46.
I land inside a deep pool of cold
water. Shockingly cold. Water, no doubt, that comes directly from a Nile feeder. With the box still gripped firmly in my arms, I find myself spinning. Round
and round like a vinyl record on an old-fashioned turntable. I yell out for
Anya and Andre, silently praying to whatever God is up there that they landed
safely.
When the word “Here!” echoes off
the cave walls, I breathe a sigh of relief. But the relief is short-lived. The
spinning is becoming more rapid, more forceful. I am beginning to feel myself
being sucked into a whirlpool.
“Professor! Anya!” I call. “You
okay?”
“Yes, we’re okay,” he responds.
“Okay,” Anya follows.
“Listen carefully,” I go on. “We
are going to be sucked under. I can only assume that there is a blow hole of
som
