Ted's Caving Story

As the only expert in the world capable of rescue dives below 3,000 feet, I received a once-in-a-lifetime salvage contract worth tens of millions of dollars. I had dived in those same waters over a decade ago. My son's research submersible had been damaged on the ocean floor. After his oxygen ran out, he suffocated in the dark. The grief nearly destroyed me. My husband, Griffin Lattimer, held me through it, staying by my side through countless miserable nights. I found out later that he had personally redirected the only rescue vessel capable of reaching the depths our son was at to save his childhood friend's daughter. That girl had merely choked on a mouthful of water in the shallows. I divorced Griffin and threw myself into deep-sea salvage like a woman possessed, diving over and over until I knew the undercurrents of those waters better than I knew my own home. I never wanted another child to die the way mine did. Today brought the same stretch of ocean, the same crushed hull, the same depleted oxygen, and the same impossible odds. When I opened the client's file, I went completely still. I recognized the name and face inside instantly. I would never forget either of them for as long as I lived. I smiled and slid the folder back across the table to my partner. "I can't take this one."

My wife, Ruth Quarmby, had a twenty-year-old male apprentice named Craig Smith. He secretly turned off a diver’s scuba tank underwater. This caused an accident. He then posted three posts on his social media feed. The first post said, [I played a little prank underwater by shutting off my instructor’s mother-in-law’s scuba tank. Now, she’s in a coma and heading into surgery. But hey, I’m innocent!] The second post said, [Toast one: from a broke mountain kid to a certified diver. All by myself! Toast two: I confessed my love to someone I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t cross that line. Toast three: here’s to every lonely night I suffered through.] The third post said, [Best instructor ever. Without her, who else would cover for my pranks?] I told my wife to pay for the surgery to save the person quickly. But in front of the operating room door, she told me solemnly to give up on the surgery. “Your mother is old and fragile. Saving her is a waste of resources. Even if she makes it out alive, she’ll be bedridden. She’ll wish she were dead. Just let her go.” She quickly signed the Refusal of Treatment form. Then, she threw the signed form in my face. I kept quiet. The person lying in the operating room was her own mother.

On the snowy mountain, Shawn Foster's neighbor, Susan Taylor, suffered from altitude sickness. He blamed me for not bringing supplies in time. He tied me up and left me on the mountain, five thousand meters above sea level. "You should experience the pain Susan went through." I rushed up the mountain to find them, completely forgetting that I was already exhausted. Without an oxygen supply, I gasped for air desperately. He held Susan in his arms and headed down the mountain. I begged him for mercy, but he did not even glance at me. I struggled, but I could not break free from the Prusik knot he tied himself. The same knot I once taught him. Three days later, he asked his colleagues about my whereabouts. "I would never have forgiven her so quickly if it's not Susan's kindness." But he did not know—I had long been buried beneath the snow.

The Dark Below is a steam-punk/fantasy world filled with the darkness that rests beneath a wavering tide. Generations ago, Gods from the depths below rose from the black seas and in doing so, caused a great flood that would have destroyed all of humanity if it was not for the ingenuity of survival. Living among The Dark Below has come to pass, but now four warriors must come together in hopes of forging a brighter future.

She-wolf is saved by a human who needs her. Enjoy the ride.. ************** Excerpt..... My family found me and carried me home to the Pack doctor. After surgery and a few weeks of rest, I was back to normal. Physically, I'd fully recovered, but I was far from well. My wolf pined for her mate, and I was going nuts, wondering where he was! His absence left a hole in my heart that I couldn't fill. We didn't have many clues. My brother had tracked his scent to the trailhead where he'd parked his truck. After that, nothing. My family fully supported my search for my mate. After all, he had saved my life and was my one chance at true happiness in this life. Family members ran the mountains every weekend until the heavy snow arrived, but we never caught his scent again. The longer it went on, the more distraught I became.

My husband's childhood sweetheart kills my parents in an accident due to drunk driving. I want to call the police, but my husband blindfolds me and takes me to the cellar. I'm tormented and subjected to inhumane treatment for the next three years. After each torture session, an icy male voice will ring out in my ear. "Do you still hate her, Sabrina?" One day, I finally cave and submit to the icy voice. "No, I don't. I don't hate her anymore!" I hear my husband's joyous laughter on the other end of the line. On the day he welcomes me out of the cellar, I avoid his embrace. Yet he loses his mind when I ask him for a divorce.