The Sky Beneath Her(56)

Nathan was the first in the water. He cleared his mask and resettled it on his face. The divers moved to the side of the boat. One by one they tipped backward into the water.

The last guy on the dive platform, Tony, sat facing backward. When he hesitated, I moved beside him. “Take a few deep breaths.”

Nodding, he filled his lungs.

“Put your hand on your mask,” I said. “Just tip right back into the water.”

“I’ve done this before.” An apology wove around the words. “It shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“I get it.” I could sniff out fear with the best of them. “If you don’t want to dive, you don’t have to.”

He looked at me, his jaw setting. “I can do this.”

“I know you can.” According to my therapist, our brains responded well to confident statements. I still wasn’t sure about that, but it cost nothing to think good thoughts.

Tony nodded and drew in a breath. He leaned back and toppled. He hit the water hard. His arms flailed for a moment. My heart pounded. I had no idea what it would take to jump in and pull him out. He could very well drag me under. My vision narrowed to a thin tunnel. I toed off my shoes.

The waters lapped and splashed against the boat, a reminder it could close the distance between us in a blink.

I edged toward the lip of the dive platform. Water splattered.

Before I could jump in, Nathan was at Tony’s side and grabbed Tony’s tanks. He easily righted him. Tony stopped fighting, produced a thumbs-up, and dove under the water.

Nathan looked up at me. “You okay?”

I jabbed up my thumb. “Terrific.”

And in the next instant, he vanished below the surface.





Chapter Twenty


Tula





Friday, June 12, 2026, 8:15 a.m.


I clung to the edge of the boat and watched the waters churn around me. Below the surface, I saw the faint outline of the divers before they vanished completely into the dark. When Mom and I had dived in the Pacific and the Caribbean, the waters were crystal clear and the visibility sharp. But in the Atlantic, visibility was lower, and a few feet below the surface, a person simply vanished.

The last time I’d seen Mom, we were right here, below the surface at the Oceanus site. I’d been nervous those last few minutes. There was no Nathan, and Mom was über focused on the ship’s hull. She’d looked so calm as she studied the jagged torn metal where the torpedo had ripped into the hull.

I checked my dive computer, watching my oxygen dip. Mom burned through oxygen faster than me, so her gauge had to be much lower. Our window to rise was closing fast. Mom had insisted this would be a quick trip.

I tapped Mom on the shoulder, and she looked at me with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. She’d told me time and again on the surface that she never wanted me entering any wreck. And yet here she was, ready to vanish into the twisted gash.

I held up my dive watch, indicating my air was running low. She held up five fingers, a sign she was five minutes behind me. I didn’t want to leave her but deferred to her judgment. And so, I swam to the choppy surface.

The waves were hitting the side of the rocking boat hard. A wave knocked me off the ladder, forcing me to regrip the cool metal and pull myself up. It took all my strength to pull myself onto the boat. When I dropped my tanks, I stumbled to the side of the boat and searched for signs of Mom. I checked my watch. She had two more minutes. I strapped on my life vest.

Two minutes turned to five and then to ten. Mom would be furious if I called in a Mayday, but I didn’t care. I reached for the radio.

“This is Tula Cassidy. I’m on the boat Voyager, and I’m almost three miles due east of Southern Shores above the Oceanus wreck.”

“Voyager, confirm your location.”

I repeated my location.

“Ten-four. A helicopter has been dispatched.”

The coast guard was in Elizabeth City, North Carolina, which was at least an hour drive. By helicopter, I estimated the trip would take twenty minutes.

I ran on the rolling deck and clung to the side. I really expected to see Mom surfacing and pulling herself back onto the boat. She always cut it close, but she didn’t know the weather had turned. Getting to shore before the storm would be tight, but we’d make it.

Fat raindrops fell. At first the drips were slow and steady, but they quickly picked up their pace. Mother Nature had turned on the tap and opened the sky.

Seven years later, anxiety still scratched my insides as I watched the calm waters. The weather bureau wasn’t predicting rain. But Mother Nature laughed when humans tried to predict her moods.

I do what I want, the waters whispered.

Now waves rolled against the side of the Intrepid. With each passing second, old fears grew stronger. The ocean had large monster muscles and was always ready to flex them. A wave crashed hard against the side of the boat, and I stumbled.

I blinked and shook off the memory.

A head bobbed to the surface. Tony swam toward the boat’s dive platform. He grabbed the metal, and I could see the stress tightening his face.

I checked my watch. He’d been under the water twenty minutes. I leaned down and unhooked his harness, and the tanks slid off. I dragged them onto the dive platform. Lighter, Tony climbed onto the boat.

“Everything okay?” I asked.