Marianas

It is a well established fact that the human body (or bodies of the more-or-less human) floats (well, more or less). Human bodies tend to be at least a little less dense than water.

Despite this, a human (more or less) was caught beneath the waves, under several tons of pressure. Her bones creaked and her muscles twanged in pain whenever she tried to sit up; she didn’t know how long she had been down here, but she was almost certain it was over a month. Years? A week? Light didn’t make it down this far. Very little did.

The silt washed over her face; she shook her head, and an unseen cascade of slow-motion mud swirled out from her hair. Not breathing had gone from panic inducing to merely uncomfortable, a constant pang in her chest and weakness in her limbs that she had learned to ignore, but dirt in her eyes hurt.

What was it Dawn had said, back when they were last together? Something about the difference between pain and dying.

More ooze washed over her. She felt a tickle at her mouth. Not another bug, she prayed. Though she wasn’t sure what would be worse; one of the huge crustaceans that trundled along, occasionally trying their claws at eating her, or one of the rippling amoeba creatures that could flatten into almost any shape. Those things could get places.

She spat/blew out the water in her mouth and lungs, and whatever had rested on her face decided it had better things to do.

She missed eating.

That was the last thing she had been doing on the surface -eating. A really delicious supper, shrimp and buttery mussels, spaghetti, and a divine dessert that was several layers of puff pastry wrapped around a frozen chocolate-dipped assortment of fruits. Dawn had smiled and asked if she really wanted to do this. It was a beautiful evening, with waves lapping at the bow, the timbers of the boat creaking with the wind.

They had been anchored near shore, a seemingly swimmable distance to land. We’re immortals. What’s the worst that could happen? she asked. She had swum in pools before, even if that was thirty years ago. The ocean was beautiful and dangerous, but nothing could hurt her.

There’s a difference between never feeling pain and never dying. Dawn had smiled as she said it, her teeth glittering in the last rays of the sun, but it was only to soften the admonition.

Don’t worry. If I sink, I’ll just walk home, she had replied.

Dawn would probably be searching for her.

Probably.

For now, though, she would wait.