Nasty Wetlands

Gwen went out first. The helicopter hadn't touched down, just hovered a half metre up and with the noise from the blades I never heard the splash and her curse as she went through up to her hips. I was already out my own door but the peat never even slowed me down. I hit it rigid like a kid jumping in the deep end and without a blink I was over my head in the dark my ears filled with the rush of ice water and the vanishing chug of the helicopter pulling away. I was lucky I hadn't breathed water when I went in but I hadn't taken much air either and my lungs wanted up quickly but my backpack had other ideas and liked gravity more than buoyancy. 

I shrugged it off, opened my eyes, it was black in every direction and I didn't know which way was up and my lizard brain wanted to panic. I felt the lumpy canvas pack bounce off my calf and used it as a sign to pull as hard as I could in the direction I was pointing. After five or six strokes all I wanted was to inhale but I still hadn't come up so either I'd gone way down further than I thought or I wasn't swimming up. On my last stroke either way the back of my head scraped against some twigs; I'd been swimming at a thirty degree angle and I was under a carpet of Sphagnum and Labrador Tea.

 I clawed the floating bog from underneath, pushed my mouth into it and sucked in hard. I got a mouthful of dirt and twig and enough water to set me coughing but I was so close I had to control it. I pulled and pulled at the ceiling or roots and twigs and matted black leaves trying to drown me till I made a tiny face-sized hole that let me put my lips above the surface. I sucked dark air through my teeth and gripped hard like it was someone's sweater in a fight. I opened my eyes and saw a sliver of light and Gwen pushing her hand through. I called her name and kissed her hand.