Skull & Crossbones
Beep. Beep. Beep. My sleepy blue eyes cracked open to the sound repeating in my ears. "Ugh," I grumbled. Then I closed my eyes again. Usually, I felt a bit tired in the mornings--nothing a large cup of coffee couldn't cure--but today was different. Just the thought of tearing myself away from my warm covers and walking across campus to my tedious microbiology seminar made my heart literally hurt. Five more minutes, please, just give me that.
Beep. Beep. Beep. The noise continued. "Shut up," I said. I was seriously considering skipping class and spending the whole day in bed. But then, like a spark had ignited my brain, I remembered it was the weekend. So then why was my stupid alarm going off? Without delay, the undeniable reasoning popped into my mind: I probably just forgot it was set. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time.
I looked to my left for the troublesome clock, the one that nestled a tiny brown bear on my nightstand. But as I did, everything around me appeared warped like I was wearing my mother's reading glasses. Was I... drunk? Now that I thought about it, I did feel a bit woozy; therefore, I suppose it was possible.
I went to rub my eyes to try and focus them, but as I raised my hands to my face, they clunked into a hard, yet invisible barrier. "Ouch," I enunciated, recoiling my hands back down to my sides.
Curious as to what had stopped me so abruptly, I hoisted them up again--delicately this time--tracing the barrier with my fingertips. To my surprise, the boundary circled my entire head. It was as if a giant bubble were attached to my neck. Dragging my fingers around the base, I discovered a thick metal collar with several sizable bumps that were spaced a few inches apart from each other. At first, I thought that this was all fairly odd. But as I stared out of the helmet, I realized that it was there for good reason as I seemed to be underwater.
From my distorted point of view, I could not see any plants or little critters swimming about, which made me think I wasn't in a pond or the ocean. Not to mention, the water was exceptionally clear, a characteristic I'd only ever come across in swimming pools.
Even though I had never seen it before, I was told Bower College had its very own state-of-the-art version. So, maybe that's where I was. But what could I have possibly gotten up to last night that I'd wind up there? I tried to remember the events of the previous night, but it was like someone had spilled ink on my memory, cloaking whole sequences in complete darkness.
I felt a soreness in my upper shoulders as the bulbous headgear cut into them; thus, I gripped the collar and shifted it slightly to remove the building pressure. In perfect unison, a dense mass stirred behind me. Somehow, up until now, I hadn't been aware of its presence.
Guiding my hands carefully around the helmet, I explored the object on my back. It was smooth, cylindrical, and extended from just below my neck to just above my rear. A thick tube protruded from the top of the cylinder and connected to the bubble around my head. The object was then fixed to me with stiff shoulder straps. It reminded me of historical deep-sea diver equipment, something definitely not from this century.
Suddenly, I saw a red pulsating light in my peripheral view. The light was coming from a watch strapped to my left wrist. I was certain this wasn't mine. I hadn't worn a watch in years, but when I did, I preferred a more sophisticated look with metal links and Roman numerals. This watch had a digital face with many unmarked buttons and was secured to my arm by a wide black band.
The red light would blink each time the numbers changed on its seven-segment display: 00:57, 00:56, 00:55. It was strange to see a watch count down when I'd only ever seen them count up. But I'd also never in my life seen a watch with so many mysterious buttons. They must do all sorts of unusual things.
While I monitored the ever-dwindling seconds, I couldn't help but think--wait, no, stop. But the clock kept steadily ticking on down: 00:52, 00:51, 00:50. What would happen when it reached zero? Would I explode?
This was, undoubtedly, an extreme jump to conclusions. Still, I rubbed my sides half-expecting rows of hot-dog-shaped dynamite to be cinched around my middle. Luckily, all I felt was some kind of waterproof fabric--another piece of the strange diving suit I was forced to wear. But if someone didn't want to blow me up, what was this all about?
Exhaling slowly and deliberately, I tried centering my thoughts. I hoped that this action would help me figure it out, and it actually did. Quite instantly, the answer came to me. It was an answer that was so very uncomplicated, it was rather embarrassing I hadn't thought of it sooner: I was about to run out of air.
Immediately, my eyes darted upward to the surface of the water. I was pleased to see that I wasn't that far away from it. Flapping my arms and legs faster than I ever had before, I tried to propel myself up and out. But as I frantically kicked and flailed, I just would not budge. Just go!--come on!--what's the problem? It wasn't until I glanced down that I uncovered exactly why I wasn't leaving the area. My feet were tied with rope, and that rope was tethered to a large rock resting at the very bottom.
I rushed to my feet to try and undo the line, but I soon realized that it was configured in some variety of advanced level Boy Scout knot. Tugging and twisting the intricate arrangement did little more than infuriate me, not to mention waste the precious time I had left; for this reason, I turned my attention to moving the stone itself. The chances of me actually picking it up were objectively small, but I needed to exhaust my options.
Gripping the sides of the stone, I tried yanking it upwards. "Ah!" I howled, using all of my might to lift it; nonetheless, the rock was way heavier than I'd estimated, and after one attempt, I gave up, my arm muscles burning from the stress.
Stealing a glimpse of the clock, I saw it flash 00:33. A spike of adrenaline coursed through my veins, giving me a fresh burst of energy. I pivoted back to the stone and fiddled with the rope that was strung around it like a baked ham. To my displeasure, it also proved impenetrable.
Scanning my surroundings, I searched for another way of freeing myself, but the area was bare. I strained to look farther as my desperation grew. And then I noticed something--a strange sight in the distance--two similarly sized rocks with ropes fastened to them. The other ropes were frayed and swaying gently in the motion of the water.
I gazed at them, puzzled. Did this mean that there were others in here like me, waking up in this horrid place? Initially, I felt comforted by the idea, but then I couldn't help but wonder why they didn't cut me loose before they left. The deliberate neglect made me feel sad and alone. I was already so confused by everything that was happening, and now this. It was too much.
Elevating my wrist to eye level, I checked just how many seconds remained. The watch's face now said: 00:24. Feeling out of alternatives, I contemplated attempting to carry the large rock one last time. I hoped that maybe if I got a better grip, then it would work; accordingly, I hooked my fingers under the rope to use it like a handle. I heaved and grunted and actually managed to force the stone a few inches from its original spot. It was progress, but not nearly enough.
My confidence was fading fast as the probability of drowning was becoming more of an inescapable reality. In a last-ditch effort, I knelt down, clumsily wrapped my arms around the stone, and jerked it upwards. "Move!" I yelled at it. "You stupid thing! Just... move!" Anger turned to full-blown sobbing. And sobbing turned into giving in to my defeat.
I flopped down beside the rock and hugged it as if it were not only the cause of all my problems but also the thing consoling me. "Why won't you move?" I asked, tears rolling down my cheeks. Exhausted, I rested my bubble head against it and closed my eyes.
This was it. This was how I would go out. All of a sudden, I felt fully consumed by regret--how I should've worked harder, gotten into a better school, or been a better friend, a better daughter, been... better. I opened my eyes to look down at the clock. It said 00:11. It wouldn't matter soon. All there was to do now was stare at this rock while I let death take me--this dull... boring... gray... and yellow rock?
Wait a second--I swung around, getting as close to the stone as I could without bumping it with my helmet. What was this? There was some sort of object wedged under the mulish rock. Pinching the exposed piece, I wiggled it free. I brought the object closer to my face, showcasing it in my hands like some mystical artifact. It was oblong in shape, the length of my palm, and a cheery buttercup yellow color with silver detailing. Flipping open the device, I revealed the blade concealed inside. I beamed as I appreciated what was in my grip. It was the most beautiful pocket knife I had ever laid eyes upon.
I plopped down on the floor again, this time looping the excess rope around my forearm. Then, placing the rigid handle of the knife securely in my hand, I set about vigorously sawing the twisted fibers of the cord.
While I hacked away, I kept the wristwatch in my view. I could see it nearing zero as it ticked down: 00:03, 00:02, 00:01. The watch then produced one long tone announcing that I was officially out of air; however, instead of flashing 00:00, the face displayed an appropriate skull and crossbones symbol. I took a deep breath, sucking in any lingering oxygen within the suit, and resumed slicing the rope beneath me.
Fifteen seconds passed, and my lungs were aching for air. My head was beginning to feel fuzzy, like I was going to faint. There were only a couple of stubborn strands left shackling me to the stone. If I could just get through them, I'd be able to rip off the headgear and breathe again.
I bared down into the final threads, pressing the sharp edge of the blade into the tenacious material. I observed each fiber unravel until the rope completely separated in my hands. I twirled my arm to make sure I hadn't missed any hidden pieces, but as the blunt end bounced in the flow of the water, I knew I was free.
Scrambling to my feet, I threw down the rope that I was clutching and sprang from the bottom of the pool. While I headed to the top like a bullet, I folded the blade back into its sheath and stuffed it into my front pocket for safekeeping.
As the initial boost waned, I tried kicking my legs. But my feet were still tied together, so all I could manage were a few hard kicks. My already fatigued arms had to pull me the rest of the way, pushing through the massive resistance caused by the giant bubble locked to my neck.
By the time I shot out of the water, tiny stars were forming in the corners of my eyes, and I figured that if I didn't take a breath in the next second or two, I was going to die. I forced the helmet off my shoulders, and the cool air immediately hit my face. I breathed in--it was this dramatic gasp that felt like I was swallowing a sword. But as the oxygen filled my lungs, my brain rapidly felt clearer.
Unhitching the straps, I shoved the helmet and oxygen tank to the side. For a moment, I just focused on my breathing and making sure I was okay. When I felt that I could proceed, I dipped back down under the water to examine the ties that still bound my feet. Fortunately, now that the rope was cut, I was able to feed the severed end through the center of the knot and release the hold it had on me. Once I was unrestrained, I let the rope float away and rotated my ankles to stretch them out.
When I came back up to breathe, I began to look around the room, and what I found surprised me. No way was this Bower College, and no way was this just some ordinary swimming pool. There were glass walls that lined the perimeter of the water, and a glass ceiling connected them all. It was like some tank at an aquarium--the ones that housed the big sea creatures like whales and sharks. But these tanks were different in a specific way.
Above the waterline, on three of the walls, were large round openings. Joined to each opening was a short ladder that descended into the water. Two of the ladders were clear like the walls and ceiling, but one was blood red. When I saw the red ladder, my stomach clenched like it led somewhere bad--somewhere I didn't want to go.
In the corner of the tank bobbed two additional bubble helmets and a few loose strands of cord. I assumed it belonged to whoever escaped those other ropes, whoever left me to rot. Regardless, I still wanted to know more about them. Maybe they knew what was going on better than I did.
I swam to the nearest side of the tank to take a curious peek out of the glass wall. Cupping my hands around my eyes to block out the light, I tried peering through to the other side. Unfortunately, all I could see was my own wild reflection.
As I backed away from the wall, I inspected what I saw in the glass. My long brown hair was in messy French braids. Several stray strands were stuck to my forehead and cheeks in tentacle-like shapes. I was still sporting the diving suit that I had been dumped in. It seemed irrelevant to carry on wearing it; hence, I began to draw the waterproof material off my shoulders and down my arms.
Right away, the suit became caught on my wrist. I was briefly confused by this until I realized it was because of the watch. I noted that the face had ceased blinking and was currently blank. I pressed a few of its buttons, trying to solicit a response, but nothing appeared on the display. I didn't think there was any reason to hang onto the thing; as a result, I unbuckled the band and tossed it away. Then I resumed rolling the suit to my ankles and kicking it off, finally ridding myself of that as well.
When I looked at my reflection again, I noticed I was wearing my worn-out Brown Bears jersey. And then it hit me--the game--of course! Last night was the home game against our rivals, Port Shirley University. How could I have forgotten?
Instantly, there was a bright flash like someone had just blinded me with their headlights. I unlocked the driver's side door and got into my little white car. As soon as I got settled into my seat, I stowed my cellphone in the center console, then reached for my water bottle and chugged it down. "Ah," I said, wiping my mouth on my sleeve, before returning the empty bottle to the cup holder.
I inserted the key into the ignition and gently twisted. When the engine turned over, my favorite Pixies song came through the speakers, and I cheered at my luck. After switching on my headlights, I speedily pulled out of the parking lot and got back onto the boulevard that led to the dorms.
The roads were practically deserted except for this one kid I passed riding his bicycle on the narrow sidewalk. The streetlights stretched down into the car, filling the interior with incandescent warm tones. I steered with one hand, using the other to groove to the rhythm of the song. Occasionally, I'd glance out of the window at the houses that bordered the road and sing to the people inside, eating supper or sitting in front of the television. But as the song neared the outro, my eyes began to flutter--closing for a split second and then blinking back open again.
Quickly, I changed the radio station to heavy metal and turned up the volume to help keep myself awake. I replaced both of my hands on the steering wheel and then straightened my back against the seat. Forcing my drowsy eyes open as wide as they would possibly go, I held them there, looking like a total loony tune. These tricks worked for a minute, but then my eyes started to shut once more. This time, they remained closed for several seconds before reopening to the sight of an oncoming maple tree.
Abruptly, I veered into the empty history wing lot and stopped my car diagonally in the middle of the road. Before I had even turned off the engine, I folded my arms across the steering wheel and laid my head down. My eyes closed promptly, and my chest slumped forward as if there was a weight attached to my back. It was the pressure of my body that triggered the car horn. The honk blared, but I didn't react. And then... nothing.
As I came out of the memory, I wondered--what in the actual hell? It felt like I was dealing with the aftermath of a senseless night of partying, yet I hadn't drunk anything all night. Precisely why I guzzled down the bottle of water in my car before I left the stadium.
I paused. Oh my god--the water. Did some creep slip something in it? I shook my head in disbelief. It had been locked away the whole evening. Someone would've had to have broken in to get to it, and my car appeared perfectly intact. To pull off something like that--completely undetected--would have required a legit criminal mastermind. The very thought made me sick to my stomach. It made me want to bury myself under the covers of my bed and hide. But as I eyeballed the bizarre tank before me, I knew I was far from the comfort of anything.
