Mick removes his tee shirt, tearing the sweaty fabric into long strips. He ties a makeshift bandage across the wound, then searches the battered cabin for the first-aid kit.

Dominique moans. She sits up painfully, turns her head, and retches.

Mick locates the first-aid kit and a bottle of water. Returning to her side, he dresses the wound, then removes a cold pack.

“Mick?”

“Right here.” He squeezes the cold pack, puncturing its internal contents, then presses it to her head, securing it with the remains of his tee shirt. “You’ve got a nasty head wound. Most of the bleeding’s stopped, but you probably suffered a concussion.”

“I think I cracked a rib, I’m having a hard time breathing.” She opens her eyes and looks up at Mick in pain. “You’re bleeding.”

“I broke my nose.” He hands her the container of bottled water.

She closes her eyes and takes a sip. “Where are we? What happened?”

“We descended through the burrow and hit something. The minisub’s dead. Life-support systems are barely functioning.”

“Are we still in the hole?”

“I don’t know.” Mick moves to the forward viewport and peers out.

The Barnacle’s emergency exterior lighting reveals a dark, tight chamber, devoid of seawater. The minisub’s bow appears to be wedged in between two dark, vertical barriers. The spacing between the two walls narrows sharply before dead-ending at a curved, metallic sheath.

“Jesus, where in the hell are we?”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know—some kind of subterranean chamber. The sub’s wedged in between two walls, but there’s no water outside.”

“Can we get out of here?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure where here is. Have you noticed those deep vibrations have stopped?”

“You’re right.” She hears him rummaging through the debris. “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for the scuba gear.” He locates the wet suit, mask, and air tank.

Dominique groans as she sits up, then lays her head back again, the pain and vertigo overwhelming. “What are you going to do?”

“Wherever we are, we’re stuck. I’m going to see if I can find a way to free us.”

“Mick, wait. We must be a mile down. The pressure will crush us the moment you open the hatch.”

“There’s no water in the chamber, which means it must be depressurized. I think we have to take the chance. If we just sit here, we’ll die anyway.” He pulls off his sneakers and climbs into the tight, neoprene wet suit.

“You were right. We never should have entered the burrow. It was stupid. I should have listened to you.”

He stops dressing to lean over her. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be Foletta’s vegetable. Just sit here and try not to move while I get us out of here.”