From the Deep

by Michael Bray

  “What the hell’s going on?” He roared.

  “They blocked my shot, and now it’s pissed.” He replied as calmly as if he were discussing an event in the news.

  “You have to help them,” Clara interjected, unable to stop staring at the wake left by the agitated creature as it started to turn back towards the boat.

  “Not until I get my shot,” Russo said again, showing her the barbed harpoon as if to emphasise his point.

  Murmurs from those on deck pulled Russo’s attention back to the water, just in time to see the creature smash broadside into the boat a second time, making deck boards explode as it was spun around, the resulting wake slewing the Victorious aside and furthering the distance between it and the Lisa Marie. Already wounded, the fishing boat began to slide slowly into the ocean, its bow lifting out of the water as its stern sank. The crew scrambled to stay above the waterline as the creature retreated again, pausing to snag Ox’s body where it bobbed on the surface, swallowing it in a singular bite as it once again raced away and readied a new attack.

  “If you don’t help them, they’ll die,” Clara said, and Russo turned to her. All eyes were on him, and he grinned.

  “Not until I get my shot.”

  “They’re innocent people!” She screamed.

  “Innocent? Those people interfered in a government operation. They don’t deserve my help.”

  “That’s not for you to decide, they need to be tried in a court.”

  Russo’s grin faltered for a second, and then he shrugged.

  “Either way, nobody steps foot on this boat until I get my shot.”

  “Then do it, take the damn shot and help them!” she said again, watching as the creature prepared to attack.

  “I can’t risk missing. If they hadn’t interfered, none of this would have happened. They only have themselves to blame.”

  “Give me the harpoon.” Clara said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You say you will help them if you make this shot, then give it to me. I’ll make sure it hits the target. You get those people out of the water.”

  “You better not be lying to me.”

  “Hurry up and hand me the damn harpoon.” She said, glaring at Russo.

  He did as she asked, and was about to instruct her on how to operate it when she deftly swung it onto her shoulder, adjusted her aim and readied to fire.

  “You’ve done this before,” Russo said, genuinely impressed.

  “Don’t talk to me. Just get those people out of the water before I change my mind.”

  Russo turned to Mito and nodded, and the officer ran to the lifeboat station. Clara aimed at the water, allowing her breathing to calm, making sure her feet were spread evenly as she watched the beast circle.

  “No games,” Russo hissed over her shoulder, the smell of his minty breath close to her face. “If you miss or try to screw me, I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

  She could feel the eyes of everyone on deck boring into her and tried her best to ignore it. The sun was hot on her neck and a trickle of sweat ran down the inside of her nose. She adjusted her aim slightly, paused and spoke to Russo.

  “I’m, ready. You’d better stick to your word.”

  “That all depends on you.”

  She ignored him, readying herself as the creature charged, looking to finish off the stricken boat, which was rapidly losing its fight to stay afloat.

  She relaxed her shoulders and exhaled as the grey streak raced along below the surface. Sunlight glittered off the water, making it difficult to be sure where she was aiming. She squeezed the trigger, hoping against hope to land a fleshy spot on the creature somewhere the barbed harpoon could find purchase. She had expected a deafening roar of gunfire when she squeezed the trigger, but instead, the weapon fired with a hollow pneumatic Whumph as the harpoon speared into the water, burying itself in the soft flesh above the creature’s eye. The harpoon sheared through tangled clusters of nerves, igniting pain receptors, which sent the charging beast into agonising spasms. Rearing away from the crippled Lisa Marie, the creature dived deep, trying to cool the searing pain of the dart in its flesh. Clara lowered the spent harpoon, then turned to watch Mito as he loaded its survivors into the lifeboat and winched it to the deck. Clara dropped the harpoon, trying to ignore Russo’s oozing smile.

  “Thank you,” he said, clapping his hands together as Rainwater and Mackay were ushered towards Russo. Morrison followed, hands in pockets and smiling as he took his place beside Russo.

  Rainwater watched as the bow of his father’s boat sank beneath the waves, leaving only a field of debris to let anyone know it had ever existed.

  “Mito, escort our new friends below decks and make sure they stay out of trouble.”

  “You can’t do this, they didn’t do anything.” Clara said, glaring at Russo.

  “Oh, don’t worry. You’re joining them.”

  “You need me.”

  “I did,” he said, grinning as he opened a fresh pack of mints and popped one into his mouth, “until you tagged the creature. Mr Morrison will be taking over your duties from now on.”

  Mito escorted them away, flanked by two soldiers with automatic weapons. Russo watched them go, and then took a deep breath. Everything was going exactly to plan.

  “Okay,” he said, clapping his hands together, “let’s get back to work, shall we?”

  CHAPTER 41

  Greg managed to get out of the hatch and swam around the cage and to the surface. He burst from the water, tearing the regulator from his mouth and gulping in fresh air. For a moment, euphoria replaced the pain.

  “Mrs Milla!” he screamed, clinging on to the winch cable with his remaining hand.

  Her moon face appeared over the edge of the boat, eyes wide with panic.

  “I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to pull the cage up, then that thing showed up and attacked the other boat...” she stammered, then saw his ravaged arm.

  “Where’s Paul? Please, tell me he’s not dead, oh God, oh, God, it got him didn’t it? That thing ate him...” her words became incoherent babble, which in turn became sobs.

  “Mrs Milla,” he said, trying his best to keep calm. “He’s fine. He’s injured but fine. You need to help me out of the water. I’m hurt and can’t do it by myself.”

  “I can’t cope if he’s dead, I told him not to do this, but he insisted, he’s stubborn, you see.”

  “If you don’t shut up and listen to me, he’ll die.” Greg snapped. “Please, I need to raise the cage and get him some help. I need you to help me.”

  He spoke slowly, trying to coax the hysterical woman into action.

  “What if it comes back,” she whispered, looking out to sea at the departing Victorious. “See? Even they’ve left us.”

  “Mrs Milla, you see the controls for the winch?”

  “Yes, I already tried, when that thing surfaced, I tried. Oh God, what are we going to do…” she was about to lose it again, and though he felt like a heartless bastard for doing it, he shouted at her again.

  “Stop it. I need you to focus. Do you see the controls?”

  “I already told you I tried it!” She wailed. “The button doesn’t work.”

  “At the bottom of the winch panel, there’s a toggle switch. Do you see it?”

  She walked over to the controls.

  “Yes, yes I see it.”

  “That’s the winch lock, press it and—”

  The winch started to move as she sprang into action and activated the controls. Greg let the cable slide through his hand and watched the cage come to the surface complete with the remains of the dead shark. His feet touched the sharks flesh, and started to lift him out of the water. Straddling either side of the corpse, he was raised out of the water enough to hop on board the boat, his stumpy wrist spilling precious blood all over the bright, clean deck boards.

  “First aid kit…” he said, pointing towards the wheelhouse as he held his wounded arm
in the air.

  She hurried off, doing as she was told. Greg looked at the cage, which was now half out of the water. With the extra load of the shark, it was too heavy to pull out all the way. Inside the cage, Paul floated face down at the bottom. Greg stopped the winch, and lowered it so it was level with the transom of the boat. “Help me with this,” he said as he leaned into the body of the shark.

  “Is it…”

  “It’s dead,” He grunted as he put his shoulder to the shark’s body, shoving with everything he could muster. “Now please, help me push it off the door so I can get him out of the water.”

  Despite his concern that he would have to coerce Mrs Milla into helping, the sight of her husband floating in the cage spurred her on, and she drove her shoulder into the shark carcass, gritting her teeth as she shoved. At first, the dead fish held in place, then it was moving, sliding off the cage and into the water where it sank out of sight.

  “Okay,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “Get some bandages ready for my arm whilst I swing the cage onto the boat.”

  Pale faced, Mrs Milla did as she was asked, watching her husband’s body bob on the water as Paul manipulated the winch controls, first bringing the cage out of the water and swinging it over the edge of the deck, where he set it down. With his good arm, he grabbed the top of the cage, trying to tip it over.

  “Mrs Milla…” he muttered as white spots began to dance across his vision.

  She came immediately, helping him to lower the cage onto its side.

  “Good, now call the Coast Guard whilst I help him.” He said, scrambling through the top hatch. He absently wondered what had happened to his hand, and presumed it had fallen into the ocean when he had dislodged the shark.

  “Will he be alright?” she asked, a pale faced ghost who was looking at him with expectation.

  “I’ll do my best to help him. Please, make that call. Tell them we need someone out here ASAP.”

  Mrs Milla disappeared into the wheelhouse, as Greg did the best he could with one hand to drag Paul out onto the deck. Whatever happened, he swore he was done with the ocean. He had treated it with respect and in response, it had chewed him up and spat him out.

  “Hey, man, you with me?” he asked as he looked at Paul. He was murmuring, his eyes half closed. Blood streamed from his eyes and ears and pooled around the back of his head.

  “We have some help on the way, just hang tight, okay?”

  It took twenty-five minutes for the Coast Guard helicopter to arrive. By then, Paul Milla had already succumbed to his injuries. As the chopper drew closer, Greg sat on the blood-streaked deck, his roughly bandaged stump held upright to stem the blood flow. They had covered Paul with a towel, leaving his wife sobbing at his side as she held his hand. Greg glared out to sea, knowing somewhere in the deep, the huge creature that had ruined his life lived on.

  CHAPTER 42

  Rainwater, Mackay, and Clara were led through the bowels of the Victorious. Mito opened the door to the storage room and ushered them inside.

  “How long are we expected to stay here?”

  “Not for long,” Mito said, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re having rooms prepared for you, and this is the safest place to hold you for now.”

  “Hold us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? What have we done?” Rainwater pressed.

  “That’s not for me to say.”

  With that, Mito closed the door and locked it, leaving the trio alone. Rainwater sat on the floor and leaned his head against the hull.

  “Thanks for what you did, to help us I mean.” He said, looking at Clara.

  “It might have helped you, but it gave him what he wanted.”

  “How did you get involved in all this?” Mackay asked. “You shouldn’t be mixing with a prick like Russo. He’s dangerous.”

  She shrugged, sliding down the wall into a sitting position opposite Rainwater.

  “I keep asking myself that same thing and I’ll be damned if I can figure it out. I thought it was going to be some kind of scientific study of a new species. At the start, I mostly dealt with the other guy, Andrews. I thought he was in charge. Now it looks more and more like Russo is pulling his strings.”

  “So what are you, some kind of scientist?” Mackay asked.

  “Marine biologist. They brought me out here to consult and help them to locate this thing.”

  “But why?” Rainwater said. “Why is the government so interested in this creature? I can understand the need to make sure the public are safe, why don’t they kill it instead of going to all this trouble to tag it?”

  “Fucked if I know, lad,” Mackay grunted. “This whole situation seems screwed up to me.”

  “I know what he wants, and it has nothing to do with public safety.”

  Mackay and Rainwater both stared at Clara, who looked right back at them.

  “Go on,” Rainwater said.

  “I had my suspicions he was up to no good, so I did some snooping. I found a folder full of stuff about something called Project Blue.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It seems they knew about this thing since ninety seven when they recorded its call on sonar. They’ve been looking for it ever since. Called it ‘The Bloop’.”

  “I heard of that,” Rainwater said. “They said it was a sound louder than anything ever recorded on earth. Didn’t they recently explain it as an ice quake?”

  “Of course they did. The public was getting too interested, so as they always do, they fabricated a story to stop people from asking questions.”

  “Why the gap? Why has this thing only surfaced now?” He asked.

  “According to the documents, the government was desperate to find this creature without success when they first detected the signal. They’d almost given up until our friend Andrews came up with the same theory I did.”

  “And what theory is that?” Mackay said.

  “That this creature has some kind of lair and had maybe gone into hibernation.”

  “For so long?”

  “It’s not as strange as it sounds. Sea currents move millions of tons of micro bacterial organisms around the ocean. It’s entirely plausible that much like certain whales, this creature allowed the currents to pass through it, taking out the nutrients from the ocean and giving it a rudimentary form of sustenance. All it would need is a lair. Somewhere for it to remain undisturbed.”

  “Any idea what made it wake up, or why it went into hibernation in the first place?” Rainwater asked.

  “I don’t know why it would have gone into suspension, but I would have to be able to examine the creature in detail before I could give an answer. As far as it waking, I do have a theory. It seems just before it became active, a huge section of the Ross Ice Shelf fell into the ocean. I suspect our creature was holed up nearby when it happened, and the sound of the quake roused it. Like any animal, it will be looking to establish its territory and it will need to feed regularly. A creature of that size would need to take on a substantial amount of food to sustain it.”

  “I take it the micro critters won’t cut it anymore?” Mackay asked.

  Clara shook her head. “No, whilst it was inactive and conserving its energy, such a diet would suffice. Now it is active and burning millions of calories a day, it will need to feed more regularly.”

  “Morrison seemed to think it fed every couple of days.” Rainwater said.

  “Don’t mention his name to me,” Mackay growled. “I still have unfinished business with that bastard.”

  “Nevertheless, he was right,” Clara said. “My guess is it feeds every fifty to sixty hours, supplemented by whatever else it can find along the way. It’s a natural hunter, so those figures are guidelines more than fact. Before I came out here, I’d been looking into a spate of unexplained beaching’s. Sea life of all varieties were veering out of their usual migratory patterns and literally swimming out of the ocean. My guess is they were trying to get away from our creature.”
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  “I still don’t get it,” Rainwater said. “Why is the government so desperate to find this thing?”

  “That’s what Project Blue is. Russo’s job is to find the creature and tag it with a tracker, which he has now done. It seems the government came to the same conclusion I did. Based on the creatures feeding pattern and the spate of beaching’s, it must have a lair of some kind, a place where it dwells between feeds. The chances are it will be close to where it first went into hibernation, and would be secluded and large enough to house it comfortably.”

  “So this prick Russo finds its lair, then what? Does he kill it? If he does I’m not sure we should be trying to stop him.” Mackay said, his eyes glinting in the gloom.

  “That’s the point,” Clara shot back. “At first, I wanted to conserve this creature, to study it, now, I recognise it’s just too dangerous to be allowed to exist. Not only has it played havoc with the entire marine ecosystem, it’s a threat to our economy too. Fishing, shipping, transportation, undersea drilling. All of those things would all have to stop. Our oceans would be rendered pretty much unusable. I don’t like to see animals harmed, but whatever this thing is, it shouldn’t be here. It needs to be destroyed.”

  “And I take it our prick of a captor has other plans for it?”

  Clara looked at Mackay and nodded. “Project Blue is an extension of a government initiative first trialled in the early seventies. The idea was to see if there was any gain from harnessing and using animal life as weapons of war. There were a few trials with wild lions that were taught to hunt enemy soldiers, and dolphins that were fitted with cameras and trained to swim off enemy coastlines and record naval movements and such. According to the records, it was too expensive and was shut down in nineteen eighty-three. When Andrews heard about the Bloop and was told of the potential scale of the creature, he immediately started to research Project Blue, which had been worked on by his father. It becomes a little hazy here as to what happened. Either way, it seems this is where Russo appeared on the scene. He had the connections high in the government to reopen Project Blue and be given control over it.”