I notice I’m shaking as we do our buddy check in the water. He grasps my hand and holds it tight against his chest for a second. My heart rate slows. The waves are big and rolling us high today. There’s a strong breeze but Mark promises it’ll be placid once we’re underwater. As we finish up he takes my arm.
“Erin, you don’t have to do this, you know. I can go down alone. You can stay on the boat and I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. That’s all it’ll take, honey.” He pushes a wet strand of hair behind my ear.
“No, it’s okay. I’m fine.” I smile. “I can do this. And if I don’t see for myself, I’ll be imagining worse anyway,” I say, my voice distant, slightly off-key again.
He nods. He knows me too well to disagree. I’m coming.
He slides on his mask, signalsdescend,and slips beneath the surface. I place my mask on slowly, securely, letting it suck hard against my cheeks. I can’t afford anymishaps today. I take my last breath of sweet fresh air and follow him under.
It’s clearer down here than it was the last time. Crystal-clear blue. High-definition blue. Mark is waiting for me just below the surface, picked out in nature-program resolution, a living thing suspended in an ocean of nothing. He gestures to descend. And we let out our buoyance.
Our descent is steady. I look up at the huge waves crashing above us; it’s so eerily still down here. Seen from underneath, the cresting waves appear forged from metal as they glint in the sun. Huge sheets of burnished aluminum.
Everything is fine. Everything is fine up until we hit ten meters.
Mark jerkily stops and signals for me to hold position. I freeze.
Something’s wrong.
Blood suddenly bursts through my veins at a rate of knots, pumping faster than ever around my body. Why are we stopping?
Is there something in the water? I’m careful not to move, but my eyes search in every direction for what it could be. I can’t see it. Should we get back up to the boat? Or is it fine?
Mark signalsIt’s okayback to me.
Okay? Then what? Why hold?
He signals it to me again:hold. Then he signalsbe calm.Be calmis never a good sign.
Then he signalslook down.
Oh God.
Oh Goddy, God, God. Why look down? Why? Idon’t want to look down. I don’t want to look down, Mark. I shake my head.
No.No, not doing it.
He reaches out and takes my arm. He signalsIt’s okayagain.
His eyes.It’s fine, Erin.
I nod, I’m calm. All right. I can do this. I can do this.
I breathe in deep, a cool crisp chemical breath, and look down.
It’s beautiful. Papers caught in a slow-motion dance hang in the water all around us. Half sunk, half floating, beautiful.
Then through the gaps between papers…I see it below us.
About thirty meters below us on the seabed. A plane. Not a commercial plane. A small plane. A private jet perhaps. I see it clearly below. One wing disconnected, broken off in the sand beneath. A great gaping breach in its main hull. And darkness within. I breathe out, hanging motionless in the water.
I breathe in slow, calm. I look to the door, the airplane’s door. It’s sealed. The door is sealed. Oh. Oh shit. I feel the panic rise. I feel it fizz through my muscles, through my arms, through my heart, the clenching, the seizing. Fuck. Oh my fucking God. There are people in there.
The trapdoor in my mind bursts wide open and the panic spills out all over me. Images flash through my mind. I can see rows of silent people safely strapped in, in the dark, deep below us. Their faces. Jaws broken mid-scream.Stop!I command myself.
This is not real. Stop.
But it is, though, isn’t it? It is real. They’ll be in there; I know they will. They can’t have got out. They didn’t even try. Why didn’t they even try?
