Devil's Rock - Chris Speyer [9]
Go! Move! Get out! The same fear that told his mind he must act kept his crouching body frozen in panic. An age seemed to pass before the messages from his desperate brain reached his cramped muscles. Slowly he straightened. Pain from his shoulder shot down his arm. His heavy legs clumsily obeyed the command to walk and he stumbled into the passage and down the rough-hewn steps.
At the second set of steps he stopped. The torchlight flashed back at him off the surface of a dark sheet of moving water. Trapped! The sea had entered the tunnel and flooded the first section. How had this happened?
Only then did Zaki think to look at his watch. Ten fifteen! He’d been in the cave for over four hours. How? How? He must have been unconscious – fallen asleep – but, four hours?
How far would the water rise? He was pretty certain that it never reached the main chamber. At worst he could wait until the tide went down again: six, maybe seven hours; a long time, but there was plenty of air. Then he thought of his father. His father would be mad with worry. Would have no idea where he was. What would he be doing now? What would he say when he found out what he had done? And Michael? What would Michael think? They’d be searching for him for sure.
Should he shout? Try to let them know that he was OK?
‘Dad!’
‘Dad!’ I’m in here!’
‘I’m in here!’
‘I’m in a cave!’
His voice rang back off the cave walls. They’d never hear him through the water and rocks.
Would his father have called the coastguard on the radio? No. He couldn’t. No VHF reception in the estuary.
How could he have been so stupid?!
Now shame pushed fear aside.
He needed to think. Calm down. Get a grip.
Zaki turned off the torch to save the batteries, put it in his pocket and sat on the top step, his right hand cupped over his aching left shoulder. With the torch off, he could see that the water was not dark but glowed a greeny-blue. Sunlight outside was reflecting off the sandy bottom and filtering through the water into the cave. For a moment he was mesmerised by the flickering turquoise light that played across the cave walls.
‘It’s not that deep,’ he told himself. ‘I could dive down and swim out.’
But how much of the tunnel was flooded? How far were these first steps from the entrance? He couldn’t remember. It was as though days, rather than hours, had passed since he stepped into the cave.
‘The longer I sit here, the deeper the water will get.’
Zaki forced himself to his feet and started down the steps into the water. It was cold and, as it crept up his bare legs, he began to shiver, but he kept going. Soon the water was up to his chest. A few more steps and he would be swimming. He pushed off from the bottom and floated out into the luminous water. He swam with a lopsided breaststroke, unable to do more than paddle with his left arm. The further he went the smaller the distance between the water and the cave ceiling became until, treading water, there was just room to keep his nose and mouth above the surface in the narrow air-gap. Rising panic and the chill of the water constricted his chest, reducing every intake of breath to a short gasp. His fleece was heavy and waterlogged, dragging him down – he should have taken it off. Go back? He saw again his father’s anxious face. Dive. He had to dive. Three breaths, then go. Stay down as long as possible. Just hope it’s not too far.
Zaki fought to fill his lungs with air. It was as though his body, knowing the risk was too great, was refusing to cooperate. With the third breath, he plunged down, kicked up with his legs and struck out along the flooded tunnel. He was swimming towards the sunlight. Keep going – he just had to keep going. Now his lungs, that had refused air when it was available, were desperate for breath.