by C. J. Waller
“Dr Stoker,” he says and stops me from pitching forwards. “Are you all right?”
I nod and swallow hard, but can’t trust myself to speak. Not yet, anyway.
We begin our descent one after the other. As usual, Nik goes first, declaring the climb a piece of piss – lots of hand holes in the pitted surface. Janos hangs back with me, and I’m a little miffed. Has he been told to keep an eye on me? I won’t lie – his solid presence is a comfort, so I don’t complain.
Nik is right; the climb is pretty easy, and before long we are all standing on that strange beach, staring at the sea. The air has a briny tang to it, and the glowing bacteria forms thick mats on the rocks nearest the shoreline, outlining the seashore in phosphorescence. Brendan stoops down and cups his hand in the water before swilling a little in his mouth. I’m not sure how wise that is, but I’m not here to stop him.
“Yep. Salt,” he says. “And warmer than I was expecting. Could be there's some hydrothermal activity down there.”
“In a sedimentary cave system?” Fi asks. She doesn’t do much to disguise her disdain. I don’t think she likes Brendan all that much.
“Depends,” I say, feeling the need to defend my fellow scientist. “The upper part of the system is sedimentary, but if this body of water is deep enough, it could just be overlaying a geologically active zone. It isn’t unheard of.”
“But that would mean it could be thousands of feet deep.”
I shrug. “It could be.”
“How long do you think it has been isolated from the surface?” Nik asks.
Again, I shrug. “I don’t know. They were fracking Jurassic shale, so in theory, we could be looking at, what, one hundred and sixty million years?”
Marcus lets out a low whistle. “One hundred and sixty million? Are you serious?”
“Well, I’m not a paleobiologist… but yeah, we could be.”
“So, if anything is living in there, it could have been cut off from the rest of evolution for nearly two hundred million years?”
“Yeah.”
“If anything is living in there,” Fi says.
“Actually, the chances of there being something in there are pretty good,” says Brendan. “If the presence of bacteria indicates this system is still biologically active, there's no reason why not. Samples from other such isolated bodies of water indicate that life is quite capable of thriving independently of the outside world. Take Lake Vostok, for example. They went looking for bacteria and found fish.”
“You think there might be fish in there?” Marcus says.
“Could be.” Brendan grins, and I can’t help smile. His enthusiasm is infectious. “Who knows?”
Chapter Two
It doesn’t take us long to sort out a rudimentary base camp. Brendan and I are left to sort out the science shit (as Marcus calls it) whilst the others go off in pairs to scout out the rest of the ‘beach', but their feigned nonchalance doesn't hide their true intentions. I know what they’re really doing.
We haven’t found any evidence of the Alpha Team’s whereabouts apart from a lone boot-print near the water’s edge. What’s also pretty baffling is that the beach we’re studying right now bears no resemblance to the area the Alpha Team were filming in when their feed mysteriously gave up. So either we’ve taken a pretty huge wrong turn, or this is not where they ended up (which, in turn, throws up even more questions, starting with 'who the hell left the boot print?'). Problem is, apart from the sea, there isn’t anywhere left to go.
Preliminary geological samples indicate that a lot of the rocks around here are Palaeozoic in origin, which means that this area has been pretty much geologically stable for a hell of a long time. There’s minimal folding and I’m pretty stoked to find a couple of exquisite trilobite fossils that I know my palaeontologist buddies will be all over if I can justify taking them out of this system. Brendan is all but hopping around in glee, taking samples of the bacteria and setting little traps in the occasional rock-pool located at the water’s edge.
“Don’t you get it?” he asks at my puzzled looks. “It means this is a tidal system. It really is a sea.”
Despite everything, I grin back at him. Yes, Brendan, I get it. This whole place is pretty much the definition of awesome.
After a couple of hours, we’re all together, debating our next move. It’s weird. Now we’re here, we’re not entirely sure what to do. We’ve kind of confirmed an Alpha team sighting, if spotting a lone boot print counts as a sighting… now what?
Fi tries to send our report back, but the feed is screwed. Maybe that’s really what happened to the Alpha Team. But that only raises even more questions than answers. If the feed failed, fine – but then where are they?
I gaze over the cold, black water of the subterranean sea. Despite there being no breeze, its surface ripples. In the weird half-light of the bacteria, it’s eerily beautiful and totally disconcerting. Occasionally I hear a splash, which sets off the old imagination. Cut off from the surface for anything up to one hundred and sixty million years… What the hell could be down there? And do we really want to find out?
“Are you all right?” It’s Janos, playing again at being our group’s daddy.
I nod. “Just wondering.”
“Wondering what?”
“What might be down there. How things might be different – if anything survived to be different, of course…”
He grimaces, which is his way of smiling.
“Could be anything,” he says.
Yep, Janos – you said it.
“Hang on... That’s weird” We focus our attention on Brendan. He’s using the low lights, to scan the surface of the water, their oversized frames making him look strangely insectile. “The glow extends above the water over there. Like there is some kind of… of outcrop, or something.”
We glance at each other. We don’t need to say anything to know we’re all thinking the same thing.
That could be where the Alpha Team ended up.
“We should go look,” says Marcus. Nik gives him a disdainful look.
“Maybe we should spend a little more time than a couple of hours establishing ourselves here first-”
“Establishing ourselves for what?” Marcus says. “This cave is pretty much it. There aren’t any more caves, no pipes, no chimneys – nothing. This is a dead end. And besides, why did we hump the inflatable along if we weren’t going to use it?”
He’s got a point. Although far lighter than most domestic inflatables, the rubber dinghy still weighs a tonne. It seems stupid to bring it and not use it, especially when it was brought with the sole purpose of studying this body of water as extensively as possible. But, at the same time, I can see Nik’s point, too. I don’t know what it is, but there’s definitely something sinister about this sea. It’s probably nothing more than it being so damn old, and having been undiscovered for so long… but for all its beauty, it feels hostile, truly untamed and untameable.
We argue for a bit, and in the end, it is decided that we’ll spend a bit longer taking a few samples – mainly water ones, alongside a few chips of rock (that whole ‘take nothing but experience’ thing is really ingrained) before we prep ourselves for exploring the water in a little more detail.
“So how deep is it?” Fi asks, as she unpacks the small yellow square that will magically inflate to form a four-person boat.
Brendan shrugs. “Without getting in there? I don’t know, but I can try to find out.”
He unpacks a length of long line and ties a rock to one end. Above the rock, he then attaches a flare. We watch him as he wades out into the water, grinning like a five year old being allowed to sit up front in a fire engine for the first time. Which is ironic, considering I am suddenly gripped by an overwhelming desire to tell him to get out of the water, no don’t argue, just get the fuck out! I have to shake myself out of it – yes, it’s dark and creepy and weird, but this is not the 1980s, nor is it Camp fucking Crystal, so get a grip. He manages about t
en feet before he’s up to his waist. We can barely see him against the backdrop of the black water until he cracks the flare and lights the whole place in a demon-flash of crimson, turning the water around him a blood red.
He drops the flare into the water. It sinks and then disappears. All that is left is a red glow as it descends, until it finally disappears from our view entirely.
After a few minutes, Brendan winds the line back in and wades back over to us, shaking his head.
“Well?” Nik asks.
“It’s deep,” Brendan says. “There’s fifty foot of line there and I never once felt it hit anything. The ledge just drops off, straight down.”
“Like a trench,” I say.
“Like a what?” Fi asks.
“A trench. Straight down. Like when you get to the edge of a reef and then it just drops away.”
Brendan nods. “Yeah – exactly. The water coming up from it is pretty cold, too, which indicates it’s deep.”
“How deep?” Nik asks.
“Dunno. Could be a hundred, could be a thousand… hell, it could be more. Without proper equipment, your guess is as good as mine.”
“So we may have discovered a subterranean sea that is thousands of feet deep?” Fi asks.
Brendan shrugs. “Maybe.”
“Awesome.” Fi grins. “Dibs on being first in the dinghy.”
***
The boat takes just under a minute to inflate. Nik’s going to row us over – the little red paddles are a bit naff, but he’s pretty sure they should do the job, especially since the water looks calm. It’s decided that Marcus, Brendan and Fi should go over first, and then he’ll come back and pick up me, Janos and the bulk of the equipment if it looks like the boat can handle it.
There is much ribbing and laughing as the four of them wedge themselves in the tiny raft. For a minute, it looks doubtful it’ll actually float, but once they’re settled, Nik begins the precarious journey across the water, towards the glow.
Janos and I don’t speak, we just watch the lights from their headlamps twinkle on the surface of the water. They soon dwindle to pinpricks, tiny shafts of feeble white in the infinite blackness of the cavern. I shiver. Like I said before, I’m not hugely experienced when it comes to caves, but I’m finding the sheer enormity of this cavern even more daunting than the various chimneys, tubes and flatteners I’ve been forced to endure getting here. I never thought that would be the case, so it just goes to show, you never can tell.
There’s a shout in the distance, and immediately, Janos is on tenterhooks.
“Nik?” he calls out.
“What the-?” comes back.
There is the sound of splashing, and a single headlamp whips back and forth. Janos runs forward into the water, but I’m rooted to the spot, my blood thundering in my ears.
Finally, the little yellow inflatable can be seen again. Janos grabs its painter and pulls it into shallower water.
Nik looks white, his eyes huge.
“What happened?” Janos asks.
“I don’t know,” Nik says. “Something… something hit the boat. Made it rock. I thought it might, you know, capsize…”
“Probably a stray current,” Janos says.
Nik nods, but doesn’t look all that convinced. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I mean, what else would it be, right?” He takes a moment to compose himself whilst Janos and I gather up the equipment – our denuded backpacks, some recording equipment, nothing special – and gingerly pack it into the middle of the boat. Then Janos climbs on board and holds a hand out for me. Usually this would get the old feminist hackles right up, but there’s something charmingly old school about Janos. It seems that whatever former Eastern Block country he’s from (he did tell me once, but it technically doesn’t exist any more) manners are not dead.
It takes all of a minute for us to settle and Nik takes up the oars again. He swings to the right, avoiding the place, he got into trouble before – if it was a stray current (and who knows in this place? For all we know, nothing works as it should down here as no one’s ever managed to find a substantial body of water this deep before) he’s pretty keen to avoid it. I watch as the paddles dip into the dark water, causing ripples that undulate out, marking our passage from the shore when something else catches my eye.
“Hey… did you see that?”
Both Nik and Janos glance up at me, puzzled looks on their faces. Obviously not.
I peer back down, trying to penetrate the layers of blackness to see if I can catch a glimpse of it again, but there is nothing there. I thought I saw something pale glide by, nothing specific. Just a hint of a shadow of a possible shape, but it’s gone. If it was ever there in the first place.
“Never mind,” I say.
Nik keeps rowing. By now, the glow in the distance is more defined and I’m pretty sure I can make out the jagged outline of a rocky outcrop. Three slivers of light bob near its base – the rest of our team, or so I guess. Still we keep going, the sound of the oars splashing softly as Nik pulls them the only thing that breaks the silence.
I catch my breath when the inflatable skips, as if over a small collection of waves. Janos frowns, and Nik’s eyes dart all over the place, nervously.
“Another current?” Janos asks.
Nik shrugs. “I guess so-”
His answer is cut off as something grazes the underside of the inflatable.
Nik’s reaction is instantaneous. He draws the paddles in and freezes.
“What the hell was that?” I whisper, visions of amorphous pale things slithering through my head.
“Sand bar?” Janos says.
“Can you see a sand bar?” I say.
It’s Janos’ turn to shrug.
“I can't see m– whoa!’
The inflatable wheels around, as if someone had taken hold of the front and pushed it. I grab onto the little guide ropes that run its length and hang on tight. I didn’t think it was possible, but Nik’s gone even paler. Janos, on the other hand, is scanning the surface, looking for a culprit.
“Nik – row,” he says. “Get out of here.”
But Nik can’t row. Nik’s frozen, like me. We’re both staring at each other, daring not to look over the water. The boat lifts again, and then without any warning, something huge erupts from the surface and slaps down hard. It is easily as big as the dinghy, and a mottled pale grey. Maybe I wasn’t imagining things after all.
That galvanises Nik. Now he can’t row fast enough. He isn’t using the smooth, confident strokes of before – now he’s jerking on the paddles wildly, stirring up the water, sending us in circles. Janos topples back and starts swearing in a language I don’t understand (well, it sounds like swearing – if he isn’t, his native tongue is the single most awesome language ever invented). It takes him a moment to find his feet before he wrenches one of the paddles from Nik’s hand. He holds it in front of him, like a weapon, and I’m not sure if he means to help us get to safety or smack whatever it was that attacked the boat. Before I can make up my mind, I feel the rubber at my feet bulge upwards. I try to swallow, but my throat feels like it’s made of sandpaper. I lift my foot, and the whole world turns upside down.
Quite literally.
A flash of orange is replaced by pitch-black so cold it stops my heart. Even the thick neoprene of my environment can’t keep it out. It floods my mouth and tracks a burning trail to my lungs. It takes my mind a few seconds to realise what has happened. When it does, panic grips me. Which way is up? Down? I flail around, fighting down the urge to scream, fighting to find the surface. Something grabs at my arm. I struggle against it, but instead of letting go, it pulls me up. My head breaks the surface and I realise it is Janos. For once, his stoic mask has slipped – his dark eyes are huge, his mouth a rictus of fear. It’s weird how you notice these little things when you’re fighting for your life. It’s like your brain decides its going to divert your attention to other things whilst it goes off and whimpers in the corner.
&nbs
p; I try to take in a breath, but end up choking as the freezing fluid I have inhaled fights to be expelled. Janos has grabbed hold of what looks like a fragment of our inflatable; one of the ballast compartments, I think. The rest is in tatters around us. There are shouts from my left. Small pinpricks of light bob around, and I hear splashing.
“What the hell?”
“Are you guys all right?”
“What the fuck was that?”
The babble of questions brings me to my senses, just a little bit. It’s enough for me to be gather myself; whatever hit the boat was moving, and that means I need to get out of the water. I flail my arms and legs around, trying to remember how to swim. Then I feel a strange pulling sensation, like I’m caught in a current. I glance around myself, but I can’t see anything in the gloom.
“Swim!” Janos cries, and lets go of the remains of the dinghy.
I’m not a hugely good swimmer. I’m usually the queen of the slow breast stroke and that’s about it, but I crawled away from that dinghy like an Olympian, following Janos towards the lights – and, I hoped, the shore. Behind me, the water explodes again and there’s a deafening popping sound as the last of the air chambers in the inflatable gives way under… whatever it is. I can’t think about it. I don’t want to know. I just want to get away from it. I kick, frantic, scooping handfuls of water away from me until finally, my fingers scrape rock and I realise I’m able to stand up. I half-run, half-stagger into the shallows, where Marcus catches me.
“Fucking hell, Meg!” he says, his eyes like saucers. “What the hell happened?”
I can’t answer him. I’m too busy bringing up mouthfuls of briny water and trying to breathe. Janos is doing the same.
“Where’s Nik?” Fi asks.
