No Man's Land

by Roland Fishman

  He closed his eyes and tried to feel her.

  His racing heart slowed and he tuned his senses to the world around him.

  The rain had backed off to a gentle pitter-patter and the rolling swell lifted him up and down without breaking.

  He sensed Erina nearby.

  His eyes flashed open and he swam to his right.

  After five strokes he saw her ahead of him, facedown in the water.

  He took another four powerful strokes, took her in his arms and rested her head on his shoulder.

  His elation at seeing her was short-lived.

  She was unconscious. Barely breathing.

  He felt the back of her head. His hand caressed a large swelling. The board had collected her skull, knocking her out cold.

  He continued to tread water, kicking hard to keep her head clear.

  He squeezed her chest and shook her in an effort to expel the water from her lungs and kickstart her breathing.

  Her arms hung limp by his side.

  His oxygen-starved legs started to cramp. The struggle through no man’s land had taken its toll. He started dropping back into the water.

  He forced his toes upward to ease the cramp, then kicked even harder, still pumping her chest.

  “Erina, come on.”

  He reached around and forced two fingers into her mouth and stuck them down her throat.

  A slight spasm rippled through her body.

  He pulled his fingers out.

  She shook violently. A warm river flowed down his back. He felt her heart beat and the rise and fall of her chest.

  He eased her onto her back into the warm ocean, making sure her mouth and nose were clear, and then looked up.

  A full moon shone through a break in the cloud cover.

  Even though they were in the middle of the ocean off a remote and hostile island, he felt more connected to the universe than he could remember.

  20

  Again, Thomas picked up Carter’s presence.

  He still lay on the bench in his cell. His body throbbed with pain, and he knew Wayan’s condition had, if anything, deteriorated.

  His perception had changed, though, and that made all the difference.

  Like everything else in life, a person’s response to suffering served a higher purpose. The challenges he faced in that cell were forcing him to look into his own soul and confront the truth.

  He needed to walk his idealistic talk and reconnect with his fundamental beliefs. Nothing else truly mattered.

  His personal ambition was simple: Treat every test in life as a battle for personal power and face every challenge with humility and courage.

  For Carter and Erina this philosophy was an interesting theory that they adhered to as best they could. For Thomas, though, it was the cornerstone of his life.

  In the last few years, Carter had drifted away from his spiritual foundations, eventually walking out on the order. Thomas had only needed to spend twenty minutes with him to see that his rejection of the order and its principles hadn’t worked for him. It was obvious, whether Carter realized it or not, that he needed to rediscover and commit to the path of the spirit. And so, Thomas now realized, did he. It was always easier to see what another man needed to do.

  The true measure of a man revealed itself in the face of disaster. Thomas needed to get past the pain and focus on what needed to be done. The first step was to find the positives in his position.

  Carter was nearby and wouldn’t give up.

  Furthermore, Samudra and his men’s behavior had reaffirmed Thomas’s belief in his life’s work.

  Someone needed to make a stand against prejudice and hate, and protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

  That was the order’s primary purpose.

  If he died that day, at least he’d die having fought for what he believed in.

  That was something to be grateful for.

  He felt himself recommitting to the principles of the order. Reminding him to: Accept that what is, is. Expect the unexpected. And never give up.

  Whatever was meant to happen would happen. He just needed to do what he could in that moment.

  For now, that meant waiting patiently for Carter and Erina.

  21

  Carter wrapped his right arm lightly around Erina’s chest and then, using a one-handed breaststroke, swam with her in tow across the relatively calm channel, away from the turbulence of the surf pounding on the reef and toward the rocky shoreline.

  The cove was just over a hundred yards away; their silent swim took less than five minutes. They passed through a ten-foot-wide opening and entered an oval pool of water, surrounded by rock walls on three sides. With the moonlight reflecting off the water, it was a place of uncommon beauty.

  Holding Erina’s arm, Carter jumped out of the water, grabbed her under the shoulders and pulled her onto a wide rock platform that ran along one side of the cove.

  The full moon provided just enough light to see. He laid her on her back with her arms by her side. Her eyes remained closed. She was in shock, exhausted, and needed time to regain her composure and strength. For now, they were relatively safe, but the helicopter still hovered somewhere over the reef.

  He removed his daypack, sat next to her on the smooth rock and took a few moments to get his bearings, watching her breathe in and out.

  She was a rare woman, one of those special people who responded to extreme pressure with grace, poise and a dry humor. These qualities more than matched her outer beauty and were the true source of his attraction to her.

  Part of him longed to tell her how relieved he was that she was okay, how much he cared for her and wanted to be close to her. But this was not the time to talk about his feelings, nor try to understand them. They’d sort out their relationship, whatever it might be, when the job was done.

  He held her hand and squeezed gently.

  She returned the pressure and slowly opened her eyes. He helped her to sit up, reached into his daypack, pulled out a bottle of water and placed it in her hand.

  She took a long drink and then drew in three deep breaths. He put his hand on her shoulder and felt her body relax.

  “How’re you doing?” he asked.

  She stretched her neck and touched the back of her head. “Considering I’ve been hit over the head with a surfboard, swallowed gallons of water, almost drowned and vomited over your back, I’m pretty good.”

  She began to cough and took another long drink. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, neither wanting to break the spell of the moment.

  They both knew instinctively when it was time to move. He held out his hand and helped her to her feet.

  “That was some wave we caught,” she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I’ve never been tubed like that.” She paused. “It was as good as you said it’d be.”

  “The green room is a holy place.”

  “I want to go there again.”

  “We will.”

  He led her along the rock ledge, counting off the paces from the entrance to the cove in his head.

  Fifty-eight, fifty-nine …

  He stopped, laid down the daypack and took out the flashlight. She drew level with him and they stood shoulder to shoulder on the coarse rock, looking down at the smooth surface of the water.

  “According to the map in my head,” he said, “the cave should be near here. I’ll dive down, find the entrance and be right back.”

  She nodded.

  “If the helicopter heads this way, grab both breathing devices and my daypack. Then join me underwater.”

  “Okay.”

  —

  He dived into the warm water, his eyes wide open, and started stroking for the bottom, holding the glowing flashlight in his right hand.

  The bright arc of light lit up a school of small tropical fish whose colors covered the spectrum of the rainbow. In unison they turned to face the light, then darted off to go about their business. A three-foot-long blue group
er swam past at a lazy pace, ignoring him.

  He dived another thirty feet but saw no sign of the bottom.

  The cave entrance was, he figured, further along. He switched the flashlight off and started floating upward, the slow movement in the dark through the tranquil water relaxing his muscles.

  His head breached the surface and he took a long breath.

  Erina crouched on the ledge. “We all set to go?”

  “Hang on a bit longer. It’s very deep here. I reckon the cave is about a hundred feet that way.” He pointed further down the cove.

  Erina picked up his daypack. He started to breaststroke parallel to the rock wall. She walked along the ledge, keeping pace with him. The helicopter continued to buzz over no man’s land.

  He stopped swimming after a hundred feet and turned to face her. “This should be about the spot.”

  “Go,” she said.

  He sucked in a lungful of air and again plunged headfirst into the watery depths.

  The first thing he noticed was that the bottom was shallower, suggesting the entrance to the cave was nearby.

  The second thing that struck him was that the beam of light lit up nothing but crystal-clear water.

  There were no fish at all.

  He stroked deeper. The flashlight illuminated the deserted sandy ocean floor.

  Something wasn’t right.

  He shone the flashlight toward the cove wall and what he saw jolted his heart rate.

  Come on, he thought to himself. Give me a break.

  22

  The bright beam lit up a shark cruising slowly through the water toward him.

  It was close to thirteen foot long and probably weighed around a thousand pounds. He noted the dark stripes along its body.

  A tiger shark.

  They were apex predators, at the top of the food chain, and had a reputation for eating anything. Often found near reef breaks, they were one of the most dangerous sharks to be found in the Indian Ocean.

  Its razor-toothed jaw hung slightly ajar, suggesting an enigmatic yet malevolent grin.

  Carter switched off the flashlight. Adrenalin raced through his bloodstream, jacking up his heart rate.

  For Carter, like most people, facing a shark wearing only a pair of board shorts was a worst nightmare. Death by drowning, burning, gunshot, knife, poison or snakebite seemed pleasant in comparison.

  Sharks possessed a sixth sense, enabling them to detect the electromagnetic field emitted by any living creature in their immediate vicinity, able to sense as little as half a billionth of a volt.

  The one good thing about spotting a shark was that it meant you were still alive. Usually they struck before you registered their presence.

  He fought back the compulsion to shoot straight for the surface and jump onto dry land. Any sudden movement could attract the shark’s attention and precipitate an attack.

  He reminded himself that sharks weren’t as a rule dangerous to humans. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a shark would swim away and leave you alone. He knew all this.

  Still, understanding the cold facts was one thing. Refraining from freaking out when you saw a prehistoric monster up close and personal in its natural habitat was another matter entirely.

  He forced himself to bring his heart rate under control. The shark might get him, but his fear would not.

  He allowed himself to drift slowly upward, his naked limbs feeling exposed and vulnerable in the darkness. His arm extended in front of him, seeking the comfort of solid earth.

  His hand touched rock and he breached the surface. He rested his arms on the rock ledge and gulped the night air.

  Erina stood by the water’s edge. One breathing device hung around her neck; the other was in her left hand. The sealed daypack lay at her feet.

  She looked at him in a way that made him feel transparent.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Couldn’t you find the cave?”

  “I did. But you need to wait here.”

  “For what?”

  “I need to check something.” He reached out. “Give me a breathing device.”

  She handed it to him.

  Before she had a chance to say another word, he looped the attached lanyard around his neck and said, “Be back in a sec.”

  He stuck the rubber mouthpiece of the breathing device in his mouth, breathed in a lungful of air, slipped below the surface and propelled himself downward, careful not to make any jerky movements.

  About sixty feet under, he switched on the flashlight and swung it in a hundred-and-eighty-degree arc.

  The shark he’d seen earlier was gone. Only one fish swam by, another blue grouper. Due to the groupers’ size, shape and slow, gentle presence, sharks didn’t instinctively see them as dinner. But all other life forms kept well away.

  His flashlight lit up the cave entrance.

  It appeared perfect for their purposes, big enough to drive a small car through.

  Then it didn’t seem quite so perfect.

  Another shark, also close to thirteen foot long, glided out of its mouth.

  Carter was sixty feet from the shark and the same distance from the surface. He consciously relaxed his muscles. He needed to act like a fish in its natural habitat and avoid making any movements that’d signal he was afraid.

  It took him a long fifteen seconds to drift to the surface, all the while picturing giant teeth tearing into his naked flesh.

  Again, his hand touched the solid rock wall and, in one smooth movement, he pulled himself out of the water onto the safety of the ledge.

  “So what’s the big problem?” Erina asked. “You look like you’ve seen your grandmother’s ghost. What aren’t you telling me?”

  He could hide nothing from her.

  “I just saw two tiger sharks swim out of the cave. I reckon it’s a sharks’ nest.”

  “Sharks don’t have nests. They mostly swim alone.”

  “You try telling them that.”

  “I don’t know why you’ve got this thing about sharks. All you want to do is spend your time in the ocean surfing and yet you’re scared of sharks. There’s something screwy in that logic.”

  “When this is over, I’ll get some therapy.”

  “Most shark attacks are mistakes. Dogs kill more people in one year in the US than sharks have in the last hundred.”

  “That’s all very well, but very few people swim with them in caves.”

  “And it’s the only way we can get into Samudra’s compound?”

  “Correct.”

  She stood for a moment, expressionless, taking it in.

  Then she looked into his eyes. “Have you come up with a plan?”

  “Swim through the cave without being eaten.”

  23

  Carter and Erina eased themselves feet first into the warm water and swam down the side of the rock wall, following the beam of the flashlight strapped to the side of his head. He held a six-inch blade in his right hand.

  When they were about sixty feet underwater, he put his hand out and signaled for Erina to stay where she was. He swam over to the three-foot-long blue grouper he’d seen earlier, cruising about ten feet above the sandy bottom. Its saucer-like eyes stared at him and its large lips curled as if puckering for a kiss. He hated having to do what he was about to do, but he didn’t have a choice.

  He pulled the knife back and thrust the blade deep into the grouper’s belly, twisting it up and around, creating a large jagged wound.

  The innocent and normally slow-moving fish started to thrash violently in the water. Blood and intestines oozed out, spreading a pink cloud. For the sharks, the grouper’s wild movements would be a dinner bell.

  Carter did the same to a second grouper and slid the knife into its sheath, now strapped to his waist. He then motioned for Erina to join him.

  They started swimming toward the cave at a steady pace. He breathed slowly through the rubber mouthpiece of the device and out through his nose, keeping his focus locked on the
cave mouth, very aware of their relative position in the ocean’s food chain.

  He turned his head and saw a blur of movement flash through the water toward the wounded groupers. Most likely the shark he’d seen earlier. It tore into the wounded fish, creating a swirling cloud of red. Dinner had been served.

  He squeezed Erina’s hand. She returned the pressure and they continued to stroke toward the cave mouth.

  The flashlight lit up the inside of the cave, a beautiful and dangerous world of bright coral.

  They weren’t dressed for the occasion.

  Erina wore small briefs and a bra, while Carter was only in his board shorts. If they brushed against the coral, the sharp points would rip their skin and the scent of blood in the water could bring the sharks hurrying back.

  Fortunately, the width of the cave gave them plenty of room to maneuver.

  Carter glided through the opening, three-quarters of a body length ahead of Erina, careful not to make any sudden movements or get too far ahead of her.

  They followed the light into the mouth of the brightly colored tunnel.

  When they’d swum about a hundred feet, his insides turned ice-cold. He reminded himself that dogs killed more people than sharks and it was almost unheard of to see more than two sharks in an area like this.

  He raised his free hand and stopped swimming.

  The flashlight lit up another shark a hundred feet away, cruising very slowly along the floor of the cave toward them. Clearly it didn’t subscribe to the theory that sharks swam alone.

  Erina moved up next to him.

  He pointed down.

  She involuntarily jerked backward.

  He grabbed her hand and switched the light off.

  Feeling his way in the ink-black darkness, he positioned himself above her. He covered her back and wrapped his arms and legs around her, protecting her from the coral as they floated upward toward the ceiling of the tunnel. She offered no resistance, clearly understanding what he had in mind.

  He hunched his head and shoulders forward, ensuring only his daypack, which covered half his back, made direct contact with the roof’s coral lining.

  Their bodies’ natural buoyancy pressed upward, holding them in place. Carter clung to Erina blindly, like a limpet, his heart pounding against her back.