The Trench

by Paul Mannering

  Flora had heard the men sound angry before, of course—the majority of them were always angry. It was a lousy job, and while it paid well, the knowledge that you were making ungrateful people rich was a tough pill to swallow. In that one small way, she understood them.

  This time, however, was different. The men were shouting at each other, and the language was enough to turn the air blue. What if something was wrong with the barge? She hadn’t felt anything out of the ordinary, but what if they were sinking? They were in the middle of the South Pacific, with nothing but cerulean water stretching in every direction. If they sank, she’d never see Zach again. The thought hastened her footsteps as she hurried up the stairs.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  The captain turned on her, his face a florid red that warned of hypertension. He’d be dead in a few years if he wasn’t careful, but the knowledge brought only temporary comfort. “I thought you said the path was clear. I thought you said there were no obstructions.” As he screamed at her, flecks of his spittle struck her face. She resisted the urge to wipe them away.

  “It was. It is,” she said, feeling at a loss. The men glared at her. She took an unsteady step toward the cabins. “What happened?”

  “What happened is you don’t know shit. There is an obstruction, and since you can’t tell your ass from the ocean, we’ve just lost millions. Not to mention several days’ time.”

  “I assure you, Captain—there was no obstruction. My surveying was accurate. The information I gave you was correct.” Flora could hear the waver in her voice, and she forced herself to straighten her shoulders and rise to her full height, which wasn’t much compared to the rest of the crew. She couldn’t weaken in front of these goons. No matter what happened, they must never suspect they’d gotten to her.

  “Then how do you explain this?” Apostolos thrust a piece of jagged metal at her—metal that dripped with seawater, enhancing the strong metallic smell. She had no idea what it was, but she retreated another step, proud she hadn’t flinched when he’d flung whatever it was at her face.

  “I—I wish I could. Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” She glanced around the group, but didn’t find a single ally. The eyes that glared at her were unanimously cold. Every face was sunburned and windburned a dusky red, and none were clean-shaven. Men discarded such niceties very quickly when they were miles away from civilization. She thought of Lord of the Flies and suppressed a shudder.

  Finally, a voice of reason chimed in. “That’s what’s left of our drill, Ms. Duchovney. We hit something.” His name was Tim—or maybe Todd? She couldn’t remember. It started with a T, in any case. He looked younger than the rest, and maybe that made him less of a Neanderthal. She could only hope.

  “I don’t understand. There was nothing to hit. This…this isn’t rocket science, gentlemen. We’re in the middle of the ocean. We’re too far away from shore for any reef, and the survey was clean. You saw the results.”

  Apostolos spat and threw the hunk of twisted metal at her feet, making her jump. A few of the men smirked, and she hated them for it. “This is the only result I care about, Ms. Duchovney. The rest of it ain’t worth shit, and as far as I’m concerned, that includes you.”

  The captain pushed past her, cursing under his breath, leaving her alone with the rest of the crew.

  “Did—did anyone feel it hit anything?” She groped for answers like a blind woman, hoping for a glimmer of something that would make sense. She’d studied the results carefully. There had been no obstruction—she was certain of that. There was nothing below them but clear blue water.

  And oil.

  Lots and lots of oil.

  “Nothing. Everything was going as planned, and then suddenly the drill shattered. You see what’s left of it,” Tim or Todd said. There couldn’t have been more than ten inches.

  “But that’s impossible. Steel doesn’t shatter. If you’d hit something, the drill would have stopped. You’d feel the obstruction,” Flora said, determined to plead her case even though she knew her words were falling on deaf ears. She couldn’t explain what had happened, but she was certain she wasn’t to blame. Nothing in the survey could account for this. Actually, nothing in her career could explain it. “Steel doesn’t shatter,” she repeated.

  “I know, but it did. That piece there? That’s all we could save of it. I guess the rest is at the bottom of the ocean,” Tim/Todd said with a shrug.

  “What about sonar? Did anyone check?”

  He flushed scarlet. “That would have been the smart thing to do. Unfortunately, we didn’t think of it. I know it was clear when we started drilling.”

  Muttering curses, most of the men headed below deck, no doubt to drink themselves silly.

  When they were gone, she retrieved the metal. It was cold and shockingly heavy. What could have destroyed it so thoroughly?

  The loss of the drill was a terrible setback. It would take time to construct a new drill string—too much time, and that was only if the necessary materials were on board. Flora knew from her training manual that crews were often prepared to replace segments of the string, but not everything at once. If they had to return to the mainland, more precious days would be wasted. It might be weeks before she was reunited with her son.

  She forced the thought out of her mind. She didn’t have the luxury of getting upset—at least, not now. Although she was at a loss just as great as anyone else on the ship, she was the best person to formulate the answers.

  As she turned the twisted chunk of metal over and over in her hands, she saw what looked like great gouges in the steel. Pulling the fragment closer, she ran her fingers along the deep grooves, cutting herself.

  Flora hurried to the side of the boat, sucking the blood from her finger as she studied the ocean. It was deceptively calm, like an endless mirror. She loved days like this, but even they were not to be trusted. The ocean could change in a matter of minutes, crushing small craft before it smoothed out again. An endless cycle of life and death.

  How could she tell these men the truth? She couldn’t. They wouldn’t believe her. Worse, they would laugh at her.

  Still, her knowledge of biology had given her the impossible answer. Impossible, but nonetheless real.

  Those were tooth marks on the metal. Tooth marks from a creature not yet identified by science. Nothing known could have snapped a solid piece of industrial steel into so many pieces.

  There was something out there. Something unknown. Something that could shatter metal with a single bite.

  “Where are you?” she whispered as her eyes scanned the ocean. Not a single ripple appeared to answer her, but she felt something had heard her just the same.

  Shivering, she rushed to join the men below decks.

  She could use a drink.

  Monsters In Our Wake is available from Amazon here.