The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,59

from the lake, so she conserved her energy, moving with speed, but wasting no effort. Each stroke and kick was controlled, meant to propel her forward with an economy of movement. She kept her lips pressed closed; her chest relaxed.

She let the occasional bubble escape her nose, tricking her body into thinking she was close to taking a new breath, which eased the strain and lessened the instinct for her body to rebel.

Keep going . . .

She fluttered her legs and pawed at the wall with her free palm.

Then the reach of her flashlight’s beam struck an obstruction in the tunnel ahead. She swam up to it. A boulder blocked the aqueduct. The passage around it was too narrow for her to get through.

Inwardly cursing, she probed the rock and found it to be more of a slab, jammed crookedly in the tunnel.

Maybe . . .

She grabbed the upper edge and braced her feet against the walls. She tugged, pulled, and rocked the slab until it finally fell flat on the bottom, opening a wider gap above it. She shoved her head, and one arm through, then wiggled and contorted her torso. Her toes scrabbled at the stone behind her as she fought to jam her way past the obstruction.

Then she got stuck.

She knew it in an instant. While Gray might enjoy the heft and weight of her hormonally enlarged breasts—and Jack, too, for that matter—it proved problematic now. She tried reversing back out, prepared to return to the cistern and admit defeat.

But the effort only jammed her tighter.

Can’t get through—or back.

An edge of panic threaded through her. Her lungs grew strained, and not just from resisting the pressure of the rock walls. Images of Jack flashed through her: gurgling happily in the bath, fussing over a nipple, sucking his little thumb. Even now, doubts plagued her. A part of her still wondered if Jack wouldn’t be better without her. And even deeper—

Am I better without him?

Before guilt sapped her strength and will, she ground her teeth. She didn’t know which was the right course with Jack, but she knew one thing for certain.

I’ll be the one to make that decision.

She wasn’t about to die down here and have that choice taken from her. So she exhaled all her breath, emptying her lungs completely. Life-giving air bubbled over her face, billowed through her hair.

With her chest collapsed, she gained a fraction of extra space, enough to free herself. She hung there for a heartbeat. She still had enough oxygen to get back, but what good would that do? How would that bring her any closer to Jack’s side, if that was her decision?

Screw it.

She kicked with her legs and sailed past the obstruction.

Following her light, she sped along the aqueduct, quickly passing the point of no return. Her diaphragm cramped below her lungs, trying to force her to take a breath. Her vision squeezed. Her motions became more frantic.

Still, the spear of her light only found more darkness ahead.

Her vision narrowed toward a pinpoint.

Not going to make it.

7:44 A.M.

Gray paced the edge of the cistern’s black pool. He checked his watch for the hundredth time. Sweat pebbled his brow, and his breath heaved in and out.

“She’s been gone over ten minutes,” he said to no one but himself. “She should be back by now.”

Maria tried to calm him. “She could be looking for help.”

“Or just catching her breath for the swim back,” Mac offered.

Gray shook his head. He had already stripped to his boxers, needing to do something, to be proactive while he waited. He stepped to the pool’s edge.

“Give her another minute,” Maria warned.

Father Bailey offered a grimmer insight. “It’ll do no good to go after her. If she got into trouble, it’s already too late. No one could hold their breath for ten minutes. You’ll only endanger your life, too.”

Gray balled a fist, ready to punch the priest. Instead, those words goaded Gray to the water’s edge.

I can’t wait any longer.

As he leaned to dive in, the black water grew brighter below him. He stumbled back as the glow became a bright light. A head popped out of the water, the face obscured by a mask and the mouthpiece of a scuba regulator. But Gray recognized her.

“Seichan . . .”

Before she could respond, another figure, then another, surfaced behind her. The strangers wore masks, wetsuits, and scuba gear.

Gray was momentarily baffled. Who were these men? How did Seichan raise a rescue team in scuba gear so quickly? Then