Chapter 23: The Sunnydale Mission Part 2
Pacific Ocean, Sunnydale Bay, May 4th, 2008
John pressed his lips together and clenched his teeth as the air tube went taut. He wasn't going to be able to hold his breath for long; not after that blow to the chest. And Caridad was still pulling at his belt.
Both of them had buddy respirators - but that would be useless in the middle of a fight. No choice. The rubber tube wouldn't resist the tug of war for long, not even with Caridad not having too much leverage in the water. He fumbled with his belt buckle for a second that seemed to stretch even more than his air tube before he triggered the quick release - and shot up, towards the water demon.
The tube went slack again as he drew his knife, and then he hit the demon, the shark-like skin scraping over his suit as he slid along it. He raised his knife and drove it down with both hands, as fast and as hard as he could.
He felt the tip slide over the skin before it caught on something and he felt himself being pushed away by his own blow. No. Not now. He wrapped his arm around the air tube to anchor himself and pushed back.
The demon hit his side, which once more sent pain flaring up in his ribs, but he had no more air to lose - and he stabbed at it again. And again. And again. He felt the blade penetrate for the first time and pulled down, cutting the damned thing wide open.
He was hit in turn, hard enough to make his vision black out for a moment, but he kept pulling until his knife ripped free, and then a cloud of warm liquid enveloped him. His head was still ringing - his vision blacking... No, that was lack of air!
Desperately, he groped for the respirator. It was at the end of the air tube. Which was wrapped around… his… left… There!
He smashed it into his mouth, hurting his teeth, and drew a deep breath. Air! Sweet air! And blood. Foul, rotting blood - the respirator must have been covered in the demon's blood. Or liquid corpse.
He took another breath, kicking his legs to get out of the invisible cloud of demon blood, then spit out the respirator and filled his mouth with seawater to wash the filthy taste away.
Another breath. Yes. But he was raising towards the surface - damn, without his belt, he was too buoyant. And his ears were already protesting, and if he rose much higher...
He dived towards the seabed, hoping he hadn't caught the bends. Dying to the bends after killing a water demon underwater? He wanted to laugh as he entered the murky water above the rubble field once more.
Where was Caridad? And where was the other demon? Was that the last? He looked around, knife in hand, legs kicking to keep him diving, keep him from rising to the surface.
Where was the landmark?
Something moved towards him, and he raised the knife. Then he relaxed. It was Caridad swimming towards him. And waving his belt.
He gripped his air tube and mimicked pulling on it. Wait. He spat the respirator out and mimicked getting dragged away.
In response, she shot towards him. He had barely time to put the respirator back into his mouth before she started patting him down - looking for injuries, he guessed. One hand touched his side, and he jerked. Damn. That was worse than a bruise.
She pointed up, towards the surface.
He shook his head in response. They had a mission to do. There might be more of those demons around. And they hadn't secured the body part, yet. Nor had they ensured that it couldn't be recovered.
She looked at the belt she was still holding, then handed it over. He grinned for a moment with the respirator in his mouth.
They'd finish the mission. They still had… Damn. During the fight, his diving computer had been broken. And he hadn't noticed until now. Sloppy of him. Very sloppy. This was the kind of mistake that got divers killed. And their inexperienced buddies depending on them.
But his diving watch was working fine. He quickly checked their depth and diving time. Yes, they could search for a while longer and still have enough air to resurface safely.
He pointed at the ground, and Caridad turned and dived. She was still annoyed, though - she was swimming just a touch too fast for him to easily keep up.
Well, he could handle that.
They reached the seabed, and with the current spreading the muddy waters out, John could see a few more bodies on the ground. Half a dozen human divers? That was a lot. But how had they been planning to recover the body part? He couldn't spot a sledge or other heavy equipment.
Perhaps… he swam to the closest corpse. If they planned to blast their way to the body part… No. No explosives on that diver. He swam to the next, but Caridad intercepted him, signing a question.
He pointed at the corpse, then mimicked an explosion with his hands. Her eyes widened behind her mask, and then she was off. He was just checking the second body when she returned, shaking her head. No explosives.
So what had been the enemy's plan? And how had they planned to find the thing? Magic, of course. There had to be something here that they brought with them. Something portable… something that could be used underwater.
But how to communicate that to Caridad? Ah!
He waved at her, then swam to the closest pitch of mud that had survived the bomb. There he wrote into the silt: Magic staff?
Caridad nodded and started searching again. He started swimming close above the ground himself, but without much hope. Until the water cleared completely, he wouldn't see much, and he couldn't sense magic at all.
Still, they had enough time left for a thorough search.
Sometime later, the water had been cleared enough so visibility was restored to normal levels. John hadn't found anything, though - other than a harpoon gun to replace his own, with a few reloads. But they were reaching the end of their maximum diving time. At least the pain in his side had dulled.
And Caridad was… ah, there she was, coming straight at him. And waving.
He swam towards her, then followed her. About twenty yards from the sunken tower, she stopped pointing at the seabed.
There was a sword - no, one of those Aztec bats with obsidian splinters set in the edges - lying there. Caridad made the danger sign - magical, then. Great.
They needed Grimes for that. He nodded, then pointed up. Caridad nodded as well, then, suddenly, tensed, cocking her head. A moment later, she pointed at her ear.
What… Oh. She was hearing something. And John was sure it wasn't a whale. He looked up - he could barely see the hull of the yacht in the distance. Then he noticed the propellers moving. The yacht was picking up speed? But…
Goddamnit. Chavez must be coming. He looked at Caridad and signed a question.
She held up one finger. One boat was coming? No, one ship. Probably bigger than their own yacht.
Were the others attacking or retreating? He couldn't tell. But John and Caridad needed to resurface soon, or they'd run out of air down here. Could they reach the shore in time? He quickly recalled the map. No. Impossible. They would have to resurface and swim to the shore.
And hope that the others beat Chavez and his goons. He pointed up, then at his diving computer. Caridad nodded, then quickly dived down - and grabbed the weapon. He froze for a moment, but she returned without cleaving him in half, so she wasn't possessed.
They were too deep to surface without stopping to decompress, but they could do that and gain some distance from the area. It was also easier on the nerves to decompress while swimming instead of waiting for the enemy to arrive.
Even though they had no hope in hell of outrunning a boat. But as long as the others kept Chavez busy…
They were into the first decompression stop when Caridad turned and pointed behind him. Another yacht was closing in on them. How had they… the stupid bat. Chavez must be tracking it.
Caridad must have come to the same conclusion since she signed to split up. Which meant she was planning to lure the yacht away from him.
It was the logical course of action - she was faster and tougher, and she had the magic bat. He still wanted to protest. But they were on a mission. He nodded and started to swim towards the shore.
But the yacht kept following him. Did they think he was carrying the bat? Or had they missed Caridad and were tracking him by sight now? He was only five yards below the surface.
And he would have to surface any minute now.
Goddamnit. The shore was still too far away. How would he love to be in murky water right now, instead of clear water where he was easily spotted from a boat! Well, nothing about it - time to ditch the scuba tanks and respirator as well as his belt; they would only slow him down once the air ran out.
He removed the belt, then slipped out of the straps holding the tank in place as he started to float up, then swam towards the ship pursuing him. If you couldn't outrun the enemy and couldn't hide or stay in defensive positions, charging them was the best option.
He broke the surface about ten yards from the ship's bow. There were two men staring at him, assault rifles raised. No uniforms. John shot his harpoon gun at them, catching one in the chest, and dived again.
He heard shots, but no bullets hit him - the shooter must not have had the training necessary to compensate for the effect of the water. A few strokes took him deep enough to make rifle rounds ineffective, and he swam towards the ship's hull.
It was slowing down now - amateurs. He dived under the keel, then started to swim up on the other side, reloading his harpoon gun on the way. Another guy was bent over the railing, watching the water - and not fast enough to shoot John before a harpoon ripped through his throat.
John dived again. This time, he saw bullets shoot through the water nearby - only the angle of his descent, close to the hull, had saved him. The enemy was now wise to his actions. And didn't want to take him alive.
Well, he hadn't been planning on getting caught by demon cultists of an Aztec god; once had been more than enough. All he needed to do was to serve as a distraction for Caridad, allowing her to take the cursed bat away until his luck ran out.
Not a bad way to go, he told himself as he slipped beneath the keel once more. It didn't help, though. He didn't want to die. Certainly not to some drug cartel thugs working for a cult. Time to roll the dice.
Goddamnit, he had really spent too much time with the nerds!
He bared his teeth as he swam to the stern of the ship, beneath the ship's screws. If they started the engines right now, he'd be turned into hamburger.
But they didn't. He reached the stern and, as he had hoped, there was a ladder there to let swimmers - or divers - back on board. He ditched his flippers, he wouldn't need them any more, then grabbed the bladder with one hand and pulled himself up, raising the harpoon gun with the other.
This time, the cartel goon standing watch got a shot and a warning off, but he missed - and John's last harpoon didn't. Struck in the stomach, the thug screamed and dropped his gun. John climbed as fast as he could, but as he reached the top, another cartel shooter appeared on the deck above. John drew and threw his knife in a smooth motion. He missed, but it made the goon jerk back into cover.
And John used the opportunity to jump over the railing. A kick sent the still screaming harpooned guy over the railing. He pivoted, dropped to the floor and grabbed the rifle - a Kalashnikov.
Bullets hit the deck near him as he rolled over his shoulder, grunting at the pain in his ribs - not broken, at least, or he'd be down for the count already - and he came up firing. He missed once more as the enemy ducked down, but he spotted the man through the drainage holes at the bottom of the railing. The railing didn't stop rifle rounds, and John fired, then sprinted towards the stairs as blood started to drip down through the holes.
How many goons did Chavez have? He had lost three now on the boat, half a dozen - and three demons - in the water. If there were just a handful left, John could take them with a little luck. A lot of luck.
He clenched his teeth. The yacht was too big for that. He had a dozen thugs to deal with. And only one - now half-empty - magazine for his new rifle. Unless Chavez' goons came at him one at a time, he was still dead.
But he'd make them work for it. The stairs were in the open, and they'd be waiting on top. Instead, he went for the door nearby. It wasn't locked, and he found himself in a narrow corridor leading to another set of stairs, with doors lining the walls. Crew quarters, he thought - the cabins were too small for guests.
He dashed towards the ribs ached again, but he ignored it. No time to check the cabins - and he doubted that anyone would be inside when the ship was under attack. He heard Spanish curses from above - they knew he was below them.
Shots rang out, tearing up the floor and stairs, and he jumped back - they had the interior stairs covered as well.
And they would be covering the diving deck now, too.
He was trapped.
Never underestimate the enemy, he reminded himself. But… the crew cabins! Could he escape through a porthole? He kicked the first door open, then cursed. They were too small. He'd never fit.
On the other hand, he was in a decent position to hold out for a bit. Unless they had grenades and were willing to use them inside their ship, he would be able to get a couple at least coming down - and he doubted that any cartel thug would want to die for the others. Cultists, though…
Gritting his teeth, he crouched down inside the small cabin, gun pointed at the stairs, and used a small mirror to keep an eye on the door to the diving deck.
Something moved! A shadow outside - someone had dropped down from above. He stared at the mirror. As soon as… There! The door opened and someone started firing into the hallway from the stern. John whipped the rifle around and leaned out. The goon was half-hidden by the door frame, and John's quick burst missed.
But the thug had ducked back into cover, yelling something. John whipped around, aimed at the stairs, but no one was charging down at him.
Then something bounced down the stairs. Grenade!
He threw himself under the cot behind him, covering his ears and opening his mouth. A moment later, the grenade went off, and he felt as if someone had punched him in the ribs. He rolled out from under the bed anyway and rose. He had to move - they would be coming now.
The door of the cabin on the other side had been blown off, and John jumped, sliding over the floor, feet first, as if he were on a baseball field. Bullets flew over his head from the stairs, but the moron there was just holding down the trigger, and the recoil pulled the muzzle up. John shot twice, catching the man in the stomach, and rolled.
The other guy would… Despite his ringing ears, he heard a scream. And a yell. "Casey!"
Caridad? What was she doing here! "What are you doing?"
"There you are!" She appeared in the door, dripping wet and grinning, hefting the bat.
"Damnit!" He rushed towards her.
"Don't worry - I didn't spill blood with it," she said, completely missing the point.
"You should've escaped!" he spat, checking upstairs.
"That's not how we do things," she retorted.
He grabbed the rifle on the ground and checked the magazine. The guy had done a tactical reload before Caridad threw him overboard. Good.
"Get them! For the Glory of Coyolxauhqui!" someone - Chavez? - screamed above them in Spanish.
Guttural screaming from several people answered him. Great.
"Here they come!" Caridad grinned and stepped inside.
John checked the stairs. If they were just charging down, they would… no! "Grenade!" he yelled - and Caridad yanked him out on the open deck, away from the door.
The grenade went off inside, and a cloud of splinters blew through the open door, peppering the railing at the stern.
John aimed his rifle upwards. They would be coming from both directions. There! He shot one guy appearing on the railing above. The thug slumped over, firing his rifle into the deck before he died. But that wouldn't… More grenades!
Before he could react, Caridad moved, swinging her bat - and hit both grenades, sending them back up. Yet… John pressed himself against the wall. "Cover!"
Caridad was a little too late, still moving as the grenades went off, one still in flight. She fell, holding her leg - a splinter had hit her in the calf. Before John could check if it was serious, someone dropped from above on them, screaming like a banshee...
...and impaled himself on the obsidian-tipped bat Caridad had raised out of reflex. The thug laughed as he died, his blood splashing over the Slayer. She stared at him in horror, then threw the bat away.
Too late - the thing was glowing.
Goddamnit!
More people came down the stairs. John shot the first, then the second as the thug tried to climb over his fallen comrade. Clear. He turned and cursed some more. Behind them, a pillar of light matching the glowing weapon had appeared in the sea.
"Nonono!" Caridad muttered, reaching out to the bat.
"Don't!" John yelled.
"I have to destroy it! Before it's too late!" she yelled back.
Damn. He moved, sliding on his back, covering the railing above. If anyone shot at them from up there… but the grenades would have wreaked havoc on the upper deck.
Caridad reached the bat and gripped it with both hands. "Stupid thing!" she screamed as she raised it above her head. And brought it down on the deck with enough force to bend a piece of rebar.
The wooden bat didn't break. Didn't even lose a single obsidian chip. It was stuck in the deck, though.
Caridad growled. "Stupid magic!" She ripped it out, taking part of the deck with it, then shook it and sent pieces of wood flying.
John kept the rifle aimed upwards. I Chavez sent the rest of his goons at them just now…
But the cultist probably was busy celebrating if the yelling from above was any indication. Damn. "What can we do?" he snapped.
"If brute force doesn't work, fire is the next best choice," she said.
Never a barbecue grill or a fuel can when you needed one. And the pillar of light was now a column, and the water seemed to be receding inside it, forming a shaft that led straight down to the seabed, he'd guess. Damn magic.
The yacht started to pick up speed and turn about, to sail back to the light show. And the yelling turned into chanting. Caridad eyed the upper railing.
"They'll have it covered," he warned her.
"They're celebrating the return of their demon goddess," she retorted.
Damn. How… "Throw me up first!"
"Wha… alright!"
She crouched in front of him, hands folded together forming a step. He put his foot in it, and she grinned. "Don't die."
Before he could answer, he was flung upwards, clearing the railing easily. Two men were there, staring at him, but their rifles were pointed down. He shot the first with a short burst while still in the air.
John hit the ground in a shoulder roll - his good shoulder - as the other tore up the railing behind him with a wild, uncontrolled burst. John stayed low, rolling to the side before the goon got his rifle under control and put two rounds into the man's chest, then another through his head.
Caridad landed behind him, Aztec bat still in hand, and he picked up the first goon's rifle. Full magazine, Good. She grinned, then eyed the superstructure before them. "They're on the foredeck."
As expected. Chavez was probably standing at the bow, arms spread. Left or right? Or centre, through the interior? Right. Easier to shoot around the corner.
He started towards the starboard side, but Caridad beat him to it, dashing forward. He ran as fast as he could, but she was pulling ahead. By the time he reached the foredeck, she was already among the gathered men there, and their chants had turned into panicked yelling as she beat and kicked them around.
And Chavez was actually standing at the bow! John dropped to a knee and raised his rifle, but another cultist was thrown into his line of fire before he could pull the trigger. He shot anyway, and the man went down.
Caridad had finished off the last cultist standing. That left Chavez - and whoever was steering the yacht. And Chavez was now, finally, turning around to face them. The bastard was smiling, arms spread wide, with the column of light framing him from behind.
John had to squint at the glaring light, but… something was floating there. Damn it! John shot the cultist. Three rounds in the chest, perfect placement.
The bullets ripped into the man, John saw blood erupt out of his back, but Chavez kept smiling, head tilting back to look at the sky with a rapt expression.
John fired another burst, two rounds of which hit the madman in the head. He didn't fall. Didn't even budge.
Caridad charged him, launching herself into a flying kick. John heard the crack as Chavez's neck snapped, but the bastard kept standing. She hit him again and again, to no effect.
John rushed forward, gun gripped tightly even though he couldn't shoot with Caridad wailing on the bastard. The Slayer took a step back, raising the cursed bat.
"Don't!" John snapped.
"Everything else failed," she replied.
They were almost at the column of light. John could now see a floating, beating heart inside it. "Killing someone with it started all of this!" Chavez probably hadn't known it would work from a distance, or he wouldn't have bothered with divers.
Caridad cursed, then ripped the rifle from his hands and rammed the muzzle through Chavez's chest. The man's ruined face didn't change, and he still didn't fall.
And they were now entering the column of light. "Too late!" John screamed as he rushed towards the railing. "Jump!"
He glanced over his shoulder as he cleared the railing, followed by Caridad, and saw Chavez starting to disappear in the light before he hit the water.
He resurfaced as quickly as he could, then turned to orient himself… Chavez's yacht was halfway into the column of light - and dipping forward into the empty shaft. Caridad resurfaced just as the ship fell, her bow crumpling against the seabed before the whole yacht swayed to the side, rolling over and starting to sink.
And above it, floating the body of Chavez was, shining - and changing. Merging with the heart.
Caridad started swimming towards Chavez. What was she thinking? She couldn't even reach the floating man - or demon; John saw the man's body twist as limbs grew and snapped and changed.
But what else could they do? Run?" John swam after her.
The Slayer was headed towards the yacht - it had rolled over, but it hadn't sunk yet. Not completely, at least. By the time John reached it, Caridad was already climbing the hull. By punching holes and dents into it.
Well, at least John could use the handholds himself, then. With some effort. He was halfway up to the keel when Caridad started towards the column of light, a knife in her hand. John grinned with clenched teeth, though he knew it was futile. They had no chance. He didn't even have a weapon left except the knife strapped to his thigh.
But he wouldn't give up, either. He pulled himself up to the keel perhaps if he threw… wait! That noise… He turned his head. Yes! The others were returning with the yacht, at full speed. They must have been waiting right outside the bay. And they were redlining the engines - they wouldn't last long like that.
Not that it mattered - if they didn't stop the Aztec demon-goddess, it'd be curtains for everyone in the area. And they had weapons!
Bartowski was at the bow, John saw. With their last rocket launcher. Walker on the bridge, Grimes and Banes on the afterdeck, pushing a zodiac into the water, and they had tied something on the bow, a pole…
John gasped. They weren't making an attack run. They were ramming the demon! "Caridad!" he yelled.
But the Slayer had already understood and was heading back towards him.
"They're crazy!" John said.
She grinned in return.
Then Bartowski fired. The rocket hit the floating demon in the back and exploded. John saw an arm get blown off and heard the demon scream - a screeching, inhuman noise that sent cold shivers down his spine.
But the demon whirled, still alive despite blood - black liquid - sprouting from the wrecked shoulder. It hissed, and a ball of fire appeared around its remaining arm. Damn.
Bartowski was running to the stern of the yacht, where Bane and Grimes were jumping into the zodiac. But he wouldn't make it. The demon drew the arm back, and…
...Caridad's knife appeared in the arm. Once more, the demon shrieked.
"Cold iron hurts it!" Caridad yelled.
John didn't think anyone was listening. Bartowski reached the afterdeck - but instead of jumping off, he was climbing the stairs to the bridge. And Walker was guiding the yacht, aiming it at the demon.
Damn. They wouldn't…
Something hit him, and he found himself flying through the air. Caridad had tackled him, he realised a moment before they hit the water. Just when a fireball exploded on the hull where they had been before.
She released him in the water, and he struggled to reach the surface as soon as possible. Struggled to breathe with aching ribs. But he needed to know, he needed to see…
He broke the surface and whirled. There! The demon, still floating, had turned to face the yacht at the exact moment the ship reached it. Unlike Chavez's yacht, this one was running at top speed - she all but jumped at the demon. The pole in the bow missed, but the demon was still hit by the yacht herself - and at that speed, with that mass…
The yacht cleared the empty hole in the water and crashed into the sea on the other side, with the demon stuck in the bow. It bounced off the surface once before hitting the sea again, coming to a rest already listing. But Bartowski and Walker...
"They jumped off! Caridad yelled, pointing at the edge of the hole. John saw the heads of the two spies there as they swam away.
Then the zodiac reached John and Caridad, and Grimes helped him on board while Caridad all but jumped in. "Take us to the yacht!" she yelled as she ripped a bag open. "We need to finish it!"
"But Chuck and…"
"They're fine! Hurry!"
Bane, who was steering the zodiac, was already changing course, and John managed to grab an axe and a rifle from his own bag.
They cut a little close to the hole but cleared it without a problem and then they were sliding along the hull of the yacht - it was listing heavily now, almost turning turtle - towards the bow. John saw that the demon was caught in the crumpled deck there, trying to free itself with one arm. "Cold iron!" Caridad yelled again before jumping on the deck, a blade in both hands.
"Here!" Grimes snapped, pushing a mace towards John. "Cold iron."
The zodiac slowed down, and John stood, then reached and grabbed the railing looming over the boat. The yacht wouldn't last much longer. Not that it mattered. He pulled himself up - his shoulder twinged, but held up and his ribs hadn't stopped hurting since the yacht - and reached the deck. Caridad was already at the demon, hacking and slashing. She had maimed the other arm, John saw - but there was still fire around the demon's hand - and the hand moved.
John threw himself to the side as the fire shot past him, hitting the water behind him. Then Caridad struck, and the hand flew through the air, landing in the water. She whirled, using the momentum to strike again, this time cutting the demon's throat and ending its shrieking, but it was still moving.
"It's the heart!" John yelled.
"I know!" Caridad snapped back. "It's not cooperating!"
John finally reached it and swung his mace, striking the thing in the wrecked shoulder. He heard bones snap, but didn't see any other effect. No matter - he kept hitting it. In the chest, on the head - what was left of it.
"It's regenerating!" Caridad shouted. "Keep it busy!"
John did his best, but the yacht was about to turn turtle now - he could barely stand on the tilted deck.
But Grimes managed to get up - with a flamethrower. "Get clear!"
Caridad jumped back. John stumbled back, slipping, and fell - almost into the flames that Grimes sent at the demon.
"Stop!" Caridad yelled, already moving forward. She dragged John up towards the other railing, then jumped, landing on the burning demon. With a yell, she plunged the blades into its chest, twisted - and a lumpy thing landed on the deck near John. He acted on impulse and stuck it with his knife, nailing it to the deck.
"Fry the body!" Caridad yelled, reaching for the heart.
But before Grimes could react, the yacht finally rolled over.
John managed to hold on to the railing and jump clear so the ship wouldn't roll over him when it capsized, but he was the only one - Grimes and Caridad vanished beneath the yacht. As did the heart and the body of the demon! Goddamnit!
He took a deep breath and dived. He had to reach the others. If they got trapped in the sinking ship… And if the demon recovered the heart, if it was still able to….
The water wasn't as clear here as in other places - the change in currents from the magic hole in the sea must have disturbed the seabed or something - but the yacht was easily visible, and he could spot the bow.
But it was sinking fast and would reach the seabed soon, trapping anyone beneath it. John swam faster but knew he wouldn't make it. He wouldn't, couldn't stop, though. He had to try.
He was halfway down to the yacht when he saw movement. Something, someone swam clear of the upturned foredeck, but the yacht hit the seabed, throwing up mud and sand and obscuring John's view before he could see who - or what - it was.
He readied his knife, in case it was the demon, somehow restored. Then he waited, eyeing the murky water slowly rising towards him. He'd stay as long as possible.
Then two bodies appeared in the water, swimming towards him. Caridad dragging Grimes! The Watcher didn't seem to be moving!
John dived, grabbing on to Grimes free arm and then helped drag him to the surface. His lungs started burning, but he kept pushing himself. Just a little more…
They broke the surface, and he gulped down air. Damned, that had been… Grimes! The guy was still limp - was he breathing?
John looked around. Where was the damn zodiac? There! He waved and yelled. "Come here! Grimes needs help! Quickly!"
Bane, as expected, steered the zodiac towards them at once. Less than half a minute later, they pushed and pulled Grimes into the boat and climbed in after him.
"He's not breathing!" Caridad snapped, then started CPR. She was surprisingly good at it, John noted.
"Come one, you idiot! Breathe!" Caridad snapped between blowing air down the man's lungs.
Could she actually blow hard enough to damage them? John wondered, privately, as he watched. Not that it mattered if the man died here and now. While John watched helplessly.
Bane gasped next to him. "Morgan, come on!"
Then the man started coughing and sputtering, and John relaxed. Still alive.
"Huh?" Grimes blinked. "Did we get Coyolxauhqui?"
John snorted as Bane hugged Grimes and Caridad smiled with obvious relief. The man was a Watcher, alright. He turned away and helped Bartowski and Walker into the boat while Grimes received more mouth-to-mouth.
"What happened to Coyolxauhqui?" Bartowski asked, panting.
"Caridad cut its heart out, and I nailed it to the deck. After we dismembered the body," John told him. "Both are buried beneath the wreck of our yacht."
"Oh." Bartowski blinked. "But the, uh, light show is still going on!" He pointed at the column of light.
John cursed. Damn, he had missed that. The demon was still alive, then! And they had no diving gear left to recover the heart. What could they do? Perhaps call Brown-Smythe and have him drive - or fly - here? Caridad might even reach the seabed without an air tank, though it would be very dangerous. But what other option did they have?
Then the column of light suddenly vanished. John cursed again. "Hold on, everyone!"
A moment later, the hole collapsed, and the sea rushed to fill it - dragging the zodiac along. John saw the water clash in the centre and rise, forming a huge wave moments before it crashed down on them.
An hour later, John watched the sun setting in the ocean, sitting in the zodiac slightly off the sunken yacht. Behind him, Bartowski and Grimes tried to get the engine working again - the fuel line had been ripped off when the zodiac had capsized, together with the cover, and something had been damaged afterwards.
He didn't really care. Boat engines were tough, and the two nerds would figure out how to fix it. If they didn't, they still had the one paddle they had recovered. He wouldn't be rowing, anyway - his ribs had been taped up and he had taken a pill against the pain.
Caridad, next to him, was still staring at the sea - at the wreck below - like a cat watching a mousehole. If she had a tail, it would swish, John was sure.
It was a weird situation. Two ships sunk in the bay, and no coastguard around. Not even the police. No tourists, either. The whole bay seemed a haunted place. He sighed. It was probably Orion's work, keeping the authorities from noticing.
"Phil's coming," she said, misunderstanding him. "He should be here in a few hours."
John nodded anyway. "The other missions are starting now," he commented.
"And we can't do anything!" Caridad shook her head, then ran her hands through her wet hair.
"We stopped Chavez," he said.
"And his whole gang," Bane added.
"If Coyolxauhqui were still active, we would have noticed by now," Walker said. She sounded almost casually, but John noticed that she was too tense for the tone of her voice.
"I'll go check again!" Caridad said and jumped into the sea.
John sighed. That was her tenth dive since they had started waiting in the zodiac. And he wanted to go with her each time, yet couldn't. It was too deep for him.
"She'll be OK," Bane told him.
He nodded. He knew she would - she was the Slayer - but he worried anyway.
A few minutes later, she resurfaced. "No change. Nothing disturbed the wreck;" she reported as she climbed into the boat.
"Good." He nodded, and she sat down, taking up her former spot, staring at the sea.
"If the others run into some trouble, we might still beat some of them," Caridad said. "All we need is Phil arriving with the scuba gear." She grinned. "And when does a mission ever go according to plan?"
That went for them as well, of course. Recovering the heart wouldn't be easy - they would have to go through the hull somehow. Explosives were tricky, and cutting through it with tools was difficult. Not impossible, but it would take time.
He didn't tell her that, though. He just wrapped an arm around her waist and held her as they waited.