Page 61 of Dangerous Mission

The water is my home. Almost more than terra firma. Here, things are methodical and orderly. That’s how you stay safe.

By the book. Do everything the way it’s planned. There’s a contingency for everything. On the surface, emotions make a mess of everything.

Scout signals me with his hand, asking if I’m good one more time before we move to the area of the cave’s mouth where we’ll descend into the blackness.

I reply with an okay sign.

He pulls his mouthpiece away. “You know ASL?”

I give him a thumbs up. He puts his regulator back in his mouth, exhales and then leads the way, swimming gracefully into the yawning cave mouth with long scissor kicks of his fins.

We pause one more time in the cool water, testing our equipment, giving each other hand signals.

Scout manages the line that we’ll spool out to mark our path in and out. We’ll follow it when we return. It’s something you always cave dive with.

As my pulse speeds, I take a few slow breaths.You know how to do this.

Simple. I do this all the time.

Scout quickly proves he’s efficient and calm. His eyes relaxed behind his mask as we check our lights one by one. Our back up lights get a double check too.

Then we kick up our fins and descend head first.

Blackness reaches up for us.

He glances back to check on me. I keep kicking my fins, following him into the darkness. Trusting him.

Thank god, it’s not Brundage diving with me. I’ve never liked being in the water with him. I didn’t realize exactly how much until now.

We settle into a slow, steady pace. I check my watch, we’ve been down for six minutes. The dive computer reports all the details of our depth, time, and air.

So far, so good. The tunnel is just like I expected. Wide enough for two people. Tall enough for someone to stand up inside if it wasn’t flooded.

We should be approaching the first chamber any second?—

I kick, but something’s got my leg.

What? How is that possible?

I tug again and something definitely has my ankle.

Scout! I scream in my head.

Dammit.This is when I wish I had a radio, but diving with a full face mask and radios isn’t an option in this environment.

I tap on my tank with the metal tool I have just for this purpose—to alert another diver that you need their attention. The sharp ping rings through the water.

I hit it again and again.

Come on, Scout!

The beam of his light gets farther away from me, the flip of his fins growing harder to see.

Wiggling, I try to get my leg loose, but realize the line he’s spooling out has gotten caught on my fin. He should feel me tugging the line. He’ll know something’s wrong.

But there’s current in the water. He might not feel it.

Breathe slow. Relax. It’s nothing to be alarmed over.