The Bubble

The nauseous presence lodged in my gut is replaced by searing agony as a fist drives into my spleen. I’m guessing it’s the spleen, it is the only organ I know nothing about and the first time I experienced pain in that part of my stomach.

A deep voice breaks through the fog of discomfort.

“Didn’t have to turn out this way kid. Now you have to pay because your old man wouldn’t.”

Apelike arms more powerful than mine wrap themselves around me, lifting me off the deck. With futility I kick and twist, contorting my body like a snake while they try stuffing me in an empty oil drum. Glimpses of the boat, sunny sky, endless water, and unfamiliar faces flash in my vision like a strobe light in a night club. My heart pounds, stutters, and skips until I think it will stall or burst. I try screaming, instead my throat tightens and a paralysing chill races down my spine.

I hear panic in a voice as someone cries. “Shit, they’re coming. Seal it and toss him over now.”

The last thing I see is a fist driving towards me, then my world goes dark.

An icy shock of cold water brings me back to reality. This is truly happening. Up until now, I seriously thought my father would pay the ransom. The kidnapping should have been nothing more than a cool story I told my friends and to impress girls. Instead, I find myself stuffed into a confined barrel and tossed into the Okanagan lake.

I can wiggle my hands and head, not much more. Streams of light filter through tiny holes drilled into the steel, while a slow trickle of water roars in my ears, replacing pockets of precious oxygen.

The boat roars to life then fades away. I’m guessing they are fleeing from whoever is chasing them. I begin swaying from the swelling waves. Spinning out of control like a plane in free fall.

The container tilts and bobs, threatening to flip upside down.

Screams echo within the tomb, but the sounds of my pleading voice remain trapped inside with me. I want to get out. I pray I can. Gasping what little air there is left, I hold on for hope.

I'm a good swimmer and can normally hold my breath for a long time, not that it will help if I cannot escape. Closing my eyes, I slow my breathing. It‘s a tight fit, my lungs can barely expand. And the water keeps coming in….fast. In my state, once the water envelops me I may have one minute at the most.

Slowly, the bright beams of light turn grey, letting me know I am under the water. An emptiness surrounds me as I become sealed in darkness. The hollowness is deafening.

The waters liquid skin creeps higher, slithering across my shoulders. I force myself to stop fidgeting and relax my arms. Tilting my head up, I suck desperately from a bubble of air, its damp, stale and beautiful.

A clawing chill wraps around my neck, like fingers of a dead man. An oily scent lingers in my nose as I take one last breath before the water shrouds me completely.

It isn’t enough, I’m already craving oxygen.

Tucking my chin to my chest, I start counting.

One...two....

The lake is seven hundred feet at it's deepest, chances of recovering my body, less then two percent. My mind reels in confusion as I comprehend my impending death. Life flashes at super speed, my childhood, friends, the places I’ve been, girls I met. Oddly enough my family doesn’t register in the top ten.

As a child born into wealth, I never worried about anything, until that night when I left the club with a girl. What was her name? We were making out at her place when the door burst open, I was tackled to the ground, a hood placed over my head and tossed in a trunk of a car. It didn't take me long to figure it out, the lady with no name set me up, and now they were trying to get money from my old man.

Good luck. Ebenezer Scrooge is my fathers hero. The pre-enlightened version.

I have no idea how fast I am falling. I press up as hard as I can, hoping to burst the lid off. All I do is burn off energy which leaves me weak and discouraged.

It's so dark.

Ten...eleven...

Unexpectedly, I now miss my mom, sister and even my dad. It isn’t their fault we aren't close. I believe they thought giving us everything they never had, was the best for us. Yet, without earning it myself, I never appreciated anything. In truth I wasn't the best son. I could have tried harder.

Hindsight is a bitch.

Fifteen....sixteen...

I want to cry, I want to scream. Wedging my face into the corner, the rust scrapes my cheeks.

A fishy taste of freshwater slips into my mouth, instantly I clench my teeth and press my lips tighter. A gentle graze like a feather tickles the back of my throat as the tiny droplet of water slides down. I need to cough.

‘Why me?’

My thoughts return to my capture. For twenty-three days I was alone in a dark room with a single lightbulb, and little information. A chain around my ankle attached to the wall and a bucket for my bodily needs. The only contact I had was when a tray of food would slide in, and my bucket was replaced. Every so often I heard muted voices through the walls. In the final days there was yelling. I knew they were getting frustrated. So the fuck was I.

Suddenly, the thunder of an approaching engine vibrates above me, then stops.

Did they return?

Have they changed their mind?

Did my father pay them?

Twenty-five...twenty-six...

Closing my eyes, I go limp, as a noise reverberates through my tin coffin, …a splash? Another?

Thirty-five…thirty-six…thirty-seven…

I sink further into my watery grave.

A loud bang reverberates within my tomb; the barrel is collapsing from the pressure. Crushing me.

No, it’s a sound outside, like metal grating on metal. Then a jarring stop.

My eyes fly open, I see nothing. In blind panic I claw frantically against the rough and rusted metal. There is no pain, yet I feel my nails separating from my flesh like a band aide peeling from a wound.

Bubbles leak from my nose, it tickles.

A memory nearly causes me to chuckle hysterically. In my mind I see my sister.... laughing so hard milk flows out of her nose. I know what that feels like now.

I need to see her, to apologize for so much.

Forty-nine… fifty...

All at once I feel a new sensation, a rising motion. It’s a different feeling from the descent. But my body becomes weak, stars fill my vision. I strangle back the urge to release air from my lungs.

Blood pounds behind my eyes.

God I need to breathe.

Rising higher. I begin convulsing, uncontrollably shaking, an intense tightening in my chest as I fight. My fingers pinch my nose and smother my mouth.

Don’t breathe.

Incredibly, I’m no longer cold, instead a warmth radiates within me, accompanied by a distant fading sound of knocking on my confined coffin, giving me a surreal sense of comfort.

A distant garbled voice becomes clear, I imagine hearing my name. ‘Garret, hold on, hold on....’

The grey disappears replaced with a pale light piercing through the dark.

Fifty-eight...Fifty-nine...

Instinctively my mouth opens, all thoughts drift away, except the ones that whisper, I want to be a better person… I want to love… be loved...live...

I hear my fathers voice cry…’Garret.’

It’s so peaceful.

Sixty.........