The Breach

The darkness was total for ten seconds.

I was breathing in short, shallow gasps, inhaling the stale, recycled air mixed with the smell of wet carpet and seawater. The cold was moving into my core. My heart rate was slowing down, a lethargic surrender to the hypothermia.

* This is it,* I thought. *This is the deadline.*

Then, the shadow returned.

He was back. He had dragged himself down to the rear of the car. The Tesla was almost vertical now, nose down in the mud. The hatchback was the highest point, but even that was five feet under the surface.

I twisted my body, pressing my face against the ceiling, watching him through the rear glass.

He wound up his arm. He gripped the U-lock like a hammer.

He struck the corner of the glass.

* CRACK.*

It wasn't a shatter. It was a spiderweb. The tempered glass of the hatchback was different from the side windows. It was designed to crumble.

He hit it again.

* CRASH.*

The window imploded.

The sound was like a bomb going off. The ocean didn't trickle in; it punched in. A wall of black water hammered into the cabin with the force of a freight train.

The remaining air pocket vanished instantly. I was thrown against the back of the front seats, pinned by the turbulence. Shards of safety glass swirled around me like diamonds, scratching my face and hands.

I couldn't tell which way was up. I was tumbling in a washing machine of freezing water and debris. My lungs burned. The reflex to inhale was overwhelming, a biological imperative screaming at me to breathe, but I knew if I opened my mouth, I was dead.

A hand grabbed my jacket collar.

It was a rough, violent grip. I thrashed, panic overriding reason, but the grip tightened.

I felt a yank. I was pulled backward, through the jagged remains of the rear window.

The water outside was calmer, but colder. I kicked my legs, finding a rhythm. I saw the faint lights above.

* Up. Go up.*

My lungs were spasming. I needed air. I needed it more than I needed a heart.

The cyclist was beside me, kicking hard. We were a tangle of limbs rising through the murk.

My head broke the surface.