Leopard 04 - Wild Fire

like mini-cyclones. The sun gleamed through them, lending them colors as they twisted and turned gracefully. Some rose high, leaping above the boat in thin rainbows to form an archway. Laughing, she shot through it, the wind and water on her face and ruffling her hair like fingers.
    She played with the water, out there in the safest place she knew, the shore in the distance and the water leaping all around her boat, drawn to her in some mysterious way she didn’t understand, coming when she beckoned, saving her life numerous times, making her feel at peace when everything and everyone she loved had been taken from her. Under her direction the water plasticized, forming shapes. The joy Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    bursting through her there on the water where she was so alive, could never be duplicated on shore where, for her, there was only vulnerability and emptiness.
    She anchored the Sea Gypsy just off the shelf, but gave herself plenty of scope just in case a large wave did come at her out of nowhere. She checked her equipment a final time. Eagerness rose inside her, unmarred by any hint of fear. She loved to be in the water. Being alone was an added bonus. She didn’t have to try to adhere to conventional social customs. She didn’t have to worry about hurting someone’s feelings, embarrassing her chosen family or having people make fun of her.
    Out here, in the water, she could be herself and that was enough. Out here she couldn’t hear the screams of the dead, feel the scorching heat of a blazing fire, or see suspicion on the faces around her.
    After rubbing herself down with baby shampoo, she warmed her suit by pouring hot water from the engine in it before putting it on. Once again, she checked her air compressor—her lifeline. She’d spent a great deal of money on the Honda 5.5 horsepower engine and her Atlas Copco 2 stage air compressor with the three extremely expensive filters, two particulate filters with a carbon filter on top. Divers had died of carbon monoxide poisoning, and she wasn’t about to go that way. She had a non-locking Hanson quick release on her end of the main hose so she could detach quickly if necessary. She carried a small bailout of 30 cubic feet—her backup scuba tank—on her back. Some divers dove without one, but since she usually dove alone, she wanted the extra protection. Rikki didn’t care to be bent by an emergency ascent. She wanted to always be able to come up at the proper speed should anything happen, such as a hose getting cut by a boater who did not see her dive flag.
    Donning her weight belt and then the bailout, she put on the most important instrument: her computer, which kept track of her time so there was no chance of staying down too long. She had a compass to know where she was and where she wanted to go. Grabbing her urchin equipment, she slipped into the water, taking four five- hundred-pound capacity nets with her.
    The massive plunge felt like leaving earth and going into space, a monumental experience that always awed her. The cool liquid closed around her like a welcome embrace, bringing with it a sense of peace.
    Everything inside of her stilled, made sense. Righted. There was no way to explain the strange sensations others obviously didn’t feel when being touched. Sometimes fabrics were painful, and noises made her crazy, but here, in this silent world of beauty, she felt right, her chaotic mind calm.
    As she descended, fish circled her curiously and a lone seal zipped past her. Seals moved so fast in the water, like small rockets. Normally, they would linger, but today, apart from a few scattered fish, the sea seemed empty. For the first time, a shiver slid down her back and she looked around her at the deserted spot. Where had all the fish gone?
    The San Andreas fault line was treacherous, a good nine hundred feet deep or more, a long, black abyss stretching along the ocean floor. At around thirty feet deep, a high shelf jutted outward, the extensive jagged line of rock covered in sea urchins. The dropoff was another good thirty feet across where a shorter shelf held an abundance of sea life as well.
    Rikki touched down at the thirty-foot shelf and immediately began to work. Her rake scraped over the urchin-encrusted rocks along the shelf wall, the noise reverberating through the water for the sea creatures to hear. She worked fast, knowing that below her sharks could hunt her, where when