THE TITAN EXPERIMENT

CHAPTER 19 - Blood in the Water (Callisto Tenzing)

After Callisto Tenzing pulled Phoenix from the water, he slung his fins and dive mask to the floor of the catamaran. With limited space, he needed as much room to work as possible. He dragged his friend to the back of the boat and laid him on his back on top of the rear storage compartment, using the lid as a makeshift operating table. He scrounged up one of his extra T-shirts, ripped it in half, and tied it around Phoenix's severed arm. As his shaky fingers slid away from his handiwork, he knew he had done everything he could. The tourniquet would hold, but the damage was done. He only wondered if Phoenix would pull through.

Time. Time. He had to move fast.

But he froze in horror. He couldn't take his eyes off the blood.

It was everywhere. On his hands, his wetsuit, and his bare feet. Dripped and splattered on the storage compartment lid where Phoenix lay motionless with his chest rising and falling. But what twisted his stomach the most was the blood smeared across the white floor of the speedboat like a thick red wine.

Callisto stumbled backwards, shaking and hyperventilating. He bumped into the gunwale and almost fell overboard but caught himself before tumbling into the sea. With a trembling hand, he pushed up from the edge of the boat and righted himself. As he stood there taking in the tragic scene, a sobering realization struck him. He had rescued his best friend, but he had done it without thinking. He reacted with raw, blind instinct. No will or emotion involved. It was something that had to be done, and he did it.

Callisto tore his gaze away from Phoenix's leaky stump of an arm and forced himself to face the water. His stomach retched; a spasm of nausea determined to escape. The back of his wrist flew to his mouth. He crammed it back, pushed it down. Not now.

Pull it together.

He couldn't lose it now. Not when everything was on the line.

Even though he was an aircraft mechanic, he was still a sailor. Every member of the United States Navy underwent basic first aid and field emergency training, but he never thought he would have to use it. His fingers raked through his hair and scraped over his scalp, his nails digging into the back of his head.

What about Nova? Where was she? Was she gone? Dead? Eaten?

He hadn't seen the shark coming as they swam to the surface, but the powerful collision of predator and prey jarred him to the core and sent him rolling in the water with Phoenix.

Life-changing moments seldom happened for Callisto. He lived on a mega-carrier positioned in the Sea of Cortez, spending his time performing repairs and tune-ups on F-49 Comet's. The same fighter jets Phoenix and Nova flew at Mach three. They were the daredevils and the heroes. The most adventurous thing Callisto ever did was scuba dive, and he only did that because they talked him into it three years ago. So, if he ever did anything brave, anything that risked his own life, it was not on purpose. His daily mechanical routine of tightening nuts and bolts, analyzing data, and making necessary repairs made him accustomed to accomplishing tasks. He knew how to run diagnostic checks on airplanes using the most advanced computer systems in the world. But he wasn't a medic; he was a mechanic. He was calculative and precise, and worked well under pressure with commanding officers breathing down his neck for him to act fast, molding and shaping him for the threat of war. Maybe that's why he reacted the way he did? His training flowing from him like second nature.

Nova burst to the surface like a buoy pulled under and turned loose.

Her body bobbed from the wave action, angled away from Callisto with one leg visible, the other not. The back of her head was half submerged.

He searched for the shark but realized it must be under the boat or circling in the distance. The sunken trawler lay beneath Nova, discernable in the depths, a silky column of blood stretching from the bottom to where she floated.