The Ocean Dark

36

Tupper had already done his rounds for this shift as duty engineer, and until the captain, the chief, and the others came back from the island, he had nothing to do belowdecks. The duty engineer was always on call, just in case anything should go wrong. And, sure, he ought to do his rounds more frequently. Instead, he had retreated to the farthest, most hidden corner of the engineering section, in the shadows behind the boilers.

Not that he was hiding. Tupper didn’t hide from anything or anyone. Never had, and never would. No, he came back here whenever he needed some solitude, or room to think, or to have a private place to get a little high. The rules didn’t allow smoking down here, and the captain would not have been pleased to discover Tupper puffing on a fat joint in the boiler room. Fortunately, none of the other engineers cared as long as he occasionally shared. Even the chief would only have been pissed if he wasn’t invited, but Chief Boggs was ashore at the moment, so Tupper had the smoke all to himself.

God, he needed it.

After this, he’d head to the galley and fix himself an iced coffee. Josh didn’t like anyone messing up his work space, but fuck him. Dude was FBI. Nobody cared what he liked and didn’t like. Josh ought to count himself lucky just to be alive.

Tupper sighed, took a long drag on the joint, held the sweet smoke in his lungs for a few seconds, then blew it out slow. He closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the starboard hull.

FBI on board, rendezvous ship full of dead guys, guns missing, a third of the damn crew gone ashore to find them. Tupper considered himself a simple enough guy — beer and grass, pussy, sunshine, decent music, and cheeseburgers were all he required. Simple guy, simple life. But his life had just turned into a colossal clusterfuck.

“Shiiiiiit,” he whispered.

Sweat trickled down his forehead and he let it run. With the boilers chugging, it was like a steam room full of clanking pipes. Hot as hell. But he liked being belowdecks, down deep enough that he was cradled by the ocean. The back of his head felt cool, in spite of the boiler room’s heat.

Tupper took another long drag, relishing the smoke. At last the tension in his shoulders had started to subside.

At first, the knocking sounded far away, just one more clank and thump from the pipes and the chugging boilers. Slowly, though, a crease formed in his forehead. What was that noise? He knew the workings of the Antoinette’s innards better than anyone except the chief, but he didn’t recognize this sound.

His eyes opened. Something going wrong with the boilers, maybe? He was duty engineer, which made it his responsibility.

Tupper listened hard, the burning ember dimming at the end of the joint. His senses were pleasantly dulled and he felt sleepy, but he shook it off as best he could. The knocking came again, and he turned to look along the wall to his left. A pipe down there, maybe? He squinted in the gloom, slowly accepting that he would have to get up and check it out. Now was definitely not the time to piss off Captain Rio.

With a sigh, he put a hand against the hull and started to rise.

Something thumped the hull from the outside.

Tupper yanked his hand back as though burned. He stared at the hull, and jumped when the sound came again — a knock against the metal that resounded in the boiler room. It quickened — half a dozen blows striking the hull in as many seconds. Then it stopped, leaving only low echoes in the midst of the clanking and the heat. Tupper cocked his head, staring, waiting for it to come again, wondering what the hell had been hammering on the hull out there, underwater. Sharks or dolphins, maybe? Fucking blind or stupid sharks, if they were, trying to attack the hull of a freighter.

He pinched the end of the joint, licked his thumb and forefinger, and did it again to make sure it was out. Then he slipped the roach into his pocket and started slowly out of the boiler room.

Two more quick thumps rang against the hull and he quickened his pace, their echoes following him out.