From the Deep (22 page)

CHAPTER 46

Royston wiped the sweat from his brow and looked out at the imposing lagoon below him.  At an impressive two thousand feet in diameter, and the same at its deepest point, Royston was sure it had to be one of the biggest man made containment facilities in the world. It was an impressive sight. He watched as cranes lifted panelled sections into position, closing off the last few sunlight filled areas of the large domed roof.  Jackhammers drilled, machinery growled as thousands of workmen scurried around. It truly was a thing of beauty, and looked even more impressive from his lofty position at the back of the structure. Trautman joined him, and for a moment, they simply watched.

“Looking good ain’t it?” Trautman said.

“It is. I was worrying about finishing for Sunday, and here we are ahead of schedule.”

“That’s why I’m here actually. I just got word we need to start filling this thing tonight.”

Royston turned towards Trautman. “It’s not ready yet, tell them we can’t.”

“They weren’t askin’,” Trautman said with a sour grin. “Assholes said they want the pumps switched on by late this afternoon.”

“That’s not a problem in itself, the structure will be fine, but the filtration system is-”

“I know I know. No need to preach to the converted. I already told em’ we don’t have it online yet, plus the roof isn’t finished and the thousand or so other minor jobs that still need to be done. Hell, you know what these assholes can be like. They didn’t want to know. They insisted, so I told them we would go ahead and start pumping seawater into this place as long as they didn’t hold us responsible if it all goes to shit.”

“Are the pumps online? That was all assigned to you guys on second shift.” Royston said.

“My guys got the job done. Those things are ready to go. We can start pumping seawater into this place as soon as we get everyone clear of the bowl.”

“Why do you think they’re in such a rush?”

“Who knows? As long as I get paid, I really don’t give a shit.” Trautman said, looking at his watch. “Do me a favour, get any of your people out of the bowl, we start the pumps in an hour. By late this afternoon, this place will be full of seawater. Let’s hope those filtration systems work like it should, or repairing them is going to be a bitch.”

“What do you suppose they plan to keep in here?” Royston asked.

“Couple of the guys have been wondering the same. I hear it could be whales, a family of them. Something about studying how they interact or some shit like that,” Trautman said, shrugging his shoulders. “Whatever it is, it’s none of my business. I just wanna get this job done and get out of this damn heat.”

“I hear that.” Royston agreed, because he too wanted away from the build. There was something off about it, something not quite right with how the entire thing was being run. The sooner he was on a flight back to England, the better. Something in his gut told him things were about to go bad. He unclipped the radio from his belt, patching in to his crews.

“Clear the bowl, I repeat, clear the bowl. We’re filling her in an hour.”

CHAPTER 47

Barraged by a vicious Antarctic storm, the
Victorious
ploughed ahead, somehow managing to stay afloat. The sky had turned to the colour of lead, and was already blasting sleet at the boat with increasing velocity.

“We have to call this off,” Andrews said, staring at Russo who looked impassively out of the wheelhouse window, his view a bucking, rolling landscape of waves and snow.

“The path to paradise begins in hell.”

“What is that, Shakespeare or something?” Andrews asked.

“Dante, and quite appropriate, don’t you think?”

“Come on, Russo, you have it tagged. This storm is only going to get worse if we-”

“The storm doesn’t interest me.”

“We could all die!” Andrews said, garnering a few nervous glances from the crew. Russo saw it, and offered a cold smile.

“Are you afraid of a few waves and a little snow? I thought you Langley boys would be made of sterner stuff.”

“Come on, this isn't about measuring dicks. We have people on board and this storm is only going to get worse. Look at these charts,” he said, thrusting the papers towards Russo. “We’re heading right into the middle of a category three storm. If you think this is bad, just wait until later.”

“You feel free to panic if you must. I’m completely confident this vessel can handle anything the ocean can throw at it.”

“Enough of the Americana bullshit. You think this storm cares about the history of this boat? You think it cares that you think we’re indestructible?” He pointed to the officer piloting the boat, who looked completely out of his depth. “You really think this guy can steer us safely through these waters? Look at him!”

“And yet, you seem to be the only one complaining.”

“That’s because everyone else is too afraid to tell you how it is. If you want to throw your life away, then that’s fine. You don’t have the right to drag the rest of us along with you.”

“You can get off at any time, it’s not like we need you around here anyway.”

“You’re a god damn liability, Russo,” Andrews said, striding across the wheelhouse and towards his quarters. Russo only grinned, then turned back to the dizzying, undulating seascape.

“Is that true?” he whispered next to the pilot’s ear. “Is it true you’re out of your depth?”

“Sir, I…” The young pilot stammered.

“It’s okay. I just need to know if we need to get someone else to do this.”

“Sir, I’m prepared to stay at the controls, but if there is someone more capable on board, I would be happy to step aside.”

Russo stood and felt his stomach somersault as the boat crested a thirty-foot wave and smashed into the sea, sending a huge white wall of spray exploding into the air. He unhooked his radio from his belt and lifted it to his mouth.

“Mito, bring our guests. I need to speak to them.”

Ten minutes later, Mackay, Rainwater and Clara stood in the wheelhouse, watched carefully by Mito and his men.

“Before you ask, it’s a no.” Mackay snapped.

“I want you to take the controls of this boat. I can make it worth your while.” Russo said anyway.

“I bet you will. I’m still not interested.”

“Even if I let you and your friends go?” Russo asked, eyebrows raised.

“Seems to me that's out of your hands now. By the looks of things, you’ll be lucky to see dawn again.”

“Which is why I want you to take over. You know these waters. You know how to navigate them safely.”

“Not in conditions like these.” Mackay said, finding a smile despite his stomach rolling as the boat slewed across the waves.

“Are you admitting you aren’t good enough? Are you rejecting the challenge?” Russo asked, flicking his eyes to Clara then back to Mackay. The grizzled fisherman grinned.

“If you’re trying to talk me into proving you wrong, it won’t work. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna bail you out of this one. You made the call to come into what looks to be the mother of all storms, and will have to deal with the consequences.”

“You don’t understand what I’m saying,” Russo said. “This is just the edge of it. We’re heading right into a category three, and it seems we’re unequipped to deal with it.”

Mackay’s confident sneer faltered and he exchanged worried glances with Rainwater.

“You have to pull out. Get back to dock.” Rainwater said.

“I can’t do that.”

“I don’t think you get it,” Mackay said,“there ain’t’ no safe way to navigate a category three storm. I told you what would happen, but you were too stubborn to listen.”

“Just call it off, pick up the search in a few days.” Rainwater cut back in.

Russo stood and stared, elastic grin etched onto his face.  “I have a job to do. How can I go back to my superiors and tell them I was derailed by a storm.”

“That won’t matter,” Mackay said, “because if you don’t turn back, there’s a good chance none of us will make it out of here alive.”

“Take the controls. Guide us safely to my monster, and I’ll guarantee you will be freed and all charges against you dropped.”

“Fuck you,” Mackay said, grinning at Russo.

Rainwater was sure Russo would break. Instead, he nodded and turned to the flustered captain who was struggling to control the ship.

“Do you have a name, son?” Russo asked.

“Jenkins, sir.” He replied, as a twenty-foot wave smashed over the bow, smattering the windows with icy seawater.

“Stand down. You’ve taken us as far as you can.”

“Sir, I—”

“That’s an order, Jenkins. Relinquish the controls.”

Jenkins did as he was told, leaving the boat without a pilot.

“Don’t be an idiot, Russo, You need someone to steer the boat. If you don’t hit the waves just right, we’ll capsize.” Rainwater said, glancing to the rolling seas outside.

“Tell your friend to do as I’ve asked.”

“Nobody tells me what to do. Especially not you,” Mackay said, holding Russo’s gaze.

“Then it looks like we’re in fate’s hands.”

The boat bucked and rolled, prompting Mito to step towards the controls.

“Don’t you touch those!” Russo screamed, the veins bulging out of his neck. Mito shrank back, and like everyone else watched out of the window as the boat forged ahead without anyone to control it.

“Is this creature really worth it?” Clara said, trying to ignore the icy fear in her gut. “Is it worth our lives,
your
life?”

“ This isn’t just about the creature,” Russo said, grinning as the boat was hit broadside by a wave and listed sickly to the right, before righting itself. “This is about orders. About seeing a job through to the end. This is about my reputation.”

“All you’ll be remembered for is failure, and getting a boat full of people killed.” Rainwater said, balling his fists hard enough to leave tiny white crescents in his palms.

“No. I’ll be remembered as the man who gave his all, including his life to try to complete his mission. I’m prepared for whatever comes. I wonder if you are too.”

“I told you before. Death doesn’t scare me. If it’s my time, it’s my time,” He glared at Russo. “But unlike you, I have a duty to protect my friends. I’ll pilot this boat for you, but I ain’t taking it into a storm.”

“You’ll stay on course; otherwise, I’ll have one of your friends thrown overboard. Remember, I only need you. Think about that.”

Mackay walked towards the controls, and paused to glare at Russo. “I’ll get you for this. I promise you that.”

“Don’t take it personally. We all have a job to do. Mine happens to be one of those dirty ones that nobody else seems to want.”

Mackay paid no attention, instead staring out of the window as he took the controls.

“Are you a religious man, Russo?” Mackay asked as he steered into another giant wave.

“I went to church when I was a boy, why?”

“I suggest you start praying. Because from here on out, there are no guarantees.”

“Get us safely through this storm and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Surely there’s something you want? Something to make you more willing to give one hundred percent into keeping us alive?”

Mackay paused for a few seconds, then spoke almost too quietly to be heard.

“I want Morrison. Five minutes alone in a room with him.”

“Interesting,” Russo said with a grin. “Get us through the storm in one piece, and I’ll let you have your little fist fight.”

Mackay shook his head and shut off the engine.

“What the hell are you doing?” Russo said, glaring from Mackay to the controls and then to the tracking screen following the creature.

“You think I’d trust a slimy son of a bitch like you? I want my five minutes with Morrison now.”

“The storm…”

“Storm isn’t bad enough yet. Not here on its edge.  Give me my five minutes, and I'll drive this boat of yours straight up this monster’s arse. I can drop anchor here until we are done.”

The wheelhouse was silent as the boat rocked and rolled and sleet barraged the windows. Russo held Mackay’s gaze, then turned to Mito.

“Find Morrison. Organise a room. Let’s get his over with.”

Mito nodded and disappeared below deck.  Three miles away, the violent storm was growing stronger.