords, bodies rotting, clothing streaming from them in oddly colorful tatters.

They marched. Marched across the seabed, sightless eye sockets staring at Genevieve, bony jaws locked with determination.

She was frozen at first, unable to move.

She had discovered something, she realized. Something she wasn’t meant to know.

And now…

The sound of her breathing stopped.

The army of skeletons was almost upon her. She turned to swim away, only to discover that she was surrounded. There was no escape.

A rotted arm in a tattered jacket reached out for her. Suddenly skeletal arms were rising all around her, bony fingers nearly touching her flesh.

She sensed the girl’s soundless warning. Beware…

She could almost smell the overwhelming scent of decay.

Rotting flesh. A breath away…

It was impossible, she told herself. Impossible to be smelling death and decay beneath the surface, breathing through a regulator.

She awoke, jerking bolt upright in the bed, filled with dread and panic. She forced herself to breathe deeply. It was a dream, only a dream. Inhale, exhale.

She gritted her teeth. Ridiculous. She wasn’t like this!

She felt thirsty, anxious for a glass of water, for something tangible. Tea. She could make tea. Maybe it was close enough to morning that she could just stay awake.

The television was still on. Paid programming. Some buff guy talking about his new cardio machine. She could see him past the screen dividing the room.

She let him keep talking. She liked the voice, and the light cast by the television. Actually, she needed more light. She turned on the bedside lamp.

It was only when she stood that she realized she was wet. And salty. As if she’d really been in the sea. Swallowing hard, she rushed into the bathroom, turning on the main lights on her way. She started to splash her face with cold water, then looked into the mirror of the medicine cabinet above the sink.