Blood Reckoning by Michael Lister

Author:Michael Lister
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pulpwood Press

CHAPTER

FORTY

I stopped diving several years ago primarily because of sinus issues and the havoc the water pressure wreaked on my head.

I had returned to the surface too many times with blood in my mask and skull-splitting headaches.

I’m out of practice and was never very skilled to begin with, but I remember enough to go see for myself if Carla and her car are submerged here, buried in this watery grave.

I adjust my BC, make sure the tank is secure, and ease into the water holding my mask.

The wetsuit is very tight, and the mask and fins and weight belt don’t fit quite right, but I don’t want to take any additional time to adjust anything—and I’m not sure how much difference additional adjustments would make.

In the water, I wash off the mask and put it on, then do the same with the regulator.

“I only have this for emergencies,” Kent says. “Probably not much left in that tank.”

I check the gauge. He’s right. It’s in the red. Depending on my breathing, I only have a few minutes.

He leans over and hands me down the underwater dive light with the pistol grip.

“Need to get down there and back up here as quickly as possible,” he says.

I give him the okay sign.

Releasing the air out of the BC, I begin to sink.

My descent is faster than I would like, and I can feel the pressure in my head immediately.

I’d like to slow it down but don’t feel as though I can.

I realize I’m breathing rapidly and attempt to slow my heart rate and breathing.

Visibility is even worse than I had imagined. There is nothing but blackness everywhere—except directly in front of the beam of my dive light.

It doesn’t take long to cover the fourteen feet or so between the surface and the riverbed.

When I reach the bottom, I realize I’ve drifted away from the vehicle—or was never directly over it to begin with.

I shine the light around and turn slowly in every direction.

Nothing.

I begin to swim around, searching, feeling with one hand, shining the light with the other.

I become aware of breathing too rapidly again and attempt to relax and breathe more slowly.

My nose is bleeding—something I feel rather than see.

I can’t believe I can’t find the vehicle. It should be right here.

I may have drifted even farther than I realized, and now that I’ve been swimming around in the dark I have no idea where I am in relation to the boat above, no bearings, no points of reference, no clue. And I’m running out of air.

I change directions again and continue to feel my way around, floating about three feet from the bottom.

The beam of the bright light finds trash and debris and downed trees but no vehicles.

Wondering how much air I have left, I grab my gauge and bring it around to check it.

And as I’m trying to see it, I bump into the rear quarter panel of the passenger’s side of Carla’s gray Camry.

Dropping the gauge, I bring the light around and begin to search the car, my vision blurring from the tears in my eyes.

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