Last Breath

“287 metres to go,” read Sgt. Bunker’s fathometer as he slowly descended deeper and deeper into the Pacific Ocean. His oxygen was getting low but he was determined to reach a depth never before encountered by man. His crewmates waited impatiently above water, led by Col. Rodriguez, the youngest woman to ever command a crew that qualified for a job this big.

Bunker could feel himself getting anxious but knew panic would be the end of him. He had to control his heavy breathing to not waste air and had to hold his hands steady to avoid the jittery shakes of nerves. Every time he doubted himself, Rodriguez was there in his ear whispering motivation.

“I believe in you Tom,” rang in his ears at every meter as Rodriguez waited nervously. The two of them had been lovers in the past and had overcome lots of turmoil to reach this point – a productive team accomplishing something that had never before been done. As Bunker’s fathometer read “10 meters” to go, he knew he was just about there.

Rodriguez had a vessel waiting for him deep in the ocean. Once in it, he could truly explore the ocean’s great mysteries. As he finally reached the vessel, he could finally relax. He got to the door and tried to open it. It was locked. Bunker tried again but it wouldn’t budge. He started panicking and screaming into his earpiece, “Elizabeth, I can’t get it and I’m almost out of oxygen. Elizabeth, help!”

Rodriguez casually turned off the radio to ensure no one heard Bunker’s pleas for help and then whispered into her earpiece, “That’s what you get for cheating on me, enjoy dying cold and alone in the depths of the ocean.”

Tom Bunker. September 12, 1981 – July 15, 2019.