James Tabor - The Deep Zone

“But, Dr. Bowman, I might have a husband.”

“Nope. You don’t.” His smile was too satisfied for her liking.

“How would you know?”

“Did you forget what Lathrop said about us?”

Unmarried, live alone, no significant others, and have no children . “I had forgotten that. It works both ways, doesn’t it?”

He understood. “Sure does.”

Without thinking, she said, “That surprises me. About you, I mean.”

Without hesitating, he said, “Don’t misunderstand this. But it doesn’t surprise me. About you.”

It felt like something in what he had just said should offend her, but she wasn’t sure what. “Why not?”

“You’re not the most approachable woman I’ve ever met, Hallie. I would imagine not many men have the confidence to storm those walls.”

Storm those walls . She wasn’t offended. It was hard to be offended by the truth.

She shrugged. “Not many men do. Oh, they try, but—too tall, too assertive, too many degrees, too…” She looked for the right word.

“Detached?”

She nodded. But Hallie did not feel detached just then, and she knew her eyes showed it.

“Some might put all those in the plus column.”

She waited, wanting to see what would happen, what he sensed. Many men’s brains, she had found, dropped into their crotches at moments like this. But for her it was as though a sphere of the thinnest crystal floated between them. A crude movement would shatter it, and such a thing, once lost, could not be retrieved.

Bowman made no move to kiss or grope. He just stood there, his head cocked slightly to one side, a hint of smile flickering on his face. He looked at her from beneath his eyebrows. She realized he was waiting to see what she was going to do.

She pulled off her helmet and, standing on tiptoe, which she rarely had to do for this purpose, kissed him lightly on the cheek. He tasted of salt and mineral-tinged cave water. After she kissed him there, she stepped back, smiling like an imp, waiting to see what would happen. He picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips.

She watched him do that, then stood there looking into his eyes. He looked straight back, and for just an instant she saw a flash of pain; then it was gone, his eyes softening again.

She spoke first. “I guess that wasn’t very professional.”

“I think it was—” Distracted by something, he looked away from her. “Light coming.”

“God damn ,” she said.

“Amen.”

They watched Arguello rise dripping from the sump. He handed his pack up to Hallie, and Bowman hoisted him onto the cave floor with not much more difficulty than he had exhibited in lifting her. Shivering, pale, Arguello took off his rebreather.

“Piece of p-pie.” His voice shook.

“Piece of cake .” She patted him on the shoulder.

Arguello grimaced. “Yes. Cake. Of course. I knew that.”

“No problems, then?” Bowman was watching Arguello as he had watched Hallie.

“Not really. I have dived, of course, but not much in visibility so low, and once I almost lost the guideline. But I got him back quickly.” Arguello’s English was excellent, but Hallie understood that the stress of the dive was scrambling his grammar. “It was colder than I had thought it might be.” Arguello, whippet-thin, had not an ounce of extra body fat.

“Maybe I’ll brew up some hot tea for everybody,” Bowman said. “We could all use a bracer.”

“Let me do that. You pay attention to the divers.” Hallie went to a flat-topped rock nearby, set up one of the little mountaineering stoves they were carrying, and began heating water in an aluminum pot. In the cave, the small stove’s hissing formed a steady high note over the wind and the flowing water’s bass lines. The burner’s circle of flame under the pot cast a sapphire glow.

Before the water boiled, Al Cahner surfaced in the pool, splashed around, and waded to the edge. Arguello took his pack and Bowman reached down to lift him out. They locked hands and Bowman heaved, and Hallie was surprised to hear him grunt with the effort.

“You’re heavier than you look,” he said to Cahner.

For a second, Cahner just stared. Then, pulling off his rebreather unit, he smiled and said, “Maybe I absorbed some water. Like a sponge?” Bowman chuckled and Cahner continued: “Well, that was really something. I mean, I have done some serious scuba diving, but that , my friends, was… extraordinary.”

“Did your rebreather work okay?” Bowman asked.

“Oh, yes, fine. I loved the heads-up display. Never used one like that before.”

“Tea’s almost ready,” Hallie called.

“In my pack you’ll find a bit of medicinal,” Bowman said, still standing with Cahner. “I’d say we could all do with a tot. It’s in a red flask.”

She went to his pack, opened it, and found the flask. Back at the boulder table, she poured a good dollop of liquor into each metal mug of tea, stirred in sugar and a little powdered lemonade, and carried three over to the men, who were standing beside the sump awaiting Haight’s arrival.

“Here you go. Service with a smile.”

“ Thank you.” Cahner blew on the hot liquid, sipped gingerly, his eyes going wide. “Whooo. Rum.”

Arguello took a mug, but Bowman declined the third. “Why don’t you have that one?” he told Hallie.

“There’s more back there.”

“He should have been here by now.” Bowman was watching the surface of the lake.

“Haight? No worries about him. He’s probably the most experienced cave diver among us.” But she understood that Bowman had refused the rum-laced tea in case he might have to dive again. She went ahead and sampled the spiked tea herself. It exploded in her mouth, seared her tongue, and burned all the way down to her stomach. Maybe the best drink she had ever tasted.

“Whew. That’s some rum.”

“One hundred eighty proof,” Bowman said. “Real Navy grog.”

“If I’d known that, I’d have been a bit lighter with the pours.”

“It’s absolutely bracing.” Cahner, sipping gingerly. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

Bowman was looking at his watch. “By my reckoning, he’s almost ten minutes overdue.”

“Bowman, really, he’s…” Her reassurance faded. In fact, she, too, was becoming concerned about Haight.

“I know his experience. But it makes his absence more troubling.”

That, she had to admit, was true. Still, it had been a relatively straightforward dive, if you could ever say that about a cave dive. Tight passage and poor visibility, sure, but Haight would have dealt with worse many times.

Bowman picked up his rebreather. “I’m going back. I want all of you to stay here. If I don’t return, you are not to come looking for me. Hallie will become the mission leader.”

“Bowman.” Hallie stepped forward. “I’m coming. You should have a buddy.”

“Not in a cave rescue. Or recovery. Protocol for those is solo. Two divers doubles the likelihood of problems. You know that.”

She did. He was right, and she backed off.

“Is everyone clear?” Bowman’s voice was sharper.

Each of them voiced acknowledgment. But Arguello held up a hand. “I understand the mission-critical aspect of what you just described. But I have an unpleasant question. If you do not return, it will presumably be because you have drowned in the tunnel. If that is the case, how will we make the return passage?”

“You will have to pull me out. Ron, too, if it comes to that. Clear?”

They acknowledged the instruction. Bowman geared up and got into the water. They watched him sink beneath the surface, his helmet lights dimming and disappearing quickly as he retraced the route. Hallie felt part of her heart sinking as well.