It was the last thing he sensed before darkness enveloped him.
FORTY-FOUR
The ascent to the surface seemed to take an eternity. Gretchen kept looking from her watch to the water outside the Oregon’s boat garage, where she was waiting for Nomad to surface. According to Max, the sub and Jim suit would be topside in two minutes.
On Max’s orders, the Oregon had moved away from the dive site so that it wouldn’t be directly above the torpedo explosion, which also meant there was no way they could surface in the moon pool. Gretchen, who had been watching the search from the op center, dashed down to the boat garage as soon as Hali told her that’s where they’d be pulling Juan in.
Julia Huxley stood ready next to her with her medical crash kit.
“Is he breathing?” Gretchen asked her.
“I think so,” Julia replied without conviction. “Max says he doesn’t think the suit’s leaking.”
Suddenly, a balloon broke the surface, followed by the Jim suit. Half of the pack holding the environmental systems was crushed.
“Now we know why he was low on air,” Julia said. “We need to get him out of that suit.”
It was an agonizing wait as Max motored over to the suit and the mechanical arms grasped the handle on its front.
Max turned Nomad and sped toward the lights of the Oregon’s boat garage. Technicians attached a line to the Jim suit and winched it aboard. They laid it down on its front, but the latches were jammed shut by the crush damage.
Gretchen didn’t wait for them to act. She took a heavy wrench that one of them was holding and fiercely bashed two latches until they sprung free. The clamshell back snapped open and they hoisted Juan’s limp body out. His lips were bright blue and his skin was ashen.
As soon as they had him lying on his back on the deck, Julia took over. Gretchen stood back and watched as the doctor felt for a pulse. She put a mask on his face and turned the tank’s valve.
“He’s still got a heartbeat,” she said. “He’s also got a nasty bump on the back of his head.” She jostled him lightly. “Juan, wake up.”
Julia rubbed his sternum with her fist to get a response. He remained motionless. The other crewmen watched in concerned silence.
Suddenly, Juan took a huge breath and his eyelids fluttered. Then they opened wide as if he were startled and he tried to sit up, but Julia held him down.
“Juan, you’re on the Oregon. There’s a mask on your face giving you oxygen. I want you to relax for a minute and take deep breaths. Do you understand?”
He nodded slightly. “Who . . . What happened?” he mumbled. His groggy voice was muffled by the mask.
Gretchen felt a wave of relief wash over her when she heard him speak. She knelt next to him and took his hand. “Your stupid idea about the torpedo worked. You got out of the wreckage just in time.”
“My insides feel like jelly.”
“That’s the concussion effect of the torpedo,” Julia said. “We need to do a CAT scan to make sure there’s no internal bleeding.”
“Don’t bother. I’m all right.”
Gretchen squeezed his hand. “Are you going to disobey doctor’s orders?”
He looked at both of them. And then seeing that he was going to lose the argument, he said, “You two would make good professional arm-twisters.”
“It doesn’t pay enough,” said Gretchen.
“And I already have a job keeping this ship’s sorry lot in one piece,” Julia added.
Juan removed the mask and tried getting to his feet. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
Julia pushed him back down. “No you don’t. I have to clear you with the CT before you’re allowed to walk. I don’t want you passing out on me from blood loss on the way to the medical bay.”
Despite his protestations, they loaded Juan onto a stretcher. Gretchen walked beside him as he was wheeled to get his scan.
“Did we get the container?” he asked.