Silent Waters

Chapter 51

The wall of seawater rushing in with each rise and fall of the vessel was washing away everything, including equipment that had been bolted in place.

The blast had separated McCann from Amy, and he remembered that his head had smashed against something. Now he was lying on top of the Fire Control panel and seawater was slapping against his face.

McCann had no idea what time it was, or if he’d been knocked out or not. He could see light coming in from somewhere beyond the periscope platform and the cascading water. The battle lanterns above him were still burning. Beneath him, he could hear the banging bass sound of deep water. The forward compartment was filling quickly, and that meant the lower levels must be full.

If the ship went down now, they’d all go with it. He looked around madly but he could see no sign of Amy or Brody. He remembered holding onto her until the blow.

He rolled off the panel and was nearly swept under by the turbulence of the seawater in the compartment. The water came almost to his chest. Wading through the control room, he clung to anything he could get a grip on.

It seemed like forever before he made it to where he’d last seen Amy. Filling his lungs with air, he went under. Darkness was all around him. He searched where she’d been standing before. He came up for air and looked around, shouting her name, before diving again.

The water was rising even higher. He could see where the light was seeping in. Back near the escape trunk, the explosion had torn open a gaping hole in the hull. Everything surrounding it was demolished.

He went under again and pulled himself toward Sonar. There was still no sign of Amy.

Surfacing, he pulled open the door to the Sonar Room. Brody was unconscious and still in his chair at the sonar station. His face was barely above water, and there was blood on his forehead. From the spider web breaks in what was still visible of the monitor screen, McCann guessed the young man’s head had been driven into it by the force of either the explosion or the rushing water. He grabbed his man by the collar of the shirt and tried to lift him from the chair. No luck. Brody’s leg was caught on something.

McCann didn’t know if Brody was alive or already dead, but he had to try to get him out of there. The water was continuing to wash in around them. He reached down, yanking at the table that trapped Brody’s legs. Brody’s body started moving away from the chair. He was free.

McCann put an arm across the man’s chest and began towing him through the control room toward the bridge access ladder. The forward escape hatch was wrecked. He’d have to carry Brody up through the sail to the bridge. It was going to be a tough climb.

As he went, he continued to look for Amy. By the periscope platform, he lost his footing and went under, dragging Brody with him. Regaining his feet, he came up and heard Brody coughing and sputtering. At least he was still alive, McCann thought.

But what about Amy.

“Amy! Amy!”

It took some effort to lift Brody’s body over his shoulder. It took even more to climb the ladder up through the narrow trunk that led to the bridge. At the top, he felt himself getting weak as he tried to open the hatch with one hand. The shoulder he’d been shot in was starting to go numb, and he was losing feeling in his hand and arm.

Finally, the hatch opened and, as McCann pushed it up, light streamed in.

Time was of the essence. Wherever Amy was, he had to find her soon. McCann carried Brody’s body up until the young man was clear of the hatch, and then he rolled him onto the decking topside.

Leaving him there, McCann slid back down the ladder, entering the water again. The light from above improved visibility, but not the scene itself. The water had risen so high that he now had to swim. He saw no sign of Amy in what was left of the control room. He considered the direction of the blast and where the water might have carried her. He turned and looked past the helm. The communication shack was just forward of the control room. He took a deep breath and swam in that direction.

The door to the radio room was hanging at an angle, half torn from its hinge, and one of the helmsman’s chairs was against it. The room was filling with water. He inhaled and dove, entering the radio room where the bottom of the door allowed him access.

Coming to the surface inside, McCann saw her.

She had a terrible cut on her forehead, and her mouth was barely above the water. He shouted to her but he didn’t think she heard him. She seemed to be in a daze, but still conscious enough to keep fighting for her life. She was a scrapper.

McCann tried to get past the communications panels, but he had little success. Taking in another gulp of air and going down, he braced himself between a bulkhead and a panel and shoved. Slowly, the panel began to move, and then righted itself. He came up gasping, and pulled himself toward her. He was able to get in far enough to take hold of her hand.

“Amy!” he shouted. “We have to go under to get out.”

She looked at him blankly.

“Trust me.”

She didn’t understand him, and she fought him as he pulled her around one of the panels. She went under once and then she was beside him in the cramped space. The water was rising quickly now. There were barely two or three inches of air left near the overhead. McCann’s face was right next to hers.

“Amy,” he said as he wrapped an arm tightly around her waist.

She stared ahead, her chin starting to drop into the water. Her eyes were closing.

“Hold your breath,” he ordered before taking her under.

She fought him but it was a half-hearted attempt. He held onto her, pulling her behind him through the door and then up. They both broke the surface, sputtering. They were between two frames in the overhead.

They’d have to swim underwater again to reach the ladder to the bridge, where he’d left Brody at the open hatch. He took her face in his hand.

“Amy!”

Her eyes flickered open, but she was slipping away.

“Take another deep breath. Do you hear me? Do it now!”

Pulling her down, McCann kicked hard to move the two of them. His lungs burned. Amy was limp as a rag doll in his grip.

He pushed up past the periscope tower and found the ladder. Driving himself with the last of his strength, he pulled them both up into the trunk to where the water ended. He was able to take his first gulp of air and looked at her. She wasn’t breathing.

He pressed her back against the side of the trunk, expelling water from her stomach and lungs. Wedging her body, he tipped her head back and sealed her mouth with his. He breathed air into her lungs.

“Please Amy,” he told her when he stopped for air. “Don’t give up now.”

He repeated the action, over and over. Nothing. Then suddenly, she sputtered and coughed. She was breathing.

McCann had never felt relief of this magnitude. She continued to cough. She was still not totally conscious, but he was happy to have her breathing.

“We’re getting you out of here,” he whispered in her ear.

Using his good arm, he held her against his side. He tried to manage the ladder with the other one. He looked upward toward the opening at the top.

“Dammit.” Brody’s foot had been visible when McCann went back for Amy. It was gone.

Just as McCann was debating what to do, a shadow moved over the hatch. He looked up.

“Let me give you a hand with her, Commander.”

McCann had never been so happy to see a Navy SEAL.

“Be very careful with her,” he ordered as he lifted Amy up.