“Everybody ten-four?” Ki Soo’s voice sounded in the receiver pressed against the bone of my skull.
“Ten-four,” I spoke into the mouthpiece and tried to relax as I slowly kicked barely below the surface.
“You’re on the hose?” It was Jerod who spoke this time.
“I’ve got my hands on it now.” It seemed oddly taut, and I was careful to disturb it as little as possible.
“Keep following it down. Maybe thirty feet. He should be floating right above the bottom.”
I began my descent, pausing at intervals to equalize the pressure in my ears as I tried not to panic. I could not see.
My heart was pounding as I tried to will myself to relax and take deep breaths. For a moment I stopped and floated as I shut my eyes and slowly breathed. I resumed following the hose down and panic seized me again when a thick rusting cable suddenly materialized in front of me.
I tried to get under it, but I could not see where it was coming from or going to, and I was really more buoyant than I wanted to be and could have used more weight in my belt or the pockets of my BC. The cable got me from the rear, clipping my K-valve hard. I felt my regulator tug as if someone were grabbing it from behind, and the loosened tank began to slide down my back, pulling me with it. Ripping open the Velcro straps of my BC, I quickly worked my way out of it as I tried to block out everything except the procedure I had been trained to do.
“Everything ten-four?” Ki Soo’s voice sounded in my mask.
“Technical problem,” I said.
I maneuvered the tank between my legs so I could float on it as if I were riding a rocket in cold, murky space. I readjusted straps and fought off fear.
“Need help?”
“Negative. Watch for cables,” I said.
“You gotta watch for anything,” his voice came back.
It entered my mind that there were many ways to die down here as I slipped my arms inside the BC. Rolling over on my back, I snugly strapped myself in.
“Everything ten-four?” Ki Soo’s voice sounded again.
“Ten-four. You’re breaking up.”
“Too much interference. All these big tubs. We’re coming down behind you. Do you want us closer?”
“Not yet,” I said.
They were maintaining a prudent distance because they knew I wanted to see the body without distraction or interference. We did not need to get in each other’s way.
Slowly, I dropped deeper, and closer to the bottom, I realized the hose must be snagged, explaining why it was so taut. I was not sure which way to move, and tried going several feet to my left, where something brushed against me. I turned and met the dead man face to face, his body bumping and nudging as I involuntarily jerked away. Languidly, he twisted and drifted on the end of his tether, rubber-sheathed arms out like a sleepwalker’s as my motion pulled him after me.
I let him drift close, and he nudged and bumped some more, but now I was not afraid because I was no longer surprised. It was as if he were trying to get my attention or wanted to dance with me through the hellish darkness of the river that had claimed him. I maintained neutral buoyancy, barely moving my fins for I did not want to stir up the bottom or cut myself on rusting shipyard debris.
“I’ve got him. Or maybe I should say he got me.” I depressed the push-to-talk button. “Can you copy?”
“Barely. We’re maybe ten feet above you. Holding.”
“Hold a few minutes more. Then we’ll get him out.”
I tried my flashlight one last time, just in case, but it still proved useless, and I realized I would have to see this scene with my hands. Tucking the light back in my BC, I held my computer console almost against my mask. I could barely make out that my depth was almost thirty feet and I had more than half a tank of air. I began to hover in the dead man’s face, and through the murkiness could make out only the vague shape of features and hair that had floated free of his hood.