Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8 The car spun and flipped as it sank deeper and deeper. It became pitch-dark, and Ben got so dizzy he couldn't tell which way was up and which was down. It was like being in a locked box filled with water or… a plane. A fighter jet that had crashed into the ocean. Ben remembered the stories Dad had told him about pilot training. It took years to learn to be an F-16 pilot. And the training never ended. There were always new formations to learn, different

drills to practice. The worst, Dad said, were the water survival drills. Every military pilot is trained so they can survive in a water crash. A plane sinks quickly, and fills with water in seconds. Even the best pilot will get completely confused under the water, just like Ben felt now. And so the air force puts its pilots through practice drills. Twice a year, Dad went to a special training center where he was blindfolded, strapped into a fake cockpit, flipped over, and dunked into a freezing-cold pool. He had to unstrap, find an exit, and swim to the surface — all while holding his breath. In his early years, Dad sometimes failed the test. A rescue diver had to fish him out and drag him to the surface. But there was no rescue diver waiting for Ben now. He would escape, or he would drown. Ben closed his eyes and remembered what Dad had said about escaping from a sunken plane: how

pilots turned their hands into eyes, how they would feel their way through the plane until they found a way out. Doors don't work in a sinking plane; the pressure of the water seals them shut. Pilots need to find a hole, or break a window. The water was past Ben's mouth now, brushing against his nose. He lifted his chin and took a deep breath, knowing it would be his last until he got to the surface. His hands fumbled blindly along the surfaces of the car. He tried to picture what he was feeling — the seat, the roof, the window. He found the window button, but nothing happened when he pushed it. The car's electricity must have stopped working in the water. Now he had just a few seconds left. His lungs felt as if they were going to explode. He was losing strength. He groped until he found the steering wheel. There wasn't much room in Ojisan's tiny car, but he managed to pull his knees to his chest, and swing his body around. With all

his might, he kicked at the window of the passenger door. Boom. The window didn't budge. He kicked again, and again. Boom. Boom. Boom. CRACK! Ben gave one last kick, and the glass popped out of the frame.

He turned and squirmed through the opening, fighting the force of the water gushing into the car. He pushed against the car with both feet, and rocketed up to the surface. But he had barely taken one breath when he was sucked under again. The water seemed to be alive, with powerful arms that thrashed Ben, tore at him. Each time he fought his way to the surface to take a breath, the water grabbed him and pulled him down again. He couldn't keep this up, he knew. The water was winning. And then he caught a glimpse of something big bobbing in the water, just a few feet away. He had no idea what it was. For a second, he imagined it was a whale. Ben threw his body forward, kicking with every ounce of energy he had left. It was a couch! Ben managed to pull himself up. He gulped in the air, filling his aching lungs again and again.

His mouth and nose were filled with the disgusting water. He spit and coughed and blew out his nose, trying to get rid of the bitter chemical taste. He blinked his eyes, which felt as though they had been burned. Slowly, Ben caught his breath. His vision cleared. He looked around him, unable to believe that what he was seeing was real. For as far as he could see, there was water — a churning black soup choked with shredded wood, slabs of glass and metal, and other wreckage. Ben tipped his head back and screamed. "Mom!" he shouted. "Ojisan! Harry!" His voice echoed out, and nobody called back. There was not another person anywhere to be seen. The wave had swept them all away.