A D R I A N

Black.
Salt.
Her breathing, the only proof I’m not completely alone.

“Come on,” Elara mutters in the dark. Her voice is hoarse, counting under her breath. The sound of palms thudding against flesh: one-two-three. Water slaps rock with every count.

My fingers find the lamp on my belt. Wet, slick, impossible to grip. I slam it once against the wall; the bulb stutters to life, spilling a thin cone of blue-white over her hunched form.

She’s kneeling over the deckhand, hair plastered to her neck, face streaked with salt. Every muscle in her arms strains as she drives her hands down. “Breathe,” she orders, and for half a heartbeat I don’t know if she’s talking to him or to me.

I drop beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “Tell me what to do.”
“Two breaths after every thirty.”
I nod, mouth by the patient’s, forcing air in, tasting metal and sea. Again. Again. Elara’s rhythm never falters.

“Count with me,” she gasps.
“One-two-three..”
“Harder,” she says. “Keep the pressure steady.”

Our palms overlap, sliding, matching pace. I feel her tremble but she won’t stop. Her breath fans across my cheek, hot against the cold cave air. The lamp trembles between us, shadows crawling up the stone like ghosts.

The tide hammers below, and for a moment I’m sure the whole island breathes through her hands. Then the chest under them jerks. A shudder. A gurgle. I caught it.

“Wait..” I pressed my fingers to the man’s neck. “There. I’ve got a pulse.”
Her head drops, a sound breaking out of her that’s half laugh, half sob. “Keep pressure,” she whispers. “He’s got a chance.”

The light flickers again. I cradle it between my knees, shielding it from spray. She leans back on her heels, shaking, and I see her for the first time without motion: pupils wide, lips pale, water running from her chin.

“You saved him,” I say.
Her eyes find mine. “We did.”

Silence presses in, thick, living. Only the surf and the hammering in my chest. The air smells of copper and brine; the ledge tilts, forcing us closer until her shoulder rests against mine.

I should move. I don’t.

She exhales slowly, a tremor rolling through her. “We have to keep him warm,” she says, professional again.
“Already on it.” I shrug out of my soaked jacket, drape it over the man’s torso. When I glance up, she’s watching me, eyes flicking from the jacket to my bare arms. Not a single word, yet the air shifts.

“Thank you,” she says finally.
“For following orders?”
“For not freezing up.”
I almost smile. “You give very loud orders.”
“Necessary.”
“I’m starting to see that.”

Another wave slams somewhere beyond the rock; the vibration ripples through the floor, through her shoulder against mine. I tighten the strap of the head-lamp, testing the beam.

“Battery’s low,” I warn.
“Then we move before it dies.” Her voice steadies, brisk, but her hand still shakes when she reaches for the kit.

I catch it, just to steady her. Our fingers stay tangled a second too long. The warmth there feels out of place in this freezing dark.

“Pulse is weak,” she murmurs. “We need to get him to higher ground.”
“We will.”

She nods once. “On three?”
“On three.”

The count feels familiar, almost intimate now: one, two, three.
We lift together, the deckhand between us, the light quivering over slick stone. She leans into me for balance, breath near my throat.

When the wave recedes and the echo dies, she glances up at me through wet lashes. “Still think I run toward danger?”
“Yeah.” My voice is rough. “And I’m still following you.”

The faintest smile curves her mouth before she turns back to the path ahead. The lamp throws her shadow long against the wall, two figures and a third that barely moves. For the first time tonight, hope feels possible.

The ledge trembles under our boots.
A low groan rolls through the cave, stone shifting, slow and deep, like something ancient turning in its sleep.

“Elara,” I warn.
“I hear it.” She checks the bandage, presses her palm to the deckhand’s chest. “Pulse is still there, but weak. We need higher ground now.”

A spray of grit rains down. The beam from my lamp cuts through it, catching a fissure that snakes across the ceiling. “There’s a split above the ledge that might open into another pocket.”
“Then we go.”

We lift together again. The deckhand’s weight drags at the harness; my shoulders burn. Elara’s breath comes in sharp bursts, fogging the air. The cave narrows until we’re forced to angle sideways, shoulders scraping wet rock.

“Watch your footing,” I say.
“Watch yours.”

A thin laugh escapes her, shaky but alive. It dies as another rumble rolls through the stone. A crack pops overhead. I shove her forward. “Move!”

Rock crashes behind us, a thunderclap in the dark. The light jerks, swinging wild; I catch a blur of falling debris before the tunnel fills with dust. She coughs, choking. I pull her against me, shielding her head with my arm until the noise fades.

When I open my eyes again, the way we came is gone. The ledge where the deckhand lay is buried under rubble, the sea already flooding the gap below.

“Elara.”
She blinks up at me, eyes wide, disoriented. “Luis..”
I shake my head. “He’s cut off. But the water’s rising; we have to move or we’ll join him.”

For a moment she just stares at the wall of stone, shoulders heaving. Then she nods once, a soldier’s acceptance. “We keep him in our light. As long as it holds.”
“We will.”

We turn toward the new passage. It’s barely wide enough to crawl; I go first, testing each handhold before motioning her on. The head-lamp throws our shadows along the ceiling, her silhouette right behind mine, the rhythm of our movement almost synchronized.

Water laps at our calves, then our thighs. She starts to shiver, and I can hear her teeth click.
“How’s your temperature?” I ask.
“Fine.”
Lie. I slow so she can catch my pace, reaching back to steady her when the current tugs. Her fingers close around my wrist, small and strong.

“Don’t lose the line,” I tell her.
“I won’t.”

We edge around a bend and emerge into a lower chamber. The roof dips close enough that we have to crouch; condensation drips from every surface. The air tastes of metal. My lamp flickers, dimming to a heartbeat pulse of light.

Elara draws a breath that sounds too thin. “We can’t go back, can we?”
“No.”
She nods again, eyes on the dark water swirling at our feet. “Then forward.”

Another crash echoes from somewhere behind us, smaller, farther off. I glance back just in time to see the faint glow of the outer tunnel swallowed by debris. The patient is gone from view entirely.

“Elara..”
“I know.” Her voice cracks. “We’ll send help when we get out.”
“When,” I repeat, because I need the word as much as she does.

We push deeper. The floor rises a little; the water drops to our knees. For the first time in hours there’s enough space to stand upright. I click the lamp higher and sweep the beam across the chamber. Smooth walls, a slanted shelf of rock, and above it, dry air. A pocket.

“This will hold,” I say.
She exhales, the sound closer to a sob than a laugh. “For how long?”
“Long enough for the storm to break.”

I unclip the gear from her harness, hands brushing cold metal and colder fabric. She doesn’t pull away, just sinks down on the nearest stone, arms wrapped tight around herself. Her lips are pale, her movements slow.

“You’re freezing.”
“Just tired.”
“Don’t lie to me.”

She looks up at that, eyes dull but stubborn. “I’ll manage.”

The lamp flickers again, weaker now. Its last flare paints her face in gold, then dims to amber. The shadows deepen, and the sound of the sea becomes a heartbeat all its own.

“We’ll wait for daylight,” I say, sitting beside her. “Then climb out.”
She leans her head against the wall, eyelids heavy. “If we sleep?”
“You won’t,” I answer, but the certainty feels fragile.

Another tremor shivers through the cave; dust drifts down like ash. I steady the light in my hand, watching her struggle to keep her eyes open. The urge to reach for her, to keep her awake, keep her warm burns under my skin.

“Stay with me, Elara.”
Her reply is a whisper. “Trying.”

The lamp sputters, one last flare, then only the dark and the sound of her breathing tangled with mine. Two heartbeats, still fighting.”