Fifteen Minutes of Air

Although Michael only had 15 minutes of oxygen left in his tank, he refused to return to the ship...

Jennifer half-floated nearby, unconscious beneath a heavy fall of debris from the sunken ship. She'd wanted to check out just one more room in their hunt for valuables. But they hadn't had time to check the room for safety because their oxygen levels were getting low. And of course that room would be the room with unstable walls.

He swam closer to her trapped leg, ignoring the incessant warning beep in his ear. He wouldn't leave her. She wasn't responding to his calls over the intercom, but obviously she was breathing, albeit shallowly - bubbles still rose from her equipment. But he had no idea how hurt she was. He investigated the debris with a close eye, hoping for some angle that he might take advantage of to lift and release her. But seeing anything in the murk was incredibly difficult. Silt had been stirred up in the original debris-fall, and he simply did not have time to wait for it to settle again.

Then he saw it, a slight darkening of the water above her leg. She was bleeding, the blood seeping out into the surrounding water. He instinctively looked up, seeking to divine how much water stood between them and the surface. Afraid of what might be lurking in that depth.

"Jenn! Jenn! Answer me!" he tried again, hoping against the futility of the situation she would wake and answer him. He did not believe he had the strength alone to move the debris, most likely needing her help for leverage. But she remained, annoyingly, motionless; her fins floating softly in the minor currents of the sea water.

One more circuit through what was left of the room and he checked his oxygen level again. He knew the risks. They were far enough below the surface they'd need at least ten minutes of air to ensure the proper procedural rise to the surface. They could do it faster, but at the risk of their lives. His tank showed eleven minutes of air left now. It was now or never.

Michael swam down to one of the longer pieces of rotten wood that lay in the heap atop Jennifer. He gaged, or in truth purely guessed, that by levering this one piece he could hopefully encourage the rest of the debris to fall aside, freeing her. He braced his flippers against the barnacled bottom of the room, shoved his shoulder beneath the wooden beam, and HEAVED.

The beam moved.

The beam, with its mountain of debris around it, began to slide. The small room filled with a cloud of silt and sand as the entire room seemed to give way. He swam out from under it, and yanked on Jennifer's torso as he swam, struggling to pull her free of it all. A few breathless moments passed. And then suddenly she was free, and they were floating away towards the still solid wall behind them.

He checked her leg, saw the blood still pumping slowly into the water, and frowned. What chance they could get to the surface safely with her still unconscious? He checked her oxygen level, made sure it read the same level as his own, then looked around for the exit still left in the room.

And then their world lurched.

The ship, which still mostly stood above them, shifted. The room they were in sat close to the sea floor, and its collapse and subsequent shifting had undoubtedly had its effect on the rest of the structure. He could hear it starting to creak and moan above them.

"Shit.. we gotta go. Come on, Jenn!"

He wrapped an arm around her middle, braced his legs against one wall, and shot towards the still open, but moving, doorway out of the room. Tight turns were increasingly difficult with having to hold onto her while each hallway shifted and tilted as the ship turned towards a new settling point. He could hear crashing as whole walls broke apart, moans as the timbers bent and crushed beneath their own weight.

Right, left, straight down this hallway, then left here... directions he had painstakingly memorized in his head as they made their way down into the bowels of the ship now streamed through his mind as the entire ship turned itself upside down. One more turn and they'd reach the large galley...

Blocked!! The way was blocked! Another crash of debris had totally blocked this passage, and now he had no idea where they were or how to reach the outside of the ship. He turned, navigating carefully back down the turning hallway. The beeping in his ear had gotten more frantic, warning him constantly he was running out of air. He knew, deep down, that his panic was only using up more oxygen, and yet he could do little to calm his nerves.

A loud splintering of wood echoed right above his head and he jerked from the force of the sound. The hallway above him shuddered, splintered, and finally broke apart. Murky open water pooled above.

Michael didn't think, but shot through the opening, dragging Jenn along with him. He swam with every bit of energy he still had, desperate to get away. And then there was no more ship. Only open water. And sharks.