He’s barely keeping his eyes open and I’m interrogating him. Dean Christie would be so proud.
“I’ve got you, we’re going to get out of here, okay?” I quickly clear his mask, cursing my shaking hands, and make sure it’s on securely. When I try to put my regulator in his mouth, his hand clumsily tries to swipe it away.
“You…” he manages.
“No, I’m fine we’ll share, okay? I have plenty of air left.” Checking my pressure gauge, my heart sinks. Stupid! I panicked in that narrow tunnel, I must have breathed too fast, sucked in too much air, it’s hovering between one-eighth full and empty. “We’re doing this!” I said sharply. “You’re putting this fucking regulator in your mouth and you will breathe in, do you hear me?”
He has the nerve to give me a weak imitation of his arrogant grin as I jam it in his mouth and watch for him to inhale.
“Here we go, sweetheart. Hang on to me, all right? Put your hand on my buoyancy compensator, I can’t hold you and swim.”I wait for him to nod, take a deep breath, and dive back under the water.
Our progress is slow, so damn slow because he halts twice to force me to take a breath before letting me shove the regulator back in his mouth. My lungs are burning and black dots are dancing in my vision. Cursing my exhausted legs, I kick harder. Kon’s pretty much dead weight; I know he’s trying to kick, to help me, but he’s slipping into unconsciousness again and I scream into the silent water and then… I see the paler blue of the water above me and then gasp as we break the surface into the cavern.
“Medic!” I’m wheezing, “He’s bleeding!”
“Mariya!” Lucca’s slicing through the water toward me like a shark and finally, there’s a fucking supervisor, looking all kinds of shocked. “Where is he hurt?”
“He broke his ribs in combat class four days ago,” I gasp out, “I think he was injured when he bashed against the cliffs today and something happened down here, his drysuit is torn up.”
Lucca and Jun take Konstantin from me, powering toward the inflatable coming for him. He groans, gritting his teeth like it’s shameful that he’s in agony. I grab the medic’s arm, treading water. “There’s a gash in his side and he's bleeding from his mouth, one of the broken ribs might have torn a hole in his lung.”
She nods, putting an oxygen mask over his mouth, and signals the man steering the boat to take off. I watch it disappear from the cave, my fins moving just enough to keep me afloat.
Chapter Sixteen
In which Konstantin is just such an asshole.
Mariya…
“Miss Morozova? You may see him now.”
Bolting upright from where I’d been dozing on Tatiana’s shoulder, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to smear away the drool. “Yes!” I stand, weaving like I’ve been on a three-day bender. “Yes, yeah, I’m here. Good.”
Dr. Giardo is giving me the pinched expression one would use when smelling a used diaper. “He’s in room two. You have fifteen minutes.”
I lurch down the hall, hearing Lucca already negotiating for more time and the doctor’s querulous response. I pass by a mirror and halt, shocked at my reflection. I’m pasty white with a scrape on one cheek, my hair is a snarled mess that looks suspiciously like rodents have been fighting in it. Death himself would run screaming if he got a good look at me.
Whatever. After the hell day we all survived, no one’s looking like they enjoyed a trip to the spa.
Kon is still wearing the oxygen mask, and I feel so horrible about this but I’m kind of relieved that he looks worse than I do.
“You look about as bad as I feel right now.” He’s pulled the mask down just enough to spout insults at me, so he must be feeling better.
Crossing my arms, I feel the old irritation rising. “Funny, I was just feeling guilty because I was relieved that as bad as I might look, you looksomuch worse,” I said.
His laugh was cut short, ending in a gurgle. “These fucking ribs,” he groans. He held out his hand, an IV taped to it and two fingers splinted. “C’mere.”
Gingerly sitting on the edge of the mattress, I smile when he takes hold of my hand. “You be nice to those ribs. They’re holding a grudge and you deserve it.” He’s still pale, and the hospital gown he’s wearing is pulled up to show the mass of bandages on his side. “What happened? I knew this challenge would be brutal for you, but… how the hell did you end up half-conscious in that little cavern with an empty tank?”
“I would like to know that as well.”
Konstantin and I look at each other, alarmed. Oh shit, it’s Dean Christie, immaculate in her black suit and smiling in a way that is not comforting. “How are you feeling, Mr. Turgenev?” She takes his medical chart, looking it over. “Four broken ribs. I can’t decide if you’re noble or utterly foolish.”
“I vote for the latter,” I said, ignoring his glare.
“It was a minor injury,” he lies, “I was handling it just fine until…”
“Until what?” The Dean makes herself comfortable on the only chair in the room.
