The Sea of the Dead

by Barry Wolverton

  But this was even more difficult than that. Yes, there were fewer rowers. But they were underwater, which meant resistance throughout the entire stroke. No coming up for air, so to speak. And Nindemann was right about the loose ice and slush beneath the pack ice. Bren felt he could never get a clean stroke without hitting something, or feeling like he was dragging his oar through quicksand.

  He let out a sigh of frustration and looked up. He was sitting directly under one of the portals, and it was as if he were looking into the purest blue sky he had ever seen. The ice was like crystal clouds, pulled along gently on a current of wind.

  Bren’s brief reverie was interrupted when Lady Barrett yelled at Shveta, “Unless you’re using magic mind power to propel the ship, maybe you could make yourself useful.”

  “Meditation keeps me from killing you,” said Shveta. “Is that useful enough for you?”

  This went on for three days, judging by the number of times Nindemann turned his hourglass. There was no getting away from one another. They ate rations where they sat and slept like dogs in two narrow spaces at the front and back of the sub. Bren tried to push away the pain of rowing by lifting his gaze toward the portals, dreaming not just of being under a perfect sky, but in it, floating above the world. Until the day a dark cloud intruded . . . a shadow of something darkening each portal in turn.

  “Was that ice?” said Bren, hoping that Nindemann or someone else had noticed it.

  “Probably a seal,” said Nindemann. “Thousands of them in these waters.”

  Something bumped the submarine. Gently at first, but then again, hard enough that Ani fell off her seat and Bren slid hard against the hull.

  “Would a seal do that?” asked Lady Barrett.

  “Possibly,” said Nindemann. “Might be curious about us, or think we’re a fellow marine mammal or a big fish.”

  Bump.

  This time it was hard enough that Shveta fell over, still cross-legged, and had to brace herself with one hand.

  “Row faster,” said Aadarsh.

  “You row faster,” said Aadesh.

  “Stop rowing altogether,” said Nindemann. “The swinging oars are probably making whatever it is more agitated.”

  They all stopped rowing, which was a relief to Bren, who rubbed his aching muscles as they waited to see what happened.

  THUMP!

  This time the submarine was knocked sideways through the water like a booted ball, rotating on its axis until they were upside down. The seven passengers fell together in a heap.

  “Did you think to arm this thing?” said Lady Barrett, trying to push Aadesh off her.

  “It’s an exploration vessel,” said Nindemann, “not a war machine.”

  “Feels more like a fish toy,” said Shveta.

  They had slowly rotated another quarter turn, so the portals were on the side now, and Bren saw their tormentor—a large black-and-white creature with a dorsal fin, one that happened to be shaped exactly like the submarine.

  “A shark?” said Bren.

  “An orca,” said Nindemann.

  “Friend or foe?” said Lady Barrett.

  “Only you would ask such a dumb question about a fish kicking us around the ocean floor,” said Shveta.

  “Actually, it’s a whale,” said Nindemann, just as the submarine jerked violently to one side, causing all of them to fall over again.

  From his back, Bren noticed that one of the oars had nearly been pulled out of its lock. “It’s got one of the oars,” he said, as they all felt another jerk. “It’s trying to pull us now.”

  “Probably back to its nest to feed us to its babies,” said Shveta.

  “We need to get upright again,” said Nindemann.

  “You think we can row away from it?” said Lady Barrett.

  “Not a chance,” said Nindemann. “But I need to open the hatch. The only way to do that without flooding us with seawater is if the hatch is on the bottom. Air pressure.”

  He grabbed one of the free oars and instructed Aadesh and Aadarsh to do the same. Lady Barrett grabbed another, and the four of them tried to coordinate enough to rotate the sub another quarter turn. Meanwhile, Bren pitched in by grabbing a free oar next to the one the orca had grabbed and trying to push the whale away. He didn’t succeed entirely, but he did distract it enough that it let go of the oar it was biting, giving the others the chance they needed to right the ship.

  When the bottom hatch was below them again, Nindemann reached beneath one of the rows of seats and pulled out a harpoon.

  “You’re going to fight that thing by yourself? With that?” said Bren.

  “I hope not,” said Nindemann. “I’m hoping a sharp poke to the snout will get rid of him.”

  Nindemann stripped down to his underclothes and covered every exposed part of his body with lard. Then he crouched, grabbed the hatch wheel with both hands, and turned it counterclockwise a half turn. On the second half turn, there was a great whoosh of air as the seal broke and he pulled the hatch open. They were staring right into the sea, but the water did not rise above the opening.

  “Wish me luck,” he said, dropping his feet through the hatch and almost immediately withdrawing them. “Colder than I thought,” he said, before closing his eyes and forcing his feet back down. He had grabbed a J-shaped tube and put it to his mouth.

  “What is that?” said Bren.

  “Breathing tube,” said Nindemann. “I take in a little air, buys me extra time in the water.”

  “Nice knowing you, bub,” said Shveta.

  He grabbed the harpoon and slipped all the way through, quickly disappearing from view.

  “Should we close the hatch?” said Lady Barrett. “In case that thing turns us over again?”

  “No,” said Bren. “He’ll need to get back in quickly.”

  They all braced themselves, but for what, they weren’t sure. The sounds of a battle? Nindemann’s screams, assuming they would carry through the freezing water? Another jolt to the sub? Bren felt helpless and ignorant. He just stood by the hatch, closed his eyes, and tried to pray for the engineer.

  Almost immediately, he opened his eyes again. He thought he’d heard something. They all did.

  “Was that him or the big fish?” said Aadesh.

  “The spy tube!” said Bren. He ran to the front of the ship, where the device Nindemann used to see out of the submarine hung from the top of the craft. Bren put his eye to it and let things come into focus. He saw nothing at first but ice-blue water, so he slowly turned the tube side to side looking for either Nindemann or the orca. What he saw made his stomach leap—the harpoon, falling harmlessly through the water.

  Bren immediately ran back to the hatch. He stripped off his outer clothing, quickly covered himself in lard, and sat down at the edge of the opening.

  “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” said Lady Barrett, grabbing him by the arm and holding tight.

  “He’s in trouble,” said Bren. “We have to help him.”

  “He was in trouble the minute he got in the water,” said Shveta. “Nothing you can do now.”

  Ani stood next to Bren. “How can we help?”

  “Any of your fancy weapons work underwater?” he said.

  She shook her head.

  “Just wait here,” said Bren, who slipped his greasy arm out of Lady Barrett’s grip and jumped through the hatch.

  The water was so cold his heart almost stopped. It was so much worse than he had expected, even with the coating of lard. He wouldn’t be able to hold his breath for long.

  He caught sight of the harpoon below him, still tumbling toward the darkness of the ocean deep. He swam toward it and managed to catch it before it disappeared for good. He looked back up and saw Nindemann. He had grabbed hold of an oar, but he was bleeding. Bren swam up to him and immediately noticed the gash in his right shoulder; the blood was billowing into the water like red smoke.

  Bren grabbed his other arm, to lead him back to the hatch. He was clea
rly out of air and struggling. But out of the corner of his eye Bren saw the orca coming toward them. Trying not to panic, he pointed Nindemann toward the hatch, and then turned to face the orca, holding the harpoon more like a shield than a weapon. He had no idea what he was doing, really, other than trying to give Nindemann time to escape.

  The orca was on him in an instant. The black-and-white face seemed so harmless and round, and then the mouth opened, showing Bren a mile of sharp teeth and an empty gullet. Bren pointed the harpoon straight at his attacker, and then, suddenly, the orca veered away, swimming off and out of sight in a matter of seconds.

  Bren didn’t have time to think about what had happened. He was just grateful. He walked his way around the hull of the sub using his hands until he neared the hatch. He could see the light from the opening when he felt something tugging him back.

  He panicked. The harpoon fell from his hands as he spun around to see what had grabbed him, but there was nothing there. He turned back toward the hatch when he felt the pull again, stronger this time, and suddenly he was ten feet from the hull of the sub.

  What was going on?

  And then he remembered how the orca had suddenly changed course and swam away. There was something out there in the water . . . something menacing enough to scare away an orca.

  Bren tried not to panic. He was almost out of air. He just had to swim harder toward the hatch. He was so close. . . .

  But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get any closer. In fact, it was as if the sub were pulling away from him, leaving him adrift. Whatever it was wouldn’t have time to kill him, though. He was about to drown.

  CHAPTER

  27

  THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

  Something was swimming toward him . . . a fish smoking a pipe. No, it was a seahorse, with legs. No, that was ridiculous. He was dreaming. Just enjoy the sleep, he told himself. You need a long rest.

  Ani grabbed his hair and stuck the breathing tube into his mouth. It was almost too much at first, and he gulped half the air in the tube at once. Ani grabbed him by the hand and tried to drag him back to the sub, but something was still pulling him in the opposite direction. Ani was losing the tug of war.

  Bren peered into the murky distance, trying to see what it was. He could just make out a cave opening, as big around as the onderzeeer and ringed with craggy rocks. Maybe it was generating a whirlpool. Then he saw he was wrong—it wasn’t a cave, it was a mouth, and the craggy rocks were teeth. He and Ani were literally being inhaled by some gargantuan shark.

  The bite on his arm was so painful that he cried out, or tried to. All that came out was a muffled scream and bubbles, and the breathing tube floated away from him. It was Ani, or rather, the grey cat, clamped on his arm and swimming with ferocity back to the sub. When they reached the bottom hatch, she released him and nosed him up through the opening, and then sprung through herself with a powerful kick of her legs.

  Lady Barrett had just grabbed hold of Bren and pulled him inside, but when the grey panther leaped into the sub, dripping wet and snarling, everyone except Shveta nearly jumped through the other hatch. Before their eyes, the cat transformed back to Ani, who collapsed to her knees, gasping for air.

  “You okay?” said Bren, gasping himself.

  Ani nodded. “Cats can swim, but not breathe underwater.”

  “Neither can we,” said Bren. He looked around for Nindemann, finding him sitting upright at the front, bandaging his arm and side. “Is he okay?”

  “He will be,” said Lady Barrett. “Now what the bloody hell is out there?”

  “A shark, I think,” said Bren. “Except it’s as big as a whale. It scared off the orca.”

  “Then let’s get to rowing,” said Shveta, looking at the others.

  “Nindemann’s hurt,” said Lady Barrett. “Bren and Ani are exhausted. How are your rowing skills, Your Highness?”

  Bren tried to break it up. They didn’t need to be fighting each other. “I’m sure it can swim faster than we can row,” he said.

  “So we fight it?” said Aadarsh. He was the more bloodthirsty of the two brothers, but even he didn’t seem to like their odds against a giant shark.

  “No,” said Nindemann, his voice drenched with pain. “We row. I’ve never encountered this shark personally, but I’ve heard stories. He’s slow. Wants you to come to him. Sucks you in, literally. Inhales you.”

  “Brilliant,” said Shveta, who shocked everyone by taking Nindemann’s seat next to one of the oars. “What? I’m stronger than you,” she added, staring down Lady Barrett, who accepted the challenge and took the seat opposite her.

  The brothers took their oars, and so did Bren and Ani, but Bren didn’t think he could row another stroke. His whole body was failing him. Still, he tried. He grabbed the oar, forced a stroke, and they went nowhere. He tried again, and again, and it was as if they were going sideways. Then he realized it wasn’t just him—everyone had stopped rowing and was looking around. What was going on?

  Nindemann struggled to his feet and looked through his spy tube. He must have seen what Bren had seen through the murk, because he came away looking worse than he had a minute before.

  “You don’t seem pleased,” said Lady Barrett. “What now?”

  She didn’t have to wait long for an answer, and it didn’t come from Nindemann. There was a WHOMP as the sub jerked to a halt, and then several loud cracking noises. When Bren looked up, he saw teeth coming through the wooden hull.

  “What the—” Lady Barrett jumped backward. A tooth had come up from the bottom of the hull and hit her foot.

  More cracking, and Bren could see the ring of upper and lower teeth making a giant bite mark around the hull of the onderzeeer.

  They were in the mouth of the shark, and it was crushing them.

  “What do we do?” said Bren. He looked around at Lady Barrett and Nindemann and Shveta, realizing how desperate he was for one of them to have an answer. They were grown-ups, after all. But they had no answers, because there was nothing they could do.

  “If I’m going to die, it’s going to be fighting,” said Lady Barrett, taking another harpoon and pointing it at the roof of the sub. She drew back . . . and waited. There was another terrifying crack as the shark applied more pressure, and this time, a seam opened between the boards. As water slowly began to seep in, Lady Barrett thrust the harpoon through the crack.

  The sub jerked violently upward. Bren flew backward, striking his head so hard a wave of nausea flooded him.

  “Well done. You’ve just made it mad,” said Shveta.

  And then they were moving. Slowly, but very definitely. Water continued to seep in through the crack, around the harpoon that was still wedged there, apparently in the roof of the shark’s mouth, but the crushing had stopped.

  “Is it taking us back to its nest? Or lair? Or wherever sharks live?” said Lady Barrett.

  “I don’t know,” said Nindemann. “But we have a bigger problem. We’re not just taking on water, we’re losing air. The saltpeter machine can’t work if the vessel isn’t sealed.”

  Bren knew what was coming next, and he dreaded hearing it.

  “We have to abandon ship,” said Nindemann. “Swim out, look for holes in the ice. Seals make them, and there’s a chance there are some around here.”

  Bren remembered his vision of the polar bear lying in wait next to one of those holes, and it made him like this plan even less.

  “One problem, bub,” said Shveta, and she pointed to the floor and ceiling, where the ring of shark’s teeth covered both the top and bottom hatches. Nindemann, the engineer, solver of all problems, seemed to deflate right before Bren’s eyes.

  “I will not be taken into the belly of some heathen beast!” said Aadesh, rushing forward to the harpoon, grabbing the shaft, and shoving with all his might. The harpoon sunk another foot at least into the roof of the shark’s mouth, and the curtain of water that was weeping in began to turn red. The shark reacted by biting down ev
en farther, and the crushing resumed, opening cracks along more of the hull. Bren thought Aadesh had made a huge mistake, until he realized this was what he was hoping for. Nindemann realized it too.

  “Bundle your furs, shoes, and dry clothes into the oilskin bags,” he said. “Cover yourself with lard. When the hull fails, we swim out opposite the shark, and with any luck he’ll be too busy chewing wood to notice or care.”

  “The brothers can’t swim,” said Shveta, and everyone froze.

  “It’s not swimming, really,” said Lady Barrett. “It’s just . . . not drowning. Point yourself straight up, kick your legs, and move your hands like this.” She demonstrated for the brothers, who looked scared for the first time Bren could recall. But what choice did they have?

  When enough of the hull had split apart that water was now rushing in, they made their escape. Nindemann and the brothers pushed aside the weakened boards, and Bren braced himself again for the shock of the freezing water. Up he went, kicking his legs toward a milky-blue sky.

  He had no idea how far below the surface they were. He could hold his breath a long time—he’d had plenty of practice by now—but exposure to water this cold could do him in before a lack of oxygen. He gazed up into the floes of ice far above, drifting by like clouds, looking for an escape. A gap between floes could be dangerous; another sheet of ice might crush him before he made it through. A hole would be better.

  And then he saw it—the tail of a seal disappearing from the water. He’d found one!

  He continued to swim up but turned to find the others, to tell them he’d found their escape hatch. He got Lady Barrett’s attention and hoped she could relay the message; he couldn’t hold his breath much longer.

  The hole was plenty big, but he had more trouble getting through than he expected. The ice was a foot thick, making it hard for him to get a grip on the rim so he could use it to pull himself up. But he finally did it. For once, being spindly came in handy.