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The other two members of the Coast Guard had by now joined the third, and with their masks off they all looked at Clint as if he were crazy. They were joined in this by Brian of course, all watching Clint with an air of skepticism. Not that Clint seemed to care. The look on his face was that of a school boy that had just found some extra lunch money.
"We don't have the authority to --"
"What authority?" Clint scoffed, waving them down. "We have a rig. We have plenty of rope too. I say we hook it up ourselves and drag the thing back."
"I don't know..." Brian began. "I'd feel better if I called in to Lieutenant Commander Randall and asked if --"
"Well the good news is that I don't answer to your Lieutenant Commander. In fact, come to think of it, I don't answer to any of you. The beauty of being a SEAL I guess? So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to throw on one of these suits, dive down there with a piece of rope and hook that sub up. Brian, you are welcome to join me if you like?" Without waiting for an answer, Clint turned and darted across the rig in search of his diving gear, which he immediately started to put on.
If any of Coast Guards were planning on arguing, the certainty of Clint's actions indicated that it would be a useless endeavor. Not only was he twice the size of any of them, making a physical protest pointless, but indeed he was correct in that none of them had any actual authority over him. They were on his boat using his equipment. All they could do was agree to his demands and hope that it went as smoothly as Clint seemed to think it would.
--
In contrast to the clear blue surface of the North Pacific Ocean, the bowels of the great body of water were dark and ominous. To far down for the light to pierce, the few fish and pieces of floating coral were shrouded in darkness. But even so, the two visible bodies of Clint and Brian continued to dive deeper and deeper with no signs of slowing down.
Clint moved through the water with the grace of a fish, like he was born to it. Covered from head to toe in his scuba gear, he propelled himself deeper and deeper through the dark waters. Following him closely behind was the lanky body of Brian. He too looked at home in the water, although he didn't swim with quit the same power that Clint was able to.
Wrapped around Clint's body was a very thick piece of rope. Like a belt, it was strapped to his waist, one end tied to him, the other snaking its way through the water and up to the surface of the ocean -- attached to the rig.
After a few moments of swimming, Clint suddenly pulled up, his eyes bulging with excitement. No more than twenty feet in front of him, sitting as if awaiting his arrival, was the Japanese sub he and Brain had been told about.
The submarine was roughly 78 feet long and 6 feet in diameter. The ocean floor was a hodgepodge of coral and reef; made up of sharp, jagged rocks. By the looks of it, the submarine had been trying to navigate through this maze of bedrock only to get itself wedged in between a rocky outpost. With a torpedo attached to either side, they would have made the reef even harder to navigate and now only served to further cement the submarine into the rock face.
Where Brian hung back from the submarine, watching it with trepidation and reverence, Clint swum directly towards it, already working to unstrap the rope around his waist. And once he had it unstrapped, he didn't waste any time.
Swimming around the hulking piece of metal, he began to wrap the rope around its midsection with the intention of using the rig above to dislodge it.
Halfway through the process, Clint suddenly stopped, turning around to see Brian still watching from afar. He held his hands up, as if to ask Brian what he's doing, before waving him over to help. Brian reluctantly nodded, swimming over to the sub to join Clint.
Clint then indicated from Brian to swim beneath the sub so that he, Clint, can pass the rope around and then Brian can swim it up and pass it back. Again Brian is reluctant, but eventually agrees, positioning himself below the submarine, so that his back is nearly flat on the ocean floor.
It's at that moment that a bunch of things happen all at once.
From nowhere a huge surge sweeps through the water. Although it merely works to push against Clint and Brian, it's strong enough to dislodge the submarine. The submarine, now dislodged, slides down the rocks, scrapping its metal body against the jagged
face. Brian, rebalancing himself following the surge of water, doesn't notice in time as the submarine comes down at him. He manages to move, but not fast enough as his oxygen tank gets snagged on the jagged face, now wedged between the submarine and the rocks.
Panicked, Brian tries to free himself, kicking with his flippers as hard as he can. But he doesn't move. Not so much as an inch. He is literally being held in place by a near immovable object.
Clint is at him in seconds, swimming up to the oxygen tank to see if there is anything he can do. It takes him less than a second to realize that he can't. Even if he were to move the submarine, the oxygen tank looked to be ruptured, meaning that were it moved, all the oxygen would pour from it like gas from a canister.
Clint thinks for a moment. He looks up to the surface, a good 1400 feet away. There is no way that Brian can swim that far without oxygen.
Meanwhile Brian is panicking, and then some. He thrashes on the spot, trying desperately to free himself. Clint grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him in place as he pulled out a large knife that was strapped to his leg. Brian's eyes go wide as he spots it, not understanding what Clint intends.
Using the knife, Clint proceeds to cut the oxygen tank off of Brian. Brian, struggling, is useless against the power of Clint. The whole time Clint does all he can to hold Brian in place and keep him calm, but unable to speak, he can only mime what he intends. He points to his own mask and then to Brian's and then back to his.
Then, without waiting for a nod of approval or understanding, Clint grabbed a hold of Brian and pushed himself from the ground back toward the surface.
As they surge upwards, Brian's oxygen mask is ripped from his face and he's taken in Clint's slipstream. Brian panicks, thrashing against Clint as he tries to get to the surface as quick as he can. Clint, still calm, turns on Brian and takes his own mask off, pushing it on Brian.
Brian takes the mask willingly, breathing in a huge breath of fresh air before Clint wrenches the mask from him, taking in his own breath. He then forces the mask back on Brian who takes it willingly. All the while the two men climb steadily toward the surface, the mask passing between the two.
One thousand feet. Then five hundred. The oxygen is running low in Clint's mask as they pass it between themselves. Two hundred feet. One hundred. The light begins to pierce the ocean, they can feel it's warmth on their faces. Fifty feet. Twenty.
Clint takes one more deep breath from the mask as the two breach the surface. Together. Alive.
--
