Danger In The Deep. Karen Kirst

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       ONE

      Olivia Smith entered the North Carolina Coastal Aquarium’s vast ocean tank and slowly maneuvered through the balmy water. Something felt off about this dive. Her wet suit was uncomfortable. Her air cylinder was heavier than usual. She was having trouble adjusting to the rush of compressed gas and—for a terrifying moment—experienced a suffocating sensation. Bubbles spurted past her eyes, and the gurgling sound that accompanied being underwater pulsed in her ears.

       Focus. There’s no reason to panic. No one has drowned in this tank, and you’re not about to be the first.

      She concentrated on regulating her breathing and calming her agitated mind. This had nothing to do with her scuba gear and everything to do with the unpleasant night ahead—playing tour guide for a man who could barely tolerate her.

      US Marine Corps pilot Captain Brady Johnson was her late husband’s best friend, and he was on his way to her aquarium. More specifically, he was coming for tonight’s Sleep with the Sharks overnight program. Olivia would be stuck with him the entire night as she guided his group of at-risk youth on an after-hours behind-the-scenes tour.

      While Derek was alive, she and Brady had played nice. Well, she hadn’t been playing. She genuinely liked Brady, and it hurt that he didn’t feel the same. Now that Derek was gone, she didn’t know how to act around the standoffish pilot.

      Their one and only green sea turtle, Terry, swam over to greet her. He was an aquarium favorite. He had survived a collision with a boat propeller and had lost one of his back legs, yet he’d retained his innate curiosity. He noticed her co-diver, Erin, and swam over to say hello. Beneath them, three sand tiger sharks glided in procession past one of the viewing areas.

      A large cownose ray brushed her shoulder, reminding her to stay focused on the task at hand. While the myriad creatures in this tank were fed on a regular schedule and posed little threat, she had to keep her wits about her. Olivia signaled to Erin that she was descending to the deepest part of the tank. She was hoping to collect Atlantic spadefish eggs that she and her coworker Roman needed for their groundbreaking breeding program. If they could continue to successfully breed saltwater fish in the aquarium—an extremely challenging task—their need to catch wild populations would lessen. Other aquariums could utilize their findings and implement their own programs. The impact would be far-reaching and beneficial for all involved.

      Her downward journey through the crystal-clear water took her between towering, misshapen artificial reef formations. At forty feet, their tank was one of the deepest in the country. Because some of the spaces were tight, Erin had chosen not to accompany her. Erin was notoriously claustrophobic and preferred to remain in the open water closer to the surface and interact with the sea creatures there.

      Olivia reached the bottom and waved to the guests at the viewing window. A young girl decked out in neon pink caught her eye. The girl appeared to be transfixed by Olivia. She stood with her hands pressed to the glass, her eyes as big as quarters.

      Charmed, Olivia swam closer and initiated a game of rock, paper, scissors. At first the girl’s shyness got the better of her. Then, with her mother’s encouragement, she played along. A crowd gathered. Olivia was enjoying herself until she lifted her gaze and recognized the blond man standing apart from the rest.

      Why had he come early? The program didn’t begin until after normal business hours.

      Brady offered her a strained smile and half-hearted wave.

      An emotional whirlpool churned up familiar frustration. Would it kill him to at least act happy to see her?

      He’d checked on her three times in the eleven months since Derek’s aneurysm. The visits had been brief and underscored with tension. Brady was no actor. His true feelings weren’t hard to decipher. He didn’t want to see her. He’d come because he owed it to his best friend. When he wasn’t around, she convinced herself she didn’t care what he thought. But then she’d see him again, and old wounds festered.

      Lost in the past, she wasn’t prepared when her mouth regulator erupted and spewed out her scuba cylinder contents. A torrent of bubbles invaded her mouth and hindered her vision. A smothering sensation stole over her as hundreds of thousands of gallons pressed in on her. The surface, far overhead, wasn’t visible, and neither was her buddy, Erin.

       Concentrate, Olivia. What’s the solution?

      She struggled to remember her instructor’s advice. What had he said to do in this situation?

      Of course. Breathe out the side, letting most of the bubbles escape. Sucking in multiple uneven breaths, she checked the pressure gauge. Almost empty. No, that couldn’t be right. She’d made sure it was full during her predive check. It couldn’t have released that much gas in the span of a minute or two.

      She unhooked her small bailout bottle and put its accompanying regulator in her mouth. But nothing happened. She tapped the pressure gauge again and again. Why wasn’t it working?

      Dizziness overtook her.

      She didn’t have enough air to do a controlled ascent. Her time in the water wasn’t an issue, but this depth was a major problem. Excess nitrogen in her bloodstream and tissues could form into bubbles if she rushed to the surface. Decompression sickness wasn’t something she wanted to risk. Excruciating joint pain or skin rashes she could handle. But if those bubbles burst in her nervous system, she was facing paralysis or even death.

      Glancing above her, she saw only a twisted maze of dense rock. Her vision blurred, and her lungs felt like twin balloons about to burst.

      Olivia did what she’d been taught not to do.

      She panicked.