Unlawful Chase by C.J. Schnier (new books to read .TXT) 📗

screamed for air while my throat and diaphragm convulsed viciously, desperate for oxygen. I embraced the sensations, ignored their warnings, and continued to take my time, creeping through the cobalt blue water a hundred feet below the surface. I picked my way through the mass of coral, stalking my prey, waiting for the right moment to attack.

My target, a large mangrove snapper, lazily snaked its way through the rocky outcroppings, seemingly unconcerned with my presence as I followed it. The tip of my speargun tracked it effortlessly, poised to deliver its fatal blow in an instant. But the fish refused to present me with a shot. My need to breathe was becoming more urgent, and I knew if I did not get an opportunity soon, it would force me to resurface empty handed.

I was considering abandoning the hunt when my prey stopped and turned sideways as if to look at me, giving me the perfect shot. The speargun jerked in my hand when I pulled the trigger, and in nearly the same instant I saw the fish convulse and spasm for the briefest of moments before going still and sinking towards the coral. I wasted no time in ascending, hauling the fish up behind me as I went.

I kept my movements relaxed and efficient, streamlining my body as much as possible and allowing the powerful long freediving fins to propel me upwards towards the dark shadow of the boat above. My mind and lungs urged me to ascend faster, but I knew better than to give in to their impulses. From these depths I could rise at about a meter a second while using the least amount of energy, and the least amount of oxygen. Any more effort than what I was using, and I risked blacking out before reaching the surface. I would have to endure thirty more seconds before I could finally take a much needed breath.

Halfway up, I looked down at the little patch reef. Despite the crystalline waters of the Florida Keys, the reef was beginning to disappear into a blue haze. I could see the large mangrove snapper I had shot being towed upwards as it dangled from the line attached to the speargun.

Jeff dove from the surface and met me halfway. He paused until I swam past him, turned, and ascended with me, staying below me in the water column. For the entire time, he kept eye contact with me as we both completed the last several meters to the surface together.

This was a standard safety measure for freedivers, whose biggest risk was blacking out in the last thirty feet. That close to the surface, a diver's body went through several significant changes. It was here when the lungs once again expanded to their full size, and in doing so, they drew oxygen away from the brain. Having a trained buddy diver was the only relatively safe way to free dive.

As soon as my head broke the surface, I exhaled before taking my first breath of sweet air in what felt like a lifetime. After two more quick breaths, I let go of my speargun, letting it float beside me, and finished retrieving the snapper. Jeff broke the surface next to me, smiling from ear to ear as I grabbed the fish by the spear and hoisted it over the transom of the boat.

"Damn, Chase! That's a monster mangrove you've got there."

"Thanks, but I didn't think it would ever give me a chance at a shot. I was about to give up when it finally turned."

"For a moment I thought you were trying to beat my record for bottom time," he said.

Wondering exactly how long I had stayed down, I looked at my Mares Apnea dive watch and was surprised at the numbers. "Three minutes, thirty-five seconds. Not quite as long as your four-ten, but I'm catching up!"

"Well, your record attempt will have to wait for another day, it's getting late. Why don't we pack it in and head back?"

I glanced up at the sun, which was already past its zenith and dropping towards the western horizon. We were underway a few minutes after pulling ourselves out of the water. Jeff's compact fishing boat was stout and dependable, but it was not fast, and we made slow but steady progress back to Marathon.

I took advantage of the warm afternoon sun and stripped from my wetsuit to change into dry street clothes. The wetsuit was a specialized one-piece suit designed for free divers and spearfishermen. It was done in a mosaic pattern that attempted to perform as underwater camouflage. I wasn't sure if the pattern helped much, but the design of the suit kept me warm and streamlined in the water.

Jeff also changed into dry clothes on the way in. Afterwards, he pointed me towards two large white coolers mounted on the stern of the boat, "Grab yourself a beer, Chase. Get me one too. We had a good day of fishing."

I opened the first cooler, but instead of beer it contained the various fish we had killed. Shutting the lid, I opened the other and withdrew two beers from the surprisingly fresh ice. Handing one can to Jeff, I popped the top of the other, lifted it to my lips, and felt my face turn green the instant I smelled it.

"Damn dude, you must have had a rough night," he joked, noticing my discomfort. "Did it have anything to do with that girl who was on your boat when I picked you up?"

"I'm sure it did. Honestly, I don't remember. I woke up this morning with her lying naked next to me and I didn't know how she got there, much less what her name was."

"That doesn't sound like you, man. I mean, she was a pretty damn good looking vixen, but she can't fill the void you're feeling."

"I'm aware," I said meekly, knowing he was right. "It was purely physical. It's not like I'm looking for love," I lied. "There was something about