O2

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 ~Quincy~

   Picture this: a beach of fine sand, a small palm tree here and there, the marvelous deep blue ocean gleaming in the radiant sunshine. A joyful girl skips along the shore, leaving a trail of dainty footprints in the gravel to be washed away by the gentle waves. She takes in everything around her, from the aroma of the sea to the singular gull calling to his mate. However, when coming to a halt and turning her head, she sees that it is not a bird who is screeching, but rather a little boy gasping for air as he splashed the water for dear life. The fine lady dives into the sea in attempt to rescue the drowning boy without realizing she herself had never learned to swim. The ocean, now a grotesque and polluted shade of green, melts away her mask of makeup, tangles her thick raven hair, and pulls her into a bottomless trench as if it has a mind of its own. The child grins revoltingly and transforms into a hideous beast of a man. He gives a roar of laughter so intense that even the young woman can hear it as she sinks to her grave.

  I have been having this exact nightmare since I was 10 years old. It seems to haunt me, sometimes repeating itself if I am in a deep slumber. It has to have some significance, some deeper meaning...

   I awoke to the sound of sirens ringing in my sensitive ears. I sprang out of bed in sheer terror,  landing knee-deep in salt water. This could only be a leak in the submarine.  I flew to the control room, where M sat at the control panel, trying to come up with a solution. Andy, Napoleon, Lian, and Mr. Qiao were running around the nearby dining room, screeching like chimpanzees.

  "M!" I called. "Everyone! What in the world is going on around here!"

 "That's simple," M replied in a surprisingly calm tone. "It's only a small leak; I shall repair it momentarily." She snapped her fingers at two other scientists, who proceeded to patch up the puncture with some Mega Putty (an emergency product that the superstitious Lian had brought with her). "Problem solved," she said contentedly and took a sip of coffee.

   "Alright, but what about the rest of the--" I drifted off when I heard a thump from the kitchen. Two thumps. Speedy thumps. Loud thumps. "Oh no," I mumbled. A gigantic ball of fur burst out of the kitchen, gnawing on a raw pork chop, and tackled a pink stuffed rabbit, sending the leftover water bursting through the air.  Mr. Q tried to make a run for it and hung onto M's chair.

   "Stay back, tiger! I'm warning you," He said, quivering, and reached for a gun. "See this? I'm not afraid to shoot." He smirked. "I haven't eaten for a few days, and I've got goosebumps. You could be a tasty soup, or a cozy fur blanket." 

   "QIAO." I commanded. "Put the gun down! We're almost to the bottom; we can catch fish . . . somehow." I turned to the tiger. "There, there. It's okay, Itsname." 

    "Itsname? You mean to tell me, your pet death machine has been hiding in the submarine all this time?" 

    M about-faced to speak to Mr. Qiao. "Actually, Itsname is MY cyber tiger," she explained, "and she's only a cub." Itsname hopped off of her plaything, which was now torn into dozens of little pieces. "I brought her to put some hope into us if..." M's grin twisted into a grim frown. "If one of us doesn't survive."

      "Aye," added Napoleon, whose lap was being crushed by the giant robotic cat. "That would be rather depressing, wouldn't it." The whole room lost its joy, and the air seemed heavy with melancholy. Mr Q masked his worry with one of his old newspapers. Even Lian set her notebook down to sigh. 

        We had all grown close over the last few weeks, as if we had known each other since the first grade. I tried imagining what life would be like without one of my co-workers, without a member of my figurative family. I could not bear the thought, and tears began to form in my eyes. And suddenly, I heard the most wonderful music.

         It was a song that started out to seem upsetting, like a loved one had left the composer in the pouring rain one Wednesday night. As the notes developed into a one-man symphony, the tune became uplifting, like there was still hope. The piece ended with the highest note I had ever heard played on a cello; and with that, Krys poked her head out from behind the instrument. She always managed to look on the bright side, a stunning quality considering her unsettling (to my knowledge, anyway) past. M thanked her, and one by one, everyone continued to their daily activities.

       Lian glanced up from her sketch book and mumbled, "We've been exploring this trench for days. Do you guys think there's actually an end to the thing?" 

        "You're such a downer," Andy said. Now we were feeling hopeful, a giggle and a joke snuck in here and there withing our conversation. The school of fish outside was dancing with delight. M pressed a glowing green button on her control panel, and the remaining sea water was drained into a compartment in the bottom of the ship.

        "Let's get our suits on, fellow scientists," she said at last. "We have to be prepared for anything."

        A glaze fell over Krys's eyes. 

       "I-I'm feeling a little . . . d-d-d-dizzy . . . " she stuttered. And then she came crashing down onto the floor.