I reached the hatch cover, which was vibrating violently from the pressure of the escaping air underneath.

The heavy steel wheel on the hatch was locked in place, a red digital light glowing on the electronic keypad next to it.

“The keypad is dead,” Hayes said, shining his light on the blank screen.

“The saltwater shorted it out.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my small multi-tool, my hands shaking from the cold.

I jammed the flathead screwdriver blade into the seam of the plastic keypad cover and pried it off.

A shower of sparks flew out, sizzling in the wet air.

Behind the plastic was a bundle of thin, color-coded wires.

“I need your flashlight, Hayes,” I said, not looking back.

The beam shifted, illuminating the tiny copper filaments inside the housing.

“The blue wire,” I muttered to myself, tracing the connection. “The blue one bypasses the solenoid.”

I grabbed the wire with the small pliers on my tool and tugged hard.

The wire snapped, and a loud click echoed from inside the steel hatch mechanism.

The red light on the housing flickered once and went dark.