exceeds the depths, they come shooting to the surface like missiles. I can't remember much, only that the bow suddenly flipped over and barn , I was in the water. When the tree re-sank, it took me with it."
"I don't understand."
"The tree trunk was wrapped in barbed wire. The wire snagged my left ankle, nearly tore my foot off. God knows how deep it dragged me before I managed to kick myself free."
"That must have been petrifying. It's amazing your friend's father managed to get to you."
"I got lucky, old man MacDonald must've been nearby. Scariest guy you'd ever want to meet. Kids around Drumnadrochit used to call him the Crabbit. Even his son, my best friend, True, was afraid of him. Still, I was under for a long time and blacked out. What probably saved me was the Loch's water temperature. It's only about forty-two degrees, close to freezing. In water that cold, your muscles turn to lead, and all your vitals slow to a crawl."
"Zachary, people don't just walk away from traumatic experiences like yours. Sure, you may block it out for a time, but the memories still linger in the subconscious… and so can the effects. Obviously, Angus was at fault, but all this anger you're still holding inside toward your father, it isn't healthy either. And keep in mind, he's not the one suffering, you are."
"So I've been told. But it doesn't matter. He'll never apologize, and I'll never forgive him."
"And what if—"
"Fuck what if? I didn't come here so you could reconcile me and Angus, I came because of these damn nightmares."
He closed his notepad. "For the record, they're not nightmares. What you're experiencing are classified as night terrors, a sleep disorder common among individuals suffering post-traumatic stress. It's your mind's way of dealing with what happened. I once treated a group of patients who just made it out of the Twin Towers before they collapsed. Many of them experienced these same intense dreams of death. While nightmares can occur anytime during REM sleep, night terrors take place only during stage four of sleep, which is the deepest, most difficult stage to awaken from. Patients bolt upright in bed, screaming, paralyzed in fear, their hearts beating at upwards of 170 beats per minute. Even after awakening, many patients remain in a state of confusion for twenty minutes or more."
"Yeah, I've experienced all that."
"Hopefully, our sessions will help, but I have to warn you, it could take years."
"Years? And until then?"
"Until then, we'll do what we can." Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a prescription pad. "I'm going to prescribe an antidepressant. Take it once a day before bedtime. As for the night terrors and your sudden fear of water, sometimes the best therapy is to deal with their causes head-on."
"And how do I do that?"
"That, only you can figure out."
* * *
I left his office, convinced the only way to salvage my career and "remove the Wallace curse" was to return to the Sargasso Sea and "face my dragon." That meant resolving the mystery of the Bloops, no easy task, even without my psychological condition. Returning to the Sargasso meant raising money to fund another expedition. David had deserted me, and few companies would want to risk men and machinery in the wake of my recent disaster at sea.
Still, I had to try.
My mother and Charlie were returning home that afternoon. Charlie not only had money, but connections with several networks. Maybe his production company would be my sponsor?
* * *
"Absolutely not!" My mother stalked the living room, enraged that I'd even broach the subject. "You nearly died out there, Zachary, and now you want to go back?"
My stepfather winced. "Take it easy, Andrea—"
"Charlie Mason, you lend Zachary one silver nickel for this expedition, and you and I are through!"
She stormed off, the slamming door punctuating her words. "Sorry, Charlie, I didn't mean to get you in any trouble."
Good ol' Charlie just shrugged it off. "As
"I don't understand."
"The tree trunk was wrapped in barbed wire. The wire snagged my left ankle, nearly tore my foot off. God knows how deep it dragged me before I managed to kick myself free."
"That must have been petrifying. It's amazing your friend's father managed to get to you."
"I got lucky, old man MacDonald must've been nearby. Scariest guy you'd ever want to meet. Kids around Drumnadrochit used to call him the Crabbit. Even his son, my best friend, True, was afraid of him. Still, I was under for a long time and blacked out. What probably saved me was the Loch's water temperature. It's only about forty-two degrees, close to freezing. In water that cold, your muscles turn to lead, and all your vitals slow to a crawl."
"Zachary, people don't just walk away from traumatic experiences like yours. Sure, you may block it out for a time, but the memories still linger in the subconscious… and so can the effects. Obviously, Angus was at fault, but all this anger you're still holding inside toward your father, it isn't healthy either. And keep in mind, he's not the one suffering, you are."
"So I've been told. But it doesn't matter. He'll never apologize, and I'll never forgive him."
"And what if—"
"Fuck what if? I didn't come here so you could reconcile me and Angus, I came because of these damn nightmares."
He closed his notepad. "For the record, they're not nightmares. What you're experiencing are classified as night terrors, a sleep disorder common among individuals suffering post-traumatic stress. It's your mind's way of dealing with what happened. I once treated a group of patients who just made it out of the Twin Towers before they collapsed. Many of them experienced these same intense dreams of death. While nightmares can occur anytime during REM sleep, night terrors take place only during stage four of sleep, which is the deepest, most difficult stage to awaken from. Patients bolt upright in bed, screaming, paralyzed in fear, their hearts beating at upwards of 170 beats per minute. Even after awakening, many patients remain in a state of confusion for twenty minutes or more."
"Yeah, I've experienced all that."
"Hopefully, our sessions will help, but I have to warn you, it could take years."
"Years? And until then?"
"Until then, we'll do what we can." Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a prescription pad. "I'm going to prescribe an antidepressant. Take it once a day before bedtime. As for the night terrors and your sudden fear of water, sometimes the best therapy is to deal with their causes head-on."
"And how do I do that?"
"That, only you can figure out."
* * *
I left his office, convinced the only way to salvage my career and "remove the Wallace curse" was to return to the Sargasso Sea and "face my dragon." That meant resolving the mystery of the Bloops, no easy task, even without my psychological condition. Returning to the Sargasso meant raising money to fund another expedition. David had deserted me, and few companies would want to risk men and machinery in the wake of my recent disaster at sea.
Still, I had to try.
My mother and Charlie were returning home that afternoon. Charlie not only had money, but connections with several networks. Maybe his production company would be my sponsor?
* * *
"Absolutely not!" My mother stalked the living room, enraged that I'd even broach the subject. "You nearly died out there, Zachary, and now you want to go back?"
My stepfather winced. "Take it easy, Andrea—"
"Charlie Mason, you lend Zachary one silver nickel for this expedition, and you and I are through!"
She stormed off, the slamming door punctuating her words. "Sorry, Charlie, I didn't mean to get you in any trouble."
Good ol' Charlie just shrugged it off. "As
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