Trapped and Captive in Someone Else’s Bed

Trapped and captive, I was starting to regret being there.

Shadows glided above my head. Dark shadows were cast against a vivid blue background by the bright sun. Evil-looking forms grabbed my attention as I gripped the ocean bed.

Five, maybe more; the number kept growing. I couldn't see them clearly, but the SHAPE showed at least one - no, make that two hammerhead sharks. Another just arrived. The others were between one and three meters. The hammerheads were the biggest.

I gripped the sandy bed of the ocean floor. What was I to do?

My air supply was getting low, but trying to surface among a group of ten sharks in a frenzy was not a good idea.

Why did I enter the water for the second dive? That was the question I kept asking myself.

Here I was on the ocean bed, trying to outlast a group of hungry sharks with my air about to enter the red zone.

I stopped and monitored my breathing. I tried to slow it down to conserve oxygen.

Shallow breaths. “Sip the air,” I told myself.

“Sip it like a hot cup of tea or an expensive scotch.”

I was not experienced at this whole diving thing. This was only my eighth dive. My ‘buddy’ had deserted me because I had refused to go down into the cave. I was not qualified for cave diving and didn't have a torch. I don’t mind a risk, but only when I am confident that there is a reasonable chance.

Forget the rules about sticking together that they teach you when you get your diving ticket. He was an arrogant engineer from an oil rig, and he had been diving for years. I had asked if I could have a different buddy because I didn't feel comfortable with him. They had declined, saying there was no one else.

Come to think of it, where was the rest of the group?

I did a quick circle, trying not to disturb too much sand off the ocean bed for fear of attracting attention. No-one. I was completely alone except for my dark shapes circling above and increasing in number.

They were in a frenzy; something had gotten them all worked up, and I was hoping it wasn’t me.

Suddenly, a burst of sand erupted in front of me.

A grey rope whizzed past my face as I took a massive gulp of air.

Then, the form emerged. One to two meters wide, I had disturbed a giant stingray in the sand. The grey rope was its barbed tail, which had missed my face by inches.

Flashes of Steve Irwin rushed through my head. Those things can kill you, and I had nearly copped one in the face.

I waited for the sand to settle and tried once again to slow my breathing.

I tentatively inched along the sandy bed. Right now, it was my security blanket. The eruption of sand had triggered the interest of three or four of the sharks. They were coming down toward me, tracking my bubbles and nervous energy.

I started breathing heavily. You could almost see the air gauge dip. Either I would suffocate from lack of air, or I could take my chance and run the gauntlet. There would be no time for a safety stop at five metres. I would deal with the consequences when I surfaced, if I surfaced.

Time was running out.

I was going to have to make a run for it. It was either that or drown on the sandy seabed twenty meters below the water. No-one would find me. If I floated to the surface, I would certainly be shark bait.

I looked at my air gauge.

Dangerously low!

Four sharks were heading straight for me.

I closed my eyes and launched myself off the bed and into the water, kicking steadily and trying not to panic……..

Till next time,

Calvin