The Depths

by Nick Thacker

  Austin’s hobby bordered on the insane, but Sylvia had to admit that the man was the best botanist she’d ever met. He could recite the latin names of each variety—and subspecies—of any plant he saw, and he knew their medicinal and common uses as well.

  She had always chided herself for letting it become one of the features of Austin she was most attracted to.

  “Sylvia,” he said. His voice was barely a whisper, and he still hadn’t looked up from the computer.

  “Jeremiah. Hi, um,” she began.

  He frowned, and she stopped talking.

  Finally he stood, then glanced up at her with a bored expression. “Are we on track?”

  “Yes,” she replied, “We’re getting somewhere.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached down to his computer and clicked around for a moment.

  Sylvia heard a pre-recorded audio file begin to play.

  “Listen, I—”

  “Sylvia.”

  “Right. Sylvia, you know I can’t—”

  “Mark, did you do any work for a company called Nouvelle Terre?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did. We had a contract with them, but it was terminated. We tried to reinstate, but it was denied.”

  A brief pause.

  “Sylvia, come on. It was just a contract…”

  Sylvia’s eyes widened. “You recorded this?”

  “Don’t you understand that I’m not a man of chances? I don’t have time for—”

  “Yes,” she said, interrupting him. It was a risk, but she was livid. “Yes, I know you’re on a tight schedule, and I can respect that. This project will be completed on time, and I will get that information, Jeremiah.”

  He looked her up and down, slowly, examining her figure. A slight lift in his upper lip told Sylvia all she needed to know.

  She stepped forward, moving carefully around the desk. “Austin, is everything okay?”

  She reached out with her left hand, placing it gently on his bicep. He looked down again and moved the mouse around on his computer’s desktop.

  “Can I get you anything?” She looked toward the rolling liquor cart and decanter at the front of the office. She knew there was only cranberry juice inside; Austin didn’t drink.

  “No.” He rolled his shoulder, brushing her hand from his arm, and she stepped back around to the front of the desk. “I need to keep moving, and if you can’t deliver…”

  Was he threatening her?

  “You know I can deliver.”

  “Then why is it taking so long?”

  She couldn’t answer that.

  He paced around the office and stopped at a large purple flower in a ceramic pot on the shelf. “Do you know what this is?”

  She didn’t.

  “It’s called aconitum napellus, or monkshood. The flowers are beautiful, and so it makes a fine addition to a home garden. But crush the root and eat it, and you’ll be asphyxiated.”

  “Really?”

  “Without fail. It contains a compound called alkaloid aconite, and it’s been known to cause silent, virtually untraceable deaths.”

  He moved to another plant, this time a huge-leafed bush that stood behind a glass enclosure.

  “And this. This is called hogweed, heracleum mantegazzianum, and it can grow over twenty feet tall. It’s extremely potent, and just touching it causes lesions, blindness, and eventual death.”

  He continued around the room, Sylvia growing more and more terrified by the minute. She knew a few of the plants, but had no idea that each of them were toxic or poisonous to humans.

  Finally, he came to an assuming—actually, quite beautiful—flower in another large pot. She knew this one.

  “That’s an angel trumpet, right? South American?”

  He looked impressed. “Indeed. The brugmansia, and yes. It’s found in South American countries, and it produces my favorite effect. It produces scopolamine, which can be turned into a powder, a liquid, or any number of simple-looking materials. Scopolamine is highly reactive, but completely unnoticeable to the victim.”

  She waited for the final blow as he said victim.

  “Scopolamine, once in the bloodstream, and combined with the other toxins found in the trumpet—hyoscyamine and atropine—causes the victim to act in strange ways, though completely unaware of what they’re doing.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Experiments range from subjects driving to random locations, acting out in violent ways, and even overeating to the point of death. It depends on the subject, of course, but in some cases it can be temporarily controlled.”

  “Controlled? How?”

  “Electrical pulses, usually, but to some extent also with a reverse-engineered cocktail of proteins found in the animals and parasites that use the angel trumpet as food and shelter.”

  She recognized this last statement. “That’s what your research was back in Philadelphia, right?”

  “Yes, but with different implications. I was able to combine both the electrical pulses and the proteins into an injected compound. The electrical signals need to be activated remotely, but generally it’s a completely workable solution.”

  “Solution to what?”

  He reached for a box on his shelf, and placed it on his desk. Sylvia watched curiously as he opened the box and withdrew a syringe. He stabbed himself with it, and he must have noticed the shocked expression on Sylvia’s face.

  He smiled. “Sylvia, you know exactly what all of this is. The project’s scope is larger than any we’ve tried to accomplish, but you and I both know we can’t accomplish anything else without bringing it all back down to the granular level. You continually refuse to do as I ask, especially when it comes to that boy.”

  He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the chemicals take their effect.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about! But it doesn’t matter. I’ve now got his father and the leader of their crack team ready for surgery, so I’ve been able to sidestep your little games. Compassion is a curse, Sylvia, and the sooner you learn that the sooner you’ll be able to truly understand all of this.”

  He walked over to the computer and pressed a key. “Speaking of ‘little games,’ I thought I might show you one of mine. I can assure you—this whole thing is going to play out my way, whether you like it or not. I hope you understand that.”

  Immediately, small vents in the ceiling began emitting a gas into the office. Sylvia shrieked and ran for the door, but Austin stepped in front of it. He grabbed her wrists, smiling into her brown eyes. “Sylvia, calm down. You know I wouldn’t hurt you. I just wanted you to share this with me. I want you to understand what we’re working on here.”

  His thumbs rubbed the undersides of her wrists, and she faltered a bit. He caught her, and she felt herself going to sleep.

  No. Her eyes opened, and she saw Jeremiah’s concerned expression. He had a fiery look in his eyes, though, as his hands dropped hers. She tried to step backwards, but found her feet locked to the floor.

  She willed herself to move but found her body completely unresponsive to her brain’s commands.

  After a minute, a feeling of complete relaxation overcame her, and she was stunned to realize what Jeremiah had injected into the room.

  Brugmansia.

  Angel trumpet.

  She couldn’t voluntarily move, but her unconscious mind now had complete control of her movement.

  Jeremiah approached her again, this time closing the distance between them to mere inches. He jerked her toward him, his hand pushing against her lower back, and she could feel the warmth of his body.

  She screamed—not out loud, but in her own head, but it was useless.

  She couldn’t even object.

  Chapter 34

  “SO HOW OLD ARE YOU?” Nelson asked.

  Erik answered in clipped English. “Twenty-six.”

  Nelson opened his mouth to speak, but Jen spoke fro
m behind them. “Wow, you look, uh…”

  “Older. Yes. I know,” Erik said. “I have always appeared older than I am.”

  Jen could understand that. Erik’s stark features didn’t match his pleasant and unassuming personality. His head was rectangular, with squared corners around his chin and the facial appearance of Frankenstein.

  “And what were you doing for Dr. Richards?” Nelson asked. He was walking behind Saunders and Carter, followed by Erik and Jen directly behind him. They’d walked in silence for thirty minutes, but had yet to find the exit that would deposit them on the lower levels.

  “I was an assistant. Research and lectures, but I was also her personal assistant.”

  “Personal, eh?” Nelson said.

  “Not like that. Lin—Dr. Richards—was the only professor who took an interest in my work when I came here. She understand the challenges I faced, or at least accepted them.”

  “What kind of challenges?”

  “I am interested in a specific sort of oceanography that does not garner much of a following,” he said.

  No one asked another question, waiting for Erik to continue.

  “My undergraduate work back in Russia was in general oceanographic studies. But my real interest is in more obscure fields. My graduate work with her, when I had time to focus on my own, was in celestial oceanographic geology.”

  “Celestial oceano-what?” Nelson asked.

  Jen wasn’t sure if the young man was playing with them all or not. “Seriously?” she asked.

  “Yes. I understand the effect is has on the established scientific community, but I cannot deny the truth. Ever since childhood I have been fascinated with the possibility.”

  “What? The possibility of what?” Nelson asked.

  Jen responded. “Hog, you know what celestial means, right?”

  “Yeah, space and stuff.”

  “Right. Well, it means he’s interested in studying ‘space oceans.’”

  “Really?” Nelson said. “That’s a thing?”

  “Well,” Erik replied, “it is, though admittedly not as popular a field as I would hope. It tends to be a bit, um, less respected than other fields.”

  Jen couldn’t see Nelson in front of Erik, but she sensed he was still confused. “Erik, I know what it means to have a passion, but if I may—isn’t that field considered to be wildly speculative?”

  “And improbable. The thought that celestial oceanography could lead to our understanding of our own planet’s life cycles is certainly far-fetched, but it is my calling.”

  Nelson stopped and turned around. “So, you’re telling me you study space oceans hoping to find…what? Aliens?”

  “Well, yes, that is part of it. I believe that there is an extraterrestrial body somewhere out there that can teach us much about our own planet’s formation, development, and possibly creation of life.”

  “Well, to each his own, I guess,” Nelson said, content with the man’s answer.

  Jen was impressed with Nelson’s faithful acceptance of Erik’s field of study, but similarly satisfied with the young man’s integrity and determination to follow his own dream. She let the silence fill the space again and followed silently behind.

  The group walked another few minutes, and soon they heard the gentle hum of faraway machinery. The sound rose to fill the pathway and eventually began to shake the ground.

  “Wow, pretty heavy stuff,” Nelson said. Light trickled now from somewhere up ahead. Jen couldn’t see the opening, but sensed they were near.

  Within seconds, the orange arch of the tunnel’s end came into view, and she saw Saunders and Carter standing just inside the cave.

  Nelson and Erik reached them next, and Jen turned to wait for Dr. Pavan to show up.

  There was no one behind her.

  “Dr. Pavan?” She called into the darkness. “Sanjay?”

  Erik and the others turned as well, and Erik stepped next to her. “When did you last hear him?” he asked.

  “I—I don’t know,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. Calm down, she told herself. He’s just a few paces behind.

  They waited a full minute, but Dr. Pavan didn’t show.

  Jen stepped back into the tunnel, but Carter’s commanding voice stopped her. “Wait,” he said. “You can’t just run back in there.”

  She thought for a moment, then stepped forward again, this time taking off into a brisk walk.

  “Jen!” Carter shouted. His voice a mix of surprise and annoyance.

  Jen broke into a run, fighting back tears. Am I really this emotionally compromised? A part of hear screamed to stop; another part of her told her she was personally responsible if something happened to Sanjay.

  She heard footsteps behind her. Erik was keeping pace with her, and she thought she heard Nelson grumbling, but following as well.

  Good, she thought. As irrational as this was, she was still glad the others were with her.

  She ran a few minutes, then slowed to a jog, following the bouncing beam of her flashlight. After another two minutes, Erik grabbed her arm.

  “What?” she snapped, whipping around to face the younger man. She had made this far; she wasn’t about to be convinced to give it up.

  Erik just pointed with his flashlight. She’d passed it without noticing.

  It was a split in the tunnel system, a simple fork in the road. They’d descended via the tunnel on the left, but the right section clearly headed down and away from them.

  Nelson caught up and stopped, placing his hands on his knees. He sucked air for a moment, then frowned at Jen. “Really? You just gonna take off like that from now on?”

  He was about to continue, but then saw what Jen and Erik were looking at. “Aw, hell.”

  Carter and Saunders found them, and they quickly agreed to search a few minutes down the right passageway.

  “Listen,” Carter said. “Dr. Pavan is here somewhere, and these caves aren’t that big. They’re also completely contained. We know there are only a few ways in and out.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t know where those other…things are,” Nelson said.

  “And we don’t know if he’ll pop out on Level Four again,” Carter added. “If the Russians are up there, he’ll need to lay low for a while until we can find him. Let’s move in. Stay together, keep a light on in the front and back, and move slow.”

  Saunders and Nelson entered the right passageway without hesitation, followed by Erik. Jen walked toward the opening, but Carter pulled her aside. “Listen, Jen,” he started. Jen could tell from his tone that he was trying especially hard to sound serious, in charge. “This is a recovery operation. Ten minutes—fifteen max—and we’re turning around.”

  She frowned.

  “We don’t have time to exhaustively search these caves, and you and I both know that Dr. Pavan is not critical to the mission—”

  “Critical?” Jen said, her voice seething.

  “Jen, stop. Your mission is to find out what Nouvelle Terre wants so you can find Reese. And now we need to find Mark, remember?”

  The mention of her son’s name made her blood run cold. Of course I remember. “But we can’t just leave him here,” she said.

  “We’re not. We search awhile, get back to the lower levels, and continue the primary mission. This is a research station under five miles of seawater, Jen. He’s not going anywhere.”

  Jen nodded.

  “We’re wasting time. Let’s keep moving.”

  He waited for Jen to pass, and then flicked on his light and followed close behind her.

  Jen’s mind was racing as they descending down the path. Where was Mark? Where was Reese, for that matter? And why was Carter so apathetic about it all? It certainly wasn’t just his profession.

  She thought about Nelson, and how the man seemed genuinely concerned for Jen’s well-being, and that of the rest of the team. He was a good man, but so was Carter.

  Right?

  She thought about Saunders. The woman w
as cold, that was certain. But was there more to her? Why hadn’t she spoken since she and Erik found them in the cavern?

  Saunders and Nelson stopped just ahead of Jen. She stepped forward, trying to peer around Erik.

  “Oh, wow…” Nelson whispered.

  For the first time in over an hour, Saunders spoke. “Bloody hell.”

  Jen followed their gaze downward and saw what had caused the reaction.

  Erik gripped Jen’s arm tightly as he saw what they were looking at.

  Jen and the others were standing on the edge of a massive cliff. The flashlight beams, all combined, barely illuminated the cavern floor below. The path they were on ended in a drop of over three hundred feet, and sprawled at the bottom was a single body.

  Dr. Pavan’s.

  His white shirt was hanging loosely outside of his pressed khaki pants, and he was missing a shoe. It looked like his leg had been bent completely backward, and one of his arms lay underneath the rest of his body.

  “Oh my God,” Jen said. I’m sorry, she thought. She heard Carter breathe in sharply beside her.

  Erik stepped back and turned away from the cliff.

  “He must have had his light off,” Saunders said. “It would have been completely dark, and he was probably trying to find us by our light.”

  Carter nodded, but Jen could see Nelson shaking his head ever so slightly. “What?” she asked.

  “Huh? Oh, I, uh, was just thinking. That fall would kill anyone, for sure, but I don’t think he fell.”

  “What are you talking about, Hog?” Saunders asked. “Look at the poor devil.”

  “No, I mean, look where he is.”

  Saunders didn’t respond, but Jen knew immediately what Nelson was implying.

  “He’s laying out there, what—fifteen, twenty meters?”

  “So?” Saunders said. “He probably rolled a ways before he stopped.”

  “No,” Carter said. “You’re right, Nelson. That’s too far.”