Code to Extinction

by Christopher Cartwright

  The dive sled crashed into the seabed with a hard jolt, sending a thick cloud of limestone several feet high. The narrow, pointy end of the sled dug into the sandy edge. It balanced for a second and then tipped over, like a tree being felled.

  It slid deeper, into an opening in the seafloor like a jagged scar – dragging Sam with it another twenty feet – until the sled became wedged horizontally and stopped.

  Leaving Sam thirty feet out of reach of the emergency air tank.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sam was running out of options.

  His lungs burned with the desire to breathe. In the darkness, he struggled to determine whether his vision was blurry from an oxygen starved brain, or from the depth where light failed to penetrate. A coldness quickly enveloped him, as though Death himself was wrapping a blanket over him in preparation of the last journey he’d ever take.

  But Sam had no intention of dying today.

  In the darkness he ran his hands through the coral protruding from the side of the limestone cave. His fingertips felt the sharp edge of a spiral piece of fossilized marine life. His fingers latched around it and gripped as hard as they could. Sam pulled back in one sharp jolt, and the rock broke free.

  He felt for the plastic cable tie and ran the coarse piece of stone against it. Whatever he’d found simply slipped off the smooth plastic.

  Frustrated, Sam moved his leg closer to the hard stalagmite and searched the surrounding reef for something sharper. He felt his hands cutting against some sort of shell. It felt big in his hand – maybe twice the size of it – and heavy too.

  He placed the plastic against the edge of the cave wall and blindly struck it with the shell.

  The first missed completely.

  The second one slid off the smooth plastic, and scratched his right leg.

  But the third one connected!

  It sliced through the thin plastic and Sam felt his ankle finally become free. He pushed off the horizontal edge of the diving sled and swam toward the air tank.

  A warm glow originated directly above him. Someone was swimming toward him. He couldn’t quite see its source, but the light reflected off the metallic cylinder of the emergency dive tank.

  It spurred him on and Sam kicked harder with his legs. His oxygen starved and disoriented mind, suddenly focused.

  A strong beam of light swept across the Great Blue Hole. It paused on the air tank for a moment, and then continued – finally stopping directly on Sam.

  The light shined straight in his eyes.

  It made it hard to see the emergency tank. Behind the blinding glare of the light, he could only just make out the shape of another diver. Most likely, one of the rescue SCUBA divers.

  Sam felt his vision going again. He kicked harder, but even the movement of his legs seemed to be incredibly difficult.

  He was so close. Another two feet! Just keep going…

  His legs refused to respond.

  Sam’s world went dark, as his mind shut down. He threw his hands forward. The left one connected with the dive regulator. He pulled it into his mouth and took a deep breath.

  The cool air tasted sweeter than anything he’d ever experienced. He took slow, deep breaths in, until his vision started to return. It was intermittent at first, like an old TV that wasn’t quite able to receive the transmission.

  He opened his eyes and spotted the rescue diver coming in to meet him.

  The SCUBA diver stared at him through his full faced dive-mask with piercing green eyes. They were intense and focused. The man had probably raced from the surface trying to save his life, at great risk to himself.

  The man held up his thumb and forefinger together to form the shape of a “Q,” an international symbol in diving for, “Okay.”

  Sam tried to answer, but his arms weren’t quite responding yet.

  “You okay?” the stranger mouthed.

  Sam simply nodded.

  Everything was going to be okay.

  The rescue diver patted him on the back and smiled. His face said, You’re one lucky son of a gun. Sam knew he was right, too. Few people could have survived the events of the past few minutes.

  Sam took another breath in and stopped.

  A sense of panic raged as adrenaline surged through his veins, and his chest burned – because the rescue diver just turned off the flow from his dive-tank.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam studied his attacker’s face.

  There was something uniquely disturbing about his smile. It wasn’t filled with hatred or anger. Instead, the diver’s face was set with the cold, hard appearance of something entirely different and much more sinister.

  Was it grotesque pleasure?

  His attacker gripped Sam in an immovable and giant bear hug, preventing him from opening the emergency dive cylinder again.

  Through the full-faced dive mask, the stranger mouthed the words, “It’s okay. Just take a deep breath, and it will all be over.”

  The man was simply enjoying watching him die.

  It was enough to rouse Sam into action.

  He tensed the muscles in his arms, trying to break free of the restraint his attacker had placed on him. He needed to get his arms above his head to reach the top of the dive tank. It was impossible to break the vice through direct force. Even if his energy hadn’t been depleted by oxygen starvation, he wouldn’t have been able to free himself.

  Instead, he needed a different plan.

  Forcing every muscle in his body to relax, his vision darted downward, in the opposite direction he wanted to go. If he couldn’t go up to the tank, perhaps there was somewhere he could go down. His eyes paused on his attacker’s dive knife, strapped to his lower leg.

  Sam moved his right hand slowly toward the weapon. The knife was still out of reach. He had one shot left, and he wasn’t about to let it slip past him.

  With his left arm, he threw his entire weight into pushing upward. Like a wounded animal in its death throes, Sam fought to reach the top of the dive tank. His attacker applied more pressure from above him – and with Sam’s right hand, he shot downward toward the knife.

  His hand made contact with the weapon’s hilt, but there was minimal movement available to wield it as he withdrew the knife from its sheath.

  Sam’s attacker, realizing his mistake, tried to tighten his grip again. The man stared at him with those green and intensely malevolent eyes. A sardonic grin formed on his lips. Both men locked in a deadly battle that would determine which one got to live.

  It was enough to prevent Sam from moving his right arm at all. But not enough to stop his wrist from driving the knife sideways – where he planted it deep into the diver’s calf.

  His attacker’s pupils widened in pain.

  A millisecond later, the binding pressure over Sam’s arms disappeared as his attacker punched his right wrist.

  A crushing pain seared through the bones of his right forearm.

  Sam tried to drive the knife farther into his attacker’s calf, but instead, the man used both his hands to pull Sam’s hand away. In the process, the knife came free. Sam gripped the knife’s hilt as firmly as he could, and the attacker made a desperate play to take it.

  Both men were strong, but in his oxygen-depleted state, Sam knew he wouldn’t win a game of might in hand-to-hand combat.

  Instead, he opened his hand and let the knife fall.

  His attacker immediately dove to grab it, and in that instant, Sam pulled at the diver’s face-mask. The quick movement broke the seal, and seawater flooded into his attacker’s eyes. It would only take a competent SCUBA diver a moment to clear his mask, but in that moment, Sam kicked hard, breaking free from his attacker and raced toward the surface.

  Sam pulled on the dive-line that ran all the way to the surface. He climbed it hand over hand, until he’d built up enough momentum to maintain a constant ascent. Without dive fins, he would have been exerting more energy than he had to try and kick his way to the surface.

  G
lancing below, he spotted his attacker.

  The man had already cleared his dive-mask and was now kicking his fins vigorously in pursuit. In his right hand, the diver gripped the same knife Sam had used to stab him thirty seconds earlier.

  It urged Sam on, pulling on the rope as fast as possible as he raced upward. He had a ten to fifteen second head start on his pursuer, who had fins. It was going to be a close race – but he had to win it if he was going to survive.

  As the air in his lungs – from the few breaths he’d managed to take before his attacker switched the emergency tank off – expanded, he started to ascend faster than he could pull himself along the rope. Like a small rocket, he shot toward the surface. He opened his mouth, and breathed out in one long and continuous exhale.

  He glanced at his depth gauge – just seventy feet to go!

  Above him, he could already make out the dark shadows of the flotilla of yachts and dive barges. His view darted downward, where his frustrated pursuer was unbuckling his weight belt and inflating his lift bag. The small, orange balloon filled with air in an instant, and sent the diver shooting to the surface and toward him.

  Sam gritted his teeth and kicked as hard as possible. He didn’t need to go far. All he had to do was hold in there for another ten seconds, and he’d be on the surface. He kicked again, but his left foot didn’t move – because someone had grabbed it.

  The diver released the lift bag, and the orange balloon floated past Sam like a shooting star. Sam felt the jolt as the diver tried to pull him down again by his leg.

  His attacker had assumed the only way to kill him was to drag him down long enough to drown him, or at least get close enough to him to drive the knife somewhere where it had the potential to kill him. The man probably guessed that Sam, in his hypoxic state, would be unable to concentrate on anything but trying to reach the surface.

  It was a mistake.

  Instead of fighting to reach the surface, Sam turned his energy to pulling – driving himself downward, to meet his attacker.

  With his right leg, he kicked hard – and it connected at the space between his pursuer’s dive-mask and face. It wasn’t strong enough to do any real damage, but the man relinquished his leg as he tried to fix his mask.

  It only took a second, but it was enough for Sam to kick the man’s head again. This time, there was enough force to send his opponent off to see stars.

  Sam didn’t wait to see how much damage he’d inflicted, but instead swam to the surface. His mind struggled to focus, and in his disoriented state, he felt like he was never going to reach it. He felt as though both his legs had been attached to something heavy, which was dragging him under, time and time again. He could see the slight ripples of the water lapping on the surface only a few feet above him – but it may as well have been a mile.

  A second later, his head broke the surface.

  He took a giant gasp of fresh air…

  And the darkness swallowed him whole, as he suddenly blacked out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam opened his eyes.

  He was on the dive barge, with his back up against a medical kit, looking out upon the glistening deep blue water of the Great Blue Hole. He must have passed out, and someone had dragged him out of the water. His mouth felt dry. Someone had placed a medical oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. It was working wonders to clear his head, after what had happened to him.

  But what had happened?

  He was free-diving. That much he felt sure he could remember. Could he have stayed under too long? That didn’t seem right. He was only entering the competition to enjoy the peace and mental tranquility free-diving provided – not to get himself killed trying to break records.

  So, what went wrong?

  A flash of distant memories, almost like dreams filtered through his head, like a movie, fragmented and discombobulated. None of it made sense, but he recalled those eyes.

  He sat up, rigid.

  Tom said, “Hey buddy, you’re awake!”

  Sam searched his surroundings. His eyes spotted the orange lift-balloon floating on the surface. He searched the faces around him. Then stopped and looked directly at Tom. “Where is he?”

  “Who?”

  “Quick!” Sam removed the oxygen mask. “Where is he?”

  With his palms facing upward, Tom asked, “Where’s who, Sam?”

  “The diver, Tom!” Sam’s piercing blue eyes were focused now. “The man who was trying to kill me…”

  Sam tried to stand up, but his balance shook with vertigo.

  Tom braced him and forced him to sit down again. “Here.” Tom handed him the oxygen mask again. “Have some more oxygen.”

  Sam brushed the mask off. “No time for that, we have to find him!”

  “Who?”

  “The man that tried to kill me!”

  “No one was trying to kill you, Sam.” Tom grinned. “Well, no one except yourself! What were you trying to do, staying down there so long, did you learn to breathe underwater? You broke just about every free-diving record this place holds!”

  “No… I was attacked!” Sam said emphatically.

  “By who?”

  “I don’t know. He had a pair of intense green eyes. A killer’s eyes, cold and hard. He tried to drown me. I got free by stabbing him with his own dive knife.”

  Tom’s dark eyebrows narrowed. “You killed him?”

  “No. I only got his leg. Maybe his calf or ankle or something…” Sam tried to recall what had happened after that. Then, with enthusiasm, he said, “He followed me to the surface. We can still find him!”

  Tom said, “There was no one with you when you surfaced. You were on your own when your head broke the surface. An instant later, you blacked out, and two of the rescue divers pulled you out of the water.”

  “Really? He must have been very close, you didn’t see anyone at all?”

  “No,” Tom confirmed. “Why do you think he wanted to kill you?”

  “Damned if I know…” His lips twisted into a wry grin. “It appears my recent dissertation on climate change certainly got someone’s attention.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tom stood up and scanned the area.

  At six foot-five inches, he had plenty of elevation to view the rest of the divers and spectators spread out upon the flotilla, and those on the water. Unable to keep Sam from standing up, Tom helped him balance. His eyes raked the dive platform for any blood or signs of anyone walking with difficulty because of an injured leg.

  “I can’t see anyone having trouble walking,” Tom said. “Maybe he never made it to the surface?”

  “All right. Maybe he’s still under the water. I don’t know how long he’d been down there, maybe he was still decompressing?” Sam thought about it for a moment. “The question is, where will he try to go once he does surface?”

  Tom thought about their location.

  The Great Blue Hole was surrounded by the Light House Reef and there was only one way for a boat to get in and out. Outside of the submerged sinkhole the reef was too dangerous for boats to anchor.

  He turned to Sam. “He’ll need to surface somewhere around here and board one of these yachts to escape.”

  “Agreed, but we’ll need to be ready for him.” Sam was already searching for a better vantage point.

  Tom said, “When did you have time to write a dissertation on anything?”

  Sam grinned and started walking toward the edge of the flotilla. “I didn’t. Billie did. I just submitted it as my own.”

  Tom followed, matching Sam’s shorter steps.

  “Why?”

  Sam glanced at the first of eight, expensive pleasure cruisers. Their bows were all tied up together to make one large platform. His eyes searched the edge of the yacht for anyone waiting to tell him to get off their boat, and then stepped onboard. “It was Billie’s idea.”

  “Go on.” Tom stepped across the two-foot gap between the dive barge and the first of the pleasure cruisers.


  “It all stemmed from our inability to determine who knew about the Göbekli Tepe Death Stone.” Sam sighed, as though he’d had better ideas before, and then continued. “As we discovered in the Aleutian Portal, the ancient astronomer’s stone depicts an asteroid that orbits Earth. Based on the calculations of a group of astronomers, it’s set to return to Earth every thirteen thousand years – or roughly sometime during the next two calendar years.”

  “Sure. That’s why we went to the pyramid within the Tepui Mountains, so Billie could retrieve the stone tablet, and why she’s still on board the Maria Helena trying to decipher the Code to Extinction – while you’re out here having a good time, and trying to get yourself killed.”

  Sam shrugged. “Hey, I was trying to clear my head!”

  “Go on.”

  “When we found the Death Stone, its previous guardian left a hand-written message informing us under no uncertainties not to allow the Secretary of Defense to discover the stone was still intact, and informing us that she was being watched.”

  “Yes. I also recall the Secretary of Defense grilling both of us about the stone’s whereabouts. So, what does any of this have to do with your dissertation on climate change?”

  “Everything,” Sam said. “Billie suggested I present a dissertation on the correlation between the shift of the magnetic poles and rapid climate change. There was a convenient global scientific forum, so I got the presentation together and did as she asked.” Sam lengthened his stride, and Tom matched it again.

  “Why the hell would you do that?” Tom glanced at the water where another diver surfaced, and then back to Sam.

  Sam met his eyes, and shook his head. “Not him.”

  Tom stepped across the next gap between yachts. “I thought the idea wasn’t to reveal what we know, and keep the public calm?”

  “I didn’t talk about the asteroid. The idea was to draw the attention of whoever it is who already knew about it. The easiest way to find them is to dangle me as bait and see who takes it.”

  “By discussing what might happen if the comet returns as the prophecy predicts, and brings with it some sort of asteroid capable of flipping the magnetic poles?”