Deep Into the Game (S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND, Book 1)

Chapter Fourteen

My arms ache. My back is stiff. My legs are burning. And still we swim on.

If not for Kelly’s hand on my arm, I don’t know how I’d make it, since I can barely steer with just my feet. Even with him guiding me, I feel like I’m fighting against some invisible force that wants to turn me around. I’m moving as much sideways as forward. I try to correct my trajectory by twisting my body, but it doesn’t help much, just makes me all the more exhausted.

The yellow and blue glow sticks pull away from us, begin to fade in the distance and the murk. I kick harder. My breathing grows ragged. My body’s not used to this particular kind of exercise.

I can hear Kelly beginning to strain, too. Then, without warning, he jerks me to the side. His hand slips off of me and I’m bathed in blackness as the beam from his flashlight winks out.

Kelly?

I twist, but all around me is nothing but black ink and midnight loneliness. I strain my eyes through the goggles. They leak. I push them hard against my face.

Kelly!

But then the beam from his flashlight flickers on. It’s way off to one side. It swings around, jerks, then sinks down to the floor. I wonder if the tether somehow came unattached from his belt.

I spin around, kicking to get myself turned, and my flipper connects with something that feels like it has some give to it. I cringe, thinking I’ve just kicked my boyfriend in the face. But when I extend my legs, there’s nothing there.

The light below me changes. I see the faint outline of a figure holding it. The beam swings up and stabs at me. I swing my feet around and once again I feel a momentary resistance behind me.

A bubble of air escapes from my mouth. Water squirts into my goggles.

Kelly?

The light catches me square in the eyes. But then I feel a firm hand on my leg. I realize one of the others has come back, and I relax and wait for whoever it is to come alongside me. Without my hands, without my flashlight, I feel helpless.

The grips tightens, begins squeezing. I grunt when it starts to become uncomfortable. A second hand grabs my other leg.

Kelly’s flashlight jerks back and forth below me, coming closer. He’s swimming back up. I reach behind me to push the person off—guessing that it’s Reggie by his strength—but when I turn to look, it isn’t Reg. It’s nobody I recognize.

The man’s hair floats wildly about his pale face, and his eyes are gaping black holes. His mouth yawns at me and his teeth are yellow and ragged. He pulls himself toward my body. A tongue lolls out. It takes my mind a moment to process that he isn’t wearing a wetsuit or a mask or goggles. That’s not possible, I think, before realizing I’m in the grip of one of the Undead.

Air slips from my mouth and nose. My body contracts. The movement draws the thing even closer to me. The grip has hardened. It feels like a vise. It burns my skin as I kick desperately at it.

One hand lets go, reaches forward. I kick and scream inside my throat, but the hand finds my upper calf. The second hand releases me and somehow manages to grab me just above my knee. I slap at them with the goggles and kick. The zombie leans in to bite me.

But the grip slips on the slick material of the wetsuit, and it slides down my legs. For a moment I think I’m free. But then the hands catch on my flippers. Icy cold fingers wrap around my bare skin and begin marching back up my legs. I can hear the monster’s teeth clacking together as it extends it rotting neck and mouth toward me once again, desperate to feed.