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It grew bigger by the second. In an explosion of bubbles, the yacht broke through the surface. Items that had been trapped in the wreck were liberated by the force of escaping water and they floated on the surface in a chaotic wave.
Only the top two levels of the yacht breached the surface, and the rest remained submerged, kept in position by the yellow airbags that bobbed on the surface like giant waggling thumbs. Tangled ropes, fragments of broken furniture, and scattered debris swirled in the water around them.
A dark shadow appeared ten feet below the dive deck, then another. A wave of relief washed through me.
Indiana and Old Smithy popped through to fresh air.
“Boy, am I glad to see you two,” I yelled over the compressor.
They spat their regulators out of their mouths as they swam toward me.
Indiana reached the handrail first.
“How did you go?” I asked.
“Give me a sec, ya impatient bastard.” She undid her buoyancy vest, and after she rolled out of it, I pulled the vest and air tank onto the deck.
She helped her father do the same.
“Turn off the compressor,” he barked at me.
I sprinted up the stairs and cut off the engine. The following silence hurt my ears.
When I returned to them, they both sat on the edge of the dive deck with their legs dangling in the water.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked.
“Water,” Indiana said.
“Beer,” Old Smithy added.
“Coming right up.” I sprinted up the stairs.
“Get him water, too,” Indiana yelled behind me.
I grabbed the drinks and two protein bars I’d brought with me. By the time I returned, they’d both stripped out of their wetsuits and were sitting down again. The black bikini Indiana wore was plain and understated. Her body, however . . . holy smokes, she was fit. She didn’t have an ounce of fat on her, and her arms, legs, and torso were toned to perfection.
Before I swallowed my tongue, I handed out the drinks and plucked the protein bars from my pockets. “Here you go.”
Indiana ripped open the packet with her teeth and took a big bite, but Old Smithy just scowled at his bar.
Although I understood her need for a break, I was certain her silence was an attempt to piss me off. She had no idea how long I could wait. Patience was one of my superpowers.
“You want more water?” I asked.
She squinted at me. “How’d you go with the gear?”
“No problems up here. Didn’t have to bash the compressor with the wrench once.”
She chuckled, and Old Smithy rolled his eyes. The scars on his back looked even worse in the blazing sunshine. It was hard to know if they’d happened at the same time or were from a lifetime of injuries.
After two months underwater, the top two levels of Chui’s yacht, bobbing in the shimmering sunshine, showed the unmistakable damage from prolonged submersion. The sleek, polished surfaces of the once glamorous luxury yacht didn’t gleam in the sunshine. They were dulled and coated with algae, barnacles, and marine growth. The outside walls were dotted with a tapestry of sea plants that clung to the various surfaces like the yacht had a disease.
Old Smithy flopped backward onto the deck and curled his arm over his face so his elbow was over his nose.
“Want me to find an umbrella or something?” I asked.
“I don’t need no fucking umbrella,” Smithy said.
