ancestorâ¦even read sections from his diaries to me at bedtime. His stories first drew me to the South Pacific.â
âAnd you think the Dragons might prove your relativeâs wild claim?â
Karen shrugged. âWho knows?â
âI still say this is all a wild goose chase.â
Karen shrugged. Wild goose chases? They ran in her family, she thought sourly. Twenty years ago her father hadleft his wife and baby girls to chase the dream of oil and wealth in Alaska, never to be heard from againâexcept for a sheaf of divorce papers arriving in the mail a year later. After his disappearance, hardships drained the life from the remaining household. Her mother, abandoned with her two young daughters, had no more time for dreams and worked herself into a dull job at a secretarial pool and an even duller second marriage. Karenâs older sister, Emily, had moved to the small town of Moose Jaw after graduating from high school, her belly full of twin boys.
Karen, however, had inherited too much of her fatherâs wanderlust to settle down. Between tips as a waitress at the Flying Trout Grill and a few small scholarships, she was able to put herself through an undergraduate program at the University of Toronto, followed by graduate work in British Columbia. So it was no particular surprise to those who knew her that Karen Grace had ended up on the far side of the Pacific. Still, she had learned from her fatherâs abandonmentâeach month she mailed a chunk of her paycheck back home to her mother. Though she may have inherited her fatherâs blood, she didnât have to accept his cold heart.
A call from the wheelhouse drew her attention. âYonaguni!â the captain yelled above the motorâs roar. He pointed off the port side to a large island. The fishing boat made a wide turn around the isleâs southern coast.
âThis is the place,â Karen said, shading her eyes with a hand. âThe island of Yonaguni.â
âI donât see anything. Are youââ
Then from around the high cliffs of the island, they appeared, no more than a hundred meters off the coastline, shrouded in morning sea mists: two pyramids, towering above the waves, their terraced sides damp with algae. As the boat drew closer, details emerged. Among the pyramidsâ steps, white cranes clambered, picking stranded urchins and crabs from the debris.
âTheyâre real ,â Karen said.
âThatâs not all,â Miyuki said, her voice full of awe.
As the small boat continued to circle around the island, the deeper mists parted and the view opened wider. Past thepyramids, rows of coral-encrusted columns and roofless buildings rode above the waves. In the distance a basalt statue of a robed woman stood waist-deep in the sea, draped in seaweed, a stone arm raised as if calling for their aid. Farther yet, piles of tumbled bricks and cracked stone obelisks marched deep into the Pacific.
âMy God,â Karen exclaimed in shock.
Along with the Dragons, an entire ancient city had risen from the sea.
3
Wreckage
July 25, 12:15 P.M.
82 nautical miles northwest of Enewak Atoll, Central Pacific
On the bridge of the Deep Fathom , Jack lounged in the pilotâs chair, sprawled out, his bare feet propped up on a neighboring seat. He wore a white cotton robe over a pair of red Nike swim trunks. The morning had started warm and had only grown warmer. Though the pilothouse was equipped with air-conditioning, Jack hadnât bothered. He enjoyed the moist heat.
As he sat, one hand rested on the wheel of the ship. The Fathom had been on autopilot since it left the site of the sunken Kochi Maru yesterday, but Jack felt a certain comfort with his hand on the wheel. A twinge of mistrust for automated equipment. He liked to keep things in his immediate control.
As he sat, he chewed on the end of the cigar hanging from his lips. A Cuban El Presidente. The smoke trailed in a lazy circle
Bruce Alexander
Barbara Monajem
Chris Grabenstein
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Erika Wilde
S. K. Ervin
Adele Clee
Stuart M. Kaminsky
Gerald A Browne
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