Travis’s first instinct was to panic. He and Wiz had been so caught up in their ride they had ignored the first rule of diving: stick together. Travis was in unknown territory, but at least he was with Wiz.
Nish, on the other hand, was completely out of his element.
Wiz must have seen the fear in Travis’s eyes. He took Travis’s shoulders in his hands and squeezed tight. He indicated that Travis should follow him, and set off in the direction they had come, kicking hard.
They swam for what seemed a long time. Travis knew they had begun with at least twenty minutes of air time, probably more, but he had no idea how much they had used up. Maybe Nish was already out of air! He realized he was panicking, and that panic simply used up valuable air, so he forced himself to slow his breathing and concentrate on following Wiz.
Travis thought he recognized some of the rock structures and began to calm down. Nish was probably already back at the boat. He was probably already into his second cold Coke, laughing at Travis for wasting so much good pop and chocolate time by swimming around after a stupid turtle.
They reached the same tight rock formation where they had lost Nish, but no one was there.
They moved through the floating seagrass, past a scurrying school of seadragons, and on over the ledge into shallower water.
Just before the rise, Travis thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Then he realized that Wiz was turning abruptly in the same direction, bubbles boiling up around his head.
It was Nish!
But not alone. Another diver had Nish in a headlock and was violently twisting Nish’s neck. He was trying to knock Nish’s air hose out of his mouth.
Travis was confused. Another diver? Where had he come from?
Wiz was already onto the attacker. He was larger than Wiz, but not by much, and Wiz was moving so quickly he seemed to catch the diver off guard. The man must have loosened his grip, because Nish was able to break away.
Travis knew he had to tend first to his friend, who looked in total terror. His hose had popped free and he was making no effort to put it back.
Travis grabbed Nish’s flailing arms and held them tight. He looked sternly into his eyes and tried to send him a message: Settle down, do as I tell you.
He held onto Nish with one hand and used the other to grab the air hose, which was floating freely now. He shoved it back into Nish’s mouth. Nish choked, but then began gulping. He was getting air.
Travis could feel the panic letting go of his friend’s body. Nish sagged immediately, and Travis realized how exhausted he must be. He must get him to the surface.
Travis began pushing his friend up. He checked down and saw that Wiz was holding his own with the attacker. They were struggling hand-to-hand, both twisting violently, but Wiz was not being thrown around.
If he can just hold on, Travis thought, I’ll come right back to help.
He kicked as hard as he could. Nish burst through the surface first, spitting out his mouthpiece and screaming at the same time.
“HHHEEELLLLPPPPPPPP!!!”
The boat wasn’t too far away. Travis saw Mr. Roberts spinning the wheel and turning in their direction. The anchor was already up. He and Sarah had probably been looking for them, worrying.
Travis left Nish and dived back down, kicking hard, his heart pounding alarmingly as he headed back.
The man was trying the same move on Wiz. He had him in a headlock and was pulling hard at Wiz’s air hose, but Wiz was refusing to give in.
Travis kicked hard and drove his head as hard as he could straight into the man’s gut.
The attacker doubled over, letting go of Wiz.
There was more movement in the water. Bubbles and swirling arms and legs. For a moment, Travis couldn’t make out what it was.
Then he saw Mr. Roberts, wearing only his bathing suit and in his bare feet, kicking as hard as he could at the attacker.
The man pushed once at Wiz, turned, and fled, his flippers allowing him to outdistance Mr. Roberts, who was fast running out of breath and already headed for the surface.
Travis reached out and took Wiz’s elbow, but Wiz shook him off and headed back down to the ocean floor.
He pulled at something that raised a cloud of sand. It was a net bag, almost covered by the sandstorm the fight had stirred up.
He held it up, shaking it so the sand washed away.
It was filled with seadragons.
Dozens of seadragons.
And most of them were already dead.