Wow so many people are reading this, thanks a bunch!
A thanks to Bitch Ate My Cupcake (Hilarious) for the review, you are wonderful thanks a bunch!
As always another tune to set the mood - watch?v=am6rArVPip8
They have been quietly floating in front of O'Leary's boat for a few minutes now. Hiding in the new darkness from the lack of sun, the sky above them dark and starless. Travis was putting on the last of his gear, sitting on the edge of the boat and readying himself to dive in. His hand tightly griping an overhanging rope which was tied to O'Leary's fishing net and the Irish Lady. It wasn't the safest way to secure them to the area, but the water is too deep for their anchor to reach the ocean floor. Meara sets a 45-minute timer on her phone. She looks up to his goggled face, worry spreads across it. They have been sitting in silence since they left the docks.
"Stop lookin' at me like that, I've done this a couple of times you know?" he grows a little cocky, liking the way she is fretting over him. It has taken awhile for him to garner even a shred of her attention since they first met.
"I know," she replies a little irritated at his arrogant open mouth grin plastered all over his face. "just a long time to be under by yourself."
"The tanks in right?" he jokes to her, she nods in response. "Then there's no problems!" he blows her a kiss, and falls back into the water. Meara rolls her eyes and watches the cord unravel into the dark water beneath her. After a few moments it steadies and she slumps back into her seat, pulling her phone out for entertainment. She reaches her one hand out to grasp the life line, if there is the slightest tug, she'll feel it.
As the minute's tick by she tosses her phone to the seat next to her. The new steady rocking of the ship mixing with the small text on her phone causes her head to ache. She leans against the leather seat and stares up to the dark sky above, searching for sparkling lights to entertain her. She furrows her eyebrows at the sight. There were no stars which means clouds. The thought making her tense up. The boat begins to rock a little more, she leans forward, squinting at the horizon. She can't differentiate the water from the sky, it's all black. The wind comes off the water in a cold, rough gust and she could feel the heat in the air around her rise. She begins to wring her hair out in nervous anticipation, feeling the soft edges under her fingers she looks down. Her hair is growing frizzy from the gradual change in temperature.
"Shit," she curses to her self. She grabs her phone, it reads 9 minutes left. A strident wave smacks against the small boat causing droplets of water to hit her phone. She aggressively wipes it clean, placing it back on the seat. She leans over the side of the boat, staring at where the line disappears into the deep blackness, it lazily bobs up and down. The light from his head lamp brightening up the bottom of the boat, no signs of struggling. She sighs in relief.
They were at least 20 miles off shore, right in the heart of fishing territory. Strangely, only O'Leary's boat was out tonight, all the other fishermen vessels had been tied to the docks. Water splashes up the bow, and trickles down the side. She can feel wetness on her cheeks, she hurriedly wipes it away with the cuff of her sweater. The boat begins to sway more aggressively, causing her to balance herself with the steering wheel as it shifts away from O'Leary's ship. It jerks back against the rope they had tied to the net and more water lets itself into the small vessel. Meara hitches her feet up closer to herself to try and escape from the dampness of the carpet, she becomes anxious, the weather was supposed to be fine.
"Come on, come on, come on," she repeats to herself as the boat drifts away, causing the net to be pulled off from the bigger ship and slap back against the side. The Irish Lady sways getting too close, almost touching the opposing ship which was groaning as it tilts from side to side from the new blowing wind. Meara teeters as she stands trying to move back to where Travis' life line was tied, thinking a slight tug would warn him to come up. An unruly wave hits the small boat making it spin around, the bow spinning to face the faraway shore. She falls headlong from the sudden shift, knees hitting the side and she tumbles towards the water. She puts her hands out to catch herself but only comes in contact with icy cold wetness, her stomach bracing her fall on the edge. She scrambles and splashes at the waters surface, throwing her body backwards to fall into her seat. She shoves her hands under her armpits, trying to dry them and feeling the very familiar tingle on her skin. The boat is still mid-turn as she fumbles to dry herself and crashes into the larger looming ship. Her head whips back and she winces at the tight pinch now consuming her senses. She rubs it to try to ease the sensation. The boat hits the other again, jolting her out of her soreness to look for the line attached to Travis. It's pulled tight against the chock, definitely not a good sign. She tries to crawl towards it but the waves crashing against the small boat keep tossing her into the slimy leather seats. The wind picks up violently and blows her hair around her face. The sound of her alarm sings above the loudness of the wind and the angry whitecaps.
"Oh no." Her face goes pale. His air tank will be empty in 5 minutes if he doesn't come up. She throws herself at the knots holding Travis to the boat and heaves her body over the side, staring down to where he should be. The light from his headlamp thrashes about under the glossy water, he was stuck. Adrenaline pumps through Meara's body she yanks on the line but it's unmoving, making only one idea whirl into her thoughts. She shakily takes the scarf off from around her neck and lets it fall to the damp floor of the boat. She warily puts a foot on the side, trying to ready herself to plunge in and she lets out a breath. Before she can jump in, a wave makes the decision for her, causing the boat to lurch forward and she gets thrown from it's wavering safety. Her stomach connects with the icy water. She recoils underneath the surface, all air flowing out of her lungs from the impact. She kicks out her legs in panic but it only forces her further into the freezing depths. Her eyes open wide, watching as the air bubbles rush upwards. Meara coughs for oxygen but only water gets sucked into her airways. She scrambles at her neck as a searing pain scorches through her lungs, she writhes back and forth under the weight of the water. She twists her head back to look to the surface, vision becoming blurred and her thoughts only of air and how to get it consume her. Her movements become slow, breathing now seeming impossible. Her eyes slowly close as she sinks further down, her mind growing blank as she peacefully let's go.
Suddenly her chest heaves, she grabs for her neck again feeling the familiar ridged bump behind her ears. Her eyes fly open as her sight becomes clear, the darkness of the water lighting up. She brings her hands out from her neck, watching as her fingers become webbed and her skin shines as pinkish scales push out from the lines in her skin. Her body temperature rises, all chills fluidly leaving her as the soft current surrounds her. Her feet begin to ache as she feels them grow in size, pushing tightly against the walls of her sneakers. Sudden realization comes to her as she remembers why she was changing. She frantically searches around trying to find Travis, she can see his helmet light some 10 meters in front of her, still flailing about wildly. She kicks off towards it, gaining speed and grace as she cuts through the intense pull from the current of the ocean.
Meara reaches out to slow herself and grabs the net, Travis's back was to her, scrambling to free both his feet from it's slashed clutches. Fish were desperately swimming in all directions trying to get out, one sea turtle caught under the mass of fluttering fins. Travis frantically stabs his knife about, connecting with the metal bottom of the ship. Every movement slowed by the heaviness of the water. She reaches out and grabs his wrist to try to take the knife from his death grip. He whirls around to look at her, his headlamp illuminating her face. She throws a hand up to block the striking whiteness of the light, squinting as it blinds her vision for the moment. She can hear a bubbly gasp come from him, she brings her hand away to try for the knife again, but all she can see is his fearful eyes, wide with horror and panic. She knows she must be quite a sight. He suddenly shuts his eyes, mouth open and gasping for air, his mouth-piece hung desperately to the side. Before she can try to calm him he throws out the knife in all directions, almost connecting with her. She swims back automatically but with too much force. Her head connecting hard with the base of the boat as it dips lower from a violent wave. She goes limp from the impact. Surrounded by overwhelming darkness, the distorted cries from Travis now becoming the soundtrack of her forced dream state.
Oh Dear...
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