Dead Air Continued

 

George grimaced and turned to her. “Look its hot and I've been working on this stupid thing for over an hour, okay?” he sighed.

Alice, ever hopeful and willing, filled the gap. “The orange one has sub-frequencies when you press the mode button. Not just 4 or 9, but 4-3 or 9-4.”

“Yeah, I'm not sure what that's about. Go outside again,” he said without looking up.

Alice left the salon. George pushed the talk button again.

“Check. Check. Check.” 

He pushed more buttons. Nothing. Then he slammed the radio into the tabletop. A screw fell out. Suddenly there was a bloopy sound from outside. 

“Check... anything? Over?” he said

“Yay!” Alice squealed, elated. “Yes, I'm reading you! 5 by 5!” she added, professionally. “I think that's got it. Over.”

George folded back onto the couch. “Thank god. Okay, come on in. Over.”

Alice’s voice came back, a little spicey. “You know, we really should tether them to our bodies, so we don't lose another one overboard. Over and out.”

George, stood up with a sigh and moved to the bar. Some time later the boat was underway, and George was at the helm on the bridge. This was his proper place, he thought. Here, in command, at the helm. A man of the sea. He checked the auto-pilot and went back to reading his book. Suddenly there was the sound of the call bloop on his walkie-talkie.

“George-on-the-Bridge, Over.” Down in the salon, Alice paced worriedly. She held the radio mike in her hand.

“George, I heard a clunk a few moments ago. Over.’

“What sort of "clunk"? Over.”

“I don’t know. A "clunk" clunk. Not an engine clunk though. I'll come up. Over.”

Alice came out of the salon and around the Port side and stopped at the stern to check over the transom. Looking over the edge she saw that the swim ladder was still in the water as the boat was traveling along.

“George!” she shouted, in the general direction of the bridge. There was no response. She pressed the call button on the walkie talkie.

“George-On-the-Bridge,” came George’s happy response. “I thought you were coming up. Over.”

“Can you throttle down? I must have left the ladder hooked onto the swim platform at the last anchorage. Over.” Alice felt the boat slow as George gently pulled back on the throttles and eased it down. She lifted the transom gate and climbed down on to the platform. As she bent down to grab the ladder, her walkie-talkie fell off her belt! But before it could hit the water, its plunge was halted by the strap she had clipped to it.

“That was a close one,” she said, under her breath. Suddenly there was a shadow looming over her. She looked up but the shadow had the sun at its back. It was George.

“You left the swim ladder in while underway?” he asked, cooly.

Alice shrugged her shoulders. “Whoops,” she said.

George smiled down at her, with a grin. “Whoops, huh? Well, no dessert for you. And that's unfortunate. Because its key-lime pie. Perhaps now you will learn your lesson, Alice Johnson.”

“Oh, George...” she replied, sheepishly. She put the radio in her pocket and lifted the ladder out of the water.

Later that afternoon, the boat arrived at their destination, Hope Island, Georgian Bay. As they prepared to anchor, the late afternoon light filled the water with an emerald green. Alice was at the helm inside the boat now while George was at the bow pulpit hurriedly untying the safety line on the anchor. He lifted the bronze locker cap off and pulled out the first foot or so of chain rode. As he lifted the shaft of the anchor, he peered over and then looked back to Alice.

“This looks pretty good,” he shouted up.

Alice glanced up at the depth gauge. “We've got 14 feet,” she called back.

“What do you think?” George said.

Alice took another look around at the surrounding waters. “Yep,” She called out.

George let the anchor go and Alice put the boat into reverse. The loose sand in the bay made the anchoring operation difficult and it took several tries to set the anchor. Finally, it took hold and Alice turned off the engines and came back out to the bow. George was leaning out over the pulpit rail.

“I can't believe how clear it is down there. You can see…” he broke off as his walkie-talkie slipped from his pocket, hit the rail and toppled, untethered, into the water with a plop. He watched with dismay as the walkie-talkie sank slowly to the bottom. Alice joined him by the rail.

“Whoops,” she said with a smile.

“I cannot believe I just did that. God damn it!”

“Well at least we can see where it is. Should we go in and get it?”

George stood up with a resigned sigh. “Well, the marine report was for no wind, and there's no current... so... cocktail time! Then swim time. Then get-the-radio time.”

“What if it drifts away?” Alice asked.

“Look, it doesn't matter. It's probably toast anyway. Let’s just relax.”

And so, they did. The late afternoon sun found them sitting on deck chairs with a bottle of wine on a little table between them. A distinct buzzing sound was coming from the forest on Hope Island which lay beside them.

“That buzzing is strange, eh?” said Alice

“What buzzing?” George replied, happily soaking in the sun and the wine with his hat pulled over his eyes.

“That whining, buzzing sound,” Alice replied. “It's coming from the island. God, I hope it's not bees or something.”

“I can't hear anything.”

“Too high pitched for you, maybe,” Alice said as she stood up and walked over to the side of the boat where the walkie talkie had gone for a dive.

“I can't see the walkie-talkie anymore,” she said.

“No?” George replied, lifting the brim of his hat and looking over at her. Alice peered into the depths.

“Come look,” she called over her shoulder. George joined her at the rail.

“We must have done a bit of a swing.”

“I don't think so. There's the anchor rode lying on the sand. See? It has the same 'S' curl. We've hardly moved at all.”

“Why don't you get your mask and fins?” George suggested. “The water is so clear you'll find it in no time.”

“Okay,” Alice said and went down below to get the equipment.      

George gazed down at the water, mesmerized by the shimmering, bright green tones.

“The water here is so weird, isn't it? Such a beautiful colour, but why just around here? It looks like something on another planet, you know? Almost like its alive.”

There was a splash, and Alice came swimming out from under the bow, two feet below the surface. She had her fins and mask on and gracefully circled round the front of the boat. George watched her from above, pleased with her lithe, athletic figure. She broke to the surface.

“Any luck?” George called down.

“No, but it sure is gorgeous down here. Why don't you come in?”

George thought about it for a moment. “Later, I'm going to get another drink. Keep going,” he said

“Aye, Captain,” she muttered under her breath before diving down once again.

George went back to the cabin and mixed himself a martini. He poured some vodka in, swilled it around, looked inside the mixer and then doubled the portion. He took a hefty swig from the bottle before replacing the cap and started to shake the mixer. Suddenly, a shout came from outside.

“George!! Help!”

George dashed from the cabin, dropping the shaker. He found Alice struggling to get on to the swim platform. George jumped down and pulled her in.

“What is it? What's the matter?”

“I don't know,” Alice replied, with a shudder. “There was something down there.”

“What do you mean?” George asked. “Like a fish?”

“I don't know. I didn't see it really. It was behind me. It moved too fast. It touched my shoulder.” She shuddered again.

“It was probably just some sea-weed,” George said, placing a large beach towel around her trembling shoulders.

“There's no sea-weed down there! It's just sand.”

“Well, I don't know then. A turtle or something?”

Alice looked up at him. “George, it wasn't a turtle. I've seen enough turtles.”

“Look, here... get dried off,” George said, soothingly, rubbing her shoulders. “You're okay. Did you find the radio?

Alice stared at him, blankly. “No.”

“Come inside, I've made you a martini. It's on the floor.”

Sometime later, George stood doing the dishes at the galley sink. Alice was outside on the forecastle, sunning herself in the late-afternoon sun. George watched her, smiling, as she applied some lotion to her long legs. He thought about how glad he was that they had taken this much-needed time together. Suddenly, in the forward portion of the boat, the walkie-talkie sounded.

George, startled, called out to Alice. “What the hell? I thought you said you didn't find the walkie-talkie.”

Alice got up and came into the salon. “I didn't,” she said.

“Well, your radio is blooping then.” The blooping sounded again. Alice moved past George and into the V-berth. She re-emerged with her radio in her hand.

“Next time we buy good ones,” George said. “Ones that float.”

Again, the radio in Alice’s hand rang out. She held the radio at arms length. They both looked at each other.

“Well, aren't you going to answer it?” George said, with pretend menace.

Alice put the mike up to her mouth and pressed the Talk button.

“Um, hello? Over.” Only static came back at her. “Hello?” she repeated.

“It's me.... mister turtle! Over!” George shouted. Alice jumped, dropping the radio on the table and chased George, laughing, out of the cabin.

“You bastard!” she called after him, throwing a towel at his head

As they ran around outside on the deck, inside the radio came to life once more. There was a strange whistling noise, followed by water sounds and some gurgling. Then it went dead.

After supper they decided to hit the hay early. George went back to his novel while Alice lay awake massaging her arm.

“I think I might have pulled something getting out of the water,” she said. My shoulder is killing me.”

“Let me see,” George replied. He rolled her to one side and inspected her shoulder. It had a large, circular red welt on it. “Wow, you have done something. It looks sore. Do you want some Robax?”

“No, it's okay. In the morning I'll... “She was interrupted by the sound of the radio bloop once again.

“Damn it,” George said. “I must have forgotten to turn it off.” George rolled out of bed, headed up the steps and returned a moment later with the unit in his hand. “That's weird,” he said. “I’m sure it was off. It must be shorting out or something. Piece of crap. I'll take the batteries out.” He snapped the back off the unit and removed the batteries and then placed it on the desk. Then he got back into bed. They both lay there, not speaking.

“Aren’t you going to read anymore?” Alice asked after a bit

“No, I don’t think so. I'm tired. Good night.”

“Good night, George.” They kissed a brief goodnight as George turned his reading light off.

Now there was only blackness but for vague light illuminating the head of the bed from outside via a small portal. It was very quiet. The wind was wafting in softly from the west and the boat rocked gently. George and Alice were soon asleep.

A shadow moved in front of the window, pausing briefly before moving on towards the bow. Suddenly, the call bloop filled the cabin again. George and Alice sat bolt upright. They stared at the desk.

“I thought you took the batteries out of that,” Alice whispered.

“I did. I...” Another loud bloop echoed through the cabin. “What the hell?” George shouted as he leapt from the bed and grabbed the radio.

Again, the static sounded but there was something else now. A vague voice. He turned up the volume. The vague and breathy voice spoke.

“Outside...”

George pressed the talk button down hard.

“Hello? Hello? Who is this? Are you on another boat because you're on our frequency and we can't get our radio to turn off.”

The voice repeated, “Outside...”

From the bed, Alice reached out and put a hand on George’s waist. “George...” she said, nervous now.

George tried the radio again. “Come in. Come in... over!”

Suddenly, there was a noise from outside, forward. A clunk followed by loud scraping. Then the sound of chain moving on the deck

“George, there's someone outside!”

“Stay here,” he said tensely. He went up into the cabin. It was pitch black aside from the soft glow of the anchor light. He peered out through the curtain. “I don't see anything,” he whispered down to Alice. Suddenly the radio in his hand came to life making him jump. The voice was there once more. Only it was sharp now and more tense.

“Outside!”

George reached behind a cushion and took out the fish billy he stored there. Hefting the weighty iron bar from hand to hand he moved to the door. Alice came slowly up the stairs.

“You're not going out there!” she whispered.

“It's okay. It's probably just some drunk joker from another boat we didn't see come in. Don’t be scared.”

He went down into the stateroom once more and opened the rear hatch. Emerging from the stateroom at the back of the boat, with the billy leading the way, he could see no one. He leaned out and looked down to the swim platform. He could see water marks, vaguely resembling large footprints, they proceeded up the starboard side of the deck. He turned and followed the footprints. As he reached the bow, he froze at the sight of a huge, ragged shadow in front of him. He stood there, glued to the spot. The shadow raised its hand and placed something on the anchor pulpit. Then it threw itself over the side with a heavy splash. George dashed to the pulpit as Alice joined him. He picked up the dripping object from the pulpit. It was the missing walkie talkie. George and Alice looked at each other.

“I'll go and get a flashlight and the other walkie,” Alice said. She moved off towards the back of boat. George continued to scan the water for any sign of the intruder. A minute later, the radio in George’s hand blooped again. George answered it.

“Yes...” he managed to get out.

“Trade,” the strangled voice replied.

“What?” said George.

“Trade,” the voice repeated.

“Trade? What do you mean?” George asked, tensely.

Then there was a scream from the rear of the boat that was stifled by a loud splash. George dropped the radio and ran to the back.

“Alice?” he shouted, looking down into the stateroom. “Alice!”

Then he noticed a glimmer reflected on the stateroom wall and heard a motion in the water behind him. Turning, he ran to the rail. The bright beam of a flashlight could be seen, moving off towards the shore, several feet under the water.

“Alice!” George shouted, grasping the rail. “Alice!!!!” He never saw her again.