Pressure (17 page)

“Are you okay?”

Swallowing, Abhi nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“I'll be fine, Carrie. I just have some pain … in my chest. But it's not a heart attack. I've … had it before. Anytime I get stressed.”

Carrie smelled a whiff of smoke—sharp and acrid, indicating an electrical fire. She glanced around, looking for the source, but its location was undetermined. Then, something out on the main deck caught her attention, instead. Carrie slammed her palm against the glass and pointed in disbelief, transfixed by what was occurring.

“Abhi … look!”

Captain Takenaka and a shirtless, heavily tattooed crewman had positioned themselves between a mounted footlocker and a bulkhead, using the former as leverage as the rear of the vessel continued to rise from the water. Despite their precarious balance, the two struggled to mount a counter-attack against the amorphous, multi-limbed monstrosity. The seaman was armed with a shotgun. The old whaler hefted some sort of rifle that Carrie couldn't identify at first.

A swarm of tentacles wriggled toward them. The bare-chested sailor lowered the shotgun and fired into the midst of the cluster, reducing the appendages to a shower of red-and-pink mist. Fleshy pulp splattered all over the bulkhead, and dripped from his and Takenaka's faces. Neither man seemed to notice. The sailor pumped the weapon's slide and fired again as another, larger tentacle snaked toward them. The appendage retreated.

Beyond them, in the darkness, the beast's form shifted. Water and foam rushed over the bow, swamping the boat. Carrie even noticed a few small fish flopping about the deck, suffocating on oxygen. The monster clambered forth, heaving more of its body out of the sea. A deep, sonorous groan rocked the ship, and the bulkheads shuddered. All around her, Carrie saw mercenaries bracing themselves any way that they could, in an effort to remain upright. The tattooed sailor next to Takenaka dropped his weapon as he lost his balance. Screaming, he clawed frantically at the deck as he slid forward. Then, a segmented, pincer-like leg slammed down, spearing him through the chest. It withdrew, taking the still-squirming seaman with it.

The captain seemed oblivious to all of this. Carrie watched as he mounted what looked like a harpoon into the barrel of his rifle. Then, using a roll of duct tape that he tore with his teeth, Takenaka affixed what looked like a plastic jug to the missile's tip. The top of the jug had something sticking out of it that flapped in the wind. She realized it was a makeshift fuse of what appeared to be old rags.

Several things occurred to Carrie as she watched Takenaka ready his perplexing weapon. The first was to wonder what the second beast was doing. She'd been so preoccupied with the one off the bow that she'd almost forgotten about its mate. The second thought that occurred to her was that not once had either creature made a sound. Despite their clear rage, they attacked in total silence.

The ship rolled violently, and a thunderous boom echoed from somewhere below deck. Carrie felt the tremors through her feet. Nearby, a mercenary reached for the handset, which dangled by its cord, swaying back and forth. His efforts were compounded by the fact that he needed one arm to hold on tightly to the equipment in front of him, lest he tumble into the window. Finally, after what seemed like an excruciatingly long time, he succeeded in snatching it and keyed the mic.

“Engine … r-room,” he stammered. “T-this is the … bridge. Report!”

A response came over the speaker, but it was garbled. The only thing they could understand was that whomever the speaker was, they were terrified. Screams echoed in the background.

“Say again,” the sailor urged. “Engine room? You're breaking up. Can you repeat?”

There was a brief squall of electronic feedback, which dissipated into static. Then that, too, faded.

“The goddamn radio's out,” he shouted. “I can't reach anyone!”

“Someone on the mainland must have seen all this,” Carrie said. “Heard the gunfire?”

“We're too far out,” another mercenary replied. “And even if we weren't, it's too fucking dark outside. They couldn't see shit!”

Carrie was about to suggest that maybe a passing airplane might have seen their muzzle flashes, but then she remembered the last thing Agent Mariotte had told them before departing—about the temporary restriction on air traffic and nautical vessels—and her stomach sank even lower.

“And we're alone out here. All alone.” Hanging her head, she thought for a minute. “Does this thing have lifeboats?”

One sailor's short, sarcastic laugh was the only response.

Another boom rumbled beneath them. Smoke was visible now, drifting through the bridge. The air stank of diesel fumes.

“Carrie,” Abhi said, crawling closer. “Carrie, you need to abandon ship.”

“What?”

“You need to get out of here. This thing is going down.”

Carrie was bewildered. “You heard them laughing. If the ship can't make it out of here, what chance does a lifeboat have?”

“Probably none,” Abhi admitted. “But you don't need a lifeboat. You're Carrie fucking Anderson. You can swim for shore. And you can make it.”

“No, I can't. Not with two of those things out there. And I'm not abandoning you.”

“It's the perfect time. The creatures are distracted with the ship. They won't even notice you slipping away, especially if you dive down far enough.”

“Abhi, that's insane.”

“You have to,” he insisted. “Somebody needs to be able to tell what happened out here. That person is you. You have to dive. And it has to be now, while there's still time. Once this thing starts to sink, it's going to suck everyone in the vicinity down with it.”

She shook her head forcefully. “No, Abhi. I'm not running, and I'm not leaving you behind.”

“You just left me behind yesterday, Carrie.”

“That was different. That was to save your life. And Paolo's.”

“I'm old,” Abhi said. “I don't need my life saved. There's nothing left that I need to do.”

“Oh yeah? What about Marissa?”

Abhi's expression reflected his surprise. “H-how do you know about Marissa?”

“You mentioned her when you were hallucinating. I got the idea maybe there was some unfinished business between you and her.”

“It is too late for that.”

“Bullshit, Abhi. It's never too late.”

Abhi opened his mouth to reply, but the ship lurched again, even more violently. To their left, a sailor plunged forward, slamming against the window. The glass shattered and he fell, screaming, to the deck far below.

“Oh God,” Carrie closed her eyes and held on tightly as the deck continued to rise. Her stomach rolled. “Oh God, oh shit, oh God, oh…”

“The captain!” One of the sailors shouted, his eyes manic. “Look, all of you! It's the captain!”

Carrie turned in time to see Takenaka take aim at the beast and fire. The harpoon soared through the air, trailing flame in an arc as the fuse burned. Then, the missile struck the side of the blackish-brown hulk, and there was a searing explosion as the creature was instantly engulfed in fire. Flaming body parts rained down—splintered claws, severed tentacles, broken fragments of shell, and seared scales. The force of the explosion knocked the fiery monstrosity backward. It plunged back into the ocean, sinking beneath the churning waves. Dropping his weapon, Takenaka wrapped his arms and legs around a pole and hugged it tight, eyes closed.

The ship seemed to hang suspended in the air for a moment, and then—

“Hang on,” Carrie bellowed. “Hang on, Abhi!”

 

ELEVEN

Gripping the rail, Abhi threw up over the side again while Captain Takenaka stood on the gore-stained deck, surrounded by spilled blood and slashed flesh and pulped innards and brass shell casings, laughing heartily.

“I'm really starting,” Abhi gasped between retches, “to dislike that man.”

Carrie patted Abhi's back and didn't respond. Her feelings regarding the ex-whale hunter were conflicted. On the one hand, he'd just committed one of the bravest, most determined acts she'd ever seen. But despite that, the callousness and arrogance he seemed to display, now that his payday was almost assured, repulsed her. He seemed to have no regard or thought for the sailors who had perished—sailors who had been a part of his crew. His taunting of Abhi, which had been playful when they disembarked, had now turned scornful and mean-spirited.

Shock,
she thought.
Maybe he's in shock. Hell, we probably all are. He's coming down off an adrenaline rush. Maybe he doesn't realize he's being such an asshole.

Abhi leaned out over the railing and vomited again. The wind blew the smell of it back to Carrie. She winced, trying to hide her disgust.

“Hey, little man,” Takenaka called. “Make sure it all goes in the ocean, or I'll have you shoveling it up along with the rest of this mess.”

“You're right,” Carrie muttered. “He's an asshole and a bully. I hate bullies.”

“That's right,” Abhi croaked. “Defend my honor.”

“You don't have any honor to defend, Abhi.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel much better.”

“Are you sure that you're okay? These chest pains have me concerned.”

“I'm fine, Carrie. Honestly. Now go defend my honor and let me puke in peace.”

She gave him one more reassuring pat, and then stalked across the deck toward the mercenary captain, taking care to watch her footing, as it was slick with seawater and blood.

The second creature had relented its attack in the wake of the explosion and—apparent—death of its companion. The combat and the ship's subsequent plunge had resulted in some damage to the vessel. They were now limping through the water rather than racing, but the sonar and other electronic gear was still operable in the aftermath, and there was no sign of either creature, either visually or through more technological means.

“That was some fight, eh, Anderson?” Takenaka called to Carrie as she approached.

“It was something alright,” she agreed. “But it doesn't excuse you from being a jerk, Captain.”

“What is … the word you said? A jerk?”

“It means you're an asshole.”

“Ah, asshole. That word I know. I apologize if I have brought offense. I am just happy to be alive. You and your assistant should be, too.”

“Not everyone was so lucky,” Carrie pointed out to him. “What about your men who died?”

“What about them? It is not the first time we have lost people. In Somalia, we lost thirteen men in a single night. In Libya, six of our crew were captured by extremists. Two of them were crucified. The others were beheaded, and their bodies were used to fill in potholes in a road.”

“That's horrible.”

“Yes, it is. But these men know it could happen. They know the risks when they sign on with me. And the risks are one of the reasons they sign on.” He paused, gesturing at the crew, all of whom were engaged in various tasks. “These men, they are not happy at home. Indeed, most of them do not have a home. No families. No wives or children. And even if they did have them, they wouldn't be satisfied with it. They long for something else. These men fought in wars. Sometimes—for some people—you can't leave that behind. It gets in your blood, and you want more. With me, they get that. They get more. And they also get paid.”

“So that's really all it's about for you, Captain Takenaka? The money? Are that and the thrill the only things you care about?”

The ex-whaler studied her for a moment, glowering. His scar seemed brighter in the darkness.

“I used to care about other things. But yes, these days, it is the money. And the thrill. The thrill is nice. But mostly the money.”

“Well, at least you're honest about it.”

“Yes, I am honest about it. And you should not be so quick to judge. I have seen you on the television, you know? I think you care about similar things. Fame, perhaps? And with fame comes money. We are not so different, you and I.”

Carrie kept her voice steady, so as not to betray the fury welling up inside of her. She was so angry that her lips, hands, and feet had begun to tingle, and her skin felt flushed.

“All I care about right now is retrieving a poison gland from one of these creatures and helping my friend. Something which you've just made more difficult by blowing up our best chance at securing one.”

“Yes, well, it was attacking my ship at the time. I did not hear you complaining then.”

“What was that, anyway? That bomb you made?”

Takenaka laughed. “I used a little homemade recipe my father taught me years ago. It worked on whales. It worked on your big fish.”

“It worked a little too well, I'd say.”

“We are still alive and the ship is still seaworthy. I'd say it worked fine. And I did not blow the fish up. Not completely. If it had been a whale? Yes. But not this thing. I only knocked some limbs off. The rest of it sank to the ocean floor. You should be able to find its carcass easily enough, if you need to. The trench is still three miles out. The current probably dragged the corpse there, rather than to shore. There is a powerful undertow here.”

“I know,” Carrie admitted. “I've swam in these waters before.”

“Then you know I am right. Find the corpse, and you'll find your … what did you call it? Gland?”

Carrie dreaded the idea of a nighttime dive, especially now, when the water was filled with neurotoxin from the mortally wounded creature and the whereabouts of the other beast were still unknown. Visibility would be near zero. But the longer they delayed, the worse Paolo's prospects became. Sighing, she nodded.

“You'll need to drop anchor so I can dive. And I'm going to need the strongest underwater torches you have.”