by Jake Bible
The group hurried down the passageway as more explosions made the ship shudder.
“Resourceful doesn’t do shit against explosives,” Lake said.
“You never know,” Ballantine said as he stopped by a blank wall. “We’re here.”
The whole group looked at the wall then at Ballantine.
“You must have hit your head pretty bad, Mr. Ballantine,” Popeye said. “That’s a wall right there.”
“Yes, it is, Popeye,” Ballantine said. “But not all walls are actually walls.”
They waited by the wall, but nothing happened.
“I don’t mean to argue, Mr. Ballantine,” Popeye said. “But I’m thinking this is actually a wall. Just like it looks.”
“No, it’s not,” Ballantine said. He stepped forward and smacked both hands against it.
“We can’t wait here,” Lake said. “We need to move. If we get to the mini-subs, we can get all of us off this ship. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but between the Wiglaf II and Wiglaf III we can fit.”
Ballantine frowned and turned away from the wall. “That could present a problem.”
“How do you mean?” Lake asked. “We have ten here. There’s room.”
“But there’s only one mini-sub,” Ballantine admitted. “The Wiglaf II isn’t here anymore. Or shouldn’t be.”
Another explosion echoed through the ship, much closer than the previous ones.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Lake asked. “Out with it, Ballantine.”
“Darby has left the ship in the Wiglaf II,” Ballantine said, holding up a hand to ward off more questions. He leaned back against the wall, suddenly very tired. “I’m not going into details, so don’t ask. We can get six out in the Wiglaf III. Maybe eight if two lay on the floor. But the oxygen will be depleted quickly so the escape will have to be fast and then you’ll have to surface.”
“There are ten of us,” Lake said, nodding his chin at the still unconscious Lucy in his arms. “But you aren’t coming with, are you? And she’s staying too, right?”
“Right on both counts,” Ballantine said. He kicked back against the wall with his heel in frustration. “Leave Lucy here. You go. You know how to pilot the mini-sub.”
“I’m staying with you,” Lake said. “Popeye can pilot it.”
“I hate those little subs,” Popeye replied.
“But you know how to pilot them,” Lake said. “Since Darren isn’t on the ship then that makes me acting captain. I stay.” He focused a harsh gaze on Ballantine. “Unless you object to my being captain?”
Ballantine shook his head. “No objections here, Acting Captain. Except that I’d rather you left.”
Lake looked at the men and nodded down the passageway. “Go. I’m staying.”
They all just stood there.
“That’s an order!” Lake roared.
Popeye nodded then gestured for the men to follow him. They hurried away, turned a corner, and were lost from sight.
Lake watched them go then turned back to Ballantine.
“How about we get to the real entrance of the Toyshop?” Lake said. “I’d like to set her down.”
“No point,” Ballantine replied. “Carlos won’t let us in there.”
“Why not?”
“Because I ordered him not to,” Ballantine said. “Security precaution if the ship were ever taken over. If I go to the real entrance then he has orders to stay sealed shut.” Ballantine rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “This is the backdoor. Carlos knows to be looking for me here. Or anyone I send. If he isn’t opening up then something is wrong.”
Lake didn’t respond.
Ballantine opened his eyes and looked at the acting captain.
“Sorry, but I don’t know what else to tell you,” he said and pushed away from the wall. “We need to shelter somewhere else.”
Another explosion. And another.
“Don’t think so,” Lake said, his jaw hanging open.
Ballantine slowly turned and grinned at the sight. The wall was nearly transparent and there stood Carlos and Ingrid, both holding very large automatic rifles.
Ballantine waved and part of the wall slid aside.
“I didn’t bother you two, did I?” Ballantine said as he pushed past Carlos and Ingrid into the Toyshop.
“Carlos forgot which wall it was,” Ingrid said.
“I did not,” Carlos argued. “I narrowed it down between two walls.”
“He forgot,” Ingrid said, hurrying Lake inside. She pressed on the wall and it sealed then turned dark, looking like a normal ship’s wall.
“Set her on that long cart,” Ingrid said. “I have a prototype med bay in sector eight I can wheel her to.”
“For the record, I did not forget,” Carlos announced as Ingrid wheeled Lucy away.
“Don’t care,” Ballantine replied. “We need guns.”
“We have those,” Carlos said, holding out the rifle to Lake.
“No, I’d prefer a pistol,” Lake said. “The bigger the better.”
“I’ll get your usual,” Ingrid said.
“Point me to the control station,” Ballantine ordered Carlos as he looked at the many rows of equipment that surrounded them. “And two of whatever weapon Lake gets.”
“This way,” Carlos said and turned right. Then stopped and turned left. “This way.”
***
Her systems told her she was past the Mexican naval blockade, but that didn’t ease Darby’s tension. She looked at the coordinates of her destination and was not happy with the amount of open water she’d have to move through to get there.
That left a lot of space for a shark to come at her.
She knew the risks of what she was doing, but it didn’t make it any easier. Her paranoia was ratcheted up all the way and her eyes kept moving from the windows in front of her to the sonar to the radar to the navigation system and back to the windows.
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out her nose. There was nothing else she could do, but keep going and hope the sharks were occupied.
***
Espanoza’s men ran through the passageways, their Ak-47s barking lead as they killed anyone that was unlucky enough to be in their way. The crewmembers of the Beowulf III, men that had signed on knowing there would be danger and that the B3 was a very different ship, fled from the death that stalked them.
Thinking they were safe behind locked and sealed hatches, the men found out the hard way they weren’t as the metal exploded in at them and bullets followed. Blood and the acrid odor of C4 filled the passageways as Espanoza’s men blasted their way from deck to deck.
***
Thorne burst from the surface and spun about, trying to look in all directions at once.
“Where is it?”
“Did you see it?”
“Daddy? What’s wrong? Did you see Darren?”
Thorne looked over at his daughter and two nephews as they treaded water. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” Kinsey asked. “Don’t know if you saw the shark? If you saw Darren? What don’t you know?”
“Shadow!” Max yelled as he looked down into the water. He ducked his head below for a better look then came up spluttering. “It’s coming at us!”
“On it!” Shane said as he dove under, his channel pistol in hand.
He saw the shark coming up fast and emptied the magazine. It was a rookie move, but he knew he didn’t have time to take careful shots.
The rounds sped at the shark and the monster swam out of the way, but three hit their mark and exploded against the shark’s side. The creature jerked and flipped about, changing directions instantly.
By the time Shane saw what was about to happen, it was too late.
The shark’s tail slammed into his body and he found himself flying up out of the water. He would have laughed at the look on his brother’s face as he soared over his family, but he was too busy screaming. And bleeding.
***
Popeye hustled through the passageways as fast as possible, leading the other men from hatch to hatch. As boatswain his biometrics were loaded into the ship’s system so the hatches opened for him. He didn’t want to think what would have happened to the men if he hadn’t been there. The ability for “authorized” personnel to only be able to access hatches during lockdown was an argument Popeye had heard Darren and Ballantine have on more than one occasion.
They hit a set of stairs and slid down to the next deck then proceeded down the passageway to the next hatch, opened it, hit the next set of stairs, the passageway, the hatch, more stairs.
Finally, Popeye held his hand to the hatch to the mini-sub bays. The hatch opened and he hurried everyone inside, making sure the hatch sealed behind him. One of the bays was still purging water from Darby’s launch, so Popeye pointed at the hatch to the other bay.
“In there,” he said as he pressed a hand against the scanner. It didn’t open.
“Pop?” one of the men asked.
“Hold on,” Popeye said as he tried again.
It still didn’t work. He slammed his considerable fist against the scanner again and again until the high impact plastic cracked. The hatch slid open and Popeye smiled.
“Technology got nothing on these ham hocks,” he grinned as he pointed at the mini-sub docked in the bay. “Get your asses inside! Now!”
***
Diego grinned as he figured out how to override part of the ship’s systems. He couldn’t gain control of the helm, or unlock the hatches, but he could make sure all hatches stayed locked. He’d watched as hatch after hatch below deck had opened then closed. He knew it was the crew escaping, and after some study, he realized where they were escaping to.
He pulled a radio from his belt and put it to his mouth.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Getting close to the galley,” a man replied. “Should we bother with that?”
“Are you hungry?” Diego asked.
The man paused then replied cautiously. “No?”
“No, you are not hungry,” Diego responded. “So why would we bother with the galley?”
“We wouldn’t, sir,” the man replied.
“Then leave the galley alone,” Diego replied. “You need to get to the sub and the product. You are not there yet. Get there.”
“Yes, sir,” the man replied.
An alarm sounded and Diego looked at the monitor. Someone had opened a hatchway to the mini-sub bay despite Diego’s override.
“Get to the mini-sub bays first,” Diego ordered. “There’s a breach.”
“The mini-sub bays?” the man asked. “Is that not where we are going?”
“No, you are going to the specimen bays,” Diego replied as he studied the schematic of the ship on the monitor in front of him. “The mini-sub bays are fully aft and just above the specimen bays. Go there now. I don’t want to have to come down there and do your job for you.”
“Yes, sir,” the man replied. “I mean, no, sir. You do not have to come down here. It is handled.”
Diego placed the radio back on his belt then started to try to hack into the navigation systems, and hopefully, the helm.
***
The mess was dark and empty. Except for Chief Steward Beau McWhitt.
After what had happened in Somalia, Beau had pretty much kept to himself, occupying his time running the galley, the mess, and making sure the Beowulf III was well supplied with whatever the men needed.
At five feet six, he had the features of a teenage boy. But, being twenty-four, Beau wasn’t a boy and had been through hell like a man. He had constant nightmares of the galley filling with water, ready to drown him and take him down deep below the surface of the sea. When the Beowulf II had encountered the monster sharks off the coast of Somalia, and the ship had started to sink from the shark attacks, Beau had been left behind.
No one came looking for him as he tried to get his mess crew out the hatches and up to safety on the deck above. They’d fled, but he’d stayed behind to make sure no one had been forgotten.
Turned out he had.
The ship had fallen apart around him and he’d made a mad dash through the flooding passageways until he found himself in front of the Toyshop. Hands grabbed him and he had been yanked inside just as the Toyshop became something else.
All of those thoughts went through his head as he hid in the shadows of the B3 mess and watched as brown faces appeared at the hatch, looked about, then went away. He had heard a man speaking to someone in Spanish, so he figured the Mexican Navy had boarded the B3, he just didn’t know why.
And didn’t really care. Because here he was, forgotten again. He’d sent his crew out as soon as the claxons blared. Then the explosions started. And gunshots. He had no idea if anyone had survived or not.
But Beau planned on surviving.
He looked at the meat cleavers he gripped in each hand then looked at the hatch. He counted to ten then walked towards the hatch, took a deep breath, stuck one of the cleavers in his belt, and pressed his hand against the biometric scanner. Nothing happened. He flipped a cleaver around and smashed the scanner. The hatch opened, he grabbed the other cleaver from his belt, and stepped out into the passageway.
***
All of the men were crammed into the Wiglaf III and Popeye started to close the top hatch when Espanoza’s men rushed into the mini-sub bay. They saw Popeye and opened fire. Bullets pinged off the Wiglaf III as Popeye ducked inside, slammed the hatch closed, and locked it tight.
Bullets kept hitting the mini-sub as Popeye went through the launch protocols.
“Pop?” a man asked.
“I know, I know,” Popeye said as he struggled to get the mini-sub operating. “Give me a damn minute!”
More bullets hit the mini-sub and the distinct sound of gas escaping some valve reached everyone’s ears.
“There!” Popeye yelled as he pressed a button and a claxon rang out in the bay.
Espanoza’s men fired some more then quickly retreated from the bay and behind the hatch that sealed tight as soon as they were through it. One of the men, the one that had spoken to Diego before, watched through the porthole as the bay filled with water. Bubbles streamed from the end of the Wiglaf III once the water had completely filled the bay then the far wall opened and the mini-sub shot out, gone from sight in seconds.
The man didn’t want to, but all eyes were on him and he knew what had to be done. He took the radio from his belt and put it to his mouth.
***
Diego slammed his hand on the control panel again and again, ripping part of his palm open. He looked at the wound then put it to his mouth and sucked on the blood, savoring the salty flavor.
“Get to the specimen bays,” Diego said into the radio. “I will join you there shortly.
***
“What’s the plan?” Lake asked, looking from Ballantine to Carlos to Ingrid. “This thing can become an escape pod, right? Then let’s escape.”
Carlos looked over at Ballantine and glared. Gone was the look of embarrassment and subservience from before. Lake was puzzled by the look of rage that now clouded the man’s features.
“What did I miss?” Lake said. “No, let me guess. This doesn’t turn into an escape pod, does it?”
“Those modifications weren’t completed,” Carlos said. “Against my protests.”
“There was other work that needed to be finished first,” Ballantine said, matching Carlos’s glare. “Such as the specimen bays. I told you we would complete your modifications once we returned to the company’s Manila facilities. They have the skills to do it right.”
“I did it right on the Beowulf II,” Carlos snapped.
“Excuse me?” Ingrid said.
“With some help,” Carlos said, waving Ingrid away.
“Fuck you too,” Ingrid said and stormed off into the shelves.
“Then why didn’t you complete the mods yourself again?” Lake asked.
Ballantine stepped closer, letting the accusatory finger stab him in the chest.
“Whoa, whoa, knock it off,” Lake said. “None of this bullshit matters now. We need to figure out how we’ll get out of here. Eventually, they’ll blow their way inside.”
“Not hardly,” Carlos snorted. “You can’t get into the armory.”
“Carlos doesn’t like to share his toys,” Ballantine said.
“Don’t call them toys!” Carlos yelled.
“Knock it off!” Lake shouted, shoving the men away from each other.
“Hey, guys?” Ingrid asked, coming back to where they stood, her face white with fear. “Where’s Moshi? I can’t find her.”
“Just yell for her,” Carlos said, putting his hands to his mouth. “Moshi! MOSHI!”
“Not like she can respond,” Lake said.
“She’s shy, not mute,” Ingrid said.
“Really? I didn’t know that,” Lake replied. “I thought she couldn’t speak at all.”
“Moshi!” Carlos yelled again.
“Moshi!” Ingrid echoed.
“Stop,” Ballantine said, but was drowned out by the others’ yelling. “Stop!”
“What? Why?” Ingrid asked.
“I know where she is,” Ballantine said. “I knowexactly where she is.”
***
The sounds from above made Moshi cringe and shake with fear. She was a weapon smith and she knew immediately that C4 was being detonated and AK-47s were being fired. There was small arms fire as well -9mms, .45s, .38s, and even a couple of .22s- but those sounds were sporadic and Moshi knew they could be from the attackers or the B3’s crew. But the explosions and machine guns were not.
Her hands flew across the controls of the whale sub and she began flipping switches and turning knobs. The sub powered up, but she didn’t engage the tail motor since the specimen bay was empty of water and the sub was dry docked. If she engaged the motor without the tail being submerged, she’d warp the sub and most likely rip it completely apart.
