Leap - 02 (28 page)

The problem was the new design.  With a folding tail section, it allowed the helicopters to be stored in a much tighter space, but it also meant it took longer to ready the aircraft for flight. 

They had less than seven minutes.  How much less Krogstad didn’t know, especially with what he was about to do.

Even cutting out most of the pre-flight checklist, readying the tail section and firing up the twin engines would likely take more than seven minutes.  But they had to try.

Clay had better find those pilots.

Clay was flying down the ladder to the main deck when the piercing siren sounded overhead.  Loud enough to be heard throughout the entire ship, everyone instantly froze in their tracks when they heard it.  The siren stopped almost as quickly as it started and was replaced by Krogstad’s voice.

“All hands, move immediately to the stern of the ship!  I repeat, move to the stern of the ship!”  The next three words instantly struck fear into the hearts of the ship’s officers and crew.  “BRACE FOR IMPACT!”

The crew flew into action, ducking in and out of every room, pulling along their fellow sailors and anyone else they could find. 

Clay pushed past the dozens of people who began filling the narrow catwalks, rushing toward the back of the ship.  He spotted a senior officer and stopped him.  “Where’s the flight crew?!”

In the science lab, Commander Lawton was urging everyone out quickly through the doors.  She pushed her hands against both Alison and Kelly’s backs, following them out just behind Borger and two of her researchers.  The catwalk outside was already filled with people, but Lawton kept pushing through the bottleneck.

Below deck, the ship’s engineering team was the only group who remained where they were.  Chief Hines had one hand holding the phone to his ear, talking to the Control Room.  With the other, he grasped the microphone tightly, shouting orders loud enough to be heard even over his crew’s double-layered ear protection. 

This was no “buttercup” drill.  This was the real thing.  The giant SHT pumps were primed and ready, manned by two men on each side.  Everyone else held their positions, with their infrared scopes dangling upon their chests.

“Four minutes, Captain!”

Krogstad’s communications officer kept shaking his head. “We can’t jam it, sir!  It must be wire guided.”

Damn it!
  He knew the chances of jamming were low, given the age of the technology.  It left Krogstad with only one option.  He gazed through the bridge’s window again.  He could clearly see the corvette now, much larger and beginning to turn out of Georgetown’s port.  It was turning toward them. 
God damn it!  Of all the ships to be on!

He didn’t have a choice now.  The corvette was no longer a priority.  The Bowditch and everyone aboard were all that mattered.  And the Bowditch was no match for either a corvette or sub. 

He had to give the order now, or there wouldn’t be enough time.  It meant they were going to
lose
most of the time left on their clock.  But there was nothing else he could do.

“Full reverse men!  Come about to port…HARD!”

Chief Hines got the message and yelled it out immediately.  “ALL STATIONS, STAND FAST!  FULL REVERSE!  COME ABOUT LEFT TO PORT!”

It only took thirty seconds for the bus-sized engines to fully reverse.  But it would take longer for a ship that size to come about.  It began with the thunderous shuddering that vibrated through the entire hull, as the thick steel was put through tremendous strain.  But begin to turn, it did.

The mighty engines began pulling the ship backward through the water towards the torpedo, which was still charging straight at their stern at almost eighty knots. 

From the bridge, Captain Krogstad watched the horizon begin to spin in an agonizing crawl.  The full city of Georgetown came into view.  Second by second, he could gradually see the cliffs at the south end of town.

“Two minutes!”

Krogstad brought the microphone up to his mouth.  “All hands, to the stern!  NOW!”

He could hear the echo of his own voice through the outside speaker system.  What he couldn’t see, however, were the rotor blades of the Oceanhawk below, gathering speed.  Nor did he see the two helicopter pilots sprinting across the deck toward the chopper.

Behind them, Clay turned and ran for the stern, his boots pounding the metal grating hard with every step.  When he reached the back, he found the rear of the ship littered with crew and passengers.  Everyone frantically searched for a secure place to squirm into or something solid to wrap their arms around.

He spotted Alison near the side and ran to her.  Behind her stood Kelly, Chris, and Lee.  All huddled together and held on tightly to a thick railing.   Borger was nearby, holding onto the base of a mechanical crane.  His eyes held a fearful look, but one that knew what was coming.

Clay wrapped his arms protectively around Alison, and she pressed herself into his chest.  “Hold on,” he hollered to everyone.  “This is going to hurt!”

The ship continued its agonizing turn, with the bow finally beginning to swing into the path of the torpedo.  The best Krogstad could do was to keep everyone near the stern, where lifeboats would be easier to deploy, and to allow the front of the ship to take the full force of the impact.

At twenty seconds, Krogstad’s voice came over the speakers one last time.

“BRACE…”

“FOR…”

“IMPACT!”

56

The explosion was immense.  The Bowditch’s bow had not quite swung all the way around, resulting in a detonation along the front port side. 

The force was so great that it pushed the front of the ship up almost five feet before the ascent stopped.  The hull came crashing back down onto the surface, sending a wall of water out in both directions.  And the concussion hit the Bowditch like a hammer, causing nearly everyone to lose their grip and fall forward against the hard metal deck.  Arms flailed and hands searched desperately for a new anchor.

But it was the Oceanhawk that Krogstad watched from the wheelhouse; at least in the seconds before his own body hit the floor.  Unfortunately, the rotors never reached their full speed to create enough lift. 

Instead, the helicopter, along with its pilots and crew, was thrown into the air.  They then smashed violently back down onto the steel deck.  The entire aircraft pitched and rolled over, causing the whirling blades to strike the deck and break into long pieces of flying shrapnel.  In an instant, orange flames appeared below the fuselage.  An explosion completely engulfed the area in a black fireball.  As the fireball curled inward under itself and rose into the air, the warped shape of the helicopter began to roll backward.  In near slow motion, it continued rolling off, and over, the end of what was left of the bow.  The remaining pieces of rotor were still turning, resembling a set of fumbling fingers reaching for help, as both the craft and its pilots disappeared over the edge and tumbled into the sea.

What no one could see yet was the port side bow, ripped open as though the Bowditch had been gutted.  An enormous gaping hole, within a ring of twisted, tortured metal, provided a cavernous entry for the water to rush in.  And rush in, it did.  The hole extended down through the bottom of the Bowditch’s hull, which caused the water to surge in from the underneath as well as the side.

With the loss of much of its underside support, the bow slumped hard, pitching the entire ship at a forward angle. 

Chief Hines was screaming below deck.  The overhead system had been knocked out, leaving only the direct radio to radio within their masks to communicate.  And even that was barely loud enough to hear over the incoming flood of water.

Their forward port pump was gone, and the one against the starboard bow was damaged beyond repair.  It left them with only the two aft pumps.  And that wasn’t enough.

The forward section of the quarterdeck was also gone, crumpled below onto the engine platform as if it were tinfoil.  But the fire was Hines’ biggest problem.

Using his infrared scope, he was unable to locate anyone forward of him.  Seeing through smoke was one thing, but the sheer heat radiating from the flames rendered the scope useless. Hines had no option but to search through the smoke and flame with his naked eyes. 

He could hear the fire suppression system trying to suck the oxygen out as quickly as possible. Someone grabbed him from behind and Hines whirled around to see Daniel Harden, one of his second engineers.

“Pumps one and two are out!”

Hines nodded.  He already knew that.  The rush of water was simply too much.  It was now just a matter of time.

“The hole’s too big!  Get everyone out!” yelled Hines.  “I’m going to search forward!”

Harden nodded and disappeared into a shroud of smoke. 

Hines called out over the radio.  “Adams!  Vierra!  Velasquez!  Who’s there?!”  He listened, hearing only Harden shouting to the remaining crew behind him.  “Forward crew,” Hines yelled again.  “Who’s there?!”

After a long silence, he heard something.  It sounded like a cough.  A moment later, a weak voice called back.  “It’s Velasquez.  I’m down.”

On the bridge, Krogstad and the other men climbed back into their seats and tried to assess the damage. 

“Is there another fish in the water?!”

His sonar operator shook his head.  “No, sir.”

Thank god.
  “Get me a damage report!”

His communication's officer turned with the receiver still against his ear.  “Forward pumps are out, sir.  Fire forward of the quarterdeck.  One engine is gone and two more offline. Two men missing.”  He paused then turned to the Captain with a grave expression.  “The breach is too big, sir.  The pumps can’t handle it.”

“How fast?”

“Too fast.  Hines says the breach is even bigger than he thought.  He estimates ten minutes before the lower decks are flooded.”

Krogstad felt the plane of the ship begin to pitch further forward.  He raised the back of his hand and absently wiped a trickle of blood from his forehead.  “All right, head for Georgetown.”

“Sir, even with only one engine, we will increase the flow of the water below deck by reversing course.

Krogstad rolled his eyes.  “Then keep going backwards.”

“Aye, aye.”

Georgetown wasn’t that far away, but with one engine and the ship filling rapidly, the boat was also getting heavier.  And getting heavier fast.  The more water they took on, the less the engine would be able to move them.  And the more the engine moved them, the faster the water would fill.

“Can we make it six miles?”

The officer spoke into the mouthpiece and waited.  He shook his head.  “Hines says not a chance.”

Dammit.
  Most ships took time to sink, sometimes even hours, but some took only minutes.  And his was going to be one of them.

Krogstad stood thinking, desperately searching his brain for a way out.  There wasn’t one.  His face took on a look of painful resignation.  “Tell the Chief to get out.”

Below deck, Hines was searching for Velasquez.   The fire was almost out, thanks to the CO2, but the water was rising rapidly.

He grabbed what was left of the railing from the quarterdeck and leaned over, trying to see forward through the eerie red hue of the emergency lights.

He saw something. 

The object was floating on top of the water among the debris but wasn’t moving.  The water’s powerful surge caused the dark mass to swirl in a wide circle, bumping against the starboard hull and slowly circling back toward Hines.

It was just out of reach.  Hines gripped the railing tighter, leaned out, and stretched as far as he could.  The object bobbed closer, almost within range.  It was Velasquez.  And thankfully, he was on his back, but it was unclear whether he was still breathing.  Hines reached out further, straining the length of his arms.  Velasquez was closer now.  Closer.  Closer.

The surge suddenly shifted and Velasquez began to move away.  Hines pawed at the water trying to draw him in.  The further Velasquez moved, the more forcefully Hines splashed at the water in front of him.  For a split second, it seemed as though Hines was winning, but a wave of dread spread across his face when he realized he was wrong.  The abrupt change wasn’t because Velasquez was coming closer again; it was because the remaining deck that Hines was standing on was
moving
.  In that moment, the deck bent outward just before the steel grating broke and Hines plunged into the black water.

“I lost contact with Hines, sir!”

“Are we still moving?”

“Yes, sir!  But we’re getting heavy and slowing.  I don’t know how much further we’ll get.”

Just minutes after the explosion, Krogstad reached the sickening realization that he was out of options.  The world seemed to slow for a moment as Krogstad considered his next and last command.  It was a command that no captain ever wanted to give.  He headed for the door and yelled to his men.

“Kill the engine and sound the horn!  Then get out!’

Below, on the rear of the main deck, Clay helped pull people to their feet and looked them over for serious injuries.  The explosion had flattened everyone, but none was too bad.  Some broken bones and a little blood but most could at least stand on their own.  The medical staff was moving from person to person, examining them.

Krogstad had done it.  He had managed to absorb as much of the torpedo’s explosion as possible with minimal loss of life.

Clay abruptly felt his balance change as the ship began to roll to port.  He grasped a nearby vertical support and wrapped an arm around Alison, while the others stumbled and bumped into each other.  The ship was beginning to list.

Then he heard it.  They all heard it.  In fact, everyone within a twenty-mile radius heard it: the ship’s deafening horn.  The powerful sound resonated outward so deeply that it caused everyone’s chest bones to vibrate.  And it was so overwhelming that not a single sound could be heard over it.

The four long blasts were a signal that no one could miss, nor its message.

ABANDON SHIP.