Retribution Road by Jon Coon (e reader comics .TXT) 📕

into the recompression chamber and be pressurized back down to forty feet. There they would repeat their in-water forty-foot stop, breathing 100 percent oxygen through push-pull masks that vented the used oxygen outside the chamber to prevent dangerous oxygen buildups and fire hazards within.

By the time the divers were ready to exit the chamber, Gabe and his Navy safety diver, a lanky basketball player named Tim, were suited and ready to dive. After a thorough equipment check, the tenders walked them to the edge of the barge and tapped them on the back.

It was a fifteen-foot drop to the water. Gabe hit harder than expected and took a second to regroup. His tender kept the umbilical tight until Gabe was ready to start down. He exchanged “okay” signals with Tim and then said, “Beginning descent.”

“Descending, aye. Have a good dive.”

“Thanks, Mike. Here we go.”

They dropped at sixty feet per minute through clear blue water. Jacks and a lone nurse shark passed in the distance. At a hundred feet, two large manta rays flew gracefully past. At 150, when the gas changed from compressed air to the helium oxygen mix, the gas coming into the helmet became colder, and at 200 feet, the light dimmed, but they could make out images on the bottom. At 230, they could see the hundred-foot sub sitting upright. A tiger shark, over ten feet long, circled outside the sub, attracted by the scent of decaying flesh within. Gabe dropped to the deck of the sub and Tim landed beside him. They exchanged “okay” signals again and Gabe said, “Okay, Mike. Time to put Carol on the phone.”

“All right, but you be careful in there.”

“Yes, Master Chief,” Gabe replied. “It’s all good.”

Carol settled into the chair by the gas manifold. Kurczewski watched gauges and made notes beside her.

“Hi, pal.”

“Hey, cowgirl. How’s it going?”

“So far so good. How about you?”

“I’m on the conning tower. The shaped charge did a great job. I’m lifting the hatch cover out of the way … Okay … Oops. The hatch is blocked with bodies. Looks like they seriously wanted out. I’m going to have to clear this mess before I can get in. Hang on.”

Tim helped Gabe push and shove until they had forced the two corpses back into the sub and then with a wave to Tim, Gabe backed down the ladder and stopped before he hit the deck. Tim was left alone on the deck with the tiger shark, who was expressing more than a casual interest in the sub and that enticing scent.

Gabe closed his eyes and tried to fight off the panic he felt rising within. A body drifted into him and he pushed it away violently.

“Breathe, Gabe,” Carol said softly. “You’re not breathing.”

“I just need a minute,” he said.

She could hear the panic, even through the helium descrambler radio, and knew he was in trouble. “Breathe and focus on my voice. You can do this. You are doing this. It will be all right.”

After a moment of total silence, she said, “Gabe?” Then she could hear him breathing, slowly, deeply. “That’s right, you’re in control. Just keep breathing. It’s all right.”

He opened his eyes. All he saw were bodies. But her voice calmed him, and he made his peace with them. “I’m all right,” he said. “I’m all right now. Thank you.”

Gabe surveyed the sub with his cave light. It was grim. He pulled hose and pushed a body out of the way as he moved to the helm. The same Garmin chart plotter was mounted in the same way as in the first sub. Gabe undid the side knobs that held it in place and flipped it over. The door covering the memory chip was still intact. From his pocket toolkit, Gabe got a small screwdriver and removed the cover. He then popped out the postage-stamp-sized memory chip and zipped it into a compartment in the soft tool bag. The first part of the dive was done.

Now for the grisly part.

He looked for anything with a name on it. There were a few magazines, but very few personal items. He found one notebook with entries in Spanish. He stuffed that in his leg pocket. He checked his left wrist computer. Eleven minutes remaining.

“How’s it going?” Carol asked.

“I was losing it, but your voice … Got the chip. Nothing else so far.”

“Okay, just watch your time.”

On the deck, the tiger shark kept Tim entertained. It made several close passes and was not in the least intimidated by the diver. Especially a diver making no bubbles.

Tim looked for something to fend off the curious shark in case things got too cozy. He found the hatch cover and decided it would work as a shield. Feeling better, he kept watch, holding the hatch cover for security.

Gabe choked back his panic and went through the clothing of the dead hoping to find a wallet with ID or anything with a name. He was about to give up his search when he noticed one of the bodies was wearing a striped shirt like gas station attendants once wore. He rolled over the corpse and hit the shirt with his light. A red-bordered name tag said “Sebastian.” Gabe stood, thrust out his hand, and said loudly, “Sebastian, awake!”

Bright light flooded the sub, and from Sebastian’s decomposing body, an ethereal spirit formed.

“Do you speak English?” was Gabe’s first question.

“Yes, I’ve lived in the States. Who are—”

“You only have a few seconds to tell me what I need to know. So I ask and you answer. No lies, understood? Where you’re going it can be bad or it can be really bad. It’s up to you. Now, where is your base?”

“The southern coast of Chiapas. In the jungle.”

“Do you have charts?”

“Yes. There are charts, but they’re all digital.”

“Where are they?”

“In the helm there.” He pointed. “There is a little drawer, push in there and it will open.”

Gabe did as the spirit instructed and was rewarded with several small memory chips.

Sebastian’s spirit light began