My crew tugged on the yellow safety rope to which I was harnessed. I tugged back, our signal to let them know I was well. Calmly I breathed through the regulator, bubbles dancing away from my body. I turned to Gabe and flashed him a thumbs-up. He returned the gesture. His woe was for naught. We would host no slips or stumbles here. We had spent hundreds of hours training for this performance. Headache or not, I was ready.
The Five had strenuously objected when I announced Gabe would join me in the water, citing the same safety concerns he had. How many more years would it take me to eradicate the beliefs that society had drilled into them? How long until they understood they were all as capable of fearlessness as I was? In that regard, my mission had fizzled. The point of these performances was to inspire others, to make them believe they too could live a life sans fear. Perhaps I needed to rethink my approach.
A camera appeared above the hole. I lifted a hand but did not wave. I wanted to acknowledge my fans with a solemnity appropriate for the occasion. Our intention was to make a feature-length documentary this time, to expand my reach to as many souls as possible. The Five had suggested I record voice-overs for the film in which I would share my knowledge with the rabble. We would call it Madame Fearless Presents . . . Frozen. Hundreds of thousands, even millions, could absorb my teachings. I would revolutionize the psychological lives of the masses like Freud and Jung before me. I’d show my domineering old man once and for all how wrong he was.
I moved away from the hole and imagined The Five starting the stopwatch. I considered the inky water around me, could not quite grasp how dark it was down here, not when I knew the sky to be bursting blue overhead. Gabe aside, another living soul did not stir in these parts, although how could I be certain about that? At this moment some primordial creature might be rising from its slumber on the lake floor. Fangs and claws—remember those old bogeymen? I was a silly girl then, one who had no idea that the monster in the boat was much worse than anything that dwelled underneath it.
How many points would this challenge be worth, Sir?
Depends if you get it right.
This was nothing like Lake Minnich. This time I had a choice.
* * *
? ? ?
I HAD NOT expected invincibility to be quite so laborious. For the past hour I’d sensed I was breathing through an increasingly pinched straw, as though something were obstructing my hose. The regulator I’d chosen was a model not yet on the market but rigorously tested, I had been assured.
I felt a tug on my rope. I pulled back. I would continue to do so no matter how shallow my breathing became, no matter how tightly the chill wrapped itself around my bones. I would not return to land until the record had been beaten.
Did the achievement even count if it didn’t hurt to get there?
Time slowed to the drip of a leaky faucet. Over and over I recited my mantra. Through the hourglass more sand passed. I closed my eyes and breathed in for four seconds, ignoring the obstruction of my airflow, out for four seconds. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.
When I felt a pat on the arm, my eyes flew open. Gabe pointed toward the ice, signaling he was going to get out. I gave him a thumbs-up. I was surprised and more than a little proud that he had lasted this long. I began another four-second breath: in, two—
I sputtered as water leaked into my mouthpiece. I blew the liquid out before it darted down my trachea and into my lungs.
The rope strained.
I tried to breathe deeply again. This time I inhaled a dull chunk of ice, sending me into a coughing fit. Gabe turned to check on me, stopping his ascent. I pressed the purge button. Still I had trouble breathing. My regulator must have frozen. Those pricks at ThermoKline had sworn their equipment would hold up in water colder than this. In hundreds of practice dives, not once had this malfunction occurred.
The Five heaved the rope a second time.
I resolved to move on to the backup regulator, as we had prepared for worst-case scenarios. I peered down but couldn’t find the neon yellow hose. Gabe slowly made his way back toward me.
The Five jerked a third time. I cursed their neediness. Clearly I was occupied with the task of saving my own life. Could they not be brave for five minutes of their sorry existence?
Finally, with Gabe’s help, I located the backup mouthpiece, which had curled itself around my neck. I tried to untwist it, but my fingers were clumsy in the thick gloves. I panicked at the thought that I might drown down here blundering like an imbecile. It has been well documented that when humans are cold, they become less sensible, which is the only way I can explain my next action.