I should never have brought her down here. I tried to force the thought from my mind, knowing where it would lead, but it was too late. She’s going to die down here. She’s going to die just like—
Shut up!
Just like—
I grabbed hold of an outcropping and clung on: it took all my strength to hold myself there against the current. God, I’d never known fear like this. The thought of losing her….
I stared at my air supply display to make myself focus. Six minutes, maybe seven. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. If I let myself get caught up in Edwards and the past, we were both dead. Because no way was I running and leaving her here. I either found her, and got us both out, or I’d die trying.
I opened my eyes, blinking in the sudden brightness of my dive lamp. And I suddenly knew what I had to do. The only hope of finding her was to go dark myself and pray I could make out the faint glimmer of her light in the distance.
It meant fighting every primitive instinct I had. I had to force my fingers to press the button and shut off my lamp. Then, as blackness enveloped me and the panic and nausea rose in my chest, I had to fight the urge to switch it back on.
I took a deep breath, let go of the rock and felt the current snatch me into motion. As I sped along, I strained my eyes against the black, searching for any faint hint of brightness.
I’d just have to pray her lamp was still working because, if it wasn’t...we were both dead.
43
Hannah
At first, I tried to tell myself it was just my imagination. But each breath was a little more difficult, as if the tube I was sucking through was getting longer and longer. My lungs had to strain and yet, each time, they filled a little less and I had to breathe again sooner. The harder it got, the more I panicked and the more I panicked, the more air I used. I couldn’t even check how close to running out I was because there was no light to see the gauge.
I was starting to get hot, sweat beading on my face behind the mask. I had to fight the urge to rip the mouthpiece from my mouth and gulp down the coolness that was all around me, telling myself it was water, not air.
Somewhere out there, I knew Rourke must be looking for me. But how would he find me, in the maze?
He wouldn’t. I felt it like freezing water, leaking into my veins. He’d die down here searching for me.
I was getting warmer and warmer and started to feel soft and sleepy. My limbs began to relax and my hand brushed something that hung from my belt, a shape like a thick pencil. Why was I carrying pencils?
I felt my eyes close. It didn’t make any difference and it seemed so much effort to keep them open. There was a strange sensation in my chest that I didn’t recognize, at first. I was breathing in but nothing was happening. It was as if someone had their hand over my mouth. But none of it seemed very important, suddenly. I was so tired….
My limbs went heavy and I felt myself slump until I was hanging in a fetal position in the water. The pencil-things clattered soundlessly against my thigh. Why was I carrying so many pencils? I screwed up my forehead, trying to remember. Rourke had given me them: gorgeous, angry Rourke. They wrote in bright white ink—
The thought of Rourke made me fight against the sleepiness. No, not ink. Not pencils. Think!
Flares! They burned bright, that’s what I was thinking of. Bright. Bright enough that he might find me. I reached down and fumbled for one but it felt as if I was wearing twenty pairs of gloves. I pulled it off my belt but immediately dropped it. I pulled a second one free but then just drifted there, trying to remember how to light it. Twist? Pull? I was almost asleep, my hands moving through sheer stubbornness.
Twist and pull.
My world exploded. The light was so bright, I thought at first that the flare had exploded in my hands. My pupils were huge from being in total darkness and the light was so overwhelming that at first, I couldn’t see anything. Then, as my eyes adjusted, I saw rocky walls around me, the passage lit up as if by noon day sun.
The shock of it cut through the fog and I got one, brief second of clarity. I realized that I wasn’t breathing, that I’d stopped some time ago and was down to whatever oxygen I had in my lungs.
I was dying.
The flare dimmed a little as my eyes closed again. I felt it slip from my fingers and sink slowly down to the floor, the light flickering like an old movie.
And then my brain used up the last of the oxygen in my blood and there was nothing at all.
44
Rourke
Nothing. Nothing but blackness. The rush of water against my body told me I was still moving but I couldn’t see a damn thing. I was bruised and battered from bouncing off walls, my hands scraped from pushing myself free when the current rammed me into a dead end. But I was no closer to finding her.
I’d always known it would end like this: deep under the sea, no light, no air. I’d accepted it as my fate years ago. Now, I was raging against it. You can have me, I wanted to scream aloud. You can have me, dammit! Just let me save her first!
The current swept me on. I twisted and—
There!
I star fished, sending out arms and legs in every direction to try to find something to cling onto, but it was long seconds before my hand found an outcropping and I clung on.
I’d seen something. A flickering off to my left. It was gone now that I was past it but I was sure it had been there.
The current was too strong to swim against. I had to haul myself along hand over hand, feeling for each handhold in the blackness. I didn’t dare switch my lamp back on: I needed to keep my night vision so I could see the faint hint of light. My muscles were soon burning: the passage must be narrow because I could feel the water straining against my shoulders and head, trying to dislodge me like a blockage in a high-pressure pipe. I realized I was breathing hard: that wasn’t good. I couldn’t have much air left. But one problem at a time.
I levered myself up to the opening of the passage and saw it again: a flickering ahead of me. I hauled myself in and, free of the current, I started to swim like crazy. I rounded two corners, the light getting brighter and brighter. I rounded a third—
My heart contracted into a tight, icy ball.
One of the flares was burning on the floor, its brilliant white light turning the water clear: it almost looked as if the passage was full of air. Floating in it, as if in space, was Hannah.
Slumped over.
Head down.
Unmoving.
I was too late.
I dived for her, not wanting it to be true. But her chest wasn’t moving. And her air gauge was tight against the red line that meant empty.
I went to check for a pulse and then pulled my hand away: there was no time. Instead, I pulled out her mouthpiece, sealed my lips to hers, and exhaled. I saw her chest inflate but there was no response. Her hair had come loose from the band she’d used to tie it back and it had billowed out around her head in a golden cloud. She looked like a mermaid, even in death.
I took a deep breath of air from my tank and breathed it out into her lungs. Nothing. Come on, lass, come on! My vision was blurry and wet.
She didn’t move. I reached for my mouthpiece again—
The flare went out and we were plunged into blackness.
Shit! I found my mouthpiece, sucked deeply on it, then groped for her. My fingers found the floating strands of her hair, then her cheeks. I pressed her back against the rock wall, using it to pin her. I searched for her lips with mine and found them. I breathed into her one last time, pressing my whole body against her as if I could transfer my life to hers.
Nothing.
And then, right at the end of my breath, a tiny jerk.
I grabbed my mouthpiece and rammed it into her mouth so hard I probably jarred a tooth. I couldn’t see so I put my hand on her chest and felt, holding my breath until I felt it move.
I switched my lamp on and the sight of Hannah’s eyes opening was the most glorious thing I’d ev
er seen. I grabbed hold of her and pulled her to my chest, feeling her slowly coming back to life against me.
As she shook off the disorientation and wooziness, she pulled the mouthpiece out and passed it back to me, but I shook my head and pushed it back between her lips. Only when I was certain she was okay did I accept the mouthpiece, take a quick breath, and pass it back to her.
I helped her take off her empty tank: she’d swim faster without the weight. But now I had to face up to what I’d been putting out of my mind this whole time. We had to find our way out of this maze and then get to the surface. Even if we got lucky, that would take at least twenty minutes. With two of us sharing a tank, we needed forty minutes of air.
I checked my gauge. We had less than five.
45
Hannah
Rourke grabbed my arm and pulled me forward along the passage, away from the current. I understood: there was no way we could fight our way back against it so we had to find another way. But I’d also done the math in my head and, when I got a glimpse of his air gauge, my chest constricted in panic. We’re not going to make it!
He must have seen me tense because his head snapped around and he glared at me with the full force of that stubborn, Scottish determination. His hand crushed mine so hard it almost hurt. Yes. Yes we are.
We kicked hard, racing through the tunnels. Each time he passed me the mouthpiece, I tried to take only a tiny breath of air, even though my lungs were screaming at me to gulp. But as the minutes ticked past, I could see the needle on the gauge sinking and sinking.
I had no idea where we were going but Rourke didn’t hesitate: either he had some diver’s instinct that let him estimate the right direction or he was just guessing and hoping, knowing that uncertainty and hesitation meant certain death.
The problem was, the place was a maze. We could pass right by a passage that led to the surface and we wouldn’t even know it—
Wait!
I stopped and grabbed Rourke’s ankle as he raced ahead of me. He pulled up short and twisted around to look. What? His eyes were wild. He jerked his head. We have to go!
I pointed frantically to the wall. Next to an opening was a circular symbol: a gypsy charm for wealth. We’d somehow stumbled across part of the route Esme was meant to follow.
Rourke shook his head. We don’t have time!
He turned to go but I grabbed hold of his shoulders and wrenched him around. Then I pantomimed diving and holding my breath and finally tapped an imaginary watch.
He blinked as he got it. We’d thought Esme’s route must be only a few minutes long, because she had to swim it, grab the treasure, and get back, all in one breath. But if we were still finding new symbols this deep in the caves, the route must be longer than that. There was no way even a good swimmer like Esme could get in and out in one go.
The only possible explanation was: the chamber that held the treasure also held air, so she could fill her lungs for the trip back.
I plunged into the passage, Rourke right behind me. I was barely slowing to look at the symbols, now: desperation was sending the adrenaline pumping through my body and my eyes were wide and staring, each carving as clear as if it was ten feet tall. And their meanings flashed up in my mind as if I was Esme herself. That way: long life. That way: many children. No, not that way, that one’s poverty. There! Bountiful harvests.
God bless my thirst for information.
We swam through an opening and—
What?
The cave was circular and only about eight feet wide. There were no other openings. We’d hit a dead end.
No! That can’t be! And almost immediately, the crushing guilt. I led us the wrong way! I must have got one of the symbols wrong, but I had no idea which.
Rourke suddenly grabbed my arm, hauled me around, and shoved the mouthpiece into my mouth. I didn’t understand at first. Then I felt it: the tightness as I inhaled. Oh God! The air had run out.
I took a breath and went to pass it back to him. But he knocked my hand away. I tried again and this time he shook his head fiercely and used both hands to keep it jammed in my mouth.
He knew it was over. We weren’t getting out. But he wanted me to live as long as possible.
I shook my head. He pinned me with those deep blue eyes and nodded solemnly. And then he wrapped me in his arms.
I could feel tears running down my cheeks to pool in the bottom of my mask. No! I didn’t want him to sacrifice himself for me. I’m dead anyway, you stubborn, Scottish bastard! But he wouldn’t let go of me, wouldn’t unpin my arms from my sides.
And then the air ran out completely. Thanks to him, I had enough air in my lungs that I could last maybe a minute, holding my breath. Then I’d have to gulp in water and—
He felt me stop breathing and gently released me. I pulled the mouthpiece from my mouth and struggled out of the air tank’s straps. Then I pressed myself up against him. I wanted to die feeling his warmth against me.
He put his arms around my waist. He looked angry for a moment, angrier than I’d ever seen him. Furious that I was going to die and that there was nothing he could do about it. It’s not your fault, I tried to communicate with my eyes. It’s mine! I dragged you down here. You could have been back in Nassau, drinking rum! I was sobbing and my chest was burning: I’d already used up the air in my lungs and I needed to breathe—
He put his hand on my cheek. Rubbed his thumb across my cheekbone. And all at once, his anger subsided and he looked almost peaceful. Happy, because he’d figured out that there was one thing he could do. He leaned forward—
No! No, don’t do that!
Too late. He grabbed my cheeks, forced my lips apart and—
No! Rourke, no!
He exhaled every scrap of air he had in his lungs. I felt mine fill as he gave me his last bit of life.
And then he was pushing me gently away and falling backwards, down to the bottom of the chamber. He didn’t want to drag me down with him, wanted me to have every chance, even if it was useless.
No! I reached for him but he was falling fast, the chamber dimming fast as he carried away the only source of light. Blackness closed in around me again. I was full-on crying, now, I wanted to howl and scream, but I couldn’t draw air. I tilted my head back, fists clenched, closing my eyes in silent rage—
Just as they closed, I saw something that made them snap open again.
There was a faint glow coming from above, enough that I could see the rock ceiling. And it looked weird. Distant.
Distant as in the ceiling was above the water.
This wasn’t a dead end at all.
I dived headfirst for the bottom, kicking as hard as I could. I followed the light from Rourke’s lamp and wrestled his body into my arms. I felt him move in response, weakly pushing me away. There was still hope.
I kicked for the surface but we barely moved. Rourke weighed less underwater but he was still heavy and I was exhausted and out of air. I strained and pulled, kicking madly, my hands under his armpits, but we only rose a few feet. Then I remembered our weight belts and unbuckled both of them. Now we finally began to move...and as he felt us rise, he began to kick himself. I could see the surface coming closer but my lungs felt as if they were bursting, my vision going dark. Kick, kick, kick kick—
My face broke the surface and I drew in a huge lungful of air. Rourke gave a choking, rattling gasp and then did the same. For a few minutes, both of us were too weak to do anything but tread water, our faces lifted to the ceiling, huffing in breath after breath.
When I recovered enough to look around, I saw we were swimming in a pool at the center of a cave about thirty feet across. A shaft of light came from high in one corner and I could feel a breeze. A way out! Relief sluiced through me. We wouldn’t have to go back through the tunnels.
Rourke put his hands under my ass and helped me to lever my exhausted body out of the water. I slithered onto the rocks with as much grace as a heavily pregnant walrus and then started coug
hing and couldn’t stop. But Rourke wasn’t much better: he hauled himself just barely onto the edge and then rolled onto his back, groaning. We’d put our bodies through hell and both of us were utterly exhausted. All I wanted to do was sleep for a week.
We lay there for several minutes. It was me who finally got moving. There was too much at stake and I had to know. “Where’s the treasure?” I rasped, my voice husky from coughing. I winced as I got up. My whole body felt like one big bruise.
The cave was full of stalactites and stalagmites. The floor was as smooth and slippery as ice, curving up to meet the walls at the edges. Water must have been dripping through the cave for centuries, slowly depositing minerals. It was beautiful...but I couldn’t see a chest anywhere. Despite my tiredness, I started to move faster, searching the corners. Could someone have gotten here before us?
Rourke hauled himself up, stumbled a little on the slick floor, and limped over to join me. We searched the shadows, the walls, behind every stalactite. Nothing. “It’s not here!” I said, my voice cracking. “Someone found it! Someone found it and took it and—”
Rourke put his hand up and I fell silent. He was frowning at something on my thigh. I looked down.
There was a patch of bright green on the dull gray of my wetsuit. At first, I thought I’d scraped against some algae during one of my impacts with the wall. But when I twisted and moved, the green patch stayed where it was. It was light, as if someone was shining a flashlight at me.
Rourke turned and walked across the cave, trying to figure out where it was coming from. The patch of green got bigger and bigger as I followed him. We eventually found the source: the shaft of sunlight from high above was striking something on the floor and throwing up a reflection.
Captain Rourke Page 19
