Shay swam around the logs from left to right, taking the time to carefully examine possible openings, testing the logs but couldn’t find a new entrance. She floated silently in front of them, a school of small fish swimming between her and the logs as she grew calm, patiently considering the possibilities.
More than a few of the logs lay balanced precariously on the others. A simple push or two could get her access to the interior, or it could result in a collapse of wood and mud on top of the treasure.
No fucking choice. Great.
Shay took a deep breath and swam down to a spot where only a few logs crisscrossed each other. She reached over and shoved at a log. Nothing happened. Good and bad news. She swam down further and pushed at another log. It rolled a few inches, just enough to clear the logs it was sitting on, and sank toward the bottom, clearing a path for Shay.
Here goes nothing.
The temporary lake raider swam slowly, doing her best not to jar any more logs with either her legs or her equipment as she entered the narrow opening. She swam down several yards, slowly rolling over and looking back up at the entrance.
I think I’d like to bleed out in a kitchen rather than die buried beneath a bunch of logs and mud.
The minutes ticked away as she continued making her way toward the lockboxes. She looked at her watch, making a note of how much oxygen she had left in her tank.
The needlegun was still back in the crate, given the lack of obvious enemies. Instead, Shay brought a mesh bag that was connected to her belt and a rogue barracuda switchblade, useful for stabbing anything with a beating heart.
Her own heart thumped hard in her chest as her head and wrist lamps cut through the murky darkness. The occasional movement of the logs sent bubbles to the surface and messed with her calm. Slow and steady. The situation called for less speed and more precision, no panicked movements. The passing minutes seemed like hours until she finally arrived at the lockboxes.
Shay swam over to the first of the smaller lockboxes and tried to open it. She followed that lack of success with a quick bash from the handle of her knife to the rusted-out lock. It smashed open rather easily, and she pulled the top off.
Her eyes widened as she peered into a small pouch filled with diamonds. She carefully picked it up, gently handling the worn pouch and tied it off before slipping it into her mesh bag.
Diamonds might not be my best friends, but still very good friends.
She took a few steady breaths on the respirator and turned her attention to the other lockbox. A few strikes from the knife took out another rusted lock.
Fuck Yes!
She felt a surge of what passed for joy pass through her body. Several golden eagle pins sat inside the box, no hint of tarnish or damage on them. The magical pin had to be among them.
Shay reached down as a jolt of electricity shot through her hand. She winced and yanked her hand back. The top of the lockbox glowed a luminescent red. Runes burned themselves into the lid with no obvious source of heat. Shay’s eyes widened behind her mask as she recognized the symbols as Futhark, an old Germanic runic script.
What the fuck is happening?
She couldn’t decipher the runes but knew enough to tell several words were completed. A bright orange pulse suddenly shot from the box. Shay reflexively threw up her arms, shielding her head. A trap!
Shay held her arms over her head, taking in that she wasn’t vaporized by a magical trap. She put her arms down slowly and turned around in the deep water, the light from her head lamp bouncing off the interior of the maze. There was a bigger problem.
The logs all around her were shaking.
No, not the fucking logs… Shit. The trap started an earthquake somehow. Perfect. Motherfucking perfect. I’m 300 feet down about to be buried alive.
Shay glanced between her escape route and the lockbox filled with pins. No one bothered to put a magical trap on simple accessories. She reached down again, but an invisible force and another jolt of electricity stopped her.
Her breathing grew ragged as logs above her begin to slip. If she didn’t hurry, she was going to end up like the poor bastard she’d spotted earlier.
She tried to grab the edges of the pin lockbox to pull it out, but each touch only sent another nasty shock through her hand.
Damn it! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
The key to surviving any battle is to know when to stand and fight, and when you’re about to get your ass kicked. Shay was tough, but she knew she couldn’t win against a mountain of logs.
She swam hard for the exit from the wooden tomb. A huge log slid forward, missing pinning her by mere inches. The logs continued to shake. How long will the damned earthquake last? As if she’d willed it to stop, the main shaking ceased, but the tangled maze of logs were left even more unstable.
Her pace quickened even more, and her pulse pounded in her ears. Collapsing logs sealed off the path ahead as she swam to the side, rolling against other logs, causing another collapse that revealed a new path just behind her right shoulder.
Need to go faster. Her training kicked in and she made herself take even, steady breaths, assess the situation and then fucking reassess it again.
Shay spun to the side to avoid being crushed by two falling logs, banging against her shoulder. She spotted a way out of the collapsing logs, and kicked off, spying an opening to freedom. The lake raider just as quickly jerked to a halt at a sudden yank.
What the fuck? Is some Nazi merman trying to drown me?
She yanked out her
