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No easily found trail led to the old tower site, and I ended up making my own path up the ridge. Once there, I could see the signs of an old road leading from the fallen tower toward the beach hut. It was probably still being used, judging by the lack of plants growing over the gravel.
“Typical.” I wiped away sweat and pined for a cool swim in the sea below. The waves were as gentle as they were yesterday. The vibrant blue-green of the lagoon-like part where we’d swum was almost taunting me, beckoning. I could feel the exquisite coolness sliding over my skin as I dove in.
“Later. Maybe.” I picked my way through the small trees at the edge of the road, keeping to the cover as I advanced on the debris left from the bombing.
Not much remained above a few yards high. When the tower had fallen it really fell. This was a thorough demolition, and thinking of what I’d seen in the water, the base of the tower must have crumpled due to the actual cliff face below it being fractured by the blast. The foundations had given way then the tower had simply folded into the ground and the sea.
I climbed on top of the stacked blocks, wondering how it would have been trying to rescue anyone from this. Some of the bodies might have ended up in the ocean.
War was crap. War was always crap. All these innocent people had died for no reason. From where I stood on the tallest block, I looked around then began to hop and slide and make my precarious way into the center. There was a hole there, a sunken area.
The doctor would have chastised me for this. This area could be unstable despite eighty years elapsing. It felt firm underfoot, but I was cautious. I kneeled on the edge of the block above the hole and peered down. The drop was only a few feet to another tilted block which was wedged on two more blocks, and in the middle of those was a true hole that was wide enough for a dog to slip into. Dangerous, if unremarkable.
On the other side of the hole was a slash of fresh dirt, where plants were nonexistent, apart from new sprigs of grass. A minor landslip might have happened here, recently.
It could be dangerous if the ground slipped while I was standing on it. Slippage meant there was weakness below, inside the original foundations. Considering the tower had been bombed, anything might be under my feet.
I held my breath, thinking about moving away.
I was about to retreat when I heard the sea, and it was not coming directly from the ocean that I could see beyond the land drop-off. Dive off there and you’d splash into water or hit the rocks I’d been swimming among.
The hole in the center must communicate with the sea. I inched nearer and looked again, peering into the blackness with my hands planted on the block upon which I kneeled. The waves were sucking and withdrawing. I inched even nearer, straining my eyes. Nothing? I wondered about later in the morning when the sun would be overhead. It might shine down into this hole.
I’d seen flickers of light deep underwater. Maybe there was something for the sunlight to bounce off down there, way down inside the hole?
Plus my head was in the way, creating shadow. I needed a flashlight. Struck by an idea, I sat back, fished out the phone, and turned it into a flashlight. On my stomach, I slid forward, heart thudding at my stupidity or my bravery—choose one.
I shone it into the hole, clutching the phone’s case hard enough to hurt.
Something down there flashed back at me. I looked for a few more seconds before giving up, sliding away then walking to safety far from the hole.
It had been eight decades since World War Two. What could be down there?
“Something interesting?” I breathed.
And what if I looked for the other end of that hole or chasm or hidden bunker or whatever it was, from beneath the sea? And yes, an underground bunker might make sense? The stonefish might get me, or the ocean currents, or something else could kill me. Lack of air for one.
Except I wanted to know life. I wanted to know. “Thank you, Jean Paul.”
I did not believe in omens.Yet this was more than that. This unknown thing was beckoning me. With a crooking of its skeletal finger, maybe?
I made my way back down the ridge to the beach and strolled along it until I was at the level of the beach hut. Swimming was off limits without a guard. I was supposed to wear the pendant at all times. But surely not underwater. I’d have to take it off before diving in. And this could kill me. All of that meant I couldn’t ask for help or for scuba gear. Not that I knew how to use that. A snorkel, yes, but not a scuba tank.
The short surfboard left propped in the hut would have to do.
I fetched a towel from the car and pulled on the swimmers, checked the sky for drones, and nope, nothing showed against the clear blue. Then I retraced my steps and threw the towel to the sand near the quieter patch of water.
With a yell of defiance, and a sprint, with the board under my arm, I raced to the sea and flopped in. Having paddled to the choppier water between the tumbled blocks, I abandoned the board. I prayed it would still be there when I surfaced. Then I dove deep.
The water rendered the world silent and beautiful.
I found the place of the light easily—after all, the sun had climbed higher. Something was reflecting from far inside an underground tunnel. I didn’t know if I could fit, but I swam to the entrance to the hole, pulled myself a body length inside and saw threads of light whirling against the rocks and lighting up a tunnel of rocks. With my lungs growing desperate for air, I chickened out and thrust myself backward using my arms. Orientating myself by the light filtering down, I rushed for the surface.
I burst from the water, gasping, and sucked in a mouthful of wave. Coughing madly, I floundered my way to the board where it bobbed against a rock.
“Fuck.” I swiped my wet hair backward over my head, clearing my vision.
Up here was serene. The sea kept on rolling in, making mild thunder on the shore, telling me nothing had changed. I took my time and caught my breath. No stonefish had been visible down below. I would need to avoid touching anything strange and leafy-looking on the rocks, if I were to keep looking. Going further inside that tunnel would be scary, but if I were to try, I had to not panic.
