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Authors: Brian Keene

Pressure (7 page)

BOOK: Pressure
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“What kind of effect?” Paolo asked.

“I'm not sure, but I experienced it myself when I left my suit. The same interference that shorted out our diving equipment played havoc on my body's own nerve function as I swam for the surface.”

Paolo nodded, encouraging her to continue. “How so?”

“It's … hard to explain. My arms and legs tingled, and then started to go numb. And I think I was hallucinating. I can't be sure. But I definitely remember the numbness. It wasn't painful. Indeed, it was the opposite of that. It was almost … calming? It seemed to spread through my whole body.”

“You weren't scared?” Abhi asked.

“No.” Carrie shook her head. “That's the thing. I should have been afraid. I should have been fucking terrified, but I wasn't. I barely made it to the top, even with my background and training. And Peter? Well, Peter never stood a chance.”

Paolo stared at her intently. “And you don't know what the source of it was?”

“No. I suspect it must be chemical. That seems to make the most sense. Some type of chemical that can impact both living beings and electronics.”

“Or perhaps it was just a simple blackout,” Paolo suggested. “Low oxygen in your brain. That seems more plausible to me.”

“I know what shallow-water blackout feels like, Paolo! It wasn't that, or hypoxia, or any other bullshit excuse you want to suggest.”

“You just said that you hallucinated—”

“I did. But the cause wasn't anything that I did. We did everything by the book. Peter was within an arm's length at all times. We kept visual on each other. Everything was fine until our equipment malfunctioned. And we were still fine, even after it malfunctioned. It wasn't until we slipped out of our suits that … we weren't fine anymore.”

“Okay.” Paolo held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, Carrie. I'm sorry. I did not mean to offend.”

Seabirds squawked angrily overhead, swooping downward and bombarding the surface of the harbor, fighting over a school of tiny fish swimming near the surface. Occasionally, one of them flew back up, clutching a wriggling fish in its talons, and then greedily darted for the shore.

Carrie took a deep breath, calmed herself, and then continued.

“Obviously, we need equipment to truly study the collapse, but whatever this reaction is—it's shorting our equipment out. So, what I propose is very simple. You and I will use basic scoops and containers to collect samples from as deep down the wall of the collapse as we can.”

“What sort of samples do you want to focus on?” Paolo asked.

“Whatever we can get—silt, rock, water, plants, even small organisms. We need enough to analyze in a lab.”

“What lab? We can't use Alpinus, or they will know we did this without their approval.”

“Then we'll enlist the NOAA,” Carrie said. “Or another lab—Scripps, UNOLS, Woods Hole, AOML, Proudman. Between the two of us, we've got contacts at each of them, and more. We could even take it to the Globe Corporation if we needed to.”

“I'm sure that would go over great with Alpinus. Hiring us to do the work and then we turn around and take it to their biggest competitor?”

“Consider it a last resort. And besides, at the very least this will allow us to determine how to proof our scientific instruments and electronic gear against whatever is contaminating the water. I have to think Alpinus and the NOAA will both be interested in that information, regardless of how we initially obtained it.”

“Perhaps,” Paolo agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“It doesn't matter who the United Nations sends out here to investigate. The same thing will happen to their equipment that happens to ours. We've seen that already. Even the press corps were experiencing problems with their gear. You were worried about your reputation, Paolo?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Well, then this is the best way to make sure your reputation remains in good standing. We collect samples, analyze them, find out for sure what's causing the interference, and then figure out a way to prevent it for further expeditions. We'll be heroes once again.”

“I still am a hero,” Abhi joked.

Paolo watched the seagulls circle and wheel and squawk for a moment. When he turned back to her, his expression was skeptical.

“I do not believe you are being entirely truthful with us, Carrie. You are a good person, yes, but I have never known you to be this altruistic. At least, not to this degree. And especially not when there's no paycheck forthcoming.”

“You're right.” She sighed, pushing the bangs from her eyes. She was already starting to sweat in the morning heat. “It's not my only reason for wanting to do this.”

“Then why else?”

“Because of what I saw … or what I think I saw. And because I owe it to Peter. And because whatever this is—it nearly beat me. I don't like that.”

Paolo's smile was smug. “So you intend to conquer it? This mysterious force of nature?”

Carrie shrugged. “You know me.”

“I do indeed. You like to win.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“I don't mean it to be,” Paolo replied. “Indeed, I have always admired your determination. It was one of the things that first drew me to you … back then. But this is different, Carrie.”

“May I say something?” Abhi interrupted.

They both turned to him.

“What's up?” Carrie asked.

“I know I'm just a glorified boatswain's mate, but it seems to me that if something in that water is capable of interfering with top-of-the-line analytical equipment, robots, and gear—including, apparently, the central nervous system of human beings—then it might not be a great idea to swim there, no?”

Paolo laughed. “Have no worries, Abhi. You have procured two good wetsuits for us, and a good wetsuit will protect us from anything.”

Out over the water, the sea birds continued to shriek and feed.

 

FIVE

With Abhi guiding the boat, they motored up to a location about five miles offshore and one hundred fifty meters above the collapsing ridge. The ocean here was full of silt and sand. Even the waves seemed choked with it.

“Are you sure about this?” Abhi asked, eyeing the surface. “It seems to me like you'd be swimming in sandpaper.”

“We'll be fine,” Carrie assured him. “Most of it sinks right to the bottom. It will impact our visibility, for sure, but that's all.”

Paolo and Carrie drank several bottles of water each, determined to stay hydrated. Even though it was still early in the morning, the sun already squatted overhead, pulsating like a blister ready to burst. It reflected off the water, making them squint. All three were bathed in sweat. When Carrie licked her lips to moisten them, she tasted salt and brine.

Abhi killed the motor. The boat rocked gently on the waves, the hull creaking with the movement. The wind seemed to die off, suddenly, which only increased the brutal heat. Abhi busied himself by applying sunscreen to his nose and ears. It glistened on the fine hairs protruding from both.

“I'm glad I remembered to bring an umbrella,” he said, squinting up at the sun. “It's going to be brutal today.”

“Why don't you get it out?” Carrie asked.

“Maybe later.”

Carrie frowned. “I know that look. What are you hiding, Abhi?”

Sighing, the older man rummaged through the gear, and then produced an umbrella. When he opened it, Carrie and Paolo erupted in laughter at the image of
SpongeBob SquarePants
emblazoned across it.

“I picked it up at the Dollar Store on the way here,” Abhi explained. “All they had was this or Barbie.”

“If you get too hot,” Carrie said, “cool off in the water.”

Abhi blanched. “No, thank you. I'm staying right here on the boat.”

Carrie and Paolo prepped for their dive, slipping into their sealed wetsuits and flippers. Abhi and Paolo made an exaggerated effort to look away while Carrie changed, which made her smile. She and Paolo stored their clothes, phones, and personal items in a storage crate. Then, Abhi secured one end of each of the dive lines to the boat while the two divers strapped on their arm clips and belts.

“Shouldn't you hyperventilate or something?” Abhi asked. “Get extra oxygen into your bloodstream before you dive?”

“No,” Carrie said. “That's the last thing we want to do. Hyperventilating can make you pass out, and anything other than normal breathing messes with the carbon dioxide levels in your blood.”

With a grunt, Abhi unspooled the dive lines and watched them sink below the surface.

“That water is pretty murky,” he said. “Even with the sunlight hitting it. How are you going to see anything down there?”

“Visibility will be limited,” Carrie admitted, “like I said before. But we can carry the phosphorescent torches on our belts and then affix them to our arm clips as we gather the samples. And we'll keep each other in sight at all times. Right, Paolo?”

“Of course.”

“We've got a full case of torches, so we should be able to make as many trips as necessary, to get everything of interest. If we need to, we can use a few of them at a time.”

“What should I do while you're down there?” Abhi asked. “How can I help?”

“Keep an eye on our dive lines,” Carrie said, grinning. “And have fun with your Sudoku.”

“You can count on that.”

“Don't go anywhere,
Gordo
,” Paolo said to Abhi.

“Gordo?” Abhi frowned. “I speak Spanish, you Chilean jackass. I know what that means. And for the record, I am not fat.”

Paolo shrugged. “Where I come from, it is a term of endearment.”

“Where you come from,” Abhi replied, “people still think electricity is a new invention.”

Carrie handed a diving mask to Paolo.

“Make sure the seal is tight,” she told him as she donned another for herself.

“This isn't my first dive, Carrie.”

She bit her lip until the urge to reply sarcastically had passed. “No, of course it's not. I was just referring to exposure. The wetsuits are sealed, so our skin shouldn't be exposed, but if my theory is right, you don't want water getting through the mask.”

“What about our mouths?”

“That can't be helped.”

Nodding, he strapped weights to his belt, which would allow him to descend faster. Then, he took three more measured breaths, slipped the mask over his face, and slid into the water. Carrie sighed.

“Even this has to be a competition with him,” she said.

“At least he didn't call you fat,” Abhi said.

Carrie put on her mask and quickly followed Paolo beneath the waves.

Abhi pulled a small silver flask out of his back pocket, unscrewed the lid, and held it aloft in a toast.

“Salud,” he said, and took a drink, grimacing at the taste. He shivered. “Best batch of paint thinner I've ever tasted.”

He was struck by the silence. Feeling sheepish, he returned the flask to his pocket and picked up his umbrella.

And waited.

*   *   *

Carrie stuck to her dive line. It would be especially important farther down, where visibility would be extremely limited, even with their phosphorescent torches. Things could go wrong on a dive, even to one not already cursed with the problems their expedition had undergone, and even to experienced divers like Paolo and herself. She could get a cramp, inhibiting her ability to swim up. If she didn't equalize and the pressure damaged her eardrums, vertigo could set in quickly. She'd known a diver that had happened to. The hapless man had swam farther downward, believing himself to be surfacing the entire time. It could be even more dangerous ascending. When a diver was resurfacing and the pressure on them decreased, there was a risk of blacking out. That risk increased if they paused or exhaled. Staying close to the dive line could mean the difference between life and death in situations like those. As her instructor had said, all those years ago, “Don't think of it as a dive line. Think of it as a lifeline.” It had been one of the most important lessons she had ever learned.

As she had expected, their visibility was poor, but she was surprised to discover it was even worse than it had been just a few days before, when she'd dove with Peter. Obviously, the collapse was growing worse, as more and more sand and silt were churned up into the water. Despite the debris, she saw Paolo a few meters below her, silhouetted in the glow of his phosphorescent torches. He followed his own dive line, headed toward the rim of the collapse. He paused, glancing up to make visual contact with her, and waved. Carrie waved back.

When they reached one hundred meters, Paolo paused for a moment. Carrie studied him closely, looking for signs of distress. He met her eyes, shook his head, and continued his descent. There was so much debris swirling around them that Carrie was reminded of a snowstorm. If the collapse continued, she thought, and the evacuation didn't happen, then Mauritius's tourist board might have to advertise an underwater blizzard rather than an underwater waterfall.

Her lips began to tingle, and for a moment, she panicked, remembering what had happened the last time she'd felt this. They grew numb, but the sensation didn't increase or spread. Still, the feeling left her unnerved.

The water grew colder as they descended. At one hundred fifty meters, they reached the spreading seafloor. While their visibility was still hampered, there was less debris in the water here, due to the currents. Carrie's eyes widened in surprise. The seafloor was littered with the dead bodies of fish, crabs, and other marine life. Most likely, all of them were victims of hypoxia, a condition that was probably spreading as the collapse continued to reduce the oxygen content in the coastal waters.

Reaching the end of their limits, both of them hurriedly collected samples from the corpse-strewn bottom, and then, with air still left in their lungs, followed their dive lines back up to the boat. Because a diver's lowest level of oxygen usually occurred twenty seconds after surfacing, Carrie exhaled at the end of her ascent, and then inhaled immediately upon breaching the surface. She held that breath for a moment and clenched her stomach muscles, then repeated the process again, increasing both her oxygen and blood pressure.

BOOK: Pressure
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