She follows Simon down. He holds a rope to guide his descent into the murky darkness. Emily shines her torch on the rope; it is furry with orange and brown seaweeds, burnt yellow anemones, and crusty grey and black barnacles. The rope’s top end is tied to a buoy, the bottom end—thirty-seven metres below the surface—is tied up somewhere in the belly of Olympia Maru.
Emily moves her torchlight down and strains to see through the dusty blue-green water. She moves into the shadow, a stationery ink-black cloud, pressing her regulator closer to her mouth. The air she sucks in is cold and dry; it chills her throat and bites the inside of her lungs. She drifts downwards as she exhales.