“Sam, my faceplate has been compromised, I need help — now!”
Without knowing whether or not his flashlight had been successful in attracting Sam’s attention, he switched it off. Through the millions of bubbles streaming from the crack in his faceplate, Tom saw the glowing light in the distance.
There. I have to reach it, before the darkness takes me…
Tom kicked his strong legs, and the fins propelled him in the direction towards the light, but without much visibility, he had little way of determining how close he was to it. Then he saw a second light, which was moving up and down, more like dolphin, towards him. And then the leaking Hydrox stopped.
He had run out of breathable gas.
Like a dying fool, Tom closed his eyes, held his breath, and swam towards his death — and death swam towards him. Within a minute, he no longer had to hold his eyes closed, and was surrounded by the darkness.
Unconsciousness wrapped itself around his mind comfortingly, like an adult spreading a warm blanket over a child.
Sam struggled to remove the deformed helmet. Using an emergency wrench connected to the back of Tom’s twin dive tanks, he gripped the helmet’s outer lock and pulled with all his might. The device still did not move. On his third, attempt, he got the casing to turn, then quickly pulled it off his limp friend’s head.
“Tom! Can you hear me?”
Tom’s eyes were open, and the man was still gasping for air, but something was wrong. The muscles around his face started to twitch.
He’s been exposed to the hydrogen cyanide…
Opening the cyanide antidote kit, Sam said, “Matthew, put the toxicologist on the line — and I mean, right now.”
Seconds later, he had a reply, “Doctor Johnston speaking.”
“Tom’s faceplate has been damaged and he’s been exposed to high concentrations of hydrogen cyanide… I have the antidote kit open, but there’s about ten fucking mini-jets inside — I need you to give me the sequence of administration.”
“Work from left to right, for the first three. Start with the aerosol amyl nitrite — give it immediately into his mouth, and be sure to hold his nose closed.”
Sam followed the order, and sprayed the aerosol solutions into Tom’s mouth in rapid succession. His hands were stable. He didn’t have time to be frightened. Sam now had the equipment and the instructions available. All he had to do was follow them, and Tom would survive — or he wouldn’t, but he would have been given the best chance.
Without waiting for Sam to acknowledge that he’d done so, the doctor continued, “Now, on with the first injection. It’s called sodium nitrite, and you’re going to need to administer it intravenously. That’s going to mean inserting it into Tom’s large jugular vein. Make sure it’s inside the vein, otherwise it won’t work, and now just shove the entire contents in.”
Sam had learned the basic concepts of venipuncture at college, while working on autopsies of certain mammals, but that was a far cry from inserting a massive needle into his best friend’s large neck vein.
He drew on his memories, and inserted it first go.
Sam attached the mini-jet and injected the full contents. Forcing himself to take purposely slow, deep breaths, he waited for a response.
“Okay, the sodium nitrite is in.”
“Good, now I want you to leave that needle inside Tom’s neck and attach the second mini-jet. That one is filled with sodium thiosulfate. You will notice, it doesn’t have a needle on the end. The reason for this is that you can insert it over the previous needle and just inject it straight in.”
Sam followed the instructions, and then asked, “Now what?”
“If you were quick enough, and your friend is strong, he has about a 25 percent chance that he will survive. If he regains consciousness, I need you to start working through the rest of the kit — as the packet says, from left to right, each one injected through the same port that you made when you inserted the second medication into his neck vein.”
“Thanks Doc,” Sam said, and for an instant he thought he saw his friend’s eyes starting to focus. “Now, Matthew, we only have one helmet between the two of us, and very little Hydrox in our tanks. We’re going to need you to send a rescue mission.”
“Rescue mission?” The incredulity in Matthew’s voice could be heard despite the radio friction. “Where the hell are you?”
“I’ll explain shortly, but first, you better bring up the Rock and start preparing for a rescue mission!”
In front of him, Tom’s open eyes, staring blankly into that space somewhere between life and death, appeared to recognize something. His pupils dilated, and his head turned to orient with Sam’s. Without speaking, he slowly looked up, towards the glow above.
“Where the fuck are we, Sam?” Tom’s voice was cold, but not frightened.
“Hey, you’re alive!” Sam patted Tom’s back. His friend coughed a little, but he looked like he was going to be okay. “Well Tom, I’m not certain, but if I was to hazard a guess, I’d say, we just entered the inner tomb of an ancient king.”
Chapter Three
The air was stale, and utterly devoid of humidity.
It was the first time since entering the glowing chamber that Sam even noticed. For that matter, he was only just now able to examine his surroundings. He hadn’t been aware of the unique dryness until now.
When he first dragged Tom’s unresponsive body through the opening and up into the dry stone surface, Sam’s only interest had been whether or not the gas was breathable. His watch monitored air quality and had quickly confirmed his suspicion that the hydrogen cyanide was confined to the water. Then he’d commenced Tom’s resuscitation.
His eyes glanced over the room which now served as their rescue chamber.
It was small, no larger than someone’s bedroom. The walls were built out of solid, cubed stone blocks, four feet wide. The stone walls and ceiling were entirely smooth. Above them, at the perfect center, was a square opening — just big enough for a man to climb through. It was from this opening that the strange blue glowing light radiated. Fifteen feet above, it would be nearly impossible to access without specialized equipment. Most likely, Sam guessed, this chamber served only as a deterrent for would be thieves.
His eyes returned to the walls.
Although smooth, there were a number of painted markings covering the entire chamber; pictographs which depicted warriors, with their weapons drawn as though they were placed there, ready to defend the upper levels of a vault.
Something about the pictures disturbed him.
He’d seen them somewhere before. Maybe in an archeological book or documentary on the Discovery Channel, but he doubted it. Somehow, he felt that he’d seen similar work with his own eyes. That in itself wasn’t particularly surprising. After all, Sam’s work with Deep Sea Expeditions, and as a ghost agent for the Secretary of Defense, often brought him to ancient archeological sites. He remembered a number of past missions that took him to Mayan sites, but failed to recall similar markings.
Without giving it any more consideration, he noticed Tom had sat up by himself, his hand instinctively reaching for the needle in his neck.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Sam said.
“What is it?”
“It’s a giant needle I just used to save your life.”
“Do I still need it?” Tom asked.
“Probably not, but the doctors back Stateside recommended that I leave it in place, with its medical lock, until you’re on the surface… something about an air embolism or something. How do you feel?”