It was later reported that the white flash of the explosion could be seen as far away as Trincomalee. Minutes later, a five-foot wall of water pushed a quarter mile inland up and down the coast, causing a tsunami panic. But compared to the 2004 disaster, the waves subsided quickly and flooding was minimal. The story made the BBC and CNN later that day.

Rumors quickly spread: the Tamil Tigers were back. It was a Chinese submarine, an underwater volcano. In Colombo, President Halangoda was awakened by his private secretary to receive the news. He immediately knew what it was, but feigned surprise.

Ten miles out to sea, Tusker opened his eyes. His head was throbbing and he struggled to remember where he was. All he could see was a haze of orange. As he regained his senses, he realized he was buried under a pile of life jackets. He clawed his way out as if swimming until he recognized the sterile interior of the hyperbaric lifeboat. The rows of seats were still bolted to the floor, but everything else had been ripped from the walls, the storage compartments and ceiling and thrown around the cabin.

Tusker could hear a steady hum and the sloshing of water. He took a deep breath— and realized that if he still could, the lifeboat had not been breached by the blast. The boat was effectively a floating compression chamber, and they were still trapped at the equivalent of 350 feet of water pressure. But at least they were alive.

But what about Sam? Tusker swiveled around and saw her slumped in one of the seats. She’d fastened herself with the four-point safety harness as he’d told her to do. But was she alive?

Tusker waded through the piles of debris on the floor to her. He leaned in, with his ear next to her face, hoping to hear, or feel, a breath.

“Trying to take advantage of a vulnerable woman?”

Tusker pulled back with a grin. “Are you OK?” He clutched her face in both hands and studied her eyes.

“Sure,” she replied. “I mean, I think so. I may have dozed off there.”

“Well, thanks for caring about me!” Tusker shot back with a smile. “I was left for dead under a pile of life jackets!”

Sam laughed. She unclipped her harness and climbed over the seat back. There was a row of small portholes, each about half a foot thick against the hyperbaric pressure. She peered out.

“Come take a look at this!”

Tusker joined her at the windows and craned his neck to see out the next porthole. In the distance was an apocalyptic scene. A towering cloud of white vapor culminated in what looked like a massive thunderhead. At the surface of the water was a jumbled mass of indeterminate flotsam—remnants, he grimly thought, of the Depth Charge. Closer to the lifeboat, was a raft of dead fish.