Chapter Thirty-Seven
We are lost in an endless void of black. It’s impossible to tell up from down. It’s only the trail of bubbles trickling from my mouth that show the difference. The water is freezing. And motionless. A cold deep well into which we have fallen and from which there is no reprieve.
The roof of the cave angles deeper and deeper into the water and we follow it all the way down into the icy depths. Certainly the water flows from the ocean into this small cave, but by what circuitous path? How many twists and turns before we reach the end? How deep must we dive before we can rise again?
The rock face aims ever downwards.
It occurs to me that I should have used our powers to aid us, but my training with Mr. Brown did not include underwater activities. There’s only one direction to go. And that’s down.
Ferdy hangs onto my belt ever more tightly as my eyes begin to bulge from the pressure. The rock face angles away from me. It must be flattening out to –
It continues downwards. My chest is beginning to feel the crush of the pressure. My brain and millions of years of evolution tell me I should breathe. Yet I have to hold my breath. My body is being denied of oxygen, the one element it should be able to master. I swim harder downwards.
Abruptly, like the edge of a knife, the rock comes to a halt. I pull us around and we start to ascend. We head up ten feet. Twenty feet. Thirty feet.
Something is wrong. My arms and legs are in such a flurry of activity to project me forward that it has taken me several seconds to realize I am missing something vitally important.
Light.
Why can’t I see any light?
If I have come up on the other side of an enormous boulder, why am I not seeing a cave beyond and the glow of the outside world? I am seriously running out of air. My lungs are pounding. My heart is racketing along like a steam train. Why can’t I see any light?
Because I’m in a cave.
And now there is only one way to find light. That is to extinguish it so I reach down and grip the flashlight in Ferdy’s hand and shut my eyes tightly. When I open them I see a translucent column of light growing out of the darkness.
I snap the flashlight back on. Ferdy must be feeling the need for air as keenly as me. Possibly it is only his autism – or whatever his ailment is – that has stopped him from panicking. I swim as hard as I can toward the spot where I spotted the faint flow. A bubble of air involuntarily escapes from my mouth and I snort in a nose full of salty brine.
I swim even harder and the water seems to press against my brain. If I don’t make it in the next few seconds we are both going to drown.
The column of light arcs down to us from above.
Yes!
I can see a gap in the rock.
We are going to make it –
The column of light cuts through the water like sunlight carving a path through storm clouds to illuminate the landscape below. It draws me to the gap between the rocks. From here, I can see the surface of the water. It lies between two parallel boulders wedged about five inches apart from each other. My arm shoots up and the rest of me follows. I bang my head against one of the rocks and with that final stab of pain I realize I can’t fit through the gap.
It is even too narrow for Ferdy.
Oh God, what have I done?
I need to focus on using the air above to push the rocks aside, but the lack of air is turning the world black around me. We are drowning and there is nothing I can do. I need to create a wedge between the rocks, but black spots are drowning my vision.
Ferdy releases my belt and pushes past my body. He feels the gap between the two rocks. Everything is turning inky black. I have failed him and failed myself. I need to concentrate. Somehow bring air down from above into my mouth and lungs.
But I can’t –
The water rumbles around me. As the liquid pushes into my nose I see Ferdy shoving the two boulders aside. I raise my arm. Ferdy grabs it and hauls me up from the water. I lay like a beached fish, coughing and spluttering and choking and spitting out salt water.
Air. Glorious air.
My face presses hard against the gritty rock face. We are at the entrance to a cave pointing onto the ocean. I can see briny seaweed. Tiny mollusks dot the slimy rock face. A crab sidles out of sight. The cave opens out onto a rock platform that follows the coast away into the distance.
I roll over to see Ferdy standing over me with a curious expression.
“Ferdy.” My first attempt at communication is unsuccessful; I spend the next minute vomiting up more seawater. “Ferdy. Did you move the rock?”
“Rock?”
He picks up a boulder as large as a small cow and throws it fifty feet into the waters beyond. It skips across the ocean a few times before it sinks from sight forever. I stagger to my feet.
“An octopus has three hearts,” Ferdy tells me.
“Really? How interesting.”
Obviously, Ferdy not only has a super brain, but he also has super strength.
I spend the next few minutes telling him I have to leave for a while, but I’ll be back later. Trying to go into more detail would be a waste of time. I consider informing him to be careful and don’t talk to strangers, but –
Well, I think Ferdy can look after himself.