by Greig Beck
He blinked and pointed. Dmitry seeing him, snapped his head around, and also saw the hairline crack. He leapt forward to reach up and lay fingers on it.
“Impossible,” he hissed.
The next impact jolted them again, and Dmitry’s voice was high and shrill as he scrabbled backwards along the floor. The submersible was being pushed backwards, but what had frightened the Russian pilot was what covered the impossibly strong viewing glass. The Megalodon had them in its mouth, lips pulled back exposing the hyper-extended jaws, and huge triangular-shaped teeth. And behind them, a cavernous void of internal ribbing and ventral flaps, down a train-tunnel sized gullet.
Mironov rose to his feet. Statistics ran through his head: the jaws of an average Great White Shark can exert a bite pressure of up to one-point-eight tons, but this thing with its pure mass would be able to exceed that by at least a dozen times. He remembered what Yegor had told them about the Prusalka’s ability to withstand crush depth pressure – no problem, as long as it was exerted al over the craft at once. He suddenly wished Jack Monroe were here so he could ask the expert’s advice.
There was a smell of smoke in the cabin, and the engines droned on, but were useless as something much bigger and more powerful was now in control of their fate. The submersible’s angle changed – downward – Mironov began to slide.
Dmitry wrestled with the wheel. “It’s trying to take us down.” He grimaced and then yelled over his shoulder. “I’m going to deploy electric charge.” He flicked up the clear cover over the array of switches which he set on, and then calibrated a dial. “Priming for full charge this time.” He didn’t bother to count, but instead hammered down on the large flat button. The cabin lights flickered but unlike with the squid, the Megalodon either didn’t feel it, or didn’t care.
Dmitry kept his hand down hard on the button until the internal lights dimmed and the smell of smoke now pervaded the cabin. The submersible suddenly kicked backwards in the water, but began to list to starboard.
“We’re free.” Dmitry spun, grinning madly.
“Free, but dead in the water,” Mironov observed as he sat slowly.
Dmitry tried the controls but nothing responded. The red internal lighting was down to a few ruby jewels along the cabin ceiling, and only some of the screens still shone.
“We need to recharge.” Dmitry sighed and sat back. “We need time.”
“Time, yes, but I’m afraid that’s something that might be in short supply for the Prusalka.” Mironov continued to gaze out through the curved glass. He had paid a fortune to perhaps catch a glimpse of a legendary and fantastic creature. Don’t wish too hard for what you want, or then you might get it. He smiled, dreamily at the thought. He looked down at the depth gauge. They were still descending.
Perhaps the Megalodon had been taking them to its home in the pitiless void of the cave depths. Perhaps it still would; if it attacked again their defenses were now exhausted. It didn’t matter now. They were still safely within the crush tolerance of the submersible, except for one thing. He looked up towards Dmitry and the front window – sure enough, with a plinking and popping sound, the crack in the curved glass was growing longer. When its two ends touched, top to bottom, it would fail.
Dmitry gave up trying to draw some sort of response from the flattened batteries. He turned slowly. “I’m so sorry, Mr Mironov.”
“Valery.” Mironov nodded. “And I forgive you.”
The Megalodon passed by the window once again.
CHAPTER 19
Chief Engineer Olaf Kozlov aboard the Viktor Dubynin grimaced at the computer screen. The new seismic numbers coming from the seabed stability sensors were telling him the sea floor, or rather the skin over the huge bed of liquid, was shuddering and complaining as if it had growing pains. And it rose like a blister.
He’d told Captain Gorkin he had successfully capped it, but for how long he had no real idea. If the seawater he detected was only a few million gallons and could be siphoned off easily and allow the pressure to ease, then all would be good. But if not, and there was a lot more water under pressure than he expected, then the entire capping seal could give way. And as the subterranean bed was under colossal force, the seabed would not collapse down, but explode upwards.
Kozlov glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder before looking back at the continuous data feed. He knew he certainly did not have the necessary equipment he needed to cap hundreds of feet of sea bottom if that occurred.
“Please hold, please hold,” he whispered. At least until I’m a long way away… and paid.
* * *
“Nobody… move,” Jack whispered.
The raft glided now, all four of its occupants sitting stone still and eyes wide. Cate and Abby had their flashlights trained on the open water behind them, and the cold gray mountain that rose from the misted surface, fell back again into its inky depths.
The thing came up again, this time closer, and rolled. One huge, almost human-like eye swiveled to stare up from the water. A geyser spouted in the air, and the drops rained back down on them.
“Oh god, a whale.” Greg exhaled, almost giggling. “It’s just a freaking whale.”
“Nearly no dorsal fin, and a blow hole, so definitely a cetacean.” Cate leaned forward. “But not sure what type; maybe of the baleen family, but can’t really see…” She turned to Abby. “…means no teeth, just a feeding comb. Not a big one, smaller even than a humpback.” She sat back, feeling a huge lift of relief in her chest. “What do you think, Greg?”
“Certainly has some baleen characteristics of a longer skull, but there are features there I don’t recognize.” Greg pointed at the huge mammal now hanging stationary in the water. It returned the scrutiny. “It seems to have an extended snout, just like some of the first toothless baleen whales. Going out on a limb here and saying, maybe it’s a Eomysticetus or even a Micromysticetus.” He grinned. “They were around in the late Oligocene, about thirty million years ago.”
“Very good, Greg. Impossible to verify, but can’t fault your analysis.” Cate lifted her light.
“I’m hoping it’s just checking us out,” Jack said. “They’re intelligent and inquisitive. We’re the ones who are the strangers down here.” The whale floated a little closer, it’s eye turned to them seeming to move across each of their faces. It turned a little more onto its side and a flipper rose momentarily.
“Holy shit, look! See that? It’s still got a bit of a forearm, and thumb.” Greg pointed, an excited smile plastered on his face.
“You’re right.” Cate rose from her seat.
“Sit down, please,” Jack warned.
“It’s far more primitive than we thought. They were land creatures once, whose limbs evolved for water living. This creature might even be some sort of transitional form.” She grinned. “Now what do you say, Greg?”
He nodded, enjoying the game. “Okay, what about a Rodhocetus?” He shook his head. “Nah, they were only about eight feet long; this guy is easily twice that. Okay, something more our pal’s size…” He rubbed his chin, and then clicked his fingers. “Durodon.” His smile suddenly dropped. “Oh shit. Those guys ate meat.”
“Yikes.” Abby pulled her arm in.
The ancient cetacean continued to glide closer, its huge intelligent eye still watching them. “Hey big guy, don’t suppose you can give us a lift to Heceta Island.” Greg pointed, his arm out over the water. “It’s thatta way.”
Jack used the oar to paddle backwards, keeping some distance between the raft and the creature.
“Be careful. I’ve dived with humpbacks, and seen orcas from a cage. They’re usually pretty sociable, but they have a habit of breaching and landing in your boat.”
Greg pulled his arm in. “Easy there, jumbo. We’re mammals, just like you.”
He waved, and the huge beast rolled and sank. It rose again another forty feet from the raft, and then went down for good.
The group paddled on, minutes turned to hours,
and then many hours. They swapped paddle duties back and forth, with the sessions growing shorter. The warmth meant they perspired heavily, and Cate worried their water would soon be gone.
“Jack, any idea on how far now?” Cate wiped her forehead, and felt her eyes sting from tiredness.
He shook his head. “No, but can’t be many more miles.” He pointed upward. “The roof is lowering, so fingers crossed there’s a chute we can climb.” He turned. “And pray its entrance is at this level, and doesn’t open in the ceiling where we can’t get at it.”
“Great. What do we do then?” Greg asked, lifting his oar, and leaning it across his knees.
Jack shook his head slowly. “Grow gills.”
“Hey, our friend is back.” Abby brought her hands together.
Cate thought she was going to clap like a child, but understood her feelings – it was kinda nice to have something like a fellow traveler in the darkness.
Greg turned back to the water and the primitive whale keeping a silent vigil beside them. “Hi there, buddy.” He turned to Abby. “You know what he needs? A name.” He rubbed his chin. “Um, how does ‘Thumbs’ strike you? You know coz he’s got a pair.”
Abby wrinkled her nose. “That’s a dumb name. I bet you’ve got a dog named, Spot.” She looked back at the gliding creature. “Jonah.”
“Jonah?” Jack grimaced.
“Yes, why not?” Abby raised her chin.
Greg shrugged. “Fine with me… if I can’t have Thumbs, that is.”
Jack continued to paddle. “I’m just saying, that a Jonah is an expression for something or someone that brings bad luck, that’s all.”
“Maybe he’ll bring us good luck.” Greg leaned forward. “Your name is Jonah, do you like that buddy?”
“Greg, maybe he’s hoping for a hot meal, rather than a few new water-friends,” Cate said, grinning.
“Nah, he’s friendly, I can tell.” Greg looked briefly from Cate to Abby. “Jonah it is. I like it.”
The eruption of water made all four of them fall back in the raft. The dark sea exploded from directly under the drifting cetacean, lifting it several dozen feet in the air. Cate would have screamed, but the breath was locked in her chest as she saw the whale suspended in the air, its huge body, hanging either side of a massive column of muscled flesh.
The whale made a sound like a scream that carried with it all the pain and anguish a being could feel as it knew it was about to die. Huge jaws came together with bone crushing force as massive teeth sank deeply into the blubbered flesh.
The whale was then dragged under; leaving nothing but a sucking whirlpool on a surface that swirled with red froth. Waves slapped at their raft, spinning it round.
Jack was first to break the spell of horror that gripped them all. “Paddle! Paddle!” He began digging his oar in deep and sweeping water back along the side of the raft.
Cate, Greg and Abby started to do the same. Cate momentarily used one arm to pull her pod-door oar, and lifted her flashlight shining it down into the water – it was stained wine-red from the blood of the whale.
“Move it,” Jack hissed. His head moved left and right, as if to get his bearings. “Veer right, we need to get out of the kill zone.”
“You guide, we’ll paddle,” Cate yelled back. They all dug their oars in deeper, causing the nose of the raft to come around.
The muscles in Cate’s shoulders and back began to rebel, but she focused on the drips of perspiration running down her nose, and her rhythm, and nothing else.
Greg’s breathing rasped as he pulled the oar back hard through the water. “That… was it, wasn’t it?”
“Don’t know; happened too fast… couldn’t really see it in the dark.” Cate grimaced as she dragged her own oar. She knew she was stonewalling herself as well.
Jack wasn’t hazy. “Yes.” He said over his shoulder. “No use pretending it wasn’t.”
“Shit, I knew it.” Greg looked out over the dark water. “We’re fucked.”
“Shut up and keep paddling.” Cate dragged hard on her oar.
“Do you think the whale might have filled it up?” Abby asked, her voice little more than a squeak.
“Maybe, uh, I mean, sure,” Cate said, but was concerned to see that Jack briefly turned to shoot her a look that had implied he thought anything but.
Cate kept her head down. She had lied to Greg; she had seen the size and shape of the creature that had grabbed the whale. It was the Megalodon she had expected – the dinosaur shark – alive, and now, perhaps circling somewhere below them. The portion of the creature that had launched itself out of the water had dwarfed the twenty-foot mammal, and from what she knew about sharks, they could consume enormous amounts of meat. Like Abby, she just hoped it was full for now.
They rowed, hard, for many more minutes, probably moving another half mile from where they had seen the attack, when Cate felt her shoulders, back and arms turning to jelly. She and Greg paddled on one side, and Jack on the other. Abby was already in the bottom of the raft, vomiting from fatigue.
“Jack… Jack,” Greg rasped. “I can’t…”
Cate lifted her pod door to poke him. “Keep, going, Greg.”
More minutes passed, and then finally Jack turned, his face slick and pale. He looked from Cate to Abby, and then nodded. He straightened, pulling his oar from the dark water.
“Let’s take a minute. Grab some water, but just a few sips.”
“Thank god.” Greg slumped forward.
Cate also flopped back for a moment, breathing in the humid air. The perspiration on her face refused to dry, and it stung her eyes. Laying down, her light beam became a pipe of light up toward a ceiling that was lost in an impenetrable darkness, a hundred or maybe a thousand feet above them. She lifted an arm to read her wristwatch. They had been paddling now for just over twenty-four hours. She did the math – at about two miles per hour, that meant they had covered around forty-eight miles – not bad, she thought.
She pulled in a deep breath and eased upright. Spots of light popped in her eyes, and she knew it was fatigue dizziness. She saw that Abby and Greg were lying down, and Jack had bent forward, his forehead resting on his knees. The raft continued to glide on the oil-dark sea, and she lifted her light, panning it over its surface. She wondered what they looked like from out there – she imagined them as a small dot of light on a fathomless sea, a speck, like a single, tiny star in a massive universe of darkness.
Cate carefully looked over the side – nothing, not even her reflection. Except down there, she knew there wasn’t nothing. She crushed her eyes shut, and rested her hands on her knees for a moment, feeling a gurgle of hunger gnaw away in her stomach. The warm smell of salt lifted from the tropical water, and the low mist smelled of seaweed and slick rocks. She lifted her flashlight again, this time higher – out to their side, she could just make out an enormous cave wall, with a small shelf of stone that formed tiny islands at its base. Ahead, and to her right, or starboard, there was nothing but infinite dark water for as far as her light beam extended.
In the bow of the small raft, Jack consulted his compass. He looked up, and seeing her watching him, smiled.
“Not far now, by my reckoning.” He lifted an arm out toward the front and slightly to their right. “Just a few more miles, and then we’ll be directly underneath the caves. Let’s hope there’s something there.”
“An elevator would be nice,” Greg said, groaning as he raised himself up to sit. He rubbed his face, hard.
Abby smacked dry lips. “You said the caves were eight hundred or so feet deep, but down here we’re at least double that. What happens if…” Her voice trailed off.
Jack nodded. “Yup. So we’re hoping there is some lower hole we can punch through. It only needs to be a few feet wide.” He sighed. “I’m not going to lie to you, there needs to be a lot of cave, heading upwards, before we even get to the basement level of the Heceta Island cave system.”
Greg blew air between his
lips, and then shrugged. “I don’t care. Not even if there’s another two thousand feet of climbing to do. If we’re off the water, and can maybe get out of here, then I’ll be happy.”
“That’s the spirit,” Cate said. She felt her stomach growl and gurgle. “Anyone else hungry?”
“Oh god yes, I thought no one would ask. I’m famished.” Abby grinned tiredly.
“Oh yeah; time to refuel – we need it.” Jack looked up. “Break it out.”
“There’s somewhere we can land over there…” Cate pointed out to the side.
“Not yet,” Jack said, giving her an apologetic smile. “We’re making good time. Best to keep on – we’ll snack as we go.”
“I’m good with that.” Like a conjuror, Greg was already laying out the tins. “Caviar, duck pate, dry cheddar, Camembert – yech – and crackers.”
“I’ll have one with the lot.” Jack grinned, and leant back against the inflated gunwale.
There were small plastic spoons and knives in the pack, and Cate set about using them to spread the fragrant ingredients on the crackers until the small tins were all empty.
“So much for portion control.” She rested them carefully on the top of the pack. They each looked fit for a dinner party, rather than something to be hastily consumed by the remains of a submarine crew who’d been abandoned on an underground sea.
Each of them took turns lifting them to the mouths. They nibbled at them, chewing slowly, and savouring each bite.
Greg licked each of his fingers. “Bit rich for my liking, but… delicious.” He lifted one of the empty tins to his face and stuck his tongue in. He then spun it over the side where it flew for a good twenty feet, before landing upright, and then bobbing like a small round boat.
Cate sipped at her water, still famished. The small amount of food had only just knocked the edge off her hunger. She sighed. “When we get out, I think I’m going to pretend it’s thanksgiving and have turkey and stuffing.”
