Nick did as he was told, he felt the slight weight of the oxygen tank behind him as he strapped the inflatable vest over his back and chest. In addition to the air gauge, there was another tube with a second mouthpiece dangling along his side. “What’s this?”
“That’s the octopus, your reserve regulator in case the first one fails.”
“Good to know,” Nick said as he placed his fingers on what looked like a pair of buttons on the side of the buoyancy compensator device. “What’s this?”
“Those are for inflating or deflating your vest, mate. You won’t need it so I suggest you keep your hands off of those.”
“Okay.”
Quentin held his flashlight towards the tunnel. There was lots of assorted trash floating near the lip of the passage. “You’ll need to clear that stuff away. Try to remember the length of the hole as you make your way in so you’ll know exactly how long it will take to come back if you need another tank.”
Nick’s thoughts were so jumbled that the other man’s words just passed through one ear and out the other. He merely nodded, even though he knew he would forget.
52
IT TOOK NICK DIRKSE a few minutes to clear most of the floating debris from the lip of the flooded tunnel. Placing the dive mask over his eyes, he tightened the rubber straps, making sure it had a snug fit. He stared down at the blackened water and wondered if he would ever come back up again.
Quentin Everett’s voice was behind him. “Good luck, mate.”
Nick turned to look at the other man. “How about if I find some rope and tie it around me so I can pull my way back here if I need to?”
Quentin shook his head. “Not a good idea. You might end up entangling yourself down there with all the trash that’s in the water. I suggest you stow the reserve regulator and your air gauge into the pockets of your BCD so they don’t get caught.”
Frowning, Nick did as he was told. He then bent down and tried to look underwater using the dive mask. As expected, the brackish liquid was so filled with muck that he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face.
Pulling his head back up the air-filled part of the room, Nick couldn’t help but be disgusted. “I can’t see a thing.”
“I know,” Quentin said softly. “You can do it though. Good luck.”
Gathering up what little courage he had, Nick placed the regulator into his mouth before dunking his head underneath the liquid surface again. The device worked as intended, and he had no problem breathing underwater now. Using his hands, he felt the roof of the tunnel and pushed himself lower before moving forward.
The water around him was pitch black, and he couldn’t even see the glow from the flashlight attached to his wrist, but he kept the device turned on anyway, hoping that the opaque muck would clear up at some point. All he could hear was his breathing as the air pushed coarsely through the regulator, and he could feel the exhaling bubbles rushing out from the sides of the mouthpiece.
Nick alternated the use of his hands while slowly moving forward. He stayed along the right side of the tunnel since Quentin had told him the accessway would be there. Nick mostly used his right hand to feel the wall, while his left arm was held forward, occasionally pushing aside the unidentified obstacles that would suddenly appear in his way.
His fear of drowning gradually began to subside as he got comfortable using the regulator. Scuba diving seems like fun, he thought. Pity I can’t see anything.
Nick continued to make his way forward. The buoyancy compensator vest had some weights attached to it, and it seemed he was making progress while moving through the thick, liquid. I should be halfway down the tunnel by now.
The dive mask didn’t fit his face very well, and it started leaking saltwater back into his eyes. It didn’t matter though, since all he could see was inky blackness in front of him.
Minutes passed, and he wasn’t sure how far down the corridor he’d gotten. Remembering what Quentin had told him, Nick stopped and fumbled through the vest pockets of his BCD, hoping to pull out the air gauge so he could check how much oxygen he had left in the tank. When his right hand felt the flat, circular shape of the indicator, he suddenly realized he had no way of seeing it.
Sudden panic made him shudder, and his breathing became erratic, spewing far more bubbles past his cheeks. How could he check his oxygen supply down here? Would he have to turn around and go back?
No, he thought. There’s gotta be a way. Think!
Then it struck him. An idea so crazy it just might work. Nick bent over slightly and pressed the front of the air gauge onto the glass of his dive mask while bringing the hand tied with the flashlight in closer. Sure enough, the stark meter reading was finally visible right in front of his face. 300 bars remaining.
Sighing with relief, Nick let the gauge dangle away as more air bubbles spewed from his mouthpiece. He still had enough air to keep going.
Resuming his task, he once again began feeling the nearby wall, hoping to sense an opening somewhere near the floor. I hope I didn’t go past it somehow.
He was about to turn around and go back along the section of the tunnel he had already passed when his right hand felt a gap in the wall. This must be it.
Using both hands, he started feeling the opening’s dimensions. It seemed to be the size of a manhole, just big enough for him to squeeze through. Okay, now for the hard part.
Nick poked his head through the opening, and he was just about to pull the rest of his body inside when he suddenly felt a bump on his shoulders, the straps of the BCD vest suddenly straining backwards. He jerked his head up in alarm, and banged the top of his skull against the upper edges of the smaller maintenance tunnel, temporarily stunning himself.
His moans echoed through the regulator while he rubbed the top of his head. Feeling his shoulders, Nick realized that the oxygen tank on his back had bumped the edges of the submerged accessway and got stuck, preventing him from going deeper into the hole. Jesus Christ, he thought. I can’t do anything right. And the top of my head hurts like somebody dropped a steel anvil on it.
Inching his chest downwards until he felt it touch the bottom of the accessway, Nick tried again. He could sense the back of the oxygen tank scraping along the top of the hole, but it was clear he was finally getting through. He began to alternately use his hands to pull himself deeper into the shaft and feel his way forward.
Nick had forgotten to ask how deep the maintenance accessway would go, and the rising dread at the back of his mind once again told him to push himself backwards, get out of the hole and just give up.
He shook his head slowly, trying to quell the rising panic within himself. No, I have to go on. I’m doing this for Kim, and Cathy, and Scotty. It can’t be much farther.
Nick’s breathing slowly went back to normal as he mentally composed himself. Less than a minute later, he began to creep forward again. I ought to be close by now.
Quentin had told him the activator was a valve of some sort, and all he had to do was to reach it and turn the device. With luck the emergency generator would kick in and activate the pumps to drain the water out of the flooded areas of the complex.
The muck in front of him had become thicker, and every time he inched forward it became more of an effort. Nick would reach out and grab handholds of something semi-solid before casting it aside and then pulling himself ahead. Maybe all the foodstuffs got swept into here when it flooded, and now it’s clogging everything up, he thought