them, obstructing their view. A crash pounded, then a screeching scrape along the bottom and the sides of the ship.
The ship was moving, sliding down the mountain.
Panic gripped Nick by the throat and constricted air to his lungs. He reached for Keith as falling debris hurled past them, but a board crashed down and knocked him back. Nick lost his grip on the rope. The ceiling descended toward him as the ship slipped down the mountain, propelling him farther away from Keith and the rope and tossing him around the sharp, heavy equipment in the ship.
He clipped his bag to his belt and braced himself against the wall, which was now the floor. He covered his head with his arms as items in the ship sailed around him. The chest they had just opened hurtled toward him and crashed into his shoulder. He fell back and hit a beam hard enough to whack his regulator from his mouth. His hand grazed the tubing, and he quickly stuffed the regulator back into his mouth. Without it, getting out of the boat wouldn’t matter.
Nick turned his attention back to finding Keith, but he was nowhere visible. He couldn’t even see the door where they had first entered. The dark space had become a storm of silt. He searched around the cabin and caught sight of Keith’s light. He was cramming more artifacts from the last box into his net. It was too full, and he signaled for Nick to help him.
But fear had frozen Nick in place, fear of Rán’s cold hands dragging him down into the dark folds of the ocean. Images of Matt graduating high school, playing soccer, and his last birthday flashed through his thoughts. An ache ballooned in his heart at the thought that he might never see him again. All Keith cared about was collecting his treasures. He wouldn’t be leaving anyone behind except his regret at not having scored as many valuables as he could.
The ship moaned, skidding deeper into the Pacific. The water grew cloudier until it was a viscous soup of muck and roving objects. The pressure in Nick’s ears escalated until a sharp burning stab pierced into his head. He lost sight of Keith again and the distant glow of his headlamp. An iron rod busted free of the wall and struck against his back. Thunder rolled over him as large pieces of furniture tumbled around. A bench rolled in his direction and slammed him against the wall. His headlamp broke and plunged him into total darkness. Something sharp cut into his side. His suit ripped and his torn flesh stung from the salt water. He kicked his left foot, struggling to escape, but his flipper stuck underneath the bench. He combed the room for Keith, but he was still nowhere visible. Keith had his valuables, and that was all that mattered to him.
A large board crashed beside him and shoved the bench just enough for Nick to free his left foot, but then the bag at his belt snagged on something. He jerked at it, not wanting to leave the valuables behind because unlike Keith, Matt needed them. He wriggled the bag some more until it slipped loose. Then, he swam along the wall in search of the rope, Keith, and the exit. The stinging cut in his side burned. Water swirled and pushed against him. It had turned so black and thick with debris, he could feel it through his gloved fingers.
The ship creaked under the weight of the Pacific and tossed him to the side again. He found an opening in the wall, the doorway to the captain’s quarters, but couldn’t locate the rope, and even if he did find it, it might not lead him to the exit anymore if the ship had tossed over on its side, blocking the hole in the hull. He needed to ascend and equalize before his eardrums popped or his heart exploded.
He ran his hands over the cylinder of a large pipe, and then remembered seeing it near the gap in the hull. A current of water streamed over him, pushing him up. He reached out, striving to grab a hold of the splintered side of the wooden ship, but his hands slipped through the water as the current pulled him away from the
The ship was moving, sliding down the mountain.
Panic gripped Nick by the throat and constricted air to his lungs. He reached for Keith as falling debris hurled past them, but a board crashed down and knocked him back. Nick lost his grip on the rope. The ceiling descended toward him as the ship slipped down the mountain, propelling him farther away from Keith and the rope and tossing him around the sharp, heavy equipment in the ship.
He clipped his bag to his belt and braced himself against the wall, which was now the floor. He covered his head with his arms as items in the ship sailed around him. The chest they had just opened hurtled toward him and crashed into his shoulder. He fell back and hit a beam hard enough to whack his regulator from his mouth. His hand grazed the tubing, and he quickly stuffed the regulator back into his mouth. Without it, getting out of the boat wouldn’t matter.
Nick turned his attention back to finding Keith, but he was nowhere visible. He couldn’t even see the door where they had first entered. The dark space had become a storm of silt. He searched around the cabin and caught sight of Keith’s light. He was cramming more artifacts from the last box into his net. It was too full, and he signaled for Nick to help him.
But fear had frozen Nick in place, fear of Rán’s cold hands dragging him down into the dark folds of the ocean. Images of Matt graduating high school, playing soccer, and his last birthday flashed through his thoughts. An ache ballooned in his heart at the thought that he might never see him again. All Keith cared about was collecting his treasures. He wouldn’t be leaving anyone behind except his regret at not having scored as many valuables as he could.
The ship moaned, skidding deeper into the Pacific. The water grew cloudier until it was a viscous soup of muck and roving objects. The pressure in Nick’s ears escalated until a sharp burning stab pierced into his head. He lost sight of Keith again and the distant glow of his headlamp. An iron rod busted free of the wall and struck against his back. Thunder rolled over him as large pieces of furniture tumbled around. A bench rolled in his direction and slammed him against the wall. His headlamp broke and plunged him into total darkness. Something sharp cut into his side. His suit ripped and his torn flesh stung from the salt water. He kicked his left foot, struggling to escape, but his flipper stuck underneath the bench. He combed the room for Keith, but he was still nowhere visible. Keith had his valuables, and that was all that mattered to him.
A large board crashed beside him and shoved the bench just enough for Nick to free his left foot, but then the bag at his belt snagged on something. He jerked at it, not wanting to leave the valuables behind because unlike Keith, Matt needed them. He wriggled the bag some more until it slipped loose. Then, he swam along the wall in search of the rope, Keith, and the exit. The stinging cut in his side burned. Water swirled and pushed against him. It had turned so black and thick with debris, he could feel it through his gloved fingers.
The ship creaked under the weight of the Pacific and tossed him to the side again. He found an opening in the wall, the doorway to the captain’s quarters, but couldn’t locate the rope, and even if he did find it, it might not lead him to the exit anymore if the ship had tossed over on its side, blocking the hole in the hull. He needed to ascend and equalize before his eardrums popped or his heart exploded.
He ran his hands over the cylinder of a large pipe, and then remembered seeing it near the gap in the hull. A current of water streamed over him, pushing him up. He reached out, striving to grab a hold of the splintered side of the wooden ship, but his hands slipped through the water as the current pulled him away from the
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