Cave Diver

by Jake Avila

  They began work in chest-deep water. Sinking to his knees, Nash turned on the powerful jet and began excavating the face of the bank. The dislodged mud rolled downhill to disperse in the deeper water. The full-face mask with a built-in demand valve helped distance him from the viscous soup. Time soon became meaningless, and in a sensory environment dominated by touch, the quickest way to check progress was by sliding a hand along the newly exposed hull. It took them two hours to carve trenches right up to the bow – each a metre deep and half as wide.

  ‘It won’t be enough,’ Boerman observed as they rehydrated on the bank. ‘We have to get right underneath to break the suction.’

  Nash suspected he was right. However, the idea of tunnelling beneath the flat-bottomed hull in a muddy coffin-sized cavity was appalling.

  Boerman’s big teeth gleamed whitely. ‘What’s the matter, Nash? Scared of a little mud?’

  Nash was damned if he was going to let the Afrikaner get under his skin.

  ‘OK, we’ll try it. But we work from the keel to the outside only. Got that? From the keel to the outside.’

  ‘Ja, I heard you the first time.’

  They reconvened under the midline of the Albany, in zero visibility, a tactile meeting of shoulders. Nash constantly checked his orientation so as not to sweep in Boerman’s direction. It was difficult, dangerous work, but by maintaining a generous excavation, Nash kept the claustrophobia at bay.

  They carved away for perhaps an hour, and then Nash began to wonder just how much friction the remaining mud was exerting on the mass of the ship. He had already burrowed a good two body lengths into the bank; at some point the law of gravity would have to take over, and anyone caught underneath when the Albany slid into deeper water would become a smear of red paste.

  Nash backed up to their starting point. Here, a narrow wall of mud demarcated their twin excavations. To his dismay, he discovered Boerman’s was barely forty centimetres deep, and as a result, the crazy Afrikaner had burrowed in much further towards the bow. Gritting his teeth, Nash slithered inside and felt around for Boerman’s oversized feet. There was no sign of him, just the hissing roar of his jet.

  Damn the man.

  He would have to go further inside.

  Nash proceeded forwards on his belly, and as the excavation grew shallower, he wondered how on earth Boerman had even managed to fit in here. Then, with the hull hard against his back, the claustrophobia pounced.

  The sense he was moments from suffocating was overpowering. In the full-face mask, he heard a voice keening in fear and was horrified to realise it was his.

  ‘Idiot!’ he chastised himself.

  What he needed to do was kill the pumps. That would drive the bastard out.

  Before he could act, a blow like a kick from a carthorse propelled him into the cavity and slammed him into the far end. His first thought was a crocodile, but then a stinging blast across his back told him it was Boerman’s water jet.

  In the ensuing tumult, his fins were blown off his feet. Nash clamped his hands over his full-face mask as he began to rotate horizontally. In mounting terror, he realised each revolution was driving him deeper into the packed mud. The power of the jet was impossible to resist. He felt his air hose coiling around him, locking his arms against his chest. When it snapped, his next breath was liquid mud.

  Abruptly the jet stopped. The yammering of the pumps was gone.

  The overwhelming sensation was of tremendous compression, and it took him a few seconds to understand the full horror of his predicament. He was wedged beneath the hull of the Albany like a doorstop, unable to use his arms, hands or legs for leverage. Only his feet could move, and they were uselessly treading slop.

  The old Nash would have methodically tried to untangle himself, conserving every drop of oxygen in his tissues. Now he reacted like a wild animal in a snare, thrashing and twisting as panic consumed him. The fury of his struggles intensified with each passing second.

  But somehow a hand, then an arm, came free. Grabbing the coils of air hose, he ripped them down his torso and freed his other arm.

  With hands like talons, he dragged his trapped legs behind him, blindly groping for what he hoped was the way out. The only point of reference was the back of his head bouncing on the hull. He thought he saw a lighter shade of brown and made for it. The pain in his diaphragm was indescribable . . . a prelude to blacking out.

  When Nash exploded from the gloop, he looked like a possessed creature from another world. In a gout of vomit and mud, he dimly heard himself screaming – a terrible wail that sent the birds in the forest chattering.

  ‘Put him down here, quickly!’ cried Singkepe, as many hands picked Nash up and deposited him on the deck. He could feel a rough finger inside his mouth, another scraping mud from his nostrils. For a moment, it was like drowning again, and he began to protest.

  ‘Let me through!’ He heard Mia’s voice. ‘Move!’ Her hands held the sides of his face. Then he was rolled on to his side. Something was put under his head. ‘It’s OK, it’s OK,’ she soothed him. ‘I’ve just got to make sure your airways are clear.’

  He tried to open his eyes. The pain was excruciating, as if his eyeballs were set in cement.

  ‘I can’t see,’ he gasped.

  She sluiced the debris out from under his eyelids with a bottle of water. The world was a murky soup of indistinct colour and light.

  ‘Listen to me, Rob. I know it hurts like hell, but I want you to open your eyes as wide as you can. I need to see what’s going on.’ He complied for as long as he could. ‘That’s good,’ she said, ‘keep blinking. The tears will wash it out.’

  Eyes burning and stinging, he began to regain partial focus.

  ‘I think you’ll be OK,’ she reassured him. ‘Some abrasions, but no visible damage. The iris looks fine. Keep blinking.’

  Someone was sluicing him down with water. He realised he was surrounded by a sea of legs. Frank Douglas’s worried face came into view.

  ‘Are you all right, Robbie? Jesus, I thought we’d lost you there.’

  Then Boerman squatted down, covered from head to toe in a thick coating of mud. The whites of his eyes glowed preternaturally with some kind of inner satisfaction.

  ‘What the fuck were you doing, Nash? I had no idea you were under there until the pumps stopped and you came out of the water like a stuck pig.’ His grin widened. ‘I never heard any man squeal like that before – but more than a few women, hey?’

  With a wink at Mia, he gave Nash a hearty slap on the shoulder which sent tentacles of pain radiating through his body.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ snarled Douglas. ‘Can’t you see he’s in a bad way?’

  Kaboro and two of his men carried Nash down to his former cabin. With Goki occupying the lower bunk, they threw the top mattress on the floor. When they placed Nash down upon it, he cried out. Every part of his body was on fire.

  ‘Lieutenant, wouldn’t it be prudent to arrest Jaap at once?’ Mia sounded angry.

  ‘Doctor Carter, I am sure this was an unfortunate accident.’

  ‘How many more “accidents” are you prepared to accept?’

  ‘Please, Doctor Carter, my men are in control, and everything will be investigated. How is Goki now?’

  ‘I believe he has a fractured skull, and he needs to be evacuated as soon as possible.’

  ‘I will arrange it at once,’ replied Kaboro. ‘We can get word out, too.’

  ‘I’d say that’s not a moment too soon.’ Mia dropped her voice. ‘Please don’t underestimate these people, Lieutenant. I believe we are in great danger.

  Nash must have fallen unconscious, because almost immediately there was a knock at the door. Muted talk. Nash heard them lift Goki up. The man groaned and cried something out in Indonesian. He sounded scared. Mia gently touched Nash’s shoulder.

  ‘They’re flying him back to Angoram. A hospital plane can land there. Now, let’s see to you properly.’

  Gently she dabbed th
e grazes on his nose and forehead with an alcohol swab.

  ‘You have multiple cuts and abrasions. No broken bones, but tomorrow you’ll be black and blue.’ She worked silently for a time before asking, ‘What happened under there?’ She ran a hand tenderly through his wet hair. ‘Rob, can you hear me?’

  Nash could understand every word, but he was mute. The terror had not only overtaken him – it had owned him so comprehensively that he no longer recognised himself. Dimly he heard the chopper firing up. Then he succumbed to oblivion.

  Chapter 20

  Hurtling above the Sepik at more than 150 kilometres per hour, the deafening roar of the turbine was vibrating the plates of Goki’s shattered skull. His vision was blurring and spotting, and the metallic taste in his mouth was leaking cerebrospinal fluid, from where Boerman had pounded the back of his head against the steel deck. Goki had begged the stupid apes not to load him on to the chopper, but the fools had not listened. When the big bule had climbed in and slammed the door, he’d known his fate was sealed.

  The helicopter’s shadow flitted across the surface of the river like a dragonfly. Suddenly, it vanished in a stomach-churning descent. Framed in the side window, ominous shapes could be seen in the water below. Goki moaned as the g-forces added a new dimension to the pain.

  Boerman leaned around and fixed him with a stare.

  ‘You should really try minding your own fucking business.’

  Without warning, he stabbed a giant forefinger into Goki’s forehead. It felt like a nail being driven through his skull, and Goki screamed. Everything went black.

  The habitat of the saltwater crocodile stretches from Northern Australia to South East Asia. Equally at home in a muddy billabong or fifty kilometres out to sea, it is by far the biggest reptile in the world. Old bulls are capable of growing to seven metres, and can weigh in at one and a half tonnes. They will attack anything, including adult water buffalo, and make their cousin, the alligator, look like a rubber bath toy. Few salties are left on the middle Sepik. An abundance of protein-starved hunters with guns had seen their numbers plummet, and the pacu were devouring the floating islands they preferred to nest in. But away from villages and towns, big crocodiles could still be found.

  Dangling upside down above a pool of hungry crocodiles, Goki thought he was in a nightmare. One huge beast launched itself out of the water, and the cavernous pink gullet seemed close enough to touch. As the great jaws snapped together, Goki realised this was no dream. Now he became aware of the fury of the helicopter’s prop wash. Craning his head up in agony, he saw his left foot was caught in a fully extended seat belt. In the maelstrom, Boerman was stepping carefully on to the chopper’s skids.

  ‘Help me!’ Goki screamed desperately. ‘Help me!’

  Boerman inched his way along the skid until he was directly above him. As he took hold of the seat belt, Goki felt an irrational rush of hope. If anyone had the strength to haul him aboard, it was the Afrikaner. The big man’s biceps swelled and Goki felt himself rising.

  ‘Just like feeding time at the zoo!’ Boerman roared, shaking the commando loose.

  ‘No, No!’

  Goki landed on his back with an almighty slap that knocked the wind right out of him. Before he could sink, the biggest crocodile – a six-metre veteran with one eye missing – snatched hold of his lower legs. Not to be outdone, the largest of the three smaller ones grabbed him around the chest.

  As crocodiles possess no carnassial teeth to shear through flesh, larger prey items are usually drowned and stored in a lair to decompose and soften before being ingested. However, when two crocodiles tussle over the same prey, a prehistoric tug of war ensues. As the beasts fought each other, Goki knew pain that few ever would. Every joint in his body was popping. His chest was in a vice. Something tore inside his groin. The teeth embedded in his shins were puncturing bone, and he could feel them grinding, twisting and cracking.

  The Jet Ranger hovered overhead for the finale. With a massive double beat of its saurian tail, the big crocodile reared backwards. With the smaller beast refusing to relinquish its prize, something had to give. With a sickening splintering of bone and sinew, Goki’s legs tore away from his body in a massive jet of arterial blood. The bigger crocodile threw its head back and swallowed the legs whole, gulping them down like breadsticks, while the other fled the scene with its juicer prize.

  ‘Christ almighty!’ exclaimed Boerman, temporarily forgetting his conversion. ‘Did you see that?’

  Looking sick, Hartono banked away. Boerman leaned out for a last view of the crocs, but only a blood slick marked the site of the carnage.

  Choking with despair, he swims Natalie to the shore, tenderly picks her up, and carries her into the garden. Here he digs a grave under the peppermint gums which she so loved. But it’s been raining for weeks and the sides keep caving in, no matter how frantically he digs. The grave is barely deep enough, but Brendan and Jonathan are coming over for the funeral, so he lays her down and pushes and pushes until she is gone. He is placing the sprig of karri flower on top of the mounded soil, when two hands erupt from the earth like claws and grab him by the throat.

  Liquid mud surges up his nose as he’s yanked down into the grave . . . He’s drowning, choking in despair . . .

  Breathe, why don’t you!

  BREATHE!

  Alarmed by Nash’s cries, Mia sat down on the edge of the mattress beside him.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she soothed. ‘Rob, you’re safe now.’

  He jerked violently, then cried out, ‘No, Nat, no!’

  Nightmares were unusual in non-REM sleep; was this some kind of fit? Taking his hand, she placed her fingers on his wrist to find his pulse surging in waves. Mia frowned. The edge of terror in Nash’s dreadful screams after the incident with Boerman had appalled her. Such primal fear, at odds with his profession and the incredible courage he had already demonstrated, was probably PTSD.

  She kept hold of Nash’s hand while she studied his battered face close up. The strong jaw and sandy brown hair made him seem earnest and trustworthy, while those slightly flared nostrils and sea-green eyes added a sensual, dangerous element to the mix.

  Unable to look away, Mia felt slightly guilty. As soon as she’d set eyes on Rob Nash, she’d been surprised by the depth of her attraction to him. It was visceral and instinctive. Stronger than any she’d ever known. She’d been intellectualising it as a response to her rescue – a knight in shining armour fantasy, which was frankly embarrassing – but seeing him now, so broken and vulnerable, she wasn’t so sure. If anything, the attraction was getting stronger.

  There was a knock on the door, and Mia relinquished Nash’s hand as Frank Douglas stuck his head inside.

  ‘How’s he doing, doc?’

  ‘Hard to know for certain. He didn’t aspirate water or mud. Aside from the lacerations and bruising, I think it’s mostly shock.’

  Douglas crouched down stiffly beside the bunk, looking yellow and gaunt.

  Probably his liver, she thought. Too much booze and years of malaria.

  ‘He’s been calling out for Nat,’ she told him. ‘Do you know who he’s talking about?’

  ‘Natalie was his wife.’

  Mia was confused. Rob hadn’t mentioned her last night.

  ‘She died a year ago.’ Douglas was staring at Nash with concern on his grizzled face. ‘Losing her really messed him up.’

  ‘How did it happen?’

  Douglas glanced briefly at her. ‘An accident.’

  Mia understood he wasn’t going to talk about it. He’s protecting him, she thought, and wondered why. But there were more immediate concerns.

  ‘Frank, what do you know about Shangri-La? Because I believe Boerman just tried to kill Rob – and I know he tried to kill Goki, too, because I caught him in the act.’

  He stared at her in alarm. ‘You’re serious?’

  She told him about Nash’s altercation with Boerman the night before, and explained what she’d seen on th
e bridge after the grounding – perhaps thieves falling out.

  ‘I don’t believe Kaboro recognises the threat he’s facing here. What do you think they’re up to, Frank?’

  He looked dazed. ‘The job seemed genuine enough. Sura’s a TV star in Indonesia, Robbie’s the cave-diving legend, and they don’t get any bigger than the Hoosenbeck Cavern.’

  Mia’s own theory was robbery. Big mining conglomerates were shaving whole mountain tops off in Papua, dumping hundreds of thousands of tonnes of spoil into the rivers, shipping out millions of dollars in precious metals.

  Scratching his bristly chin, Douglas frowned as he listened.

  ‘I just don’t know, but it’s obviously a front. The money was too good to be true.’ He stared at her with haunted eyes. ‘Shit, isn’t it always? Oh fuck, what have I done?’

  Mia thought quickly. ‘What about Kaboro?’

  ‘You think he’s in on it, too?’ Douglas was aghast.

  ‘No, I think he’s stumbling around in the dark like we are, but if he won’t act and put them under arrest, then I don’t think we’re safe, not so long as we stay on this boat.’

  Douglas anxiously rubbed his face with both hands.

  ‘There’s no easy way out of here, Mia. We can’t just go wandering through the bush, not after what happened to that canoe.’ Pensively, he sucked air between his teeth. ‘Look, their hands might be tied, but Kaboro and Singkepe are firmly in our camp. Once we refloat the ship tomorrow, we’ll head to the nearest town with an airstrip and a radio and get off there.’

  ‘And if we don’t refloat the ship?’ Mia stared at him.

  ‘Then I’ll take that fucking chopper and fly us out myself.’ Douglas pulled himself to his feet. ‘I’m going to go and talk to Kaboro, see if I can persuade him to lock them up before they get back.’