“No one thinks of you that way.”
Shepherd sat in one of the chairs across from Dom, steepling his fingers. “Look, I’m having second thoughts about leaving you all at Lajes. It seems to me like you’ll need every man you can get out here. I think our naval cadets could be convinced to stay, too.”
“We’ve handled ourselves on our own this far. You’ll be more useful Stateside.”
“You’ve lost several crew members since this started.” Dom winced. Several was an understatement. “Your man Terrence doesn’t look like he’s going to be in fighting condition. I may have graduated to desk duty back at Detrick, but I know which direction to point a gun.”
There was more truth to Shepherd’s statement than Dom liked to admit.
“Truth is, adding you and the midshipmen to the crew would be treating a symptom, not a cause,” Dom said. “We could even go back to the Congo and recruit Alizia and the rest of her people or bring in a few of Ronaldo’s at Lajes. All that’d do is keep this ship alive a little longer.
“But what we really need is to get you back to the States. We need someone who can be a diplomat for us. Someone who knows what we can do. Right now, it feels like we’re singlehandedly carrying on this fight. It shouldn’t be like that.”
“I can understand that.” Shepherd paused. “You’re headed into the dragon’s den—you do know that? That attack to take back Matsumoto wasn’t just a haphazard mission. Those were some fine pieces of machinery. The soldiers were nothing to balk at, either. We barely held those bastards back.”
Dom didn’t need Shepherd to repeat what he had already told Lauren. They likely couldn’t survive another attack, especially if the Forces of Global Liberation returned with a larger boarding party. He tried to convince himself there wouldn’t be another attack. Once Lauren removed the tracking device from Matsumoto, they would be safe.
But he wouldn’t make that mistake again, thinking they had outfoxed their enemy. They had done that once, and it had resulted in Terrence losing his legs.
“You’re probably right,” Dom said. “It was damned lucky we survived what we did. It was damned lucky that Lauren was able to find where they implanted that chip in Matsumoto, and it was damned lucky that Terrence was the only one hurt. You get back to the US and tell whoever you can that we need more than luck if we’re going to continue this fight.”
Shepherd leaned in, speaking in a lower voice so Chao and Samantha couldn’t hear. “Look, Dom. I’m not suggesting I stay on the ship just to be a foot soldier against the Skulls.”
Dom raised an eyebrow.
“What I mean to say is, you’re headed into hell right now. Just your ship and whatever Colonel Ronaldo decides to throw in with you,” Shepherd said. “But that might not be enough.”
“Which is why you’re going to Kinsey.”
“I’ll cut straight to the chase,” Shepherd said. “There’s no shame in heading back with me. Give yourselves and your crew a chance to reload and recover. I’m sure you’ll be back in the shit in no time. But your ship is in rough shape, Dom.”
His anger flared. Was Shepherd trying to piss him off? “Last time we were there, this ship got taken by the US government. My crew was supposed to be killed, and my daughters got taken hostage by a roving band of goddamn lunatics.”
Then Dom sighed. The memories of that betrayal twisted in his gut like a dagger. Falling right back into that old trap would be no smarter than underestimating Spitkovsky again. General Kinsey had convinced Dom to aid in a mission and used it as a pretense to take the Huntress. Dom and the others had barely escaped with their lives while everyone still aboard the Huntress was imprisoned. He would regard any olive branch extended by Kinsey with a heavy dose of skepticism—which was why he needed Shepherd as his man on the ground.
“I can’t just forget what they did to us last time.” Dom’s eyes narrowed. “Or what they did to you. To think they’ll just welcome us back with open arms...well, I might as well put a hole through this ship myself and pilot it straight to the bottom of the ocean.”
“I hear there aren’t too many Skulls down there, at least,” Shepherd said. The dry humor fell flat. “We can try to work out a deal with Kinsey when we get to Lajes. Trust me, I’m not wild about facing Kinsey again myself. But you’ve got to think about the alternative. So long as you’re on this side of the Atlantic, you’re within striking distance of the FGL. You saw their facilities in the Congo. Imagine what else they have out here. One crippled ship and its battered crew isn’t going to stop them.”
At least we’ll try, Dom wanted to say. But he knew how foolish it sounded. Shepherd was right. It was exceedingly dangerous out here. But he worried it was also exceedingly necessary. No one else seemed to be gathering intel in the field, not as they were. He doubted any other Americans had gotten so close to Spitkovsky. Plus, they had captured Matsumoto. They were on to something, and if he retreated now, they might lose the only advantages they had: shock and speed.
Then he pictured Kara and Sadie. How they must’ve been huddled in their quarters during the attack on the ship. He had come so damn close to losing them more times than he could count. He wasn’t just risking his life or those of his crew, the people who had signed up for dangerous missions like this. He was risking his daughters’ lives by staying out here.
“I want your honest opinion,” Dom said. “How likely is it that you can convince Kinsey we’re on his side?”
“With all the intel you’ve gathered, we can make a solid case.”
“Are you a lawyer now?” Dom asked. “I want you to give it to me straight.”
Shepherd’s face turned to stone. “It’s going to be a tough sell. For God’s sake, you opened fire on the Coast Guard.”
“We warned them,” Dom said. “I could’ve killed them outright, but I didn’t. I disabled their ships. That’s it.”
“I’m not sure that will matter,” Shepherd said. “But I do think someone over there will listen to us. I’ll make them listen to us.”
Dom didn’t like that answer. “I’m not convinced.”
Shepherd worked his jaw for a moment as if he were chewing leather. “The alternative is staying out here and getting shot to shit.”
“Shot to shit by our enemies or my own country. Not a great position to be in.”
“It’s not,” Shepherd agreed. “But at least we can try to make a case with Kinsey’s crowd not to shoot you. Or at least not to shoot your family.”
That struck Dom deep through his chest.
“I’ve seen what you can do. Alive, you’re an asset to the United States.” Shepherd patted the table and stood. “At least think about it.”
Dom promised to do just that. Just another addition to the heavy weight saddling him.
Chao turned from his station. “Meredith and Andris are reporting they’ve spotted the wreck.”
-9-
The gray waves swallowed Meredith as she released the air from her BCD, slowly sinking into the darkness below. Behind her, she dragged a cord attached to an orange buoy that bobbed at the surface, allowing Jenna and Miguel to track their whereabouts. Even with that small assurance, the gravity of the situation tugged at her insides. All around her, she saw only darkness except where she shone a dive light. Andris drifted downward beside her, his eyes wide and searching.
Bubbles streamed from Meredith’s regulator. The clicking and snapping sound of unseen creatures throughout the depths pattered against her eardrums. Large, pitted rocks covered in brown plants and all manner of invertebrates projected from the sand. Shadows moved just beyond the beam of her flashlight. She had to remind herself the giant fish down here were not interested in her. But she found that more and more difficult when she saw the seven-hundred-pound Atlantic goliath groupers hanging about the ocean floor. They looked at her and Andris curiously.
Wondering if we’re food? she thought. Trust me, it’s not worth it. We probably taste worse than an MRE.
“Let’s
get this over with,” Meredith said.
Andris’s voice came back garbled through her underwater transceiver. “I thought you liked diving.”
“I liked it when I was exploring colorful reefs,” Meredith said.
The remains of the helicopter lay across the seabed like an insect that had been smashed and then smeared over the ground. Rotor blades speared up from the sand, and one of the engines lay cracked open next to the fuselage. Curious fish circled, their silver eyes gleaming when Meredith’s flashlight beam hit them.
She looked at her in-line gauges. There was just over two thousand PSI in her first tank. Plenty of air. That should give them enough time to find the black box. She pumped her legs, carrying herself toward the chopper.
As she drifted ever closer to the helicopter, her mind strayed to the horror of decompression sickness. She could practically see the nitrogen bubbles in her body. If she surfaced too fast, they would expand just like carbonated bubbles in a soda. Humans weren’t designed to be here. The equipment she wore on her back, the regulator in her mouth, and the mask pressed to her face all seemed so feeble in comparison to the ocean. Her wetsuit gave her some protection, but the cold still made her skin prickle. Only a slight bluish glow hung above her, reminding her which direction the sky was.
“Look at that,” Andris said. At least that was what Meredith thought he had said between the gargling breaths of air. She twisted in the water to see him pointing at something half-buried in the coarse sand. His flashlight beam flickered off its metallic surface. At first she thought it was just another part of the helicopter. “Isn’t that what Dom said they tried to throw onto the Huntress?”
A bolt of chilling adrenaline plunged through her vessels, and she tried to remind herself to breathe slowly, to conserve air. It felt like a losing battle with her primitive instincts. “You think it’s a bomb?”
“It does not look like a bomb to me,” Andris said. He kicked to move closer toward it. “It looks more like a...keg.”
“I doubt very much that the FGL wanted to throw a kegger on the Huntress.”
Andris brushed through the sand next to the object.
“Careful!” Meredith said. “Maybe we should leave it alone.”
She imagined the thing exploding, sending their bodies tumbling through the darkness in a swath of violent bubbles.
“No, it is definitely not an explosive,” Andris said. “It appears to be an air tank of sorts.” He pointed to a nozzle on top. “Look, it has already been released.” Then he tapped on the side of the cylinder, making Meredith wince. “It is empty, of course. Whatever was in it has been expelled.”
“Shit,” Meredith said. Her thoughts went wild with possibilities. What kind of mysterious gas was the FGL trying to hit them with? There was of course the very obvious answer that it had something to do with the Oni Agent. “You don’t think...no...I can’t imagine anything else.”
Andris turned to her, his wide eyes visible through his mask. “I did not think the Agent was airborne.”
“Neither did I,” Meredith said. Bubbles streamed from her regulator as she exhaled. “The strain Lauren discovered was unique to the med bay. Kind of like how antibiotic-resistant strains of bacteria crop up in hospitals. But if this is what we think it is, then they have developed an airborne Oni Agent delivery system.”
“It is a scary thought to be sure,” Andris said. “I hope that we are not right. Maybe it is something entirely different.”
“Yeah, let’s hope so,” Meredith said. “Lauren’s team will probably want to take a look at it anyway.”
“Shall we send it up then?” Andris asked.
“Let’s do it.”
Meredith glanced at her in-line gauges. Talking had sapped a good portion of her available air. Andris unsecured one of the empty lift bags he had strapped to his BCD. He tied the cords of the bag to the keg. Meredith dug out the sand around the bottom of the contraption. She kicked back, giving Andris the universal diver gesture with her thumb and pointer finger making a circle: okay.
A third tank Andris carried had been designated for use with the lift bags. He filled the bag as Meredith held it in place, ensuring it didn’t shoot off to the surface too soon. Like a hot air balloon, the bag hoisted the keg above the sand. It felt as if it was ready to rocket upward, so Meredith twisted its dump valve to release a stream of excess air.
She signaled “okay” again to Andris, and he gave the same gesture back. Then she let go of the lift bag and the keg. The bag dragged the keg up toward the surface, pulling it through the water and disappearing into the darkness.
“Miguel, Jenna,” Meredith said. “Just sent the first present your way. Suspected biohazard device. Retrieve with caution.”
“Copy,” Miguel replied.
With that out of the way, they continued to the fuselage of the chopper. It rested on its side like a half-eaten whale carcass. Meredith’s stomach lurched when the beam illuminated an arm hanging out of a broken window. She couldn’t tell if it was still attached to a body or not, but small fish and a few crabs were already picking at the meat.
She swam up and over the open cargo door. A school of fish exploded past her, sending her heart galloping.
Again, she checked her regulator. She was burning through too much air, letting anxiety control her. Andris gestured to her, asking if she was okay. She signaled back that she was.
The tableau before her didn’t make her feel okay, though. The rest of the body was now visible. Like the arm, the torso and head were already being consumed. Other corpses were trapped by straps in the cabin chairs or floated against the ceiling of the helicopter like ghostly apparitions, bloated dead fingers reaching out for something beyond their reach. The cabin was a mess of sea creatures and mechanical garbage. It would be hell to pick through it to find anything that might be of use to Chao and Samantha.
But they hadn’t come this far just to get a look at this horrific scene. Meredith and Andris started in the cockpit, using the tools they’d brought to take apart as much of the electronic equipment as possible. They deposited the radio into a mesh bag along with a metal box Meredith hoped was the FDM. Once the first bag was full, they sent their delivery up and readied another lift bag.
“Second bag incoming,” Meredith reported.
“Copy,” Miguel said. “First item retrieved.”
They worked to fill another bag. Meredith’s light bobbed as she deposited pieces of equipment. Then the light caught something shiny and sharp. A mouthful of daggerlike teeth attached to something that looked like a torpedo.
She let out a cry.
Andris’s head whipped up, and he shot back, dropping the bag of goodies to the floor of the helicopter. His arms flexed as if he was going to duke it out with the creature.
A barracuda had drifted in among the wreckage, its sleek body shimmering in their flashlight beams. Its huge eyes looked them over curiously as it lazily swam past. No doubt the chopper would make a fine home once the humans left. But for now, they were little more than a curiosity.
“Those things always gave me the creeps,” Meredith said.
“He looks like my great-uncle Juris,” Andris said. “Juris was not a friendly man, either. Teeth just like that and a temper to match. I can understand how this Juris-fish would give you those creeps.”
They soon returned to the task at hand. Meredith tried to ignore the fact that she was pushing past a cabin full of bodies in her search. Every minute they spent down here was another chunk of Meredith’s air gone. Another minute that the FGL readied a second attack. Another minute that the Huntress sat around helpless and alone in the middle of the Atlantic.
They might only have one chance at scavenging whatever secrets this chopper held, so she did her best to slow her breathing, to will calm wherever anxiety gnawed at her. But as much willpower as she tried to summon, it all went to hell when something slammed against the cockpit of the helicopter.
This time it was nothing as friendly
as the barracuda.
***
Word spread fast that they might return to the United States. Kara hated the idea of going back. But what choice did she have? As it was, she felt like a log on a river, drifting with the current, bumping against the shore and rocks in her way.
America held nothing but terrible memories for her. No, maybe she was being dramatic. Life before the Oni Agent had been a blessing. She had loved her family. She had been going to college and would have become a veterinarian. There wasn’t much she would’ve changed about her life before. Except it would’ve been nice if her dad had dropped by more than a few times a year.
But now, with the apocalypse breathing down her neck, her life had changed. Her mother was a Skull. Her university probably no longer existed, and she wasn’t sure that she’d ever get another chance at being a veterinarian. The funny thing was that she had spent more time with her father over the past few weeks than she had over the past few years.
She knocked on the hatch to the electronics workshop.
“We’re open,” her father boomed.
Kara entered. Dom looked up from the computer screen he was studying. A momentary look of surprise crossed his face.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Sadie and I are fine,” Kara said. She strode over to the table and joined him. “How are Meredith and Andris doing?”
“Last I heard, they had spotted the helicopter. But you didn’t come here to talk about them.”
“Yeah,” Kara said. She hesitated, uncertain whether to ask him about the rumors she’d heard. There was so much going on. She had seen the frenetic activity in the med bay. She knew people were searching the ship for tracking devices. And here she was worried about having to say goodbye to her father again.
“Actually, it’s nothing,” Kara said, moving back toward the hatch.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Dom said, pushing back from the table. “I’ve got a minute if you need to talk.”
“Are you sure?” She felt guilty taking up even this much of his time. She was worrying like a child. She should be better than that.
The Tide_Dead Ashore Page 9
