He pulled against the pipes that trapped his ankle. It was no use. The boot was stuck fast in the gap. Stay calm, Gus, stay calm. They’ll come to help you soon. A hacksaw to cut the pipes, yes, that’s what he needed! Rory wouldn’t just leave me.

Three hundred fifty feet above him, the diving bell surfaced in a great cascade of water, the crane pulling it aboard through the moon pool. The sun had finally poked above the surface of the Indian Ocean to the east, and on the horizon the first fishing boats were motoring in with their night’s bounty to sell at the market in Batticaloa.

The bell would be mated to the onboard habitat chamber, where the divers would transfer for their decompression. It would now be even more comfortable with one less diver in the cramped compartment. The big diesels of the Depth Charge came to life and the ship swung around to sail west, towards the coast.

Sound carries well underwater, far better than in air. Gus McElroy could hear a distant rumble and wondered for a moment what it was. An engine? It couldn’t be! He had only a few minutes of gas left in his bailout bottle, maybe less with his fast, panicked breathing. His booted foot remained stuck in the piping. He had a sudden idea. If he could wriggle out of his dive suit, he could pull his foot free and swim out! In the dark, he felt for the latches for his helmet and unsnapped them. The cold ocean flooded in, causing him to gasp, inhaling water. He resisted coughing and held his breath while he unzipped the suit and struggled out of it.

He felt his foot pop out of the suit’s integrated boot and the tangled suit fell away. He was free! His lungs were burning now with the buildup of carbon dioxide and the saltwater burned and blinded his eyes. He smashed into something hard—the bomb—which was knocked off of its neutrally buoyant perch beneath the lift bags and crashed down past him. He paid it no attention. He had to get out of the ship! He hadn’t considered how he’d make it to the surface. His fight or flight instinct was in full bloom.

McElroy swam in a wild, flailing butterfly crawl inside the dark tomb. His diaphragm spasmed and he fought against the urge to inhale until, in a final primal human reflex, he opened his mouth and took a deep breath of cold sea water. His body drifted down, settling next to his empty dive suit and helmet. The Vampire had claimed its tenth victim.

The Taprobane

Bay of Bengal, eight nautical miles east of Batticaloa, Sri Lanka. The same day.