“Uh-oh.”
“Hey, sometimes they work.”
“No, I mean uh-oh, my pack is over there.” He pointed to a spot about a hundred feet away, where his backpack lay out in the open on a rock.
“Get it!” Carter whispered. “Then come back here and we should be ready.”
Jayden didn’t ask for details, just backed up and set himself into motion to go get his backpack.
Carter slinked forward on the ground to a spare SCUBA tank that was already rigged with a regulator, complete with “octopus” or second breathing mouthpiece in case of emergencies where the primary regulator failed. He looked down the lake slope and saw the lookout thankfully facing the other way down toward the lake, watching his three dive team members hook one of the timbers up to the pulley and rope system. He shouted something down to them in Greek, while pointing up to the top of the pulley system that Carter now lay directly underneath. He didn’t think he’d been seen, but that the non-diver of the group who was almost to the top of the lake basin was telling his team that he was going to operate the pulley system to pull up the logs, Carter guessed. He sure hoped so, anyway.
He knew the next minute or so was critical to the success of his hastily formed plan. He reached out and swiped an arm around the SCUBA tank, knocking it over. Then he dragged it toward him by the regulator hose. He knew this wasn’t a good thing to do as it could possibly break the regulator or dislodge the seal where the regulator attaches to the tank’s valve. With seconds to act, he had to take that chance; there was no time to employ proper tank carry methods. He also had to try and be as quiet as possible with the Treasure, Inc. man almost to the top of the lake basin, but hopefully his own footsteps and labored breathing as he hiked up the steep grade, near-vertical at the top, would prevent him from noticing the dragging noise.
Carter dragged the tank until it was close enough to him to get his hand around the K-valve and then pull it by that. When he had it next to his body he looked back down the slope from his prone position, hunched into a copse of weed-like brambles. What if he comes straight up this way? The drop-off at the lip of the lake basin was steep here, almost vertical for about six feet, so Carter had assumed he’d take a different way up. But he was almost to it and still heading straight for it. What if they’d rigged a rope ladder or something like that? But then he heard footsteps leading away from him, out of sight and below, and he knew that the lookout was going to walk laterally along the lip of the lake basin for some distance, probably until he was beneath the rope rig, and then climb out.
Jayden jogged over, wearing his backpack with both straps on, and slid on the ground up to Carter, pulling himself along on his elbows to make sure he stayed low. Carter tapped him on the shoulder, mouthed the words, “He’s right down there,” and pointed toward the rope rig setup at the top of the slope. Jayden turned his head that way and nodded that he understood. Carter pointed down over the edge of the lip, meaning, Let’s go. He started worming his way over there, belly on the ground, dragging the SCUBA tank with him.
Jayden tugged on his leg. The lookout was scrabbling up the final few feet of lip now, just beneath the rope rig.
Carter snapped his head around and repeated his gesture, pointing down below the lip. It was apparent to him that Jayden was confused. Why would they drop over the side into the lake basin when the other three Treasure, Inc. divers were about halfway up now, and would be able to see them. But Carter had a plan, and he had to trust that. He’d done it before and had lived to tell the tale.
But this was not looking good. The lookout man appeared up on the top of the slope, only about twenty feet to their right as they slid as silently as possible, while dragging a SCUB A rig, over the side of the precipice, sort of a cornice at the very top. In Carter’s mind, this was the riskiest part of his whole plan. There was no cover to be found on this vertical section, and meanwhile the other three members of the dive team, including Daedalus himself, were about halfway up from the lake. Carter could see them as a blurry rush as he fell down the cornice, dragged even faster by the weight of the SCUBA apparatus, Jayden close behind.
He also registered in that blurry rush his immediate objective. A comforting flash of white, comforting because he hoped it would be their cover. A thick snow bank that persisted in a groove or ravine all the way down to the lake. He hoped it was well-packed and wasn’t only a superficial layer that would collapse too much on contact. But other aggregations of snow he’d seen, such as in the much larger ravine they’d worked their way up in order to reach the top of the slope where the rope rig was set up, had snow banks he’d walked though and found them to be tightly packed. The kind that you wouldn’t want to fall into if they were very deep, because it was impossible to breathe inside them for long. People have been known to die of asphyxia after being covered in snow, not only children in collapsing snow forts, but also seasoned skiers after an avalanche where they survived the initial impact, but later suffocated because the snow wouldn’t support their weight enough to reach the air, nor was it sparse enough to have sufficient air spaces.
Carter wasn’t sure exactly how deep this snow bank was. It could be deeper than they would easily be able to get out of before they suffocated, he knew. But that’s why he’d brought along the SCUBA rig. He dragged it into position now and tapped Jayden on the ankle to get his attention. Then he handed him the “octopus,” the extra second stage regulator, or breathing mouthpiece, with an extra-long hose that was used in out-of-air emergencies to share air with another diver, or as a backup to the diver’s primary regulator. If Jayden had questions, he wisely refrained from asking them as he shoved the octopus between his teeth and plowed straight ahead and down next to Carter into the snowbank. From this place of concealment, they would be hidden from line-of-sight to Daedalus and his associates.
Carter took his first breath beneath the snow. He hadn’t had time to test the regulator. He tried to take a breath but nothing happened. Meanwhile, he and Jayden began sliding down the lake basin, deeper into the snow as they went. He tried pulling a breath again but with the same lack of results. He pictured the SCUBA rig standing there, already set up at the basin. Could it be an empty tank they’d already used and that’s why it was up there? The thought chilled him to the bone more thoroughly than did the snow that surrounded him. He stuck his feet down and could feel the rocky surface. It was there within reach, but he and Jayden were bouncing along too fast to be able to get purchase long enough to stop in one place and assess the situation. Or possibly to break their heads through the surface of the snow to snatch a quick breath if need be, risk of being spotted aside.
He pulled the regulator out of his mouth and tried a test breath in the snow itself, using his hands to clear away a pocket of air right in front of his mouth. It didn’t work. He got maybe the barest gulp of air, but that was followed by a slushee of ice down his throat that made him choke and cough as gravity jostled him along. He knew Jayden must be going through the same thing next to him, probably wondering why he had put them in this situation.
He forced his mind to think through the problem of why the tank wasn’t delivering air rather than on the risks and hopelessness of their predicament. He went back to his previous line of reasoning on the matter: what if the tank he’d grabbed was used and therefore empty? But as an experienced diver he knew that it was highly unusual for a diver — especially an experienced one, as this group must be in order to successfully recover heavy objects from the bottom of a semi-frozen high altitude lake — to breathe a tank completely dry. Leaving a reserve was a cardinal rule imprinted into every diver from their Basic Certification class onward. When the air pressure gauge reads 500 PSI (out of an initial 3,000), it was definitely time to begin your ascent, sometimes closer to 1,000 PSI if it was a deep dive or if a decompression stop was needed to avoid the dreaded “bends.”