Spawn Of The Deep

by Michael Bray

  “Come on down here and help me, what are you waiting for?” he screamed, glaring at the helicopter.

  Forty feet above, Andrews watched, waiting for the attack which he knew would come. The larger of the creatures came first, almost seventy feet of muscle and bad intent. It broke away, Andrews following it via night vision, watching in morbid fascination as it charged at the wreckage, a grey blur streaking through the water. Andrews held his breath, waiting for the impact.

  #

  Decker saw it coming towards him, his broken mind dimly aware of what it was until he saw the same demonic face that had pressed against the elevator shaft in the Triton Spire. There was no time for him to react, or to scream as his body was pulverized, crushed between the creature’s immense teeth, his bones splintered, organs and muscles pulverized. The smaller creatures hung back, snapping at the bloody wreckage and trying to get a morsel from the frenzied feeding of their seventy-foot sibling as it shredded Decker’s remains.

  Andrews set down the goggles, finding no satisfaction on what he had witnessed. Remembering he still had a job to do, he activated the radio. “Big Bird, this is Sky Eye. Deliver the package. Repeat, deliver the package.”

  The helicopter banked away, retreating to a safe distance. Andrews watched as the jet streaked towards the floating wreckage of the Incognito, the bomb dropped from its underbelly falling towards the ocean and the creatures which were still feeding below.

  White light.

  The wreckage of the Incognito was obliterated, the feeding creatures with it as the two thousand pound MK48 bomb impacted ten feet beneath the surface, launching an immense explosion of flesh, water and wreckage into the air.

  III

  In the Triton Spire, Rainwater stood in the nursery, staring out into the ocean as the facility creaked and groaned. The concussion wave from the impact of the bomb rolled towards the structure, the rumble growing louder as it approached. Rainwater took a single sharp breath and closed his eyes as the overstressed dome gave under the impact of the concussion wave, flooding the domed area with thousands of gallons of sea water and instantly extinguishing the life of Henry Rainwater, who thankfully was dead before he felt anything resembling pain.

  IV

  Groves and the other survivors helped Greg out of the last of the pods as they drifted away from the Triton Spire. Jade was crying, leaning on Mackay’s shoulder. They watched as the already crippled Triton Spire broke away and sank into the ocean, unable to maintain its integrity after the implosion of the lower section.

  Groves lifted the radio to his mouth, unable to ignore the heavy atmosphere on the vessel. “All clear here. Everyone is safe. Was the package successfully delivered?”

  In the helicopter, Andrews scanned the waters with his night vision goggles, able to see the remains of all three creatures, now no more than mangled chunks floating in the ocean as the larger pieces sank into the depths. “Package was delivered successfully. We got them all.”

  “Roger that. Shall we head back in?”

  Andrews hesitated, staring at the wreckage and sparing a thought for Rainwater, never expecting to ever feel quite as sad as he did for his loss. “Yeah, I think we’ve all seen enough. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  The helicopter banked away from the impact site, angling towards the shoreline as Groves and the survivors followed, all of them reflective and thinking about one man and the sacrifice he had made.

  EPILOGUE

  The day of the funeral was cool and overcast as those present said their final goodbyes. Mackay was somber, hiding his eyes behind dark glasses. Jade stood at his side, head down and quiet. Andrews joined them, standing silent for a moment as they looked at the headstone.

  “I still can’t believe this,” Jade said, addressing nobody in particular.

  “It was what he wanted. He never meant to deceive you.”

  “He was a stubborn asshole,” Jade said, a flicker of a smile appearing on her lips as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

  They were silent, each letting the others be alone with their thoughts. Greg was standing by the tree line, watching the proceedings from afar, his wife and child with him. He was dressed in jeans and a white t shirt, and like Mackay wore dark sunglasses.

  “Why doesn’t he come over? He was invited but declined,” Jade said.

  “It’s not been easy for him. He’s been through a lot. You have to see it from his point of view. The circumstances…”

  “Yeah, I get it. I just want him to know we get it. We understand it’s not his fault.”

  They stood for a little longer, then Mackay turned to them, taking off his glasses. “Come on. The lad would hate for us to be standin’ here moping aroond. Let’s go have a wee drink and toast him, eh?”

  “Absolutely. That’s a fantastic idea,” Andrews said.

  Greg watched as they walked away, waiting until they were out of sight. He kissed his daughter on the head and asked his wife to wait for him as he approached the gravesite. He stood, looking at the granite slab and feeling a mixture of emotions.

  “I did what you asked. I told them what you wanted. It looks good. I wish you could see it man, it looks really, really good.”

  Greg gripped his wrist, taking a moment to look at the scarred stump. “We’re making it. Just like you said. We’re going to do it as a family. Stick together. The stone looks great, by the way.” Greg looked at it, sad but happy at the same time as he read the words inscribed in gold.

  Henry “Rainwater” Harris

  June 10th 1979 – August 4th 2016

  To have known you was a precious gift.

  As per his last wishes, he had been laid to rest with his family, and had reverted to the name he had shunned for so long. Beside the flower-covered gravestones of his brother Joey and Uncle Edgar, another Harris had joined them. Greg smiled, a brief gesture that was there and gone in an instant. “You called it, brother. You said they would take it all into account. No charges. You’ve given me what I thought I’d lost forever. I have my family. I’ll never forget this. I’ll never forget you. Sleep well, brother.” Greg took another moment to look at the headstone then walked away to be with his family as the first spots of rain began to fall.

  Read on for a free sample of RIP Tyde: A Deep Sea Thriller.

  AUTHOR NOTES

  Ever since I started writing, I have always wanted to write a story about a sea monster. Growing up, Jaws was one of my favorite films, and is for me a flawless piece of cinema.

  Working on this series of books has probably been some of the most fun I’ve had on a trilogy. I know I’ve received some criticism about the plausibility and lack of realism when it comes to something as large as the creature in this story existing in the real world. To that, I say this was never intended as a textbook about the history of marine biology. This story is meant solely to be enjoyed at face value as what I hope to be a fun and exciting read.

  The first two books were fairly easy to write, in that the ideas for them came quickly and easily when I jotted them down in note form (the same method I use for every novel). For this third entry, however, for the longest time, I struggled. I had a rough idea of the story I wanted to tell, but couldn’t figure out specifically how I wanted to tell it. Weeks went by, and the blank page started to mock me until one day at random when I was doing something else entirely, I saw an image in my mind of the Triton Spire. I have no idea where it came from or what triggered it to appear, but it was the cork that had been stuck in the bottle. I went straight home and outlined the story and got to work on writing it.

  For all the worry, this third entry was the easiest of the three to write. There was a nice flow to the creation process, which I hope comes across in the reading.

  Before I stop rambling, I have a few people I want to say thanks to. First off, to Severed Press, who have been both professional and incredibly helpful through every stage of the publishing of not just this book, but the two previous entries in the series.I also want
to thank my long-suffering wife Vikki, for putting up with the series of grunts and grumbles which I tend to communicate in when I’m writing, which I’m sure must be frustrating. To her credit, she leaves me alone to do what I need to and keeps me supplied with coffee, of which I am grateful for!She also chipped in and helped with the name of Decker’s boat, The Incognito when my brain was refusing to cooperate and think of something to call it.

  Lastly, I want to say a massive thanks to Robert Nash for all of his help with this book. He proofread an early draft and provided some excellent feedback to the story which helped shape this final version.

  And so, that is that. The From the Deep saga is complete. At this point, I think we have seen the end to the story as a whole. I don’t feel at this point in time like there is any more to tell in this world; however, you never can tell. One day, somewhere further down the line, maybe it will pull me back in and I’ll revisit this world and find some new stories I want to tell in it. After all, there were all those eggs in Decker’s lab left unaccounted for at the end of the story….

  Until then, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Michael

  RIP Tyde

  This is going to save our marriage. It will give us time to sort through the pieces of a broken life and fit some of them back together. It’s just like a puzzle. I used to be really good at those. The pieces will fit back together. All we need is the time to do it.

  Tyde Gregory tried to calm his nerves with that bittersweet mantra as he threw the last of his things into his yellow duffle bag and zipped it closed. The nametag hung from a loop on the bottom of the bag. Tyde flipped the tag and examined his own name. Over the years, he had come to accept the fact that his parents were California surf hippies and had the best of intentions when they named him, but he would be lying if there weren’t times that he really wished his nametag said ‘Bob’ or ‘Scott’ instead. Then again, his parents must have been onto to something when they named him Tyde; sure they were definitely on something when they did, but he couldn’t deny that they seemed to instinctually know he would love the water.

  Being in the water was one of the few times that Tyde ever felt truly at peace. The water brought him Wendy. Memories of her walking into his diving class all those years ago flashed through his mind. She was beautiful, tanned and giggling with her friends as they waited for the class to start. It had been one of those classes people took on vacation, half-drunk, bobbing around in the hotel pool and breathing through the regulator. No one ever really learned how to dive, but Wendy cornered Tyde after the class and insisted that he give her a private lesson. There was no way in hell Tyde was going to turn down a bikini-clad request for a private class. Wendy left after her week was up and Tyde followed. They had been inseparable since.

  Life had been easy, like they were destined to be together. Wendy took a job teaching kindergarten and Tyde started working in a local dive shop. Even though he wore surf shorts to work on most days, it felt a little too corporate for him. But he was willing to deal with timesheets and inventory if it meant he got to go home to Wendy every night.

  Weekends had been devoted to dive trips with friends. Everything fit together and worked. They had been happy. Their friends had been happy. The water brought them all together and made their happiness possible. Life made sense when they were diving or at least it used to.

  Tyde shook his head, trying to banish thoughts of the past from his head and laughed when the mirror on top of Wendy’s dresser reflected an image of the dirty blond rat’s nest that blossomed from the side of his head. He didn’t want to waste time getting lost in the past. He was looking towards the future. That’s why they were going on this trip, or maybe it was more accurate to say that was why he was going on the trip. Wendy refused at first. Later just protested. And finally reluctantly agreed to go.

  Wendy’s things were already packed. She was always more prepared than Tyde, though neither of them had been prepared for last year’s diving trip. No checklist or equipment double-check could have prepared them. More past that Tyde didn’t want to think about. He grabbed Wendy’s bag and walked towards the door. The rest of their gear was in the garage. Wendy was out there double-checking everything before the taxi came to bring them to the airport.

  Tyde tried to convince himself that last year’s trip was when his marriage began to fall apart, that the trauma of the trip drove a wedge between him and Wendy, but he knew that wasn’t true. Things were bad before the trip, probably for longer than Tyde even knew, and the trip only made them worse.

  It was true that Wendy agreed to go on this trip. That had to count for something. It had to mean there was some small splinter of hope and love left in her heart. Tyde hoped for all of those things, but knew that his wife’s motivation might have more to do with the fact that they were flying to Long Island in the Bahamas to dive a blue hole. They had swam just about anywhere there was water, but never had the opportunity to explore the amazing underwater cave systems known as blue holes. Aside from Belize, the one on Long Island was probably the best in the world. This breathtaking blue world plunged over six hundred feet below sea level, opening into a honeycomb of rooms that had only just begun to be explored. It was unlike anything Tyde or Wendy had ever seen, completely alien and intoxicating.

  Still, Wendy agreed to go. They weren’t going to spend the entire time underwater. There would be time to talk, to reconnect. Time to save their marriage.

  This is going to save our marriage. It will give us time to sort through the pieces of a broken life and fit some of them back together. It’s just like a puzzle. I used to be really good at those. The pieces will fit back together. All we need is the time to do it.

  Tyde repeated his mantra as Wendy greeted him with a sad, broken smile from the waiting taxi. Tyde threw the rest of their gear into the trunk of the taxi and climbed inside. He reached over and gently squeezed Wendy’s hand. She looked out the window. Tyde squeezed once more, a simple, pleading gesture that spoke volumes about their relationship. Wendy’s fingers fluttered in Tyde’s and tightened ever so slightly.

  This would work. It had to work. Tyde could fix this. He could find a way to fit these pieces together, just like all of those puzzles from so long ago. Tyde loved puzzles when he was a child. He just never wanted his marriage to become one.

  -2-

  The needle on Milo’s air gauge ticked slightly over from yellow to red. There was plenty of air left in the tanks considering that the surface was only twenty to thirty feet overhead, but his tanks had been problematic ever since Jefferson dropped them on the dock. There had to be a small leak somewhere in the system, not that Milo and Jefferson had the money to fix it. He would need to head for the surface.

  Milo signaled the three college boys he was guiding today – time to head to the surface. One of the kids held up five fingers. What harm could five more minutes do? Milo gave him the thumbs up, the college boys were experienced divers, and began swimming for the surface. He turned to watch the three college boys swimming near the wreck they had explored today. One ducked inside the ship. Experienced, not smart.

  “Damn it,” Milo cursed inside his head. Five minutes meant five minutes outside of the damn ship. The last thing he and Jefferson needed was one of those morons getting hurt. Milo’s gauge ticked a little further into red. “Shit,” Milo thought. He would have to switch his tank out with one of the extras on the boat. Running out of air with only those three idiots to rely on was out of the question. Hopefully, those kids would watch the time and be close behind.

  “Milo, where the hell are they?” Jefferson paced anxiously in the rear of the boat. He kept peering over the side, willing the three missing divers to break the water’s glassy surface.

  Treading water, Milo pulled the regulator from his mouth and pushed his mask back on his head. His thin dreadlocks glistened with the dying rays of a setting sun. Jefferson was a pain in the ass and prone to panic, but it looked like he
was right. Those college kids weren’t on the boat and it didn’t look like they had broken the surface yet either.

  “Do you see them floating anywhere nearby?” Milo asked. “They were supposed to be heading for the surface right about now. Maybe the current took them?”

  “If I saw them, would I be asking you where they hell they were?” Jefferson was beginning to lose it. He and Milo had dumped all of what little money they had into opening this diving business. A crappy boat and couple of dented scuba tanks later, they were in business, but all of that would be over if something happened to these college boys. “Get your mask back on and go look!”

  Milo swallowed a string of curse words, pulled his mask down and cleared his regulator. He glanced at his air gauge. There wasn’t much left, but there was no time to switch his tanks out if one of those college boys was trapped in the wreck.

  Maybe the three morons were still underwater screwing around. Maybe not. They were over privileged little shits, but from what Milo had seen, they knew how to dive. If he thought something like this was going to happen, he never would have taken them out past the breakers. But these three didn’t want to dive near the reef with all the snorkeling soccer moms. They wanted to wreck dive near the scuttled World War II German destroyer.

  At the time, Milo didn’t think it would be a problem. Sure, the current was stronger and there was always the possibility of a shark or two, but neither of those things appeared to worry the college boys, so Milo pushed the worry out of his head.

  The smoke stacks of the German destroyer pointed towards Milo like the barrel of a gigantic gun. He couldn’t help but think that the image was all too prophetic. Tourism accounted for more than half of the Bahamian economy. If he didn’t find these kids, the local authorities were going to make an international example out of him.