Song of the Sirens (3 page)

The room wasn’t luxurious by any means. This
wasn’t a yacht, although the captain begged to differ. Dad worked with Captain
Jack on all of his deep-sea missions, which was more often than not, and he
kept the same room. The bunk bed was drilled into the right wall. A broad desk,
straight ahead of the door, had been drilled into the floor, and the bathroom
and closet was on the left. The entire room and bathroom could fit into my
bedroom at home.

Everything everywhere on this boat
smelled of seawater and fish. The first time I spent a day at sea the smell
rotted my nostrils and clawed down to my stomach. The putrid stench no longer
had such an effect since my nose became accustomed. Although, this didn’t
prevent boys from sniffing out the smell in my hair later when school started.

I didn’t mind the teasing so much. While
normal people spent three vacation months working, attending summer school, or
wasting time, I sailed the ocean blue in search of long lost lands, dead
civilizations, and fabled artifacts. Well, not me personally per se, but I kept
records for those who did.

“What did you find, Dad?” I inquired to
my father’s backside and those of the men who stood in between us. I raked my
fingernails against my jeans in anticipation. Exhilaration danced in the air
and hinted on a major break-through. I knew it, so why didn’t he just tell us
already!

Dad ignored my question for a moment as
he hunched over the map. He gripped the lip of the desk and maintained balance
on the swaying vessel. He hummed and mumbled incoherently. I craned my neck to
peer around him, but couldn’t see beyond his broad shoulders. He turned
partway, pinpointed a location, muttered, and moved down the length of the map.
Dad lifted a hand to the growing beard on his chin and rubbed.

In an instant, he spun around and
startled us. He beamed. A wide smile graced his scruffy face. The wrinkles
around his eyes crinkled. He opened his mouth to answer as the remainder of the
men pushed their way in. They didn’t seem to notice me until I scrambled up to
the top bunk. Too many men in one small sleeping area left little to no room
for the shortest and skinniest of them all.

“Sorry, Anita,” Riley apologized on
behalf of the engaged men who were too keen on The Man to notice anyone else.

The hotness known as Riley shuffled into
the opposite corner. He offered half a smirk as others moved to conceal him.

Only Riley seemed to remember his
manners long enough to acknowledge me. Riley was both intelligent and
attractive. He was a tall, lean, Greek god. He had golden skin, dark and curly
locks, green eyes, and the sculpted features of a Hellenistic statue. I often
times wondered if he’d been carved from marble, because no guy in school looked
like him.

Despite his generous good features and
polite upbringing, he held a great deal of mystery. I often tried to converse
with him to get to know his story, but one thing or another interrupted. Come
to think of it, I didn’t know anything about the guy, though he knew a lot
about me and my dad. I guessed mystery held sparks, especially for girls. Riley
wasn’t the brooding bad boy, but without knowing him better, I couldn’t discern
if he was the good guy, either.

Riley was a sharp guy. At eighteen, he
was also the youngest. He had a profound amount of knowledge concerning the
ocean and proved to be a great navigator and troubleshooter, and he’d quickly
worked his way to the top of the minion pole.

Dad grew fond of him. I believed my
father considered Riley to be a prodigy, or at the least, a younger version of
himself. The best form of flattery was imitation, and Riley imitated Dad all
right.

I didn’t mind spending summer away from
land because this enabled me to see more of Dad. Lack of conversation and a
limit on what I could do hindered the spectrum of enjoyment. But, having Riley
around made those things appear quite trivial. Now all I had to do was get him
to notice me. I was the only girl on board, so one wouldn’t suspect this to be
an issue.

Dad raised his voice above the mutters
and growing agitation. The sudden outburst yanked me back into the moment. I
stared at him as he took the reins of gossip and steered them toward his new
findings.

“The weather won’t win out this day,” he
started, “because we’ve found it!”

A brief moment of awe and shock washed
over the men. I felt the same tightened enthusiasm as the rest of the team. I
almost dropped my jaw. I stared wide-eyed at my father as if he were a lunatic.
Had I heard correctly? Did he say he just located
it
, and by
it
,
of course he meant Atlantis?

I didn’t know what to do. I felt like
crying, smiling, and dancing with joy just to name a few of the initial
reactions. Sheer pride filled my heart and toppled over. I never imagined my
father wasted his life, or that he wandered around aimlessly, led by blinding
dreams. I knew he would find many things worth exploring, but at this moment of
supreme revelation, I never imagined he would be the name behind the discovery
of one of civilization’s greatest myths.

My father’s life work was not in vain,
and he would reap the rewards: Percival, the man who discovered the lost city
of Atlantis.

I found myself becoming emotional. Tears
welled up in my eyes, and my lips quivered. I was a sap. Life flashed through
my thoughts of a great future. We were set. Dad was set. He’d have all the
money he could dream of to explore this city of his.

I settled on smiling and stretched
quivering lips into a grin. I glanced around at each individual face in the
small audience in an attempt to keep the tears from rolling. The men offered
looks of shock, awe, elation, and relief. Many of them worked for years,
decades even on discovering this lost land.

Some chuckled, slapped one another on
the shoulder, gave hugs, and spread joy through the small and tight room.

No wonder Captain Jack backed down. He
stood in the back with arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t fool me. He
looked pissed, his normal demeanor, but beneath that thick, gray beard and
mustache, I knew his thin lips smirked at the situation. He was set for life,
too.

A few men moved toward my father to give
him a congratulatory handshake and hug, revealing Riley. He didn’t look very
happy. In fact, a mixture of regret, discontent, and anger lingered on his
face. He narrowed his brows and pressed his lips together. His eyes flickered
over the men until they met mine.

Surprised, Riley’s features smoothed
over and a forced smile lifted his lips. My smile gradually faded. In a sudden
turn of events, the perfect guy didn’t seem so perfect anymore.

Chapter Three

I sat cross-legged on the top bunk,
leaned over, and rested my elbows on my thighs. I inadvertently leaned toward
the young man who shuffled behind the others and slipped out. He didn’t raise
his eyes to meet those of the men, much less to meet mine again.

Riley acted strange for a guy who would
soon reap the rewards of discovering a lost city. I expected him to be as
excited as anyone. He spent the least amount of time on this project, yet he
would share in the rewards. Something didn’t feel right, and I planned to find
out what.

I grunted and extended my legs over the
edge of the bunk bed. I wanted to stay and listen to Dad’s thrilling story with
his large gestures. It wasn’t as if Riley could just slip off the boat and
disappear. On the other hand, I wanted to know Riley’s deal now, and Dad could
explain everything to me later in simple terms.

“Excuse me,” I said in a soft tone,
which sounded more of a whisper beneath the bellowing men. I foresaw an evening
of boisterous celebration and drinking tonight.

I cleared my throat, loud and harsh, and
repeated in a stronger, firmer voice, “Excuse me.”

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you up there,
Anita,” Kent said. He glanced up only for a moment, not even long enough to
lock eye contact. He promptly returned his attention to Dad, who continued
speaking with his back to the team. He tossed out coordinates and other
numbers, and rambled on about depth and distance.

Kent moved out of the way and allowed
room for slim passing. I pushed against the mattress and slipped off the bunk,
swinging my feet as I felt for the floor. Once I touched the floor, I walked
past a couple of men and out the door.

The room behind me filled with faint
chatter. The hall filled with empty silence. I glanced around. Riley’s room
stood to the right, just around the corner, but I had a feeling he hadn’t
returned to his quarters. He never seemed to spend much time there, and many
times, I caught him at the back of the boat staring into the water as if he
longed for something.

I walked around two corners until
meeting the stairs. I jogged up to the deck. Up here, things seemed normal,
well, aside from the impending storm, which threatened to create a vicious
tempest. I knew Dad was thrilled and he wanted to get back to the underwater
world, but he was sensible, and common sense warned him to retreat for now.
Atlantis wasn’t going anywhere.

An icy wind slapped across my face in a
strong gush. I almost toppled over, but caught my balance just in time. Looking
around, I didn’t see anyone. I stuffed my fists into my coat pockets and
followed the railing around the side of the boat.

A broad back deck opened up in the
distance, covered in shadows from the brewing clouds above.

“I know,” Riley said as he leaned over
the edge of the wooden railing. “I’ll stop this.”

I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head. I
wasn’t sure if I expected that simple gesture to help me hear him better or to
help me understand his peculiar actions.

Riley lowered his voice and continued
muttering. He leaned in on his forearms, which rested on top of the railing,
and tilted over the edge. He concentrated on something in the water as he
paused and spoke, and paused again, as if he carried on a conversation with
someone I couldn’t see or hear.

Despite my clumsiness, I possessed a
surprising degree of stealth when creeping up behind someone. Not that I wore
heels in a silent room, because the slight squeak of my sneakers paled in
comparison to the growing noise around us, so creeping up to Riley wasn’t
difficult. The waves slapped the sides of the boat, the wind howled, and
crewmen in the distance yelled out orders.

When I approached him, he merely stared
into the ocean as if caught in intense thought over a devastating and severe
matter. He ignored me. I’d never seen a man look so serious.

He watched me from the corner of his eye
and froze. Just like a statue carved from ancient stone, he remained
motionless. Maybe he thought if he ignored me long enough, I might leave. Or,
if he didn’t make any sudden movements, I’d forget he was there.

I leaned against the bow railing and
faced the broad steerage room, which climbed a story above us. I pulled back my
hair and tied my locks with a hair band. Resting my elbows on the railing, I
gave Riley a sidelong glance.

“What?” he asked with a slight laugh.
His demeanor changed from somber to normal and relaxed. He took two side steps
and moved toward me, leaned his forearms against the railing, and faced the
ocean behind me, resuming his previous position.

“You’re behaving weird,” I said in a
tone slightly above normal to counteract the noise.

“Direct, aren’t you?”

“Sorry.” I bit my lower lip. My cold
cheeks felt a degree warmer with embarrassment.

“Why do you think I’m weird?” He
narrowed his eyes as his hair cut across his face. Riley needed a haircut.

I momentarily forgot about his
discontent earlier, and pointed out other obvious facts to start with. “You’re
always out here wearing trunks as if it weren’t freezing, for one thing.”

“I don’t get cold.”

“Yes, weird, it’s fifty degrees with the
wind chill and you’re wearing trunks.”

He chuckled.

I paused and fought against the voice in
my head. I spoke without finishing the thought. “Why do you stand out here all
the time by yourself talking to the water?”

Riley turned toward me. “What?”

“I’ve seen you. I’ve heard you. You’re
always out here talking to yourself. I know you’re not using a cell phone
earpiece all the way out here.”

“Hmm,” he muttered and returned his
attention to the sea.

“If you tell me, I’ll tell you something
weird about me.”

“Depends on what you tell me.”

“Are you talking out loud because it
makes you feel like you’re talking to a loved one?” I stood upright and faced
him.

He tilted his head toward me and
scrunched one brow as if I accused him of insanity.

“What?” I shrugged. “Some people do
that. If you lost a parent or friend, or just feel so far from them that you
break down and start talking out loud as if you’re conversing with them. That
happens.”

“You’re the weird one,” he joked with a
straight face.

“Not talking to dead people?”