Steven James - The Rook

As he swung the knife at me again, I twisted to the side, flipped the belt around the blade and the handle, cinched it tight. Now I had control of his arm and the knife.

“Have it your way,” I said.

Shock swept across his face. I clenched the belt and rolled toward the water, pulling him with me. At the ledge, I let go of the belt and let the momentum launch him into the Seven Deadly Seas.

Melice tried to pull himself out of the water, but the blood from his hands had caught the attention of half a dozen hammerheads.

The largest shark curled toward him, rolled its eyes back, and before I could even consider trying to drag Melice onto the deck to cuff him, the shark used its ampullae of Lorenzini to locate its prey and then sank its ragged teeth into Melice’s soft abdomen and dragged him under the water.

A burst of air and frothy blood came churning to the surface.

Then the shark bolted, taking Melice deep into the Seven Deadly Seas tank, where a frenzy of other sharks were waiting to be fed.

I turned away so I wouldn’t have to watch.

Creighton Melice finally got his wish. He was no longer trapped in a painless hell.

Lien-hua. You have to save Lien-hua.

I stood and then lurched toward the husbandry area. The acclimation pool lay ten meters away and was nearly filled by now.

There was no time to go looking for the release valve, and I knew the air tanks were too far away for me to get to them in time.

I would need to get air to her myself.

With the number of people in the club, Tessa couldn’t get to an exit door, so she headed for the wall and the next best thing.

A fire alarm.

The water was calmer now, as Lien-hua tried to relax and use less precious oxygen. Blood seeped out of the circular cut around the bottom of the shackle and drifted lazily up toward her face.

Her body swayed in the water.

Without air, she knew what was going to happen next. In a few moments her heart would stop beating and her blood would stop flowing and her awareness would flicker and fade and then within three or four minutes, her brain would join the rest of her body in death.

She knew these things, realized them in one tightly packed moment.

She gazed up through the water.

The surface was out of reach.

Forever out of reach.

As the last dribbles of air ascended from Lien-hua’s mouth, her lips formed one final word. The only word that mattered to her anymore.

Pat.

Then, in the final drifting darkness, she saw someone dive into the water and Lien-hua Jiang realized she could still move her fingers, so she did. I swam to her. Desperately. Frantically.

She’d stopped struggling against the chain. With my hand on her shoulder, I pulled myself to her face and saw her blink. Yes, she’s conscious. I pressed my lips against hers and gave her all my air, then I swam to the surface for more.

Having gotten her some oxygen, I’d bought her some time.

Good, good.

Back to her. I passed her more air. Then up to the surface again.

I was swimming too slowly, though, with my leg dragging me down.

You can do this. You can save her.

I gave her my air once again, my lungs burning. But I wasn’t getting her enough oxygen. I knew I wasn’t. Not quickly enough.

Then to the surface.

On my fourth trip down, I saw she was moving her fingers. Sign language. Three letters. Signing, what was she signing? She was weak, the letters indistinct.

I gave her air, then reached for her hand, felt her fingers, closed my eyes. Floated beside her. Remembered. Remembered.

D… A… E… D… Was she mixed up? Was she signing

“dead”? Why would she sign “dead”?… D… A… and then her fingers stopped moving. Her mouth drifted open, a final bubble of air escaped, and though I shook her and shook her, she didn’t respond. Unconscious. Unresponsive.

No more time. I had to get her out of the water and I had to do it now.

I swam to the surface, gulped more air, then swam down and tried to pull the chain free, but I couldn’t do it. There wasn’t time to pick the lock.

Wait. The gun.

With my air almost gone, I grabbed the SIG off the bottom of the pool, took aim at the chain and fired-a deafening noise-but underwater the velocity wasn’t enough to break the link I’d aimed at. I emptied the magazine, but the chain was too thick.

My ears ringing, I dropped the useless SIG, then tugged at the grate until I was completely out of air. But it did no good. The chain held.

I kicked to the surface, and as my head broke through the water I saw the track high above the pool and the cable hanging from it.

And I knew at last how I could get Lien-hua free. I just didn’t know if I could do it fast enough.

Tessa had made it to the fire alarm, but not to a door.

At first no one in the club seemed to notice the blare of the alarm or the strobing emergency lights. Maybe they thought it was part of the show. Then she saw Riker pushing his way through the crowd.

His eyes found her. She tried to cut through the mass of people, to a door. Couldn’t make it.

Suddenly the room lights came on, and people were yelling and shoving toward the doors, pulled by the unstoppable force of panic.

But there weren’t enough doors. Tessa stayed pressed flat against the wall, and the wave of people tugged Riker away from her. But now she wasn’t thinking so much about him but instead about how if anyone got trampled in the mad herd of people it would be her fault.

Now out of the water, I smashed my hand against the release button for the cable, grabbed the metal hook attached to the end, yanked on it to make sure the cable was loose, and dove into the pool. If this cable could lift a thousand pound shark, it could pull up a metal drain.

Lien-hua’s limp and unconscious body floated beside me, her face pale. Her eyes open. Sightless. Unblinking.

Two minutes. Maybe two minutes left. I attached the cable’s hook to the lowest link in the chain, pushed off the bottom, swam to the surface. I scrambled out of the water and over to the hydraulic control board. Pulled down on the lever and heard the motor engage.

The gunshot wound in my leg roared with pain, but I ignored it.

Come on. Come on.

As the motor began to whir and the cable started wrapping around the carriage drum, I grabbed the phone on the wall, called 911, and told dispatch there’d been a drowning at the Sherrod Aquarium-but that was all I had time to say because then the cable tightened and I heard a muffled crack as it pulled the entire drain loose from the bottom of the pool.

I stopped the crank, jumped into the water, unhooked the cable, and, cradling Lien-hua’s body, I swam to the pool’s side as best I could with my useless leg. I knew there was a backboard hanging on the wall, but I didn’t think I could have used it by myself, so I decided to try and lift her on my own.

But with the weight of the drain that was still chained to her ankle, it was all I could do to hold on to the edge of the pool while supporting her limp body. Even though I was furiously kicking and lifting, I failed twice to slide her body over the lip of the pool and onto the deck. Finally, with one more desperate try, I succeeded.

Clambering out of the water, I knelt beside her and saw her face, blank and cold, the color of death already falling across her lips.

No, no, no.

I shook her, yelled her name, shook her some more, yelled for her to wake up, to be OK, but she was unresponsive. Her head lolled to the side. Her bluish tongue visible, her face ashen from lack of oxygen. I shook her again, still unresponsive.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

The CPR training I’d received as a raft guide and later reviewed as a federal agent took over, and I tilted her head back and lifted her chin to open her airway. I felt for her breath on my cheek, watched her chest to see if it would rise. No breath. I gave her two breaths, two good strong breaths, then felt for a pulse.