The shark plunged lower, and Ariel tapped my shoulder. She motioned to the surface with a grave look on her face—a level of fear that didn't often grace her face. She knew exactly what was coming. She’d read the body language. She knew an attack approach when she saw one.
But by that time, it was too late.
The shark launched up toward the cage from underneath, like a rocket. It was their preferred method of attack, hunting from below.
The massive snout slammed into the bottom of the shark cage like a freight train.
It launched the cage out of the water and snapped three of the high-strength polyethylene lines like they were dental floss.
We slammed against the aluminum cage.
The air escaped my lungs, and I coughed out the regulator. The impact knocked my mask aside.
Tethered by one line, the cage somersaulted in the air before crashing back down.
I couldn't breathe.
A swarm of bubbles frothed the water. Visibility went to zero for a moment.
The cage had deformed into the shape of the shark’s snout.
Just as I was starting to get my wits about me, the shark rammed the cage again, crunching it against the stern of the boat.
The second impact snapped the cleat.
The PVC flotation tubes had cracked.
Untethered from the boat and no longer buoyant, the weight of the cage and our gear dragged us to the depths below.
38
The cage plummeted down.
I managed to get the regulator back in my mouth and start breathing again. I looked at Ariel. She’d taken another hit to the head. Bubbles rose from her regulator, so I knew she was breathing. I put a hand on her shoulder and peered into her eyes.
She was unconscious.
The spear with the sample was gone, slipped from her grasp. The camera’s underwater housing was cracked, and the memory card was fried. All of it, everything, for nothing.
Down, down, down we plunged.
The pressure in my ears felt like someone stabbing an ice pick through my skull. I tried to equalize as best I could.
The cage crashed against the sea floor, kicking up a cloud of sediment that dropped visibility to zero again.
I couldn’t see my hands in front of my face.
The crumpled cage left little room for the two of us.
After a few minutes, the cloud of sediment cleared.
I checked on Ariel again, shaking her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me with confusion. After a beat, she gave me the thumbs up, and I felt much relieved.
The massive shark swam around overhead, staying near the surface, circling the boat.
A quick check of the oxygen told me that we had roughly 35 minutes left. At 90 feet, it was advisable to do a safety stop on the way up to avoid decompression sickness. But if that shark was still swimming around, I'd take decompression sickness over becoming a snack.
We had one slight problem.
