If he just sat and waited here, he would be spared that agony. Wait? Wait for what? Several years ago, there had been an incident in which a cave explorer had been rescued four days after going missing in some limestone caves in Okinawa. He had apparently dropped his flashlight and lost his way. In that case, not only did the rescuers know which caves he had been exploring, but local spelunkers also turned out in force to search for him. Even then it had taken a full four days to find and rescue him.
Sugiyama wondered which of two options offered the better chance of survival. It was inconceivable that a rescue party would arrive within a few days. Diving in search of an outlet was no doubt the better option in terms of his chances for survival. The question was whether he was capable of facing the suffering that may lie ahead.
Another two days had elapsed. He had now been trapped for a total of four days.
He could afford no more indecision: it was now or never. All he had eaten during those four days had been a box of biscuits that he always carried in his backpack as a precaution. True, he had lost a great deal of stamina, but still had enough energy left to make the dive, provided he waited no longer. However, his strength would begin to ebb dramatically in another two or three days, whereupon he would no longer have any decision to make, but be left with the default option: a slow but painless death. Any chance of being saved would have run out.
Looking back on his thirty-one years, he began to question whether he had lived a happy life, since the life could be snuffed out at any moment now. Although he would have liked to feel satisfied with the years he'd been given, he felt angry at how thoughtlessly he had lived. There was still so much he wanted to do in life. There were all those adventures that he and his son Takehiko had in store, when his son grew a little older. There was so much he wanted to teach the boy. Sugiyama hoped to instil in him the lessons of life born of his own experiences, so the boy could take advantage of the knowledge and lead a more fulfilling life, supplement the knowledge with his own, and pass it on to the next generation. This, for Sugiyama, was the real meaning of human life. Neither could he help worrying about his wife and the child she was expecting. Yet he would have to try to keep his mind free from such concerns for now. There was no end to the unfinished business that crowded his mind, the insurance settlement, the mortgage, who would take care of his elderly parents, and so on. Still, he wanted to convey his will to his son.
In the fading light of his headlamp, he began to write in the blank space on the back of the map. As if trying to convince himself, he penned each letter and each phrase with firm deliberation. He rolled up the finished letter and put it into an empty film case. He sealed the case with vinyl tape, then inserted it into a waterproof pack on which he had clearly written a name and address. As a final precaution, he sealed the pack and tested it in the water. The test revealed that the little package was both buoyant enough and perfectly water-resistant. What Sugiyama had in mind was what would happen if the outlet was too narrow for him to pass through. If that were the case, he would dispatch the letter to his family in the direction of the opening. He felt that there was little likelihood of it ever reaching outside the cave unless he released it immediately in front of the opening. Even if he managed to push it into the tunnel leading out, there was the risk of the buoyant package getting caught up in the countless stalactites hanging from the roof of the tunnel.
Writing the letter strengthened Sugiyama's resolve. He had to believe that he had a chance. At his best, he could swim about fifty meters underwater without having to surface. With the aid of the current, he could probably cover even more distance. As a precaution against projecting stalactites, he would wear his helmet and keep his overalls and boots on.
Turning his lamp on, he set it on a nearby rock to shine on the left side of the subterranean lake. The light flickered feebly as if it would go out at any second. He gradually lowered himself into the water and waited until he grew accustomed to the cold before submerging his entire body. Swimming over to the left side of the lake, he placed his hand on a ledge and poked his head above water to regulate his breathing. The headlamp on top of the rock was almost out. Sugiyama took several short breaths and filled his lungs with air. The case containing the letter was wedged under his belt so that there was no possibility of losing it. He patted his belt to reassure himself that the letter was still there. The instant he did so, the headlamp went out.
As if this had been his cue, Sugiyama began diving down along the line of the ledge. About six feet down, the current became more vigorous, assailing his face and almost ripping his helmet off. His groping hands found the opening to the tunnel. The water around him was rushing into the tunnel. It was just as he had guessed. His will firm, he entrusted his fate to the current.