Harvest, Quietus #1 (3 page)

I rub my arms, chilled by the intense
icy cold of the water surrounding me. It's bone chilling cold, even
with my thick rubber wet suit on, and a shocking contrast to the
warmth of the pond upside.

I press the button and
switch my camera on, testing the viewfinder and adjusting the
settings to their best quality, and move off toward the impressive
strata breakdown in the side cave wall. It's an amazing sight, and
simply massive. I swim around excitedly, filming the ragged
features and fissures of the rock. Shrimp and other cave dwellers
pass me by. Scooting around and into the crevices and grooves of
the limestone. Their sensory mechanisms are highly developed for
searching out food and avoiding predators without the need for
light. I gently touch a Remipedia with my finger tip and grin in
delight as it writhes its way off in surprise, all its tiny little
legs wriggling like crazy. I capture its hasty retreat on camera. I
spot a small variety of shrimp and zoom in on it. These are native
to many caves worldwide. I've seen a number in the blue holes, in
the Bahamas where I've dived previously. This one I can name as a
Speonebalia Cannoni, a pure white eyeless crustacean. Coloring and
eyes are totally useless in this environm
ent
. It's about a centimeter long and so very
sweet to look at. Although small, some of these creatures are
strange and frankly quite ugly, if I should dare to think such
things about other life forms. But I don't suppose I'd appear that
attractive to them either. If they could see me.

Similar to the surface above, it's a
constantly developing world. Random adaptations occurring within
the species enabling those with the stronger characteristics to
survive and thrive. And these changes can occur behaviorally,
morphologically or physiologically. One thing I do know, is that
evolution has no directionality. Evolution is blind.

And this cave contains a prime example of blind
evolution,
I
think, with a touch of humor.

It's a stunning microcosm down here. A whole society and
cross society of miniature creatures co-existing, evolving and
adapting.
And they are oblivious and
completely separate from the wider world above them. This cave
system is their whole world. I video as much as I can, gathering
visual details of the life forms and their close habitats. Most
organisms don't stray too far from their food and comfort zone.
They localize to the rock type and textures of their environment.
Even their characteristics become localized over time.

I lose all track of time, completely
absorbed, traveling around the perimeter of the cave
slowly.

I'm suddenly aware that they're
nearby. James Richardson and his sister. Their torch lights flash
across my path. I move off, to a lower level pointedly, hoping they
won't follow me down.

And they don't, they're respectful of
my work and that's very thoughtful.

A good while later, I ascend to the
upper strata again, my videoing complete. I have a plenty of
footage of three distinctly different parts of the cave with a
clear difference of dependent life. I'm looking forward to
examining it in detail on my laptop at home, and adding an audio
transcript.

My home is a two bed apartment which I
recently leased in Ocala, along with Lucy, my assistant. It's
central for visiting the caves in this area and we'll be here for
two years doing this leg of my research. We work for a company
called Earth Moves. It's a partly government funded research
facility. We collate all the scientific information into an ever
expanding visual and statistical database. I'm proud to be a part
of such a wonderful project as this. I love my work. Every second
of it.

I see the other two leaving, their
lights sweeping up the canyon on the far side. I decide to hang
around for fifteen minutes more, to ensure they're gone when I
emerge.

And I'm so pleased I did, because five
minutes later, a beautiful ultra-thin blind white cave eel slithers
past me. It's long; two feet, I estimate. It reminds me of a length
of silky white rope. I turn on my camera and capture its graceful
winding movements, following its progress across the cave. It
disappears into a small hole in the rock like a guided missile. It
could be a way through to an adjoining cave or simply its home.
I've no way of knowing as the aperture is too small to navigate
with the special light probe I have on my camera. I'm disappointed
the eel has left, but even so, what a fantastic finale to my
dive.

A few minutes later I
leave, for my ascent. I'm not sure I'll ever see this cave again.
I'm deeply touched by it. In love with the incredible size and
beauty of this submerged, cone-like cavern
—
home to countless, amazing little
beings.

Few people are lucky enough to see
this part of the world, but neither do they have justifiable reason
to disturb it.

My cave diving visits often provoke in
me, a time of reflection. And my mind meanders off. How much of the
world human beings will never inhabit or even know is there? And
perhaps we have a similar blindness to other societies beyond ours.
Something vast that we're totally unaware of. Perhaps something
hidden, but in plain sight?

Now I'm getting far too philosophical,
my scientific head leaving me for a moment. But I suppose it needs
to now and then, science needs a rest. I sigh contentedly to myself
as I kick my way slowly upwards; rising, stopping and starting; as
the air mixture I'm breathing is returned to normal levels en
route.

I see the light above begin to form,
the light of the sun on the pond surface. It's a dull glow in the
distance. I'm looking forward to getting back to the warmth now.
I've had enough of the cold, my fingers are almost numb and I
shiver involuntarily in response to my thoughts.

As I approach the surface an unusual
pink glow tints the water around me.

How odd, I hadn't realized
it was that late. Surely the sun can't be setting yet?

I'd have guessed it was about three
o'clock or so.

As I breach the water and take off my
mask in relief, inhaling a long breath of air, I immediately notice
the heat. It hits the exposed skin of my face. Florida is always
hot in the summer but this is a lot hotter than usual and notably
hotter than when I left the pond and descended to the
cave.

I stare upwards, to the sky, and I'm
intrigued. I've never seen anything like it. Deep red on the
horizon, streaked with vivid purple and edged with a yellow blur.
But even more amazing is the fact that it's purest azure blue where
the sun hangs above me, in it's expected three o'clock position.
It's like the sky is split in half somehow. And both are at a
different time of the day.

“That is the goddamn weirdest thing
ever,” I say to myself slowly. I'm not sure what to think about
it.

And
what is it with
the roasting heat?

I need to get in the cool of my car. I
turn round and notice the other two are still there sitting inside
their Land Rover, ready to depart. The pool is actually steaming
around me as I wade to the side and take off my fins, unstrapping
the tanks, and dumping them on the beach.

Their car rolls past me and he lowers
the window, raises his hand through the gap, in a goodbye gesture,
and sets off down the track. I raise mine in return, albeit
briefly. I can be pleasant now he's going.

Quickly, I gather up my
gear and take it back to the Chevvy, wiping the remaining drips dry
with my towel and stowing it all away safely in the trunk. Then I
strip off my wet suit and swimsuit. I'm dry almost instantly in the
blistering heat surrounding me. I dress in denim shorts, a black
t-shirt and my old, worn to death Birkenstocks. The heat is so
wearisome and I quickly get inside the car, starting the engine and
turning on the cooling system full blast. As the cool, fresh air
begins to circulate the interior, I breathe a long sigh of relief
as I start to feel comfortable and back to normal again. Leaning
across to the back seat, I pluck my cell phone from my purse and
have a quick flick through. No messages or missed calls, not that I
expected any. But on second thoughts, actually I did. I was
expecting Lucy to let me know how the wedding went. But perhaps
she's hungover. That wouldn't surprise me. She likes a drink or
ten, does Lucy.

I think of calling Mom, my
usual daily afternoon call, but then think better of it. I'll leave
that until I'm back home. I can relax more there.

I'm so worried about her.
Ever since David died, she's been constantly hovering on the edge.
Dad tries his best, but he's the 'pull-yourself-together' type. He
gets frustrated with her. They've both grieved in their own way, as
have I, but she's gone beyond that. She used to do things, have
interests, and a full life. It's like she's given up, on
everything. I guess I'll drive home tomorrow morning. I spend most
of my weekends at home since Joe and I parted.
I like the company and I know
it
cheers Mom up and gives Dad the extra support he needs. And Lucy
can have the place to herself and Andy. She feels uncomfortable
bringing Andy home to stay when I'm there, although I don't care in
the slightest and I've told her often enough. I love her, and
Andy's one of the few men I really do like.

I retrieve an old and much
loved Enya CD from the door pocket and slide it in the car music
player to chill out with on the ride back. There's nothing like
listening to this at loud volume after a cave dive. My chill level
hits the high heavens. What a fabulous voice she has, an unearthly
clarity and pitch which makes the hair stand up on the back of my
neck.

My stomach grumbles loudly with need of
food, and a wave of empty nausea and light headedness rises inside
me. “B
reakfast seems a real long time ago,” I
announce to myself. I can't dive on a full stomach, so eating is a
burning issue when I emerge from one. I grab a tube of fruity candy
and pop one in my mouth to keep myself going. “Thank God for
Lifesavers.” I'm always talking to myself lately. Perhaps I'm going
mad? I know I drive Lucy mad with my constant rambling.

I perform a quick u-turn in the space
ahead and move forward, finally setting off. I give Nursery Sink
pond a respectful little nod of my head as I depart.

My chest rises and falls with a few
deep breaths and my heart palpitates. I often feel like this after
a dive. I'm not sure how much is due to the aftermath of the air
mixtures affecting my breathing and the amazing experience I have
in the caves. The romantic inside me likes to think it's the
latter, the scientist thinks it's the air.

It's a little overgrown along the dirt
track, not very often accessed, and that's a good thing, I
conclude, as I proceed toward the state road 50, about five hundred
yards ahead.

I press down on the gas and pick up a
little speed, taking the narrow bends, curves and dips of the track
expertly and smoothly, with the assistance of my SUV's four wheel
drive. It may be old and battered but my Chevvy drives like a magic
carpet.

I finally reach the junction of the
state road that leads to the main interstate about a quarter mile
east. With a quick look, I turn left and pull out, accelerating
along the blacktop grateful for the smooth surface to drive on. But
I start in surprise. Straight up ahead of me, a few hundred yards,
are two cars which seem to have been involved in a head on
collision.

“Christ
!” I say in
shock.

Pulling up, a little way short of the
crashed vehicles, I stop.

I sit there for a moment. There's no
one around. No police. Nobody. It must be a very recent event. I
turn the engine off and jump out, into the heavy, surrounding heat.
I don't like the sight of blood and whatever else may be going on
in there, but I manage to get past that. Lives may be at stake.
Hesitantly I approach the first of the two cars. My feet are
sticking to the tackiness of the blacktop, which seems to be
melting in the heat. The sticky sounds from my feet are the only
noise I can hear. I find the silence unnerving and disturbing. I
arrive at the first car, which has heavily tinted
windows.

I can't see inside... and with a deep
breath for courage, I open the door.

Surprisingly and thankfully, no one is
inside. I look for signs of injury, or damage. It's blood free and
completely intact. A strange smell invades my nostrils. It's not
entirely unpleasant. Kind of sweet, but cloying. But stranger
still, are the discarded clothes and shoes and the thick pile of
gray dust, spread mainly on the seats. It concerns and intrigues
me.

What the hell is
it?

I poke my finger in it and rub the
contents against my thumb.

It's warm and grainy, but much finer
than sand. It's also a little bit greasy and sticks to my fingers.
I brush it off on my shorts and a quick shiver of revulsion runs up
my spine. I don't like this situation, or anything about it.
Pulling myself together a bit, I stand up on the car foot board and
crane my neck, looking to the car in front, which is also
unoccupied, and then further, over the top, into the distance. The
road ahead is empty and eerily still. The weird sky worries me and
the heat is humid and really oppressive. This is creeping me out
more and more with each passing minute.