The Survivors(64)

‘Is that right?’ George said. ‘So, what? They disappeared into the water and resurfaced as someone else?’

‘Maybe. Who knows?’

‘That’s why you can’t trust anyone in Evelyn Bay,’ Liam said suddenly. He’d been staring out at the water with his chin in his hand. If he’d meant it as a joke, it fell flat.

Sean cleared his throat.

‘Not to endorse what Liam’s saying,’ he said with forced levity. ‘But if you want to lock your bag away in the dry box, George, I’ll secure it before we go under.’

‘Phone too?’

‘Yeah, best place. The box is watertight, it’ll be fine in there.’

George snapped a couple more photos, then handed his things over. He turned back to the shore.

‘I wonder what the passengers on the Mary Minerva made of that sight?’ George said. ‘One of the last things most of them would have seen, I guess.’

Kieran followed his gaze to the caves, their gaping mouths opening onto the thin strip of beach that flashed white with each breaking wave. The Survivors stared back at him, impassive. A particularly large wave crashed into the sculpture, and the woman at the edge of the trio disappeared completely for a second. Kieran looked away.

Sean was squinting into the water as he guided the boat.

‘Right.’ He cut the engine. ‘We’re here.’

They took it in turns to jump from the catamaran into the water, and as Kieran submerged he was immediately grateful for his cold-water suit. The waves that had been rough at the surface became calm once the water closed over Kieran’s head, and the weight of his equipment dissolved.

They descended in single file, following the anchor line down. Liam led the way, disappearing first into the murky green. George followed, and then it was Kieran’s turn. He traced the line with his gloved fist, listening to the inward hiss and outward roar of his own breathing. Somewhere above Kieran was Verity, with Sean the last on the line. Kieran inhaled and exhaled as he let himself sink deeper, to the wreckage waiting below.

He peered through the cloudy green water, watching for the Mary Minerva to take form. The skeletal outline emerged first, like a crude bird’s-eye sketch of a boat. It almost looked intact for a few moments, through that dense watery filter, but as Kieran descended further a tangled nest of fallen beams and collapsed walls sharpened into detail. The remains of the ship lay silent and still on a clear bed of sand, too deep for seaweed to grow.

Kieran let go of the line and floated, watching fish drift in and out as he saw Verity appear. She glided down next to him, almost anonymous in her suit and mask.

‘Verity, you pair with Kieran,’ Sean had said back up on the surface. ‘And George –’ Sean had hesitated and glanced at Liam, whose expression had been dark. ‘You stick with Liam, and I’ll go between you all.’

Neither Liam nor George had looked particularly happy with this arrangement, but now Kieran could see the two men moving together up ahead. The pair swam slowly along the side of the wreck, thick white clouds bubbling from their masks in regular bursts. George may have been certified, but he’d done his training in warm water, Kieran could tell. He had the upright swimming style of divers used to better visibility, and rather than sticking to a frog kick, he kept lapsing into a flipper kick that stirred up sediment in cold water, making it hard to see.

Kieran and Verity exchanged a look as best they could through their masks and turned and swam in the other direction. They passed Sean hovering in the midst of the tangled mess as he examined something with his torch. He raised his hand, thumb and finger forming a circle. Okay? They reflected the gesture. Okay.

Kieran let Verity lead the way, floating alongside her as they moved around the ship’s bow, still tall and towering. Verity kicked – with the correct frog-like motion – and swam up the length of the metal, tracing its curve. She turned back to Kieran and gestured for him to join her.

This had been a good idea of Sean’s, Kieran thought now. The breathing, the buoyancy. Everything about it was otherworldly. No wonder Verity liked it. It felt as though they were in a different reality. He liked it too.

They swam side by side, stopping for a few minutes by the ship’s anchor, now thick and swollen with rust. Verity reached out and touched Kieran’s arm as a fish whipped out from the wreck and flashed by. Kieran felt the mild sway of current as she moved.

Gabby’s backpack.

The thought came to him with the flow of water. Kieran had never really stopped to consider that bag before, beyond the tragically obvious implication. But he thought about it now. The search had ground to a halt after the bag was found washed up on the beach by a group of dog walkers. The soaked purple mass had been pulled out of the water within sight of the rocks where Gabby had last been seen before the storm hit; the same storm that had torn up trees and destroyed homes and roared into the caves and swallowed The Survivors whole. The same storm that had flipped a boat and dragged two strong local men to their deaths.

Kieran paused beside the wreck and felt the weight of the underwater currents press against his wetsuit. A push and pull, firm and persistent. The water did what it wanted. So it was lucky – perhaps he’d even go so far as to say conveniently lucky – that Gabby’s bag had been found at all. Kieran thought about this now as he floated, and felt a strange coldness seep through him that had nothing to do with the ocean.