Embers in the Sea

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  The column of frothing sea roared, the surge gaining in intensity.

  He couldn’t be serious. “But the water is cold,” I said. “Can you warm it?”

  “We cannot.”

  David balked and took a step back. What was cold for me equaled instant hypothermic shock to him.

  I slipped my hand around his wrist. “We can do this. Together.”

  He nodded, but his eyes lightened to a frosty blue. A color I hadn’t seen before.

  This wasn’t going to be easy, but I needed to be strong. If not for me, then for David. For us. “What do we need to do?”

  “Step in,” Silver said. “Let the tides take you.”

  Sure. Easy for him to say. But we needed to get home, and the first step, apparently, was to freeze our asses off.

  I guess it wasn’t all that much different than going down a log flume. You are warm from an afternoon at the amusement park, you get soaking wet and cold on the ride, and then you dry off. You just prayed that the wind didn’t kick up afterward and ruin the rest of your day.

  I grabbed my backpack and pulled out Old Reliable. The chances of him working were slim, but I had to try. I mean, seriously, who would ever believe all of this without proof?

  I flipped the power switch, raised the lens, and pressed the shutter button, but no satisfying click rewarded me. The last shreds of hope sank and floated away. I slipped the camera back into my bag and closed the zipper.

  David’s eyes seemed apologetic before he gulped and looked back to our icy elevator.

  I pulled the straps of my backpack over my shoulders, warding off the unbridled panic sizzling across our bond.

  You can do this. No problem. I shoved the thoughts toward him, but he barely glanced at me. I guess I could understand. This ride wasn’t going to be all that pleasant for me, either.

  I took a deep breath and let it out in a puff. The best way to remove a Band-Aid was to just go ahead and rip it off, so I might as well start ripping.

  One. Two. Three.

  I sprang for the geyser, ignoring David screaming my name. The frigid water lashed my cheeks and the rest of me succumbed a second later. The bite dug into my skin, seared through my muscles, and probed deep into my bones. I coughed as the spray blasted my face, splashing and rolling me until I shot up through the hole and crashed onto the decking of our ship.

  A screech filled the cabin and Edgar jumped on my back. He spun in circles, jabbering desperate sounding clicks and pops.

  “I’m fine,” I said, even though it was only partly true. I threw my backpack to the side. “But when David comes through, he’s going to have hypothermia. We need heat. Lots of heat.” I turned to the spout. Come on, David. We’re ready. I’m here.

  9

  Edgar reared up and clicked at me. I could actually see anxiety in every one of his glossy, black eyes.

  “Don’t worry about me. I can take it. If it gets too hot, I’ll let you know.”

  He jumped into the wall and the ship’s illumination faded to a deep, ominous blue before brightening. A slight hum filled the room, and delicious warmth drifted down from above. But would that be enough to help a frozen alien?

  The giant waterspout heaved, and David plummeted to the decking beside me. He curled into a ball, wet and shivering; his human skin tinged blue. I pulled him to me, blanketing him with my own body, but he didn’t even feel cold to me. He didn’t feel hot, either. How chilled were we?

  The fountain flowing from the opening in the floor reared up over our heads like a demon cobra before it splashed back through the aperture and disappeared. I hugged David, trying to control his shiver as my own skin prickled.

  Please, Lord, help me warm him up!

  “J-Jessss.”

  “I’m here.” I cuddled David closer. “Edgar is heating the ship. We’re going to be all right.”

  The lighting took on a reddish glow, and the temperature rose. I rolled David to the floor, collapsed beside him, and let the warmth infuse me, bake me, bring me back from the frigid abyss. This was certainly more than I could do for David with what little body temperature I still had.

  Blinding yellow brilliance erupted up from the hole in our floor. The ship creaked and moaned as the giant orifice zipped shut like closing a winter jacket. Bright sparkles shone through small fissures before the liquid metal finally filled in. I blinked away my surprise. A clean, unmarred floor lay before us as if nothing had ever happened.

  It was over. We were safe in our ship. Free to go.

  Steam drifted off our clothing as the humidity in the room heightened. I coughed, but a heavy weight still burned within my lungs.

  David moaned and faced me. “Y-you’re going to k-kill me y-you know that?”

  I choked out a laugh. “I knew you’d follow if I jumped in. It’s one of those things that you just have to get over with.”

  He flopped onto his back. “Why does everything always have to b-be so c-cold?”

  Edgar slipped out of a wall and nestled himself between us.

  David scratched behind the grassen’s eyes. “Thank you, my friend.”

  “I can’t believe they just let us go like that.”

  “I don’t figure they really did.” He got up and stumbled toward the console. “Let’s hope Edgar was able to make repairs.”

  My little grassen lifted his front two legs in the air, waving his gray limb up and down.

  The walls in front of the control panels shimmered and faded into clear glass. The ocean glowed artificially around us. A few yards from the ship huge, dark blobs hung in the sea. Some of the light filtered right through them. Some kind of jellyfish?

  David eased into his seat and sunk his hands into the console. We ascended from the shelf.

  “Good job, Dude.” I patted Edgar’s head.

  The blobs swam with us, shadowing.

  “What are those things?” I asked.

  “I think those are our gracious hosts.”

  Huh? The globules convulsed and rolled over, rocking in the current of our ship. They seemed more like a waste product than a sentient animal.

  “But Silver looked nearly human.”

  “I doubt that was really him. I think that was a form to make us comfortable. Just like this human-colored skin I’m wearing. It makes no sense for a creature with a land-dwelling form to be living under water.”

  I ran my fingers along the glass, considering the creatures surrounding us. They were just big squishy globules floating in the sea. How could they be thinking, communicating beings? A smaller blob fidgeted and twitched behind the others as if it had an itch it couldn’t scratch. Could that be Silver?

  David tapped his lower lip. “Edgar, how did they cut a hole in a liquidic ship? How did they pull us out of here?”

  A sense of unease trickled through our bond as Edgar scurried toward the panel. “Does it matter? We’re okay now, right?”

  David lowered his hand. “This is advanced technology, even for Erescopians. We should have been more protected. If I knew how they got in, I might be able to keep them out if they change their minds about letting us go.”

  Edgar sunk his legs into the console, and the walls flashed in an array of colors.

  David raised a brow. “Ingenious. Impossible, but ingenious.”

  “What did he say?”

  “They used the water like a knife to split and hold our hull open. They can control the ocean like a tool.”

  His gaze carried to the sea. That was a whole lot of water to use against us if they wanted to.

  He sat back. “As soon as they took the knife out, our ship was able to reseal itself like nothing ever happened. I don’t think they ever meant to hurt us. Maybe they really were just curious.”

  “Is there a way to fight them off if they get curious again?”

  “Only if I can figure out how to control water in the next few minutes.”

  We rose, and the blobs continued to
follow. David tapped the wall beside him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The only thing I can do. Watch for the tides to change.” The console flashed crimson. “Here it comes.”

  The globules seemed to crunch into themselves and darken. They froze, hanging stationary while we continued to ascend.

  “What happened to them?” I asked.

  “Changes in the current movement must affect them somehow. That’s why Silver told us to watch the tides.”

  The darkened entities sank one at a time, disappearing into the depths below.

  David leaned toward the console. “Here’s our chance, Edgar. Let’s dive.”

  A small beam of light shot out from the front of our ship as we scooted across the plain’s surface. We passed several blobs that sunk and settled to the ocean floor like a littering of boulders on the sand. Darkness crept up before us, chilling me despite the heat inside the ship.

  “There it is.”

  My heart rattled against my ribcage. Were we really going to do this? Whatever was down there scared Silver. He didn’t think we should go. Maybe we should listen to him.

  I reached for David’s hand. His warmth didn’t settle me the way it should have. He trembled. His mind raced through billions of emotions. He was just as afraid as I was.

  We crested over the edge of the plateau and fell straight down like dropping from some sick, suicidal roller coaster. The darkness seemed to close in around us as we spiraled, sinking into depths man was never meant to intrude. The gloom pierced, devouring the searchlight. Deeper. And deeper

  “We’re nearly six miles down from the surface,” David said.

  Holy crap.

  “The ship is holding. Not even a blip on the panel. We’re doing fine.”

  My hair fell past my cheeks as gravity pulled me down with the ship. The seat held my waist, but I still fell forward toward the windows.

  I couldn’t wrench my gaze away from the murky haze outside. So dark. Vast. We shouldn’t be here. Nature separated humanity from this place with miles of water and freezing temperatures for a reason.

  The weight of it all pressed against my chest, like I was doing something really bad. Something God never intended me to do. Would He be ticked? Was this the part where nature fought back against man, like white blood cells lash out against a virus?

  A blaze of illumination fanned along the walls.

  David flinched. “That’s not possible.”

  “What’s not possible?”

  The ship vibrated, then slipped back to silence. But we continued to fall.

  “No!” David’s hands fisted. He propped his knee on the front of the console to keep from falling forward and waved his hands manically over the swirling panel. “Edgar, where are you?”

  My ears popped as we descended like a boulder. “What’s happening?”

  David’s eyes flashed a deep human blue. “We lost propulsion. I can’t control the ship.”

  “What?”

  “We’re sinking.”

  This, I knew. The searchlight continued to spiral through the darkness, cascading into a pit of doom.

  David muttered something in his own language, and the tiles behind me hissed. The liquid-metal mottled, pinched, and formed a grid-like ladder. “I’ll be right back.” He spun out of his chair, gripped a rung, and climbed up the steps blanketing what used to be the floor that led to the rear of the ship.

  I climbed over the back of my chair and followed. My sneakers sunk into each protrusion, like walking up padded steps. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “If I can think of anything I’ll let you know.”

  A handle-like-loop formed above David on the back wall. He gripped it, hauled himself up to the partition, and sunk one of his arms into the surface while clinging to the loop with the other. Somehow he managed not to dangle his feet down toward the front of the ship.

  Edgar popped out of the panel on my left, scuttled across the floor, and dove into the same wall David hung from.

  Man, what I wouldn’t give to not have to worry about gravity like my ten-legged little friend. I felt so stinking helpless I couldn’t stand it. There had to be something I could do. Knock on a door, hold up a sign, boil some water, something!

  The arm David hung from started to shake. Concern tingled through our bond. He squinted at me before continuing whatever he was doing.

  Then his thoughts blanked out, like the David-ness in the chamber disappeared. Was he blocking me on purpose? Why?

  Oh, God. Whatever he was doing wasn’t working. We were going to die, and he didn’t want to scare me.

  “David?”

  He frowned and grunted as if straining himself.

  Well, I couldn’t fix the ship, but if support was all I could give, then dammit, I was going to be supportive. Even if it killed me.

  I climbed up to the top rung, hoisted myself up, placed my hands on David’s back, and pushed; holding him up.

  The muscles in David’s arm relaxed. “Thanks.”

  “Any time.” I gritted my teeth, struggling against his weight and the wonderful force of gravity. “Do you know what … ”

  A deafening sound echoed through the chamber. David’s arm dislodged and he smashed into me, knocking me off the ladder. I gasped as we tumbled along the floor and crashed against the front windows over the console.

  David rolled off me. “Are you okay?”

  I clutched my swimming head. “I think so.”

  The gravity shifted, and we hefted into the air, falling against the chairs before flinging back against the windows again. David grabbed me as the ship shifted, tumbled, and slammed until we settled with a thud. I untangled myself from David and stared at the floor above.

  “Oh my God! We’re upside down,” I said.

  David raised an eyebrow. I translated the gesture to “Obviously, you idiot.” Not that he’d ever say that.

  He rubbed his forehead and a deep, helpless dread slid along the invisible tether between us. A sense of finality coated his thoughts. Doom. End.

  It scared the crap out of me.

  I needed him. As much as I wanted to be independent, strong, and just like those super-ninja heroines I’d read about in books, I wasn’t. I was average. A college student. A photographer. Not an adventurer, despite everything we’d been through together. I wasn’t the hero. I was the sidekick. I was the one on the sidelines, more than happy to give the props to the guy doing the hard stuff. It was probably all I’d ever be. Come to think of it, I wasn’t really upset about that. The world needed support people. Support people, well … supported.

  And right now my hero needed me. Maybe more than ever.

  I gathered my thoughts into a big ball and shoved with all my brain’s little might. We’re going to be fine. We’ve gotten out of worse situations than this. We got this. We totally got this.

  I gnashed my teeth and imagined all the strength I had funneling through the air and injecting itself into David.

  A thin smile graced his lips. He glanced up at me, his bangs shadowing his lashes. There was a power hidden in those eyes. Strength he wasn’t even aware of.

  He kissed my cheek. His lips lingered; his breath teased my skin, sending a quiver through my frame that had nothing to do with the frigid temperatures outside. Every muscle tensed. Pressure built inside me, like I needed to pop, and a bolt of energy circled my stomach and streamed along our bond. The uncertainty seething through the link withered away. Disintegrated.

  Bold need took over. Forced. Demanded. But need for what? I gasped and leaned away.

  His gaze carried over my lips before he blinked twice. The need dissipated into strength. Resolution. He turned to the front of the ship. “I need to see how bad the damage is.”

  Whoa. Holy intensity overload.

  I inhaled, reeling in the explosion of emotion as David walked across the ceiling and peered up at the console. The fluids
swirled and flickered with a bluish glow. It was like staring at a vat of blueberry Kool-Aid upside down. Why didn’t it spill all over us? David reached up, but the console was about five feet from his hands.

  “Want a boost?” I asked.

  A wry grin settled over the left side of his mouth. “Don’t worry. I got this.”

  He crouched and sprang into the air like an over-juiced Energizer Bunny. Grabbing on to the sides of his chair, he inverted himself.

  The seat came to life, encompassing him. His hair hung toward me, but otherwise he showed no sign of being upside down while he sunk his arms into the goo. Show off.

  “Everything seems fine,” he said. “We just don’t have propulsion.”

  Edgar popped out of the wall and scurried across the floor over my head. He stopped near David and turned toward me. He shrieked, spun around in circles, and jumped into my arms. Or maybe he fell.

  He hid his mandibles in the crook of my arm before peeking up at David and chittering.

  David looked down at us. “The way their equilibrium works, he probably didn’t even know we were upside down until he saw you on the ceiling.”

  I nuzzled my favorite giant bug. “I’m okay, buddy. We’re just in a bit of a pickle right now.” I cringed as the odor of rotten eggs surrounded us. I stopped petting Edgar and waved the air around me. “What is that smell?”

  “I don’t smell anything.” David drew his hands from the console. “Wait a minute. Now I do.”

  He waved his arms over the control panel and the spotlights lit up the sea in front of the windows. Tiny, floating, fluffy things darted away from the lights, leaving a clear view of row after row of volcano-like tubes spewing black smoke into the water.

  “Is that what we’re smelling?”

  David nodded. “Extremely high concentrations of hydrogen sulfide.”

  “Is that bad?” I gagged.

  “Poisonous. Explosive. Corrosive. Flammable. Yeah, I’d say that’s bad.”

  My eyes stung and teared. “What do we do?”

  David shifted, and his seat opened up. He did a somersault and somehow landed on his feet. Stinking ninja alien.