Page 122 of Rescuing Mia

I glance at Ethan, who looks down into the depths. He signals to the rest of the team, and they all follow his gaze, their expressions shifting from relaxed to alert. My heart skips a beat as I try to understand what they’re seeing.

Rigel catches my eye and nods reassuringly, signaling for me to look down. I take a deep breath, brace myself, and dip my face back into the water. The clear blue stretches endlessly, but as my eyes adjust, I notice something different—a dark shape, faint but distinct, moving toward us from the depths.

At first, it’s just a shadow, a massive black shape emerging from the murkiness, but as it gets closer, its form becomes clearer. The sleek and silent submarine approaches from below. It’s both mesmerizing and intimidating, a silent leviathan making its way toward us.

A dark, imposing presence moving with deliberate grace, the submarine rises until it’s about forty feet below the surface. The vibrations resonate through my chest, blending with the rhythm of my heartbeat.

Ethan signals to Walt and Gabe. “You two, get down there and communicate with the sub. We’ll follow once the locker is open.”

Walt and Gabe give the thumbs-down signal and descend. I watch them go, knowing I’ll soon be doing the same. Anticipation tightens in my chest.

“We’re next. This is going to be a bit more intense.” Rigel turns to me, his expression calm but serious. “You’ll feel the pressure change as we go deeper. Just remember to clear your ears and keep breathing steadily.”

I nod, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

Down below, a hatch opens near Walt and Gabe. They signal to us on the surface, and it’s time once again to dive.

Rigel and Blake guide me as we begin our descent. The water presses in around us, the pressure increasing with every foot we go down.

My ears start to ache, and I remember Rigel’s instructions, swallowing and blowing gently to equalize the pressure. It helps, but the sensation is still unnerving.

Rigel and Blake keep me steady, guiding me toward the open locker. Walt and Gabe have it ready, the outer door open to reveal a water-filled chamber.

Rigel squeezes my arm reassuringly as we move inside the cold metal of the submarine’s hull.

Once inside the locker, the space is tight, just big enough for our group. Rigel and Blake position me near the back, making room for Ethan and Hank as they follow us down.

Walt and Gabe are the last to come inside.

They enter and secure the outer hatch, leaving us trapped inside. Panic once again surfaces, but I push it back. Rigel wouldn’t bring me down if it wasn’t safe, and none of them appear nervous. It’s like a walk in the park for them.

However, the sensation of the water surrounding us in such a confined space is disorienting—claustrophobic—but I focus on Rigel’s presence, his calmness grounding me. I’d rather be outside, in the ocean, than in this small space.

Walt secures the outer door, spinning the wheel until it locks with a tight seal. He pushes a button, and slowly, the water drains out of the chamber. The feeling of weightlessness disappears, replaced by the heaviness of the dive gear.

As the water level drops, the pressure on my body eases. Once again, there’s a solid floor beneath my feet. It’s a surreal transition, going from floating to standing, the dive gear weighing heavily on my shoulders and back.

When the last of the water is pumped out, the submarine crew signals to us from the other side of the inner door. Rigel indicates Ican take the regulator out of my mouth. I do so, breathing the cool, dry air of the submarine for the first time.

The inner door opens, and the crew welcomes us aboard. The stark, utilitarian interior of the submarine contrasts with the vast blue ocean we just left. I look around, taking it all in, and the reality of our situation hits me once more.

How did this become my life?

“Permission to come aboard?” Ethan steps forward, shaking hands with the crew members. “Thank you for the extraction. We’re glad to be here.”

The crew leads us further inside, and I follow, my legs feeling weak from the adrenaline and exertion. Rigel stays close, his presence a comforting constant. We’ve made it this far, and though the journey isn’t over, I feel a renewed sense of hope.

“You were incredible,” Rigel says softly, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Fierce.”

“Thanks to you.” The enormity of what I just accomplished settles in.

The next few days on the submarine pass in a blur. Hours turn into days, and we adapt to our underwater refuge’s cramped, controlled environment.

Charlie team is given a small area with accommodations—bunks stacked four high on either side of a narrow corridor. The submarine crew is polite but distant, performing their duties with military precision and avoiding unnecessary interaction.

The isolation is both comforting and suffocating. Time loses meaning in the windowless expanse, and I measure the days by our routines—meals, sleep, and moments of quiet reflection.

Then, one day, Ethan receives a message from the bridge. “We’ll be entering San Francisco harbor in less than a day.”

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