A Fiction: Part XIV

Chapter 3

Waiting for the sun

I

Stuart died.

When I think of people dying, I always imagine a quiet moment; their faces grow still, their eyes glaze a bit and they look upwards as though seeing the face of God. Peaceful, always peaceful. Maybe I’ve seen too many vid-dramas.

Stuart decided early on that he was going to hold on to the last. He fought death literally with all he had. First, there was the moaning. It started as a pained breath, but over the course of 16 hours it became a near-constant hum. The moaning lasted for nearly 12 hours more until Stuart drifted away into restless sleep. I had been comforting him with a torn bit of my shirt and cool water on his forehead and chest. When he drifted off to sleep, I thankfully did as well. A little over 4 hours later, Stuarts eyes shot open – wild and clear – and the howling and screaming started. His body shook in constant tension as he took deep hysterical breaths and let them go in a swirling siren of agony. He lay there on the cold steel diamond plate floor, my every attempt at comfort swatted away with rigid strength. It was clear I could offer no help, so I moved away and searched the first aid kit for something to close my ears. I cut a few small triangles from a larger gauze pad and rolled them into my ear canals, softening the horror of Stuart’s spasms. I spent the next hour activating emergency equipment and attempting to re-engage the drives. I was under the main console tracing the wiring and looking for damage when I realized… the sub was silent.

I have to admit, I considered my food situation. The sub is stocked with enough dry rations for three individuals at average consumption for one week. I estimate I can ration this for myself for up to five weeks. By then, I expect either Angel’s Head will find me or I will convince myself to suit up and swim to the surface – Stuart will not be edible after a few days – maybe a week. I decided to let him go.

Before I lowered him into the water, I wrapped Stuart in the blanket from the first aid kit and tied it tight with some thin rope I found in the back hold. The concept of God is passé in this day and age, but I feel compelled to say a few words.

“A pleasant voyage, Stuart. Your suffering is at an end, my friend.” With this, I pushed Stuart out into the sea and closed the hatch behind him.