Deep Fathom

“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Now.”

Mwahu pointed toward an islet fifty yards down the waterway. “More tunnels. Go over to shore.” But he seemed unsure of himself.

“Are you certain?”

Mwahu stared Jack down, then shrugged.

Jack sighed. “You make a very good point.” The group had no other choice. They’d have to take their chances. “Move fast, folks. We’ve got more company coming.”

The sound of the second jet ski grew louder.

Mwahu led the way. Here, the water was deeper. They were forced to swim. Jack cringed at the amount of splashing. If the second guard should turn the corner now, they would be spotted easily.

Positioned at the rear, Jack kept glancing over his shoulder. The whining began to roar, echoing off the walls. “Faster,” he urged the others.

The splashing worsened, but their progress only improved slightly. Jack realized they would not make it. Ahead, he spotted a narrow side channel jutting from the main canal. “Turn in there!”

With a kick, Mwahu led them into the tight alley.

Jack swam after them into the cramped space. Bare walls surrounded them on either side—and the canal dead-ended only a couple yards away. They were boxed in. Jack swung around. “We’ll have to hold our breath again.”

Resigned nods answered him.

Jack judged their waning strength, knowing they were all growing cold and exhausted. The rising scream of the jet ski drew his attention around. “He’s coming.” He knew he could not risk even peeking out. He listened, trying to time it, grabbed Karen’s hand and raised his other arm.

The noise drilled his ears. He held his breath, waiting, tense. Then he lowered his arm, and the others sucked air and dove. Again Jack lowered his face to eye level with the water.

The jet ski roared up to the opening of the side channel, but the driver, a clone of the other, maintained a watch on the larger island across the canal. Standing, the man had a hand pressed to an ear, listening to his radio, reporting in. His words were muffled by the jet ski’s engine.

Jack willed him to continue past.

As if hearing his silent plea, the man swung around. Jack just barely managed to duck underwater in time. From under the surface he stared up. He could see the man’s watery image, saw him pause, floating the jet ski in place.

Jack felt Karen tug on his hand. She and the others were running out of air. He squeezed her hand, then released his grip and slipped away from her side. Karen tried to grab the back of his shirt, but he knocked her hand aside.

Overhead, the jet ski turned in their direction. Jack saw the man reach for his rifle. Exhaling slowly, Jack sank deeper. He slid out of the side channel, scuttling under the starboard edge of the ski. He hated to abandon the others, but he needed a moment’s distraction.

Crouching down on the bottom of the canal, he positioned his feet and squinted up. C’mon, he urged the others. Then he heard a frantic kicking as one of his group ran out of air and was forced to surface.

Jack did not wait. He shoved with all the strength in his legs and shot out of the water.

The driver, still facing the channel, had his weapon pointed in the wrong direction. He noticed Jack’s attack a moment too late.

Jack knocked him off the jet ski’s seat. The man grabbed the handlebars and twisted around, but by then Jack’s elbow had smashed him in the face, crushing his nose, driving the bone into his brain. Instant death.

Jack did not pause. His old instincts arose. He relieved the guard of his rifle and radio headpiece, then shoved the man into the canal.

As he swung back into the jet ski’s seat he found Karen staring up in shock from the canal.

“Kill or be killed,” he grumbled, then gunned the jet ski. “C’mon.”

Karen held out a hand, and Jack pulled her into the seat behind him. There was not enough room for the other two.

“Grab the edge of the jet ski,” he instructed them. “I’ll drag you both.”

Miyuki and Mwahu swam to either side, fingers clutching for handholds.

“Ready?”

“Y-Yes,” Miyuki said, shivering.

Jack edged the ski forward. Over the noise of his own watercraft he heard the growing roar of the other jet ski. He increased his pace, but a squeal of protest from Miyuki forced him to throttle down. The professor gagged out a mouthful of seawater.

“Sorry,” he said, twisting around and watching for the other guard. Jack clutched the handles in a tight grip. “We can’t outrun them like this.”

Karen nodded down the canal. “What about Mwahu’s tunnel?”

They should have just enough time, Jack thought, and slowly throttled up. “Hold your breath.”

Gliding the jet ski, he headed toward the islet Mwahu had pointed out. Once abreast of it, he ducked the ski into another side canal and parked it out of sight.

“Is this the place?” Karen asked Mwahu.

Half drowned, the islander indicated the rear side of the islet’s single squat building.

Shouldering the rifle, Jack hopped to shore and helped the others up onto the weed-choked island. He quickly led them around the building, where he stumbled to a stop. “Goddamn it!” The entrance to the building was blocked by a large basalt boulder. He sagged and turned. “Is this your entrance to the tunnels?”

Mwahu crossed and placed a hand on the boulder. He looked near tears. Answer enough.

Karen joined the islander. “We can move it,” she said, wiggling out of her wet pack. “It’s basalt. We have the crystal.”

Jack looked at the boulder. It was deep in shadows as the sun hovered at the horizon. “We need sunlight.”

Karen passed him the crystal. “I’ll get it for you.” She removed a plastic compact from her pack, opened it and broke off the mirror. Stepping back to the corner, she aimed the mirror toward the sun and deflected a beam toward the boulder so a spot of sunlight danced on the boulder’s surface.

Jack smiled. “It’s worth a try.”

He crossed to the boulder and slapped on the star, still sticky with gum. It failed to adhere to the uneven surface, but he found he could hold it in place and push with his shoulder. He nodded to Karen.

It took her a few tries to hit the star with the reflected sunlight. Jack pushed each time the star burst with radiance. The boulder, much more massive than the crypt’s lid, was still heavy. Jack dug in his heels, straining against the rock, fighting it. Mwahu joined him and pushed, too. Slowly, the boulder shifted.