First one, then two beams of light arced across the width of the passage above and in front of me. They moved erratically, in different directions, lighting the walls, roof, water as if at random. And then one of the shafts of light silhouetted the outlines of three people in the dry part of the tunnel, juddering, shimmering through the distorting optic of the water. They were moving closer, much closer, and fast.

I killed the laser immediately and moved, crab-like, to the side of the flooded passageway. The bullet wounds in my thigh and shoulder throbbed. I was in bad shape for diving. I had overestimated the length of time I could stay submerged and had much less than a minute of air left. It was too late to turn back. I edged forward, disturbing the ancient human remains. My chest was screaming. My ears rang. My throat pulled down hard, desperately seeking oxygen that wasn’t there. As I moved closer to the surface of the pool, the lights and shadows cast by the people in the tunnel loomed above me. I kept my head down, so that my pale face would be both the first and last thing they saw. Between two thick, torch-wielding shadows on either side, a smaller, slighter figure was squirming, fighting, struggling to break free.

I steadied myself at the edge of the rockfall and prepared to surface into the dry tunnel. And then the water exploded above me, erupting in a whoosh of air bubbles and swirling current. Finger on the trigger, I lifted the muzzle of the M4, and looked up into the bulging eyes of a frantic, drowning boy.

Our faces nearly touched. The oblique sweep of a torch beam lit the water long enough for him to see me while blocking my face from whoever was holding him under. Then the light arced away from us and we were both plunged back into darkness. His head was held under long enough for him to take in water. He screamed, filling the tunnel with a strange, muted howl, drawing water in through his nose. He was hoisted out again, coughing and spluttering in silhouette. Mud kicked up off the tunnel floor billowed around me, masking my outline, clouding my vision. Down the boy came again, held by a single hand to the back of his head. Bubbles leached from his mouth, and then from mine. He stopped struggling.

We were both out of air. Out of time.

16

I came up fast.

Left hand open wide, fingers spread across the boy’s chest. I lifted him clear of the water. His torso slipped sideways, caught in a push-me-pull-you with his faceless attacker. Breath roared in the boy’s lungs and mine, as if we were breathing as one. My chest heaved. Adrenaline surged.