$20,000 Under the Sea

The empty room hung in limbo. In only a few days, eighteen years of memories had been reduced to a bed frame, barren mattress, and three cardboard boxes. Tiny pinholes from long-removed posters dotted the walls. Scuffs and scratches from roller blades, soccer cleats, and pretend pirate swords crisscrossed the wooden floor.

Vacuum in hand, I began the inevitable process of cleaning up those treasured memories – or “preparing space for new ones” as my wife frequently said. Suddenly, the hose latched onto a forgotten souvenir.

From underneath the bed, I retrieved a mysterious black book – the exterior thick with dust. The name “M. Calloway” was scribbled on the cover. Inside, the pages were swimming with blue writing. Handwritten paragraphs curved around intricate illustrations. My fingers eagerly fished for the first page.

“Dear, I found something really interesting.” I devoured the words as best I could while heading downstairs. “Trust me. You definitely want to see this!”

After walking into an empty living room, I called for my wife again. With no luck, I headed towards the kitchen. Through the open window over the sink, a most peculiar sight unfolded. A great storm of seagulls swept across the front yard. The unmistakable scent of ocean air billowed into the house, and a shrill whistle rang out from the street. The sound reminded me of a dolphin, though I knew my ears must be playing tricks.

Gathering my wits, I hustled out the front door to investigate. The street in front of our house now overflowed with water. Instead of cars, a stripe of slippery fins moved down the canal. Dolphins indeed. I gawked in disbelief while gripping the notebook tight.

All at once, with great commotion, a submarine surfaced from the water like a tin whale. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. A burly man emerged from the gray beast’s belly, waving me to toward the water’s edge.

“Welcome aboard, sailor!” He shouted. “Best hurry along now. We haven’t got much time to find the treasure.”

“What treasure?” I asked, panic rising in my chest. “And what happened to the street? Have I died?”

“There’s no time for questions. We’ve got to dive deep! There are others out there looking for our treasure – pirates, I reckon – and time can be awfully slippery. Don’t you agree?”

“I guess so,” I stammered. My skin and clothes still felt real to the touch. Could I be hallucinating? “I don’t know about any treasure. You’ve come to the wrong house.”

The captain rolled his eyes.

“Is that so? I’ve been commissioned by a wealthy financier to locate and retrieve a most lucrative hidden treasure. I can’t find it without the map, of course.”

“I don’t have a–”

Without warning, the little black book transformed in my hand – taught leather aging into parchment. A pool of blue ink quickly organized into clear landmarks connected by a dashed line. In the upper corner, a large red “X” appeared.

“I almost forgot. Wait here.” The captain sunk back into his ship for a moment. Frantically, I scanned the neighborhood for onlookers. Apparently, no one else had heard the submarine surface – or if they did, they retreated inside. I was all alone except for the mysterious man.

Stepping out of the hatch, the captain tossed a burlap bag my way. It was surprisingly light. I untied the gold string and peeked inside to see several stacks of $100 bills. My heart raced. I’d never seen so much cash in one place.

“$20,000. Consider it a down payment from my employer for your cooperation. There’ll be plenty more than that when we find the treasure. Rumor has it, there’s enough to make a man go mad. I’m willing to find out if you are. Hurry along now! Stash the money and grab your coat. Don’t forget the map!”

As instructed, I hurried back into the house where there was still no sign of my wife. Logic advised me to stay put, to search for the root of this wild fever dream. But adrenaline disagreed and clouded the objections swirling in my mind. I retied the bag of cash and placed it under the kitchen window, then plucked my raincoat from the closet.

Pushing away from the world I knew, I leapt onto the ship.

Entering the submarine, I stepped down into a narrow hallway. The sharp smell of rust and grease burned my nose. Circular windows lined the hallway and provided a glimpse at the watery great beyond.

“Welcome aboard, sailor. This way.”

The captain ushered me towards a control room near the front of the vessel. Inside, panels of multicolored lights and gauges danced to a silent song. An enormous shield of glass covered the front wall of the room. I pressed my head against the cool surface like a boy at the aquarium.

“This is your seat.” The captain ushered me towards a small leather chair tucked away in the back corner. Meanwhile, he adjusted his yellow, tattered overcoat and readied himself in front of a worn steering wheel. A school of tropical yellow fish darted by.

“Where to first? What does the map say?”

I smoothed out the paper on my lap. My nerves had added quite a few wrinkles to the weathered page.

“That’s bizarre,” I whispered to myself. “The map changed.”

The dashed lines rearranged themselves, no longer cutting through the center of the page in a clear path towards the treasure. Instead, the line trailed off the bottom of the map and resumed near the top corner.

“Well, of course the map changed. Every journey gets rerouted by time. We best make haste before she redirects us again. Away we go – down to the rocky shores!”

The sub lurched forward and began its gradual descent. The rhythmic ping of sonar had a calming effect. Outside my window, a steady stream of wavy bubbles danced towards the surface. Peering forward, I dared to glance down towards the bottom. The depths felt like forever.

For several minutes I sat in silence, watching the fish swim by as we continued downward. A stone-colored shark passed only inches from my nose – a thin pane of glass resting between us. In the distance, I thought I spied the flapping wings of a stingray. The creature moved effortlessly through the water as though flying.

“Tell me more about this mystery employer,” I said at last, curiosity getting the better of me. “Is this your first journey together?”

“Not at all. I’ve been on countless voyages at his direction. I fancy we make a great team after all this time, but the truth is I’ve never met him. Not in person, anyway. No one has. All I know is that he goes by the alias M. Calloway.”

A proud grin spread across my face.

“You know this Calloway?” The captain asked, incredulous.

“Very well,” I answered. Before I could elaborate, a buzzer screeched overhead. The captain left his post in a hurry. He studied the wall of gauges, leaning in close.

“Oh my,” he said softly, tightening his crooked cap. “I’ve never taken her this deep before. I hope we can withstand the pressure.”

Panic seized my chest with icy fingers.

“What do you mean? What could happen?”

Outside, the emerald waters darkened to a stormy gray, with pitch black not far behind. The enchanting marine life had disappeared. The nothingness swallowed us whole, slowly at first and then all at once.

With a loud bang, the metal ceiling dented inward toward us – as though punched from the top.

“What’s happening?” I shouted over the alarm.

The captain tinkered with the controls, his steady hands flying across the board. The ship’s exterior lights turned on, and I could see the jagged rocks whizzing by dangerously close to the sub. Another bang erupted from the ceiling, a large puncture appearing overhead.

“The ship is caving in on us,” announced the captain, his voice commanding. “It’s the pressure. How much longer, sailor?”

With trembling hands, I held open the map. An illustrated submarine inched towards the bottom of the page, where the path disappeared.

“We’re almost to the bottom! Can’t we move any faster?” I cried, clutching onto my seat.

“Hold on!” he cried, bracing himself against the wheel.

The sub shuddered with tremendous force as we pushed through rock bottom.

Instantly, the juddering stopped. A peaceful calm blanketed the room. Crystal skies flowed ahead as far as the eye could see. Puffy white clouds drifted by lazily. The treacherous deep was behind us – conquered, or at least quieted for now.

“That was close.” The captain ran a hand through his peppery beard. A nervous laugh escaped.

Glancing down, I realized we were now traveling along the top of the map.

“What, what happened?” I stammered, fighting back ragged breaths.

“You can only travel down for so long, sailor. Eventually the universe – God, fate, whatever you like – will flip you right-side up again. Never fails.” He ran towards the glass window, pointing at a rainbow stretched out before us. “Up ahead! Look!”

I unfastened my seatbelt and hurried to join him.

“We’re almost there!” he exclaimed, slapping me on the back. “The buried treasure lies just there, at the rainbow’s end. We’ll have to dig it up, but clouds make for easy digging.”

“You mean the treasure is at the end of the rainbow?”

“What did you expect, leprechauns and pots of gold? Pure nonsense. Nothing worthwhile comes that easy.”

The submarine sailed through the sky until we reached the rainbow.

“This is it, sailor! The end to our great adventure.”

He tossed me a shovel from the hallway.

One shoe in front of the other, I climbed out of the submarine. As I did, the ship began to fade – the ladder rungs disappearing underfoot. I called out to the captain, but his voice was hollow like a distant memory.

“Honey?”

I glanced around, disoriented.

“Honey? What are you doing down there? Are you okay?”

Like a bucket of cold water, her voice yanked me back into the present – where I sat among dust bunnies, lost in time between lines on the page.

“What are you doing on the floor?” She asked again, offering a hand to hoist me to my feet. “Did you find something interesting?”

With a deep breath, I grounded myself in reality.

“I’ve found hidden treasure. Our boy is so, so talented. He has the most extraordinary imagination, like his mother.” With a wink, I handed over the notebook. “We went on quite the adventure together this afternoon. It felt real. Look, my hands are shaking.”

I guided her towards the final pages.

“But what happens now? He never finished the story. See.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” She shrugged. “Maybe it doesn’t matter how the story ends. Perhaps the journey is just as important. What are you going to do with the book?”

“I’m going to mail it to him and ask him to finish.”

“You don’t want to keep it? I know how much you’ve been missing him lately. We both have. Empty nest syndrome has no easy cure.” She slid an arm around my back, and I kissed the curls on top of her head.

“You can only travel down for so long, sailor.”

She glanced up at me, her dark brows knit together in confusion.

“A saying from my favorite up-and-coming author,” I explained. “Do we have his school address?”

“Check the book in the drawer next to the silverware.”

Running to the kitchen, I found the address book. Michael Calloway, 633 Clark Street, Northwestern University.

Odd. I felt something amiss in the room – out of place, perhaps.

A familiar burlap bag stopped me in my tracks. Pulse pounding, I opened the purse with a gentle tug and peered inside. There was $20,000 in cash, the bills crisp and very real.

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.