The thing’s eyestalks just seemed to prick higher as it watched her. She carefully crouched at the object, dug her fingers under it, and lifted – it was light, not solid. She turned it over in her hands, and then quickly started to rip away some of the weed and mollusks that had built up on its surface. Remnants of yellow paint began to show through.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

“I think, it’s…” She grabbed and flicked away more weed and shells. The engraved letters were still there: Jim Granger, Foreman.

She sat down heavily, shaking, feeling like she wanted to laugh hysterically.

“It’s a helmet.” Cate held it up briefly. “Jim Granger’s.”

“Your grandfather’s?” Jack came and sat beside her, and threw an arm over her shoulder.

“This place…” She stared down at the ancient hard hat in her hands. “No one gets away.” She sniffed at her runny nose. Sorry Granma Violet, maybe he did meet the devil this time after all, she thought as she screwed her eyes shut, feeling the tears squeeze out again.

“I can’t go back in the water, Jack.”

Beside her, Jack sighed. “Cate… Cate.”

She looked up at him, her eyes still burning.

He smiled sadly. “Turn your light off.”

She looked at him for a few seconds, but then shrugged and did as he asked.

“Abby, yours too.” Abby’s went out, and then Jack did the same with his.

The darkness was absolute. “See this?” There was nothing but Jack’s disembodied voice.

“Our batteries will last another six to eight hours… and we’ve lost all our spares.” He left the comment hanging.

Cate turned her light back on, and sighed. She began to chuckle, shaking her head, not wanting to fully let the implications sink in.

Jack went on. “I’ve done cave diving many times. But there was this one time, when we were diving into a newly-discovered sinkhole in the Amazon. There were three of us. We were eight hundred feet in when our batteries began to fade, and then die. They must have soaked up some moisture on trip way down; corrosion ate them from the inside out. Anyway, the thing was, when you’re in a cave and the lights go out, it’s not pretty.” He snorted softly. “You can’t see the hand in front of your face.” He looked at Cate, his mouth momentarily set in a hard line. “Then you start to see things.”

Cate groaned, and let her head drop so her forehead rested on her knees, the helmet still in her hands. She could smell it then – the weed and shells and odors of ancient oceans. It was near tropical warmth in the cave, but she began to shiver. She lifted her head.