by J. F. Penn
He grinned. “There might be time to find dinner after the dive. A barbecue on the beach is a great way to finish the day.”
They pushed the outrigger into the surf and Amado paddled them out to the cross. Morgan clambered out onto the platform while the young man tied the boat as they finished gearing up.
Jake sat on the side of the outrigger putting on his dive gear. He looked back at Morgan, her face forlorn as she looked down at them. She loved to scuba-dive, and to be honest, she had a lot more experience than he did. Her Israeli military training stretched to scuba reconnaissance whereas he had only dived on a few missions. The diving in South Africa was hardly gentle, with dangerous waters and great white sharks, so he hadn’t logged too many hours underwater.
Perhaps one day when they got round to that glass of wine in a hot pool, he and Morgan might dive together somewhere peaceful.
He dangled his feet in the warm sea and looked down through the blue water at the ruins beneath. It was so clear that he could see fish swimming around watery silhouettes of crosses covered in coral. The graveyard turned artificial reef was just another place to hunt or hide, where life continued in its perpetual cycle.
Jake tested his regulator, taking a breath of bottled air, then checked the readings on his dive computer and partially inflated his BCD, buoyancy control device. He checked he had everything he needed in the catch bag. Everything looked good. He made the OK signal to Amado, first finger and thumb together in an ‘O’ shape. Then he turned and made the same signal to Morgan. She gave it back to him and smiled, waving goodbye.
Jake held his mask on his face and slipped forward into the water. He sank quickly, and a meter or so down he added a few puffs of air to his BCD, coming to neutral buoyancy so that he hovered above the seafloor. He looked up to the shimmering line of the surface above as it was broken by Amado coming down to meet him, his body perfectly aligned and comfortable in the sea.
The young man pointed to deeper waters, and they finned gently over the graveyard. Jake enjoyed the sensation of his body suspended in the blue, the feeling of flying as strong strokes of his fins propelled him over the crosses beneath. The memorials all pointed in different directions, undulating across the uneven seafloor disrupted by the volcanic eruption. The buried graveyard was eerie in the azure light of the water, dappled sun turning algae bright green as if covered in lush grass.
A shoal of tiny baitfish suddenly darted past in formation, flashing silver as they headed for the surface. Perhaps driven by something beneath.
Jake glanced around, wary for predators. Sharks were regularly seen in these waters, but he could only see two large Moorish Idols peeking out from behind one of the crosses, their elongated top fins fanning out behind them. Lion-fish prowled near the bottom of the seafloor, and inquisitive Rainbow Wrasse darted alongside the divers as they swam toward the buried church.
A garden of Banded Sea Kraits hung in the water, their slender bodies waving with the current as it washed over and around them. Amado guided Jake further away, so as not to disrupt their calm dance.
They passed over a giant clam, its fleshy lips of iridescent blue open to the water, its shell covered in pink mottled coral. The natural curves and wavy edges stood out against the straight lines of manmade stone nearby. Jake wished he had more time, that he could investigate the secrets of this underwater sanctuary, but he had the mission in mind.
Find the relics and get to Naomi.
Amado guided Jake away from the main section of the graveyard, descending to the old church. It had collapsed sideways in the water over time, much of it subsided into ruin. Amado pointed down and shook his head as if there were no chance to find a way in.
Jake dived down and examined the ruins, hovering in the water as he swam around. Part of an archway stood on its side leading into what remained of the nave. There was an opening that he could get through. It would be tight, but it was possible.
He pointed down, indicating with hand signals that the two of them could swim inside. Amado paused, indecision in his eyes, then shook his head, clearly unwilling to proceed.
Not enough dollars for that, I guess. Jake finned alone to the opening.
He pulled the flashlight from his belt and gently eased himself through the stone archway into the church beyond.
A cloud of fish darted out of the gloom toward him. He started back in surprise, kicking up a cloud of sand that obscured his vision immediately.
First rule of cave diving. Don't kick up the sand.
It had been years since he’d done his first cave dives and the words of his instructor came flooding back even as Jake mentally kicked himself. Even though this was not a cave as such, it was still an overhead environment where he couldn't get to the surface quickly or easily. He shouldn’t even be in there without a buddy and Jake wished Morgan was there beside him.
For a moment he thought about getting out of the enclosed space, but then he clenched his fists, steeling himself for the search. There was no way he was going back up there empty-handed.
The flashlight beam caught the edge of an altar further in, just a few meters away. Jake finned carefully toward it over large boulders and the remains of tombstones etched into gigantic flagstones beneath. The Spanish names evoked a long-gone era when men of faith traveled an unexplored world in search of fame and glory. A time of adventure into the uncharted. Now the terrestrial world was mostly mapped, photographed, exploited for resources, but there was still mystery out there. Perhaps even more down here in the depths.
The church looked like it had been looted a long time ago, not unexpected since it was so close to land and easily dived upon by locals and tourists alike. Anything of value would have been taken, but there was a chance that the relic had not been considered valuable, or that it still remained hidden, waiting for the right time to be discovered.
Jake thought of the bone vault under New Orleans and the symbol of the breath they had found repeated there. He examined the walls for markings, feeling his way around methodically until he had completed a circuit.
There was nothing.
He looked again at the tombstones below and tilted his body to descend, equalizing his ears so that he could skim along the bottom. Weed and sea grass grew from indented names, and the oldest tombs were almost completely obscured. He began to pull himself over them, checking each stone for anything useful.
As he swept a handful of sand away from one, Jake caught his breath in surprise.
The symbol of the breath carved into the tomb of a child.
Jake remembered the image of the map Luis Rey had sent them. The bones that formed the countries were tiny, intricate. He wondered how many of the bones came from children of Empire, lives used and forgotten in the march for progress.
He brushed away the rest of the sand and felt around the edge of the tombstone, then reached for the catch bag attached to his belt and pulled out a chisel with a long handle.
Jake worked the sharp end under the edge of the tombstone. It slid under, and he levered it up to lift the stone away from the floor, then wedged the end of the chisel in. A small metal casket gleamed under his flashlight beam, etched with the whorls and eddies of the wind around a cross of bone.
The breath of God.
The casket could contain the remains of a long-dead Spanish child, or it could contain a finger bone, part of the Hand of Ezekiel. There was only one way to find out.
Jake put one hand on the tombstone and began to ease it back –
A sudden explosion boomed through the water.
Seconds later, a shock wave propelled Jake back against the hard rock of the altar, his back arching over it, the force slamming the air from his lungs.
Huge blocks of stone dropped down from the roof above as the church began to collapse, driving silt up into the water, obscuring everything in the chamber.
Jake couldn’t see anything. His mind whirled with questions, thoughts of Morgan and Amado outside. He fought to catch his br
eath as he dumped the air from his BCD.
He sank to the bottom, using blocks of stone to claw himself back to the tiny grave. He pulled out the casket and shoved it into his catch bag, clipping it to his belt.
He dragged himself toward the exit, using his flashlight to try and find the way he came in. But as he shone the beam up, a chill ran down his spine. Boulders dislodged by the explosion completely blocked the archway.
He was trapped.
19
Minutes before, Morgan heard the revving of a motorboat approaching around the headland. She ducked down below the parapet and peeked around the side of the platform, using the outrigger to shield herself from view.
A white motorboat hurtled into the bay, two Filipino men at the helm. One pointed at the outrigger and then out to deeper waters in the direction that Jake and Amado had gone. Morgan couldn't understand the Tagalog language, but their tone was threatening. They were definitely not tourists.
The boat accelerated out toward the underwater church, and Morgan could only watch in horror as one of the men dropped a device into the water.
The other man revved the boat and sped off as fast as possible.
A moment later, a massive explosion rocked the seafloor.
A rumble came from below, then a huge plume of water erupted from the dive site. The whole platform rocked as giant waves battered the cross, washing over the deck.
Morgan stayed crouched down even as the water washed over her, fighting to keep her hold on the platform. She was soaked through, salt water seeping through her bandages, sharp pain pulsing as her muscles tensed ready for action. She thought of Jake down there, possibly injured, possibly … But there was no time to think about that now.
The motorboat revved again, swinging in a wide arc, coming back to check the outrigger. Morgan reached down into the boat, quickly grabbing the speargun that Amado had stashed earlier. She slipped back behind the parapet, calming her breathing as she checked the mechanism of the weapon.
It was only good for one shot.
The sound of the motorboat grew closer, and the men pulled up next to the platform, talking rapidly. One climbed into the outrigger. They were clearly looking for something.
Morgan inched back behind the parapet. Perhaps they would leave without seeing her.
One of the men made a comment, the other sounded confused. Morgan almost groaned aloud as she realized that one BCD and tank remained in the boat. The men must know that one person hadn’t gone down.
Suddenly, they went quiet.
Morgan slipped softly around the back of the cross, so the giant structure was between her and the intruders.
One man stayed in the boat while the other stepped onto the platform, his wet footsteps slapping against the stone. She couldn't see him, but Morgan could only assume that he had a weapon stretched out in front.
She had one chance.
She closed her eyes, listening to the footsteps as the man came closer. For a moment she was back in the ambush holes of the Golan Heights as part of the Israeli Defense Force. She was a warrior. She was trained for this.
Although to be fair, she had never used a speargun for this purpose before.
The man's footsteps rounded the side of the cross.
Morgan thrust up hard from the ground toward him. She smashed the butt end of the speargun under his chin, thrusting his head back. He stumbled, raised his weapon, and she hammered the end of the speargun down on his hand.
He dropped the weapon, and she kicked it back behind her into the water.
A gunshot pinged against the cross, the man in the boat shouting as he fired.
Morgan angled herself behind the structure, using the speargun to jab at her attacker’s belly. As he doubled over, she swung the heavy end across his temple.
The man sagged to the deck as another gunshot whizzed past, just missing her.
Morgan hunkered down and crawled around the side of the cross, staying low, staying out of sight until the last moment.
She stood and shot the speargun at the man in the boat, cable trailing behind it.
He looked down in surprise, clutching at the metal shaft embedded in his belly. He crumpled, toppling over the side of the boat into the water face down, a pool of blood spreading out around him.
Morgan gazed out toward the dive site. Jake and Amado hadn’t surfaced. They must be in trouble. She would have to go down there, regardless of the pain. She should have gone in the first place. She clambered into the outrigger and started to check the remaining dive gear.
Movement caught her eye in the water a few meters away.
The dark silhouette of a tiger shark swimming toward the bloody corpse of the man she had just killed.
Down below, Jake swam up close to the rocks blocking the entrance, testing each with a firm hand as he tried to work out what had happened. Someone must have dropped an explosive device. Amado had been out in the open water. He would have been blown away from the scene by the blast, perhaps concussed, perhaps worse. And Morgan … Jake had to get back up there.
He tried all the stones, but they were stuck fast, an immovable wall. There was no exit this way.
He looked down at his dive computer, checked his air supply. He had used a lot in his search, and there wasn't much remaining. He had to get out of here.
Jake calmed his breath, conserving air by breathing slowly, then thought about the design of the church that Martin had sent, plans from when the Spanish had been here. Turning in the water, he tried to orientate himself to where the various parts of the church had been. Part of the nave was buried, but there was a chance that one of the antechambers might still have an exit.
He finned to the west of the church, feeling around the walls, his fingers skimming over rough stone. Silt made the chamber as dark as the grave, and his flashlight had dimmed with so much use. Jake tried not to think about what would happen if the light went out, if he ended up trapped in here, buried like the thousands who died in the eruption.
There was no way for Morgan to get him out in time.
But then he looked down at the flashlight. It was still just about daylight topside. If he made it completely dark in here, perhaps he might see a crack of light from outside, a way to escape.
Jake turned the flashlight off and hung in the water, trying to relax in neutral buoyancy so as not to disturb the silt anymore. He closed his eyes, getting used to the darkness. As his breath came in, he rose a little in the water column. As he exhaled, he sank down. He imagined the air bladders of his lungs filling and emptying in a calm meditation.
After a few breaths, he opened his eyes. Everything was still dark. There was no way out.
Then from the corner of the church, he glimpsed a tiny chink of light.
Jake finned over and found that the explosion had blocked one entrance but also blown out another. It was still covered by a few large rocks, but he could make the hole bigger.
It was hard work, his breath ragged as he shifted the debris, effort straining his muscles.
Suddenly, he tried to take a breath and sucked on nothing. He grabbed his dive computer. No more air in the tank.
Jake pulled the final few stones away and tried to swim through the gap. His tank caught. He was stuck fast. He twisted and writhed, but he couldn’t get through. His lungs began to ache.
With his breath almost out, Jake shrugged off his BCD leaving the tank behind. He wriggled out through the gap in the wall, pulling the catch bag out with him as he swam for the surface. As he rose, he let the remaining air trickle from his mouth in tiny bubbles as his lungs expanded.
A huge shadow passed overhead.
Jake looked up to see a tiger shark swimming above, heading for a bloody body in the water. He couldn’t go directly to the surface, but he was desperate for breath.
The tiger shark worried at the corpse, biting chunks from it, leaving a trail of gore in the water. There would be more sharks coming.
Jake could see the silhouette of t
he outrigger a little further away and swam for it, holding his breath for as long as possible, trying not to swim in a panicked manner like a dying fish but slow and steady so as not to attract the shark. Finally, he surfaced next to the platform, gasping for breath.
Morgan pulled him from the water. “Thank goodness you made it. I was so worried.”
Jake lay panting on the platform, gulping at the air, his chest heaving. Once he could breathe properly again, he noticed the body of a man behind the cross. “Looks like you managed alright up here.”
Morgan sat back on her heels. “Amado?”
Jake shook his head. “I didn't see him. I was trapped in the church when the explosion happened. I had to leave another way.”
The sun was beginning to set, the sky turning shades of tropical pink and orange. Feeding time for sharks, the apex predators of the reef.
Morgan stood up and looked toward the dive site. “The blast might have pushed him further out.” She climbed into the outrigger. “I’ll see if I can find him. We can't leave his body for the sharks.”
She paddled away from the cross, looking down into the water at the silhouettes beneath. Most were reef sharks, not really dangerous, but a pack of them could tear a body to pieces soon enough.
Morgan paddled further out over the sunken cemetery until she saw the edge of the drop-off where the ruined church lay, then searched in circles spreading away from the site, looking down into the water then out to the horizon.
Just as she was about to turn back, Morgan saw a dark shadow hanging in the water a few meters away. Amado was face up, held upright by his BCD, but his head was slumped sideways, eyes closed.
The fin of a shark broke the water nearby.
Morgan slammed her paddle down, making as much noise as she could. The shark angled away, but she knew it would circle and return. She didn’t have much time.
She paddled over quickly to the guide and bent over the side of the outrigger. Morgan grabbed Amado's BCD straps and heaved him onboard. His outstretched arms fell across the burns on her thighs and she bit back a scream of pain as he slid off, rasping the dressings over her weeping wounds.