Page 109 of Casualties of War
She gripped the oar, her heart aching. “Would you help me? We need to figure out what’s at the end of the marker we found.”
“I will help you.”
Donaldson thumped Adán’s shoulder. “Better you than me, dude.”
Adán climbed in the boat and Donaldson pushed it back into the water. Parris turned it around and got going once more.
“Three degreesto port,” Locke told her, for he could see the group of men holding station over the marker, over her shoulder.
Adán stripped off his jacket and shoes, then his sleeveless shirt. The medallion glinted in the starlight. He gripped it, hesitating, then took it off and bundled the chain in his palm. He reached over the top of the oars and dropped it into her shirt pocket. “I’ll get it back fromyou, later,” he said.
He hung his head and propped his elbows on his knees and took in a long, deep breath. He blew it out in sharp gusts of air.
“I’ve seen Navy divers do that,” Locke said.
“So have I,” Parris said. “It depletes the CO2in the body. It’s the build-up of carbon dioxide in the blood that makes you want to take a fresh breath. If you have less of it in the first place, you cango longer before having to breathe.”
Adán held up his thumb. She was right.
He kept on breathing in hard little bellows.
Parris eased the dinghy up close to the swimmers. They gripped the sides, making it rock. They would be tired by now, but no one bitched.
“Two in the boat at a time, fifteen minutes rest, spell each other off,” she told them.
“He’s going down there?” someone murmured, asthe first two coordinated their heaves up into the boat so it didn’t capsize.
Adán moved past her to the stern and dropped over the side. He entered the water like an otter, with barely a splash. “I need a flashlight,” he said, moving around the side of the boat.
“Here,” Ramirez said, holding out his. “There’s a white float, about fifteen feet down. I tugged on the rope holding it. It’s anchoredgood.”
“That will help,” Adán said. “I can pull myself down on it and save oxygen, as I don’t have flippers. Right beneath here?”
“We may have drifted. I kept a watch on the cliffs on either end, so not much.”
Adán turned himself around to look at Parris. “I can only do this once. It’ll take about eight minutes.”
Parris gasped. Eight minutes!
“Damn…” a swimmer muttered, sounding awed.
“Sodon’t panic straight away,” Adán added.
“Whenshouldwe panic?” Locke asked.
Adán said, “If I pop up and float with my face in the water, you can figure something went wrong.”
Chuckles sounded. Parris gripped the oar, her fingernails digging in. Her throat was so tight she didn’t think she would ever laugh again.
“Seriously,” Locke said.
Adán considered. “My personal best is twelve minutesand thirteen seconds. I’m not fully conditioned right now and these are adverse conditions. Let’s say…ten minutes. Okay, leave me alone for a moment.”
Everyone shut up as Adán breathed. His breath grew slower, then even slower and deeper. Parris’ heartbeat grew faster, instead. She wanted to shriek at him to stop, to not take such an insane risk. Locke had nailed it, though—theyhadto find outwhat was down there.
Adán sucked in a breath that seemed to go on forever. He rolled over in the water, his feet kicked once. The water closed over the top of him.
Panic seared her throat and roiled in her stomach. Parris made herself stay put and breathe.
