The Depths

“Tie ’im up nice and tight, like.”

Arnold felt his ankles being brought together by the constricting of a burly, rough multi-braided rope, tied multiple times around. The other end was tied to a fifty-pound weight.

“Now, I don’t want any escape from him, you hear?” The henchman yapped in his nasally Boston-esque tone as he puffed on a cigarette. “Boss don’t want no one to ever see ’im again.”

The other two men man-handled Arnold’s body, tightening the ropes around his ankles and wrists, then one making sure the gag around his face was securely fastened. Arnold was sweating, terrified of his punishment. He would have rather suffered Harold’s fate in the furnace than this.

“Alrighty, ya goons, stand ’im up.” The head henchman barked with a wave of his hand.

Arnold was raised to his feet and held upright - he couldn’t stand on his own with how he was tied, especially out on a boat.

In the brisk, moonlit night, Arnold could just make out the henchman’s face.

Benny—that was his name—Benny Werstshire. He had always looked unintimidating in the daytime to Arnold; sickly, sunken in features, long, narrow nose, and though he couldn’t really see it, he knew he had an unkempt stubbled chin. But here? Out in the open waters in the middle of the night, about to send him to his watery grave? He was more terrifying than the devil. At least with Satan, one could beg.

Benny took a long drag, making the orange tint on his face brighter, then stepped forward, and blew the puff of smoke into Arnold’s face. Leaned in, he cracked a crooked smile. “Take a good, long look, Arnie. This is the last face you’ll ever see.”

Arnold desperately tried to scream, to beg, to plead, but all that came from him were muffled grunts as the other two men picked up the weight and the other picked up Arnold, holding him like a roll of carpet.

Arnold thrashed like a fish out of water, his heart beating so rapidly he could hear the pounding through his muffled screams. Arnold looked over and down at the lapping, black and blue waves, the tops white from the hint of moonlight.

He took another breath, then screamed the loudest he ever had.

“Ay, ay, ay, boys, stop! Whaddya doin’?” Benny said.

Suddenly, everyone stopped, including Arnold. He was hovering over the edge of the boat in the burly man’s arms, simply at his mercy. He was one loose arm from plunging to his death. All that was heard now were the laps of the waves against the wooden hull of the boat and the subtle creaks of the boat’s floorboard. The three of them looked at Benny, who had his arms out.

“Ya can’t just throw ’im in there!” He protested. “He’d die much too quickly!”

At first relieved, the second part of Benny’s sentence made Arnold uneasy and anxious. He wasn’t sure what was to happen, but he had a hunch that he’d soon rather have taken the drowning.

The two henchmen pulled back in, and set Arnold upright once more, facing Benny, who had taken just one step forward, then flicked his cigarette out into the waters.

“I suffered from this asshole’s actions. Why should he get a quick release?” It was hard to tell, but Benny narrowed his eyes in anger. “No, death is too easy. You need to suffer like I did. Like Amanda did.”

Benny walked over to the cabin of the boat and rifled through a footlocker for something. Once found, he brought it out into the moonlight - scuba full-face mask and oxygen tank.

With a sadistic smile, Benny said, “I know your fear of open water, of the deep . . .”

Arnold already knew where this was going, and began hyperventilating, eyes widening.

“ . . . so, how’s about we fit you up to experience it, heh? Tackle your fear head-on. That’s what the experts say, amirite, boys?”

The others chuckled softly in their throats. Arnold began his muffled cries of protest again.

“Ivan, take that gag off, will ya? Our boy needs to breathe to confront his fears, yeah?”

The man’s thick fingers dug at the knotted fabric behind Arnolds’ head, bobbing and jostling him around, until finally, the fabric fell loose, and Arnold was able to spit out the literal sock in his mouth.

“Benny, please! Please! I’m so sorry! I never meant to hurt her! Please, don’t do this, you can’t do this!”

With a gentle shushing, Benny silenced Arnold to descending mutters.

“I believe you, Arnie.” He said, leaning in close enough that Arnold could see the whites of his eyes clearly. “But unfortunately, apologies don’t bring back the dead.”

Then, with a quick sleight of hand, he slapped the mask’s band around Arnold’s head, all the while Arnold thrashed and screamed, yanking and shaking his head violently.

“No, please! Please stop! I’m sorry! I can make it up!” He pleaded with fake promises. To no avail. The mask was placed firmly onto his head, and secured snugly. The hiss of oxygen was heard and filled his mask.

Benny leaned in once more, then whispered, “Nice seeing ya, Arnie. Tell Amanda on your way to Hell that I love her, eh?”

Arnold let out a final, lengthy ‘no’, before he, his tank, and the weight were dropped over the railings.

The weight yanked on his ankles and pulled him down as if the devil himself was dragging him to the watery pits of Hell. The frigid waters immediately sent shivers and goosebumps up and down his whole body.

Down he descended, the gentle current flowing around his body as he did. He was panicking the whole time, frantically trying to wriggle his way out of the ankle restraints before it was too late, before he was too deep.

The water pressure was building, he could feel his chest and eardrums pushing in as the water constricted them. He popped his ears—ow! Fuck!

Deeper and deeper he sank, until finally his feet scuffed the bottom. He felt a plume of sediment thrust upwards and speckle around his exposed hands and arms.

Down here it was incredibly difficult to breathe; Arnold had to make a conscious effort of it, taking in big drags of oxygen as he looked around. Nothing but pitch black darkness.

“Oh, God, oh, God, help me, please!” He cried, sweat dripping down his nose and upper lip.

It was frigid down there, icy even. Must have been around the forties, possibly thirties. Arnold had no idea how deep he was, but when he looked up he couldn’t see any light, nor the boat. He was cold and alone.

Or was he?

Currents swished by his body, causing a visceral reaction from Arnold.

“No! Oh, fuck, get away! Get away!” He hollered instinctually, frantically spinning about on the seafloor. He got low, placing his back against the sand, his shoulders and knees drawn in, making himself a small curled ball. It made him feel safer, but barely.

Arnold was gasping, gulping for air as he panicked and cried. He felt as though something was near him. Looking at him. Watching him. His mind instinctually went to sharks, and he figured he would be chomped viciously within the next minute or so. He only prayed it would come quickly, unsuspectingly, and instantly kill him.

Again he felt a current, bringing with it differing water temperatures.

“Fuck!” he hollered, expecting to be bitten. But nothing happened. He was left alone in his semi-ball shape, shivering, hunched, terrified. He could now feel a pool of liquid touching his chin - had his mask sprung a leak, or had he sweat enough to fill it?

Suddenly something brushed against his back. He screamed a feral, throat-ripping roar as he arched his back, causing the back of his head to pound into the sand, sending another plume of sand to rain particles onto his mask and neck.

“Oh, God, let me die now! Get it over with!” He prayed in vain, begging for death, knowing there was no escape.

His shivers became more violent as the beginning stages of hypothermia started setting in. He felt warm and cold, a burning sensation all over his body. He continued to struggle breathing between his panic attacks and the water pressure. His head now shook so rapidly that the splash of his perspiration was flinging up onto his nose and cheeks.

He swore he felt another current rush near him, instinctually causing him to raise his knees to his chest. He wasn’t sure why he bothered curling up—he was doomed anyway—but he couldn’t muster the courage to make himself vulnerable for the lurking animals to come in and eat.

Oh, God, please, help me!

Arnold felt the pulse of his heart throughout his whole body. He heard it in his aching eardrums. If not a shark, he figured he would surely die from cardiac arrest.

A soft current passed by him. Arnold again screamed and thrashed, shuddering, then finally planting his face into the seafloor. His bottom lip quivered rapidly as he cried, ‘vuhs’ being expelled from his mouth. He was surely on the brink of death.

For a minute or so Arnold fought the urge to protect himself, felt like the current or something brushing against him, violently reacting, then repeated. A large lump was in his throat, adding another obstacle to his breathing. He was very cold. Numb, even. His extremities barely responsive to his thoughts.

As the seconds drew on, Arnold became slower, less reactive to the outside stimuli, and huddled into the tightest ball he could make. He couldn’t feel his fingers, toes, upper arms or back. His eyes began fluttering as they struggled to stay open, despite not being able to see anything. His fears began dissipating as he lied down, shuddering, eyes flitting, breathing erratic. He started to feel light-headed and dizzy, and saw flashes of light every now and again.

“ . . . Amanda?” He whispered, gazing out into the black sea and seeing a familiar face. She was walking towards him, wearing a salmon-colored cocktail dress—much like the one she wore that fateful night.

“ . . . Amanda? Is that you?” He repeated, eyes dazed but focused on the mirage.

She came up to him, stepping off the sidewalk and onto the green grass, holding a little smile as she sashayed. She remained quiet.

Arnold was hardly able to take breaths now. Haggard and erratic, he tried to get enough air in his lungs to ask his love a final question. “Hold me?”

She knelt down and smiled wider, brushing her slender fingers against his cheek. She had a warm touch.

Gazing into each other’s eyes, she whispered, “Soon.”

After that, Arnold smiled one final time before closing his eyes. ng here…