by C J Schnier
I took a quick survey of my situation, and it wasn't good. Despite the taxing climb and three hours of nonstop machete use, my opponent appeared fresh and ready for a fight. I, on the other hand, had barely caught my breath. To my left was the cliff that fell away into the sinkhole, and to my right, two feet away, was the cave wall.
The roof was tall enough for her to swing her considerable blade, but the pathway was narrow enough she wouldn't have a full range of movement. At least I had some sort of advantage. In such close quarters, she would have been better off coming at me with a knife instead of the machete.
I knew I had a blade of my own on the multitool in my pocket, but it wouldn't do me much good. I doubted she would give me the opportunity to dig it out, much less let me unfold the knife from it. It was designed as a tool and would be awkward as a weapon. I realized it would probably be more of a hindrance than a help.
She took a few more steps forward, and I retreated, matching her step for step. She was no longer talking or intimidating me with the blade. Now she was cold and focused on the only thing she could see, me. That's it! She couldn't attack me if she couldn't see me. I hastened my retreat, hoping to disappear into the inky blackness of the cave, but she had somehow anticipated my move and charged before the darkness could hide me.
She swung her blade horizontally, missing me by inches as I jumped back. Immediately she changed the direction of her attack, again barely missing me as I spun out of the way. Her attacks were calculated and well executed. As I had discovered in the villa, she was no stranger to fighting. I was going to have to use my head as much as my fists to win this battle.
Another close call from the machete threw me off balance and sent me sprawling past her back into the light. I needed to deal with that machete, and soon. Its reach advantage allowed her to keep me out of striking distance. She pressed her advantage, coming at me with an overhand slice followed by a reverse that made me jump sideways, dangerously close to the edge of the sinkhole.
"You can't run forever," she taunted. "I will get you, eventually."
"Is this idol really worth killing for?" I asked as I dodged another strike, this one from the left, cutting off an easy escape and forcing me a few inches closer to the cliff.
She's herding me, I realized. This entire time she's been moving me like a pawn on a chessboard. I had to switch from defense to offense, or I'd find myself dead at the bottom of the hole.
Slowly, I backed farther away from her, shuffling my feet until I felt the edge of the cliff. This was it, I had to make my move now. I feigned to the right, telegraphing which way I would dodge. She took the bait and swung. I quickly leapt to my left, arms outstretched, trying to gain as much solid ground as possible. I hit the ground, tucked into a ball and rolled, coming to my feet behind her. Awkwardly she lashed out, but I was prepared for the desperate attack and seized her wrists.
Using what martial prowess I possessed, I pivoted, pulling myself in close while twisting her wrist and applying pressure against the flat side of the blade. I felt the sharp edge slice into my forearm where it pressed against it, but I applied more pressure. Finally, the leverage was too much, and I pried the blade from her hands and sent it skittering across the floor of the cave towards the cliff. For a moment it teetered over the edge, balanced perfectly on the rim of the drop off.
Jaye broke free of my grasp and we both dove for the machete. She had the advantage but came up short, merely brushing the handle of the weapon with her fingertips. It was enough to tip the balance towards the hole, and we both watched as it slipped over the edge and tumbled into the void.
I recovered from the situation first and jumped on top of her, trying to pin her to the ground and end the fight. She struggled against me, kicking and clawing erratically, using her fingernails as weapons. Her eyes were wild, almost panicked. She was no longer the calm and calculating warrior from before. She was scared.
"Calm down! I'm not going to hurt you," I yelled at her as I fought against her flailing hands.
"Let me go!" she screamed and bucked against me. "Get off me!"
"Calm down and I will!" I replied as I finally grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head. Her breaths came in heaving gasps and the cornered animal look in her eyes intensified.
"You think you're some tough man, huh?" she spat.
"Tough? You kicked my ass back in the village and you almost took my head off half a dozen times. I think it's you who is the tough one, not me," I said. I could see my words were having at least some effect on her. Her eyes regained some clarity, no longer darting about wildly. "Look lady, I'm not going to kill you over some stupid artifact some rich asshole wants."
"That's your problem then," she said and promptly brought her leg up and kneed me in the crotch.
Reflexively, I let go of her wrists and let out a whimpering groan. With her now free hands, she shoved me over and rolled on top of me, reversing our positions. My balls hurt too much to put up more than a feeble resistance.
"Low blow," I croaked through the pain that was now spreading into my stomach.
"It worked, didn't it?" she asked.
The immediate debilitating pain was ebbing, but I knew from experience the ache would be with me for a while. As the pain subsided, I realized my predicament. She was back in control.
"You know, I'm not one to complain, but I think I preferred being on top," I said as I tested her grip on my hands.
She rolled her eyes. "Men." She said it with annoyance, though I thought I detected a hint of something else in her tone. It was a challenge.
Using the opportunity, I kicked hard against her, bucking her up in the air as I used all my strength to tear free from her hold and push her off of me. She landed on her hands and knees. We both struggled to our feet, facing off once again.
"So, you've still got some fight in you, I see," she taunted, her eyes gleaming, now enjoying the challenge.
"If I let you win so easily, how would you ever respect me in the morning?" I quipped back.
"Quit talking and attack me," she said, beckoning me forward.
"I was taught not to hit women," I started, "but if you insist..."
I knew it was a trap. I knew I was playing into her plan. But I was confident I could overpower her if needed, and I hoped with the banter we had been exchanging, she would be distracted. What I hadn't factored into my attack was her excellent unarmed combat skills.
I threw a jab and hit nothing but air. She ducked to her left and counterattacked. I knew what was coming before she executed the move, but was powerless to stop it. Using my momentum, she grabbed my wrist like she had done in the villa, ducked under my arm as she pivoted, and once again threw me over her shoulder. This time I didn't come crashing down on the hard rock floor. I hit nothing and fell farther and farther.
Damn! That woman really knows how to fight, was the last thought that went through my mind before I hit the water seventy feet later.
CHAPTER TEN
The water broke like concrete under me, and the shock of hitting the frigid liquid stole my breath. It was as if a thousand knives made of ice were stabbing me repeatedly as I slipped underneath the surface.
With the air knocked out of my lungs, I sank farther and farther. I watched the light spilling in from the sinkhole as it danced on the surface of the water. It was mesmerizing, and I considered watching it longer while letting myself sink deeper, allowing the chilly waters to take me.
The desire to give up was strong. What did I have left to live for? There was no love in my life, I had been going through the motions since Kelly had died. My passion for life, sailing, and the sea had all but gone. There was no point in going on. And so I let myself sink so more.
Flashes of my past raced through my mind. Learning to sail on Lake Murray. Lazy days with my friends at college. Buying my first boat. And when I had met Kelly. Kelly was always on my mind. Memory after memory stampeded through my head and I shut my eyes, but could not escape her.
Our fingers touched, and the spell was broken. Kelly was gone, and all that remained were the icy waters and the sunlight playing on the ripples. As if it were a parting gift, I heard her voice then, one solitary word that pierced me like an arrow. "Live." And then there was silence.
Live. That one word snapped me out of my trance and reinvigorated me. I kicked, driving myself upwards, fighting the pull of gravity against my soaked clothes and shoes. It surprised me how far I had sunk. I would have to fight to regain the surface in time.
I forced myself to remain calm as my lungs screamed for air. Typically, when freediving, I would have let the specialized fins do most of the work, but my shoe-clad feet were now all but useless. Instead, I streamlined my body as much as possible and used a slow and methodical swimming stroke, allowing me the most progress with the least amount of spent energy.
My body was already depleted of oxygen from the exertions of the fight, and the fall had driven any reserves from my lungs. The spasms had already begun. My diaphragm heaved, urging me upwards. Still, I kept my pace. Any more effort would just use up oxygen much faster.
The world closed in, narrowing my vision as the surface came closer and a feeling of euphoria crept in. That isn't good, I thought to myself from somewhere deep in the subconscious realms of my mind. I had to keep it together; the surface was so close.
The blackness was almost complete when my head broke through the water. But no desperate gulp of air followed. My lungs did not want to work, and I had to consciously force myself to inhale. This was a phenomenon common to free divers, one of the many reasons it was such a dangerous sport, especially alone. The feeling of panic is hard to control, however, and with each passing second I came closer to a blackout and drowning. Finally, cool air rushed into my empty lungs. There are few things sweeter than the first breath of air when you've pushed your body to the limit.
I made myself take slow, even breaths instead of the raging gasps my body demanded. I had enough experience to know all the dangers; I had to be careful. There was nobody to save me down here. A few breaths later, I had myself under control and worked at taking in my situation.
The walls of the sinkhole were sheer, completely vertical with parts worn smooth from aeons of erosion. There were no plants sprouting from the rock this far down, and as I followed the walls of the sinkhole, I could just make out the opening of the cave where I had fallen from. I had half expected to see Jaye Mercury looking down at me, but there was nothing but a break in the rock. I'm going to kill her if I ever get out of this mess.
I swam over to the rock walls of the sinkhole and tested them for handholds. It took a moment of studying the cliff face, but I finally located what looked to be a series of small, but usable outcroppings leading upwards. Seeing no other way out of my watery prison, I grabbed the first one with a dripping hand and attempted to haul myself upwards.
The rock held and my feet worked across the stone below the water before they too found purchase on the rock. I reached out for the next handhold and pushed up with my legs. I then searched for another place to put my feet and found one easily enough. Pushing up, I finally pulled myself completely out of the water.
I repeated the process again, moving my hands to new handholds, testing them, and then following with my legs. Progress was slow, but steady. My exhausted body, however, was struggling. I ignored my shaking arms holding me close to the wall and the throbbing of my raw fingers clinging to the rock.
I dug down deep and pushed on, but as I climbed, the route became harder and more technical. The next handhold required a leaping lunge up and to my left, to a rock protruding from the wall, roughly the size and shape of a rugby ball. I collected my thoughts and focused, knowing I only had one chance at this. Coiling my muscles, I exploded up and to the left.
My hands grasped the large rock and clasped around it. My legs swung under me from the momentum, but my grip held. Then the rock shifted and let loose entirely from the wall. Air rushed past me as I fell. I pushed the rock away from me just before I landed back in the shimmering clear pool.
The water drowned my frustrated scream, and a stream of bubbles trailed me back to the surface. I looked up to where the rock had been on the wall and was dismayed to find what looked like a slanted and smooth hole. Even from thirty feet away I could tell it wouldn't provide a good handhold, especially considering I would have to jump to reach it.
I studied the wall, but could find no other route. You're going to die down here, Chase. No! I had to live. It's what Kelly would have wanted. I redoubled my efforts, searching, but could come up with no options.
A quick glance overhead told me it wouldn't be long before the sun set. Another hour, two at most. The thought of spending the night floating alone in the dark, waiting for death, did not appeal to me. Think Chase, there must be something you're missing, I thought to myself. But what? What was I missing?
A few leaves floated by underwater, grabbing my attention as I pondered my situation. I watched, fascinated but unsure why, until I saw the leaves approach the wall and disappear into a crease in the rock. A current! If there was a current, the water had to go somewhere.
Desperate, I swam over to the wall, calmed myself and dove straight down. Immediately, I wished for my face mask. The light was dim enough now I had to rely more on feel than sight as I explored the wall. I progressed slowly, sinking deeper and deeper as I felt my way down the rock. Where is it? I know it's here somewhere. There! The wall unexpectedly opened up into a wide hole. I checked my dive watch; I was forty-three feet below the surface. Even with my blurred underwater vision, I could see there was a faint light illuminating the far end.
The tunnel was over a thousand feet long. It would be a dangerously long swim. If I had my diving gear, I would have thought nothing of it. But here, with baggy clothes causing excessive drag, and a pair of shoes that did more to hinder me than help, I wasn't sure it was a doable distance. I checked the roof of the cave and found what I was looking for a couple hundred feet in.
The unmistakable shimmer of the water's surface gave me hope. There was an air pocket trapped at the top of the tunnel. I had a rest stop, which meant I could explore at least a little farther. There was no guarantee that I would find a way out by following the current, though. It was just as likely to turn into an underground river as it was to lead me to safety. But I didn't have a choice. If I stayed here, I would die for sure.
I swam back up and caught my breath. While recuperating, I removed my shoes and tied them to one of my belt loops to keep from losing them. I concentrated on my breathing, taking slow and steady breaths. Some people tried hyperventilating before a long dive, but I knew that was foolish and dangerous. Through months of practice, I had worked out the proper routine for my body to allow maximum time underwater. A couple of minutes later, just as the last rays of sun climbed out of the sinkhole, I dove under the surface in one last desperate swim for freedom.
I pulled myself down the rock face, using as little energy as possible to overcome my buoyancy. This also allowed me to descend quickly until I felt my buoyancy change somewhere around thirty feet. At this depth my body stopped trying to float, the air inside my lungs compressed to half of what it had been on the surface. I let gravity pull me down for roughly another ten feet before the opening yawned wide and the slight current invited me in.
Using my ultra-efficient swim stroke, I glided through the underwater cavern, steadily covering the distance to the pocket of air. My body was beginning to tell me it wanted oxygen when I came to the shimmering pocket. There was little light in this part of the tunnel, and I could not make out any de
tails of the air pocket from under water. I reached up with my hand and found the roof of the cave a foot higher than the water. It was enough for me to get a breath, but there wouldn't be much, and I had no way of knowing if it was oxygen or not. It could have just as easily been any number of other gasses. Any of which could probably kill me.
Glancing at the fading light on the other end of the tunnel, I made a snap evaluation of myself and my situation. I pressed on without taking a breath. Pushing myself off the rock ceiling, I settled back into my modified frog stroke. A major part of diving deep, especially without gear, was mental. Part of your mind must ignore signals from your body, keeping you completely relaxed when everything coming from your brain says otherwise. Another part of your mind must also, simultaneously, be hyper focused on the dive. It is a strange dichotomy that takes a lot of practice to master, and it was into this state that I reverted as I cruised through the underwater tunnel. Time no longer seemed to matter, and I relaxed, letting my body slip through the cool clear water.
The light in front of me grew brighter and brighter as I neared the exit of the cave. A quick glance at my watch told me I had been underwater for well over three minutes already. If I survived this dive, it was going to be a new personal record. Looking up as I cleared the cave, I could see water dancing and shimmering above me, and beyond that, I could see the sky. Ignoring the spasms in my throat and stomach, I arched my back and kicked hard to overcome gravity's grip and began my ascent. A few feet later the rise became easier as the air in my lungs, now mostly spent, expanded again. This was the most dangerous part of a dive. A blackout here, with nobody to save me, would end with me drowning.
As usual with a long dive, I could feel the euphoria set in. I ignored it, concentrating instead on reaching the surface. Finally, my head broke the surface, and I took my first breath. Looking at my Mares dive watch, I saw a max depth of fifty-five feet, and the numerals for the duration read four minutes and ten seconds. I blinked in surprise and read the numbers again, but they were correct, I had just tied Jeff's record. There's no way he'll ever believe you, I thought as I smiled to myself.
