The Depths

by Nick Thacker

  Jen didn’t seem impressed, either. She didn’t say anything, but her eyebrows rose as she and Reese stepped in behind Mark.

  “What do we do?” she asked him.

  Mark thought for a moment. “We’re not safe here, even without them shooting at us. It’s pretty open out there, and I know at least one of them watched us run in here.”

  Reese held his mother’s hand, but he looked up at Mark. “Dad, don’t you think we can each take a window to look out of? At least we’ll know if they’re following us.”

  Mark nodded, appreciative of the idea. “Jen, get over in the kitchen. Reese, stay close, but look out the one behind the dining room table. I’ll stay in here, since the window faces back into the open clearing. If either of you see anything, yell, then get down. Am I clear?”

  He turned to see Jen and Reese nodding. He took his position at the window, wiping away a thick sheet of dust around the sill. They most likely saw us run into the house, he thought. He swept his hand across his brow, wiping away the sweat droplets that had formed there.

  But we weren’t looking behind us at all. The realization hit him at the same time as the sound of pounding footsteps on the front porch.

  “Reese!” he yelled.

  But it was too late. The footsteps reached the open front door—why hadn’t he closed it!—and he saw the shadow of a large man standing just outside. He spun around, staying crouched, as a barrage of rifle shots pounded holes through the thin sheet rock on the walls. Bullet holes quickly riddled the floor and walls, and Mark held his gun ready.

  The first Russian mercenary rounded the corner and stepped into the house, his gun firing on full automatic. Mark had just enough time to ensure that Reese had moved from the dining room to the kitchen, away from the direct line of sight. He lifted the stolen gun a bit higher and pulled the trigger. It was set to burst fire, and three rounds quickly sailed from the end of the gun and dropped the man standing in the doorway.

  Before he could move to another position, a second soldier—one of the Russian women he’d seen earlier—stepped in to take the place of the first. She lifted her gun, but Mark was already prepared. He hadn’t moved, so his aim was still true. He fired. She faltered, then fell.

  Mark felt the click of the gun’s empty ammunition chamber before he heard it and cursed under his breath. He reached down instinctively, only to remember he’d been traveling as a civilian. There was no more ammo to grab.

  As the woman fell into a heap on the wood floor, a third soldier stepped into view. He wasn’t as slow as his teammate, and Mark could only watch helplessly as the man lifted his rifle, pointed it at Mark, and pulled the trigger.

  The single bullet tore through the air and ripped into Mark’s shoulder. He realized what had happened before he felt any pain, but the searing fire of the torn flesh alerted his brain soon enough.

  Mark had never experienced pain like this before. Part of his training at the company had included extended periods of submersion under water, subjecting himself to mild torture, and other wild forms of “hardening,” as the company liked to put it. But nothing could have prepared him for the unbelievable torment of being shot. He had no body armor; no medication to numb the pain.

  The blood came shortly after, seeping down his arm in bursts of warm throbs. But Mark’s mind was focusing on one thing: the man standing in front of him.

  The Russian was huge, at least six and a half feet tall and three hundred pounds. The bulk of the man didn’t belie his strength, either. Mark could see rippling muscles on his neck and arms, the only portions of his skin that were uncovered.

  The man glared down at Mark and grinned. He stammered something in Russian, but Mark didn’t budge. Again, the man said something in his foreign tongue, then stepped forward.

  This is it, Mark thought. I was brought here to do something, and I succeeded. They have no use for me now.

  Mark dropped the useless assault rifle and lifted his chin. He didn’t dare look toward the kitchen, where he knew Reese and his wife were waiting, probably watching.

  The man stepped forward again, lifting his gun into the air.

  God, this man wants to beat me to death.

  Mark eyed the rifle as it began its downward arc. Maybe I can—

  Before the rifle landed, and before Mark could finish his thought, a gunshot tore through the silence in the room. The man in front of him staggered, then went limp. He stood for another two seconds before falling heavily on the floor, blood spurting up from his chest.

  Mark opened his eyes—he didn’t remember closing them—and looked at the front door.

  Nelson was standing in the doorway, his silhouette carved out of the light surrounding his frame.

  “Nelson!” Mark said, ecstatic.

  “Thought you might need a hand,” the Brit said haphazardly as he entered the house.

  Reese ran around the corner and jumped onto Nelson.

  “Woah, boy, didn’t see you there!” Nelson said. “Might have put a bullet into that little head, if I wasn’t careful.”

  Jen gave Nelson a horrified look, but it quickly melted into a smile.

  “Let’s get that arm looked at,” Nelson said, moving toward Mark. Mark tried to sit up straighter against the wall, but failed miserably. The pain was too much. Nelson bent down next to him and peeled away some of the shirt. “Jen, can you see if there’s anything in the kitchen to sop this up with?”

  Jen turned and left for the kitchen, while Reese watched Nelson work. He grabbed his knife and cut the remainder of Mark’s shirtsleeve, exposing the wound.

  “Looks like it went clear through,” Nelson said. “That’s good news, but it’ll still hurt like high heaven.”

  Mark frowned up at the soldier.

  “Shut up. My mum used to say it all the time.”

  Mark chuckled, but then turned to more serious banter. “What’s it like out there?”

  “Well, quiet, thanks to you. Seems like they all wanted your a—” he hesitated, looking at Reese, then changed course. “Wanted, uh, you. Five of them ran behind you, and I took out two on the way. The others were pretty close behind, but I guess you held them off well enough.”

  He looked down at the man and woman lying dead on the floor.

  Mark shrugged with one shoulder. “Well enough, I guess.”

  “I didn’t get a count of the others that we eliminated, but I’d guess there are at least five unaccounted for. Let’s get you taken care of,” Nelson said, reaching for the dish rags Jen had brought from the kitchen. “If Jen won’t mind cleaning you up—”

  “No.” Mark’s voice was strong, prepared. He looked up at the British soldier. “No, Nelson. We need to finish this, and I’m not letting you do my work for me.” He reached his good arm up, silently asking for a hand. Nelson hesitated, but grabbed Mark’s arm. He pulled him to a kneeling position, then up to his feet.

  Mark looked toward Jen. “Jen, I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to…” his words trailed off as he realized Jen was smiling.

  “You know what? I think I wished for something like this after everything happened.”

  Nelson butted in. “You wished we’d get stuck under the ocean shooting our way out?”

  “No, I mean I wished you were right; that it was some elaborate setup from your company, and that you weren’t who you said you were. I never thought you could do something like that, Mark.” Her eyes fell, then she looked up at him again. “It wasn’t you. You were angry, of course, but I couldn’t believe you’d take it out on me like that.”

  Mark stood silent.

  “After I caught you, and you argued with me about it—you’d always been a great arguer—I thought it was weird how little sense it made. Where she came from, who she was, and why.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Whatever happened, it clearly wasn’t you. You were tricked, like you said. And I can’t say I’m not grateful that you’re not just a computer nerd.”

  It was
Mark’s turn to smile. “Well, you know, I still am a nerd.” He reached out to hug Jen, and she fell into his arms. After a moment, he pulled away and turned toward Nelson.

  “Saunders is still out there,” Mark said, “and so is Austin. Not to mention—” Mark stopped. “Wait. What about the president?”

  “Oh, that guy,” Nelson said. “He’s fine. Taking a little nap a few houses down.” Nelson said.

  “Is he hurt?”

  “Well, you saw him. He’s been pretty much turned to mush since he arrived, no? I mean, I’ve never been a fan, but…”

  “Got it,” Mark said. “Like the other scientists we’ve come into contact with. But we need to bring him back up, right? We can’t just leave him—”

  Mark stopped as a loud buzzer sounded outside the window.

  “What’s that?” Jen asked.

  No one offered an answer, but the sound continued.

  “Let’s get out to the center and see if we can see where it’s coming from,” Mark said. “Think we’ve taken care of all of our Russian friends?”

  Nelson nodded and walked out the front door.

  Chapter 54

  THE FIELD WASN’T COMPLETELY EMPTY.

  As Jen followed Mark, Nelson, and Reese to the open area, she saw a woman struggling toward them, supporting another man’s weight. She was hurt, but not badly injured. The man, however, was nearly unconscious, barely moving his feet as they neared the central space.

  “What’s that you’ve got there, doll?” Nelson called out as they approached. It was Saunders, holding an incapacitated Jeremiah Austin. Saunders was bleeding from at least two large wounds to her head and arm, and she was bruised around the neck. But Austin had clearly suffered far worse.

  “He’s alive, barely,” Saunders said. “Found this on him; otherwise unarmed.” She tossed a small cellphone-shaped device to Mark and dumped Austin’s body casually on the dirt in front of Nelson. Nelson poked him with his foot, looked him over, and shrugged.

  “Scrawny little twerp,” he said. “What took so long?”

  Saunders ignored him.

  “Any idea what that noise is?” she asked. “And where’s Statnik?”

  “We thought you could help us with the noise,” Nelson answered. “And, uh, he didn’t make it.”

  This was the first time Jen had even thought about anyone else besides her son and Mark. Her initial fear was replaced by a cold callousness. She gritted her teeth as the rest of the group stood in silence for a moment while Mark examined the small electronic device.

  He turned it over in his hands, trying to figure out how it worked. It was the same device Austin had waved behind the scientists ear, back in the lower levels when Mark had been contained. As simple as it was, Mark still couldn’t see any indication that it was working. The only feature on the object besides the box and antenna was a small, unassuming black button on the side. He pressed it a few times, but nothing happened.

  “That woman ran away from us as I was chasing Austin,” Saunders said, “but I have no idea where she ended up. Could be that she made it down to the lower levels and started that machine again.”

  As if on cue, the floor beneath them began shaking. It wasn’t as powerful as when they’d experienced it firsthand on the lower levels, but it was still noticeable and, this time, more unnerving.

  Jen looked at Mark. “We need to stop it.”

  The floor jolted, mildly at first, then more intensely. Reese almost lost his balance, as did Nelson.

  “How much longer do we have?” Saunders asked.

  “I’m not sure. Last time it started and lasted a solid twenty minutes before it stopped again. My guess is that this last rotation won’t need to be as long. It just needs to be deep enough to crack the surrounding plates, remember? But if we can turn it off…”

  “There’s no way you’re going down there, Jen,” Mark said. “We have to get off this rock and back to the surface.”

  Saunders shook her head. “Power’s down. That elevator is still out, and the only lights on the levels below us are emergency lights. Obviously another treat from that woman, since you would have to manually turn the lights off in a place like this.”

  “Give me a flashlight.”

  “Jen,” Mark argued, “stop. It’s over. We have to get out.”

  She whirled around, her eyes on fire, and looked at her husband. “How? How do you suggest we get out?” She turned to the remainder of the group, eyeing them one at a time. Her mind was racing, both ecstatic that her family was alive and terrified at their predicament. “There’s nowhere to go. We’re under five miles of water! Plus, you heard Austin from before. When the president got here, that submarine left. Remember? The gunshots, too?”

  “She’s right,” Saunders realized. “There was at least one explosion up there that I heard; probably a grenade. Whatever’s left of the second docking station after the sub left is permanently sealed behind pressurized doors. Even if we had a sub, we couldn’t get to it.”

  Nelson nodded slowly in disbelief. “So, we’re, uh, trapped here?”

  “We’ve been trapped here, Nelson,” Jen said. “This was Austin’s plan all along. He needed Mark to get through the communications barricade, but he couldn’t take the chance of letting any of us back out. Hell, even he wasn’t going to make it back out.”

  Mark hadn’t spoken yet, but finally he offered a suggestion. “We’re in it, then, Jen. This is the endgame. Are we going to sit back and let things happen, or are we going to use our last minutes trying to stop this thing, even if it’s in vain?”

  She nodded.

  “Wait.” The voice was hushed, almost a whisper, but it was firm. They searched for its owner, and found the man lying on the ground.

  “Take me with you. Or kill me. Don’t leave me here.” It was Jeremiah Austin, speaking in a steady, low voice. Blood pooled next to his face, a small amount dripping from his chin.

  Saunders walked over to him, but Jen stopped her. “Hold on,” she said. She looked down at Austin. “Why? What are you afraid of?”

  Austin’s face and body language conveyed nothing out of the ordinary. But Jen saw it in his eyes.

  He was terrified.

  Of what?

  “We’re all going down together, thanks to you,” she said to him. “Unless I can get the machine turned off.”

  He laughed, a mixture of gurgling noises and coughing. “No. No, you can’t. It’s been locked in, set. Sylvia started it, because I didn’t make it down to finish the job. But don’t leave me here to die like this. They—” he cut himself off before they could hear the rest of the sentence.

  His eyes met Jen’s, defiant. “Kill me.”

  Jen stared, thinking. “They. Who’s they, Austin?”

  Austin didn’t speak.

  “You mean the scientists, don’t you? The ones you created here. Your lab rats.”

  “They’re not—”

  “They are! You created monsters. They attacked Lindsay, and they attacked Dr. Pavan. And when you turned Carter into one, he attacked us too.”

  Austin frowned, surprised. “So Carter found the others? Interesting.”

  “Nope,” Nelson said, “Just him. But believe me, he was more than enough to handle.”

  Austin was visibly perplexed. He mumbled to himself. “How can that—never mind.” He looked back up at the group. “They only attack as a group, usually. Their motor skills are completely controlled by involuntary reactions to their environment. They’re essentially a physical host for a much lesser, much simpler species. When they find a foreigner, they don’t know how to respond.”

  “So they scratch people to death?” Nelson asked. “Come on, Jen, we need to get that machine shut down.” He turned to leave, but Jen stayed.

  “Should we take him with us?” she asked. “Without keeping an eye on him?”

  Saunders spoke up. “Where’s he going to go? Besides, you heard him. They’ll hopefully get to him first.”

  Jen
saw the pleading in his eyes, hiding in plain sight behind the battered, torn face of a dying man. She remembered everything he had done. Everything he had put her through.

  “Let’s get that machine turned off.”

  Chapter 55

  GEOTHERMAL CONVERSION.

  PRESSURIZED WATER-CONTROL systems.

  Ventilation.

  That was it, Jen thought, as her feet pulled her body along down the rows of descending stairs. As she plummeted into the depths of the research station, she wracked her brain for Dr. Storm’s lessons and her own research on geothermal power plants.

  How can you turn one off, she wondered, in a way that is impossible to turn back on?

  There was obviously more to it than just flipping a switch, she knew. And they didn’t have any firepower—at least enough to do any significant damage.

  And whatever she did to the machine, Sylvia, wherever she was, could undo it.

  Unless she sabotaged the ventilation system.

  The ventilation system, linked into the cooling apparatus of the machine, would be the core piece of the puzzle that would cause the machine’s operation to backfire on itself. If she could find the control shaft for it, she could create a temporary blockage that would overheat the drill’s engine.

  If she timed it well enough, Sylvia wouldn’t be able to get down to move the blockage.

  If she timed it really well, Sylvia would arrive on the level just in time to see her project’s magnum opus go up in smoke—and hopefully a Hollywood-worthy explosion.

  Two birds with one stone.

  But she would need a stone.

  She passed the sign marking Level Ten and thought again of how they’d had the wool pulled over their eyes this whole time.

  Nouvelle Terre. Level Ten: Rue Or.

  It was the perfect ruse. Hidden in plain sight, with enough of a quirk that it was decipherable.