Wait for the waters to subside? That would work. If they subsided fast enough, before the five of them ran out of air or succumbed to cold. That was another problem. The temperature of the water. It was cold—not cold enough to produce hypothermia in an adult, not right away, but Julia’s smaller body put her at increased risk. And perhaps the skinny teenager as well. They had to get above the water.
The subway car lurched, distracting James. Not quite unseen, the drifting bodies lurched too.
James took an extra deep breath, then passed the mouthpiece back to the young man. He swam deeper into the car to investigate. His headlamp gave him some sense of the mess—one of the subway doors was jammed open—by a body. His internal conversation was deafening. Please, God, no children. No children, please—
God did not comply.
His beam illuminated an infant, blanket still unraveling around its lifeless body.
Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—fuck you, God—
James retreated, his mind already postulating what must have happened. A mother rushing home from work, finding the baby sitter gone, grabbing the baby, rushing for the subway, but somehow getting to the station just a few minutes too late, getting on the last car, hoping to escape. Dying in cold dark terror.
He bumped into a floating cat carrier, a furry body within, the handle still gripped by an elderly woman, her white hair floating around her head like a cloud.
Another body, this one in a dark uniform, the garbage truck driver? James didn’t want to know. It was too much. He was starting to feel the horror—and painful pressure in his chest.
The subway lurched again—and all the separate bodies echoed the movement, a synchronized ballet, all the different dancers bumping sideways to the same unheard music. The moment passed and they resumed their slow deliberate gavotte. No longer panicked, in death they had become patient observers. The staring jetsam of disaster, their faces now relaxed and lifeless, they hung almost motionless, a silent jury—their fatal judgment dark and unspoken.
The dive computer was certain now, it beeped in alarm—they were too deep. They had to start ascending now. And as quickly as possible. Too much water, too little air—the bends would be inevitable.
James swam back to the others, back to the air tanks, still struggling with the math of their survival. He couldn’t sort it out, it was the pressure, the paralyzing effects of it. His thoughts wandered in a drunken haze—and if he was having trouble, then the others were probably faring worse.
He had to focus. He hadn’t expected to do this, not this soon, but there wasn’t any alternative. He had to switch the tanks now, before he got fuzzier.
Switching tanks underwater wasn’t hard. He’d done it before, but he hadn’t done it a lot, so—after the necessary three breaths—he took his time to make sure he was doing it right. He had to focus carefully on each part of the process. As soon as the connections were secure, as soon as the pressure gauges were good, he relaxed a little. Hu and Julia had a little more time. He’d switch their tanks in fifteen minutes, maybe ten.
What had he been thinking about? He concentrated—oh yeah, options. Can’t swim for the surface, can’t wait for the waters to subside. Could they get higher?
Maybe! The Wiltern—wasn’t there something? He tried to remember. There was a subway entrance in the building, wasn’t there? Part of some expansion project? A pedestrian tunnel under the street, from the lobby to the platform. That would get them up a couple of floors—that is, if the building was still there and if it was tall enough to stick out of the water, then maybe they could get to one of the upper floors before they ran out of air. So many ifs—
But the numbers didn’t leave any room for negotiation nor delays. They were too deep and they had too many bodies breathing too little air. But maybe—
Everything was maybe. James shared another three breaths, passed the mouthpiece back, then fumbled in his bag of gear until he found what he was looking for—a plastic panel and a grease pencil on a leash. Another three breaths of air, then he wrote frantically. “Get out now. Tunnel to Wiltern.”
He didn’t have time to write more. He wouldn’t have anyway. But when the waters started to recede, when the worst of the flood finally started to flow back to the sea, he worried that the pressure in the station would also reverse and the subway train would be sucked back into the tunnel, where no escape would be possible. He wasn’t sure about the physics, his mind wasn’t focusing that far, but he couldn’t chance it.
Three breaths, then he held the panel in the teen’s headlamp beam. The boy’s eyes were wide, bright in the gloom, he gave a thumbs-up response. James maneuvered himself over to Hu, held up the sign. Hu gave a thumbs-up too, then reached for the panel. He touched Julia’s shoulder. She opened her eyes and then squinted them almost shut—this muck hurt! Hu tapped her shoulder again, holding the sign in front of her, his lights pointed at it. She nodded. She was tired, she was scared, but she was determined. James admired her spirit. She gave him hope.
James took the sign back, turned back to his own tank for another three breaths, then to hold the sign for Julia’s mother to see. She was too frightened to respond with anything more than a half-nod of acknowledgment.
Another three breaths.
Stay focused, James told himself. One thing at a time.
Another tough decision. They were going to have to leave the bikes behind—and everything they’d so carefully packed. Abandoned. For a moment, he considered the impossible—could they carry any of this? None of them were wearing weight-belts, they had a buoyancy problem, they were all bobbing toward the roof of the subway car, the bikes might serve as ballast, and keep them from rising too fast—
No, it was too much to ask, too much effort. Not enough air. But at least, he and Hu had already transferred their most important belongings to their backpacks, they could take that much with them. Three more breaths. He waved to Hu, caught his attention, and pointed to his backpack. Hu nodded. He gave a double thumbs-up and checked his straps.
James turned back to the bikes and pulled the air tanks off the trailers, the ones they were using, and the last set of spares. Another three breaths and he gave the signal. He was in a small circle of light, fingers of illumination surrounded him. He gave a thumbs-up signal and the entire group began to move—Hu and Julia, the teen and Julia’s mother.
They worked their way to the jammed-open door of the subway and somehow he managed to push the bodies out of the way. Two? Three? He wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter. The doors stayed open, one small piece of good luck.
Three more breaths.
The subway car was tilted. A wedge of debris had been thrust under its rear wheels, raising it at a lopsided angle—it leaned away from the platform, its upper frame jammed against the outer wall of the tunnel. The end of the car was more than a foot above the platform, wheels caught on the edge of it. Their door at the front of the car was almost a foot above the platform, and angled upward. Without the water, it would have been a hard leap. Here, this deep, under this much pressure, gravity was almost irrelevant. If anything, they were going to have a hard time staying down.
Three more breaths.
James swam to Julia’s mom, patted her on the shoulder reassuringly, gave her a thumbs-up, then to the boy to reassure him as well—three more breaths—and then back to look at the pressure gauge on Hu’s tank.