Page 4 of Away in a Tentacle Lair
I look up at the use of my surname. “Huh?”
“We're heading to the centre in half an hour. I was offering you a lift.”
“Ah, sorry. Miles away.”
That was my mistake; it sounded like they were questioning my plans rather than offering a lift. As our numbers drop, the rivalry increases.
“I'll try to be ready in time, but I've got to call my mum, so don't hang around for me. I can walk up if I need to.”
I wave the two guys off with a smile. These two are getting desperate for ideas.
They move off to give away my seat to some other fool duped by their offer to share information. At this point, we're only sharing ideas we know are wrong, but it's a process of illumination.
After breakfast, I head back to my room and grab my wetsuit. My scuba gear lives in the marine hut by the beach, so there isnothing else to grab. As an expert diver, I'm comfortable diving alone and not going far from the beach.
Just over an hour later, I entered the water and headed around to the bay, where I encountered Mr. Briareus. Although anyone just wearing swim shorts shouldn't be known as Mr., the moment was far too intimate for that, especially when he stripped on the beach.
As predicted, I'm spending more time looking for him than studying the bay for the one thing that would net me the best job this side of the equator.
Finally, I see a glimmer of hope In the form of bare legs disappearing around the rocks.
Keeping my distance, I follow the legs until they become an entire body. This time, he's wearing flippers, tight trunks that leave nothing to the imagination, and a face mask. I'm not sure what use the snorkel is this deep under the water; there's about eight metres of cold ocean between him and oxygen.
His experience in the water is evident from the way he swims. He has two separate flippers, but he moves like they were joined as one fin, with the grace of a mermaid. He is busy checking on the coral I've come here to study. If he doesn't know what creature cares for this vital habitat, he is looking for it. I need to talk to this man when he's breathing, but until that is possible, I must keep my distance.
He suddenly pulls back from the rock, shoves the snorkel in his mouth, and heads for the surface. Bubbles spill from the tube as he increases the distance between us. When he breaks the surface, it's barely thirty seconds before he's heading back, head first into the deep. Air bubbles trickle out of the snorkel as he empties his lungs. He barely breaks the surface to breathe and returns to checking the coral. I check my watch and wait.
Seven minutes.
That's how long I wait here, watching him work his way slowly along the reef without air.
It's impressive.
This is entering the breath-holding capacity of professional free divers.
Two divers swim towards him as he returns from another gulp of air. Their air tanks identify them as fellow hopefuls from the research centre, but other than that, I don't know who they are.
They soon have Briareus's attention, too, but one grabs his forearm, preventing him from surfacing for air. The other tries communicating with hand gestures. Briareus points up for air; even though I know he isn't desperate, I wouldn't want to be cut off from my oxygen supply whether I needed it right away or not.
The divers shake their heads, and one reaches for a small bag I hadn't seen before. Briareus tries snatching it back. It gets upended, and the contents fall free, settling on the sandy floor. It's a collection of plastic and shells.
Was Briareus down here clearing up bits of rubbish?
Suddenly, my interest in this guy doubles. I kick forward and head over. A tap on the shoulders gets my colleagues' attention. I just need to distract them long enough for Briareus to head up for air.
Instead, he dives down for the rubbish. He seems to care more for the bay than for his own life.
I'm falling for an idiot.
Chapter four
Kai
The urge to breathe hits me as I duck under the legs of the three divers. If I don't come home with evidence of my work, Granny will have stern words for me, and I am more afraid of her wrath than any man in these waters. Or that's what I tell myself. I just want to get away from the men, and up against the rocks feels as vulnerable as being down here. As soon as the rubbish is gripped in my hand, I swim away from the men toward the shore. Two divers don't care enough to follow, but the third one comes after me. He's the one who made the first two release me, so I don't know what his motives are.
The problem I've got is that the surface makes me vulnerable. I have to get my face out on the waves to breathe, and I can't see under the water while I'm doing that. I've perfected surfacing like a dolphin, letting the back of my head break the surface for enough time to inhale through the snorkel.
This time, I have no air in my lungs to empty the snorkel, so I have to wait until I'm on the surface to abandon it and gasp for air.
