Page 99 of Hold Your Breath
Her gloved fingers worked at the weight belt, but her coordination was off. Odd sparkles appeared at the edges of her vision, and she increased her upward pace. There was nothing left in her tank, forcing her to spit out her regulator and break the cardinal rule of diving—she held her breath.
Finally the buckle gave on the weight belt, and it fell, leaving her more buoyant. Her upward velocity increased as she kicked harder, her lungs burning with the need to breathe. She almost hit the ice before she realized she was at the surface, and she flattened her hands against the hard crust to keep her skull from bouncing off it.
Her feet floated toward the surface, reminding her of her first dry-suit experience. It had been only a few weeks ago, but it felt so much longer. The light on her BCD reflected off the layer of ice above her, and she pushed herself back to get a wider view.
It didn’t matter. The ice stretched, unbroken, in all directions.
Her heart pounded in her aching lungs, reminding her that she had to get out. Without an opening, though, she was trapped, imprisoned by the thick slab above her. Her hands thumped against it in a futile attempt at what, she didn’t know—breaking it? Attracting someone’s attention?
Lou tried to think of a plan, but her brain could process only how much it needed air. She moved to the left, knowing it was futile. The hole was nowhere in sight. Despite all her attempts, she was going to die with Brent. He’d won after all.
The first glimmer she dismissed as a trick of her oxygen-starved mind, but then the glow brightened and steadied. She turned toward the muted light, that one break in the vast darkness that surrounded her. Forcing her legs to move the fins—up and down, up and down—she focused on the illumination that got brighter with each stroke of her feet. Her vision narrowed until she felt like she was swimming through a tunnel, focusing only on the beam of hope in front of her.
She was almost underneath it before she saw the hole. At first, she didn’t believe it was really there. It was a mirage, a taunting tease for a desperate, drowning woman. It didn’t fade, though. It didn’t move or shift or disappear, and a kernel of hope grew in her tight chest.
A diving light attached to a safety line dangled a few feet in the water, and she kicked her way toward it, giving a final surge of effort. Her head popped up into the frigid air, and she dragged in painful yet amazingly wonderful breaths—breaths that smelled like Smelly Jim.
Someone behind her grabbed her under the shoulder straps of her BCD and hauled her out of the water. She landed on her back on the ice and was dragged away from the hole. After the initial shocked moment, she started to struggle, twisting like a banked fish in the unknown person’s grip.
“Settle down, missy.” Smelly Jim leaned over her so she could see his face. “Just getting you out of that water.”
Lou was so happy to see his familiar—albeit dirty—face that she almost kissed him. It took only a fraction of a second for her relief to change to frantic worry.
“Callum,” she croaked, yanking off her mask and attempting to turn. Her oxygen tank kept her on her back like a turtle shell, and she fought to undo the fastenings on her BCD. When she finally managed to work herself free from the vest, Lou rolled over and pushed herself to her hands and knees. Her head spun, forcing her to pause before standing. Her fins got in the way, and she impatiently pulled them off. Once she was on her feet, she swayed. “We need to get him out!”
“Already did.” Jim nodded at a blanket-draped form several feet from them. “Barely. He’s a heavy bastard.”
A cry caught in the back of her throat as she ran to Cal on wobbly legs. He was on his side, his eyes closed. When Lou started to turn him to his back, Jim spoke again.
“Wouldn’t do that. He puked up a couple gallons of that reservoir water already. Not sure if he’s done with that.”
“Is he breathing? What if we need to do CPR?”
“Already did that, too.”
Cursing the gloves attached to her dry suit that made it impossible to take his pulse, Lou shoved the malodorous blanket aside and leaned down to put her ear against Callum’s chest. When it moved beneath her cheek, she started to cry.
“No time for that.” Smelly Jim pulled off the blanket and stretched it on the ice next to Cal. “He’s breathing, but he’s not walking yet.”
His words reminded her that they weren’t in the clear. Distant emergency lights pierced the gloom in the direction Lou assumed was the shore. With shaking hands—an entire shaking body, actually—Lou helped Jim roll Callum onto the blanket. Grabbing one corner, she waited for Jim to take the other, but it remained limp on the ice. When she looked at him in surprise, he’d already started backing away.
“I tried to stop him. Been following him, watching so he didn’t hurt you. He got away from me in the woods, though.” He gave her an apologetic grimace. “Sorry.”
“You’ve been watching him?” She didn’t think anything could surprise her anymore, but she was completely shocked by Jim’s admission.
He twitched his shoulder in an affirmative half shrug.
Lou wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you.”
Without responding to that, he took another backward step. “Wish I could help you more, Lou,” he said, giving the faint red-and-blue flashes a hunted look. “They’re waiting for me over there.”
“Just the good guys, Jim,” she pleaded. “He’s too heavy for me to drag on my own. Please?”
“Sorry.” Ducking his head, he backed away a couple of steps until she could barely make him out in the gloom. “And they’re not all good. They’ve infiltrated, so they can watch me.”
“Jim!” she called, but he was gone. Looking at Callum’s unconscious form, she firmed her shaky legs and her bottom lip. “Guess it’s just you and me, Cal.”
Gathering one side of the blanket, she gave a heave. Cal’s body didn’t move, and despair struck hard. Bracing her feet, she hauled on the fabric again. This time, she felt a shift that she desperately hoped was Cal moving and not just the blanket pulling out from underneath him, like a magician’s tablecloth.
