I can’t get out. The wreck shifted, maybe rolled over, and now the hole I crawled in is sitting against the ocean floor. The water is frigid, even through the wetsuit. My tank’s gauge is in the yellow, almost touching the red.  I should have never been here today. I broke every rule to get here, ignored the commandments, and now I’m going to pay the price. An old, military wreck in the middle of the Caribbean seemed like the perfect place to explore. Now I’m going to join the ranks of the ghostly crew. I can’t even pretend to myself that my family will have an open casket. I’ve seen the pictures of long-lost divers. They just rot away.

[b]Rule One: Get proper training. [/b]

I’d always had an affinity for the water, always loved seeing what was under the surface. At the lake, you could always find me snorkeling around in the shallows, or sometimes freediving with only a pair of goggles and the breath in my iron lungs. It came as a surprise to no one, especially not to my family when I got my PADI open water certification at sixteen. Young, but actually fairly common in the part of the world where I lived. I’d managed to coast by with that certificate through the rest of high school and into college. I’d never thought to get another certificate after that, after all I pretty much grew up on the water. Knew the ocean like the back of my hand.

Up until now, I’d never realized how much of a cocky son of a bitch I really was. I guess that’s the problem with being full of yourself, you think you’re the shit. When I’d jumped off the boat and into the water, I had brushed off my anxiety about diving the wreck with all the experience I had on the water. I’d forgotten that in a wreck, you can’t just float to the surface. There’s no easy way out.

[b]Rule 2: Never Dive alone[/b]

My friends were all tuckered out from exploring the reef from yesterday, and wanted to sleep in. I’d gotten up early for a day on the water and taken out the same boat that we’d been using yesterday. I was hoping at the start that I might be able to hook some fish and bring them back for lunch, be the hero of our little expedition. We’d thow ‘em on the grill and have lunch on the beach.
My friends we from college, and most hadn’t been on a real sailboat. I hadn’t woken them because I’d figured that they’d just slow me down, and that maybe they’d like the surprise of a fresh catch. I’d gone out in the boat all on my lonesome.

[b]Rule 3: Plan Your Dive and Dive Your Plan[/b]

I’d bagged maybe three or four snapper, and even an angel fish in an hour or so. That’s when I noticed the shadow of the boat. It was a massive beast, split in two, deep below the waves. I was never great on history, but it looked like an old German U-boat, sunk by the Allies doing some nefarious deed. With that, the seeds of my death were sown. If I’d taken another boat that morning, if we’d taken out the diving gear out that afternoon when we’d gotten back to clean it, if I hadn’t had the dumbass idea to go out by myself. Thoughts of fishing put aside, I’d geared up and grabbed one of the full air tanks that we’d had spare. I never expected to find anything like that. The whole thing was spur of the moment.


It’s getting harder to breathe, and I can’t much of anything. I kicked up too much silt. The pressure gauge is in the far red now, and with every breath I take, I have to suck harder on the regulator. I think there’s air pooling at the top of the compartment, but not much, probably not even an inch. It’ll have to last as long as I can make it.

Someone will find my boat anchored up at the surface. This part of the reef is a pretty popular fishing spot in the afternoon. That’ll be hours. I have minutes.

[url="https://bernil.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/grim-reaper-cave1.jpg"] I’m sorry. [/url]