It’s what’s behind those eyes Emma is more curious about. Beyond all the physical bullshit. Miles can be an ass, yet at the same time, he’s the sweetest man she’s ever encountered in his own quiet way. It’s like there’s a duel going on inside him constantly. Maybe there is.
Not like she’d ever ask him about it, but still…it’s this mystery which attracts her more than his crooked little smile. What secrets does he hold within him? It’s not about wanting him, though more about knowing him.
He shuts the door, returning to the cockpit.
“Well,” Jakob says. “That was fun.” He turns his attention to Emma. “Marine biologists know about geography?”
“Not really. I did some research a while back because I was bored.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Jakob says, standing. “Hold the jelly. You were bored so you…studied the geography of the ocean?”
She sits, chuckling and not able to stop herself. “It’s what I do on vacations too.”
Jakob blinks, then gapes at her. “You’re like one of those prodigies, aren’t you?”
Emma, chuckles forming into a laugh, shakes her head. “God no. I just like learning things.”
“For shit sake,” Sylvi grumbles. “You two wanna get a room?”
He points at Emma. “She’s just sour because you like me better.”
Picking up her book and opening it, Sylvi grunts. “She wishes.”
Guether sighs heavily, leans forward and rubs his temples with his thick fingers. “This is gonna be a long goddamn ride.”
Jakob and Emma look at each other, then both burst out laughing.
CHAPTER 13
His lips press against Emma’s, and oh god she tastes so good. He pulls her closer and…
“…all this?”
Miles, emerges from the dream, blinking at the ceiling of the cockpit. “Huh?”
“I said, are you seeing all this? What’d you do, pass out on me?”
There have only been a few moments when he actually wanted to strangle someone. This is one. Still, he sits up and squints at the ocean beyond the cockpit. He told Jenna to keep the depth at two hundred feet maximum and now they find themselves in a shipwreck graveyard.
Emma hadn’t been kidding. How a marine biologist knew about this is beyond him, nor does it much matter. Because…
“There’s the USS Reaper,” he mutters.
“I lost two friends when it went down,” Jenna says.
He nods. “I know. I remember.”
They pass over the Reaper and Miles is struck by all the death spanning before him. Ships frozen in their underwater graves for all eternity, or until they rust into nothing anyway. Which, judging by most, nothing is approaching. And yet…
“That’s not…”
Jenna gasps. “Oh my god, it’s a pirate ship!”
Not really sure what to say, he nods.
Jenna asks the question building in his mind. “How is it still even intact?” She slows the STAV so she can really look at the ship. “Wouldn’t wood break down?”
“Yes. Unless…it fell into a deep trench and spat out on the Shelf when the earthquakes happened.” Miles shifts in his seat. “If there were still museums they’d pay millions for this ship.”
The ship is blanketed in barnacles and various small corals. All green and mossy looking in some places, even though he knows that’s not moss. It’s life living off death. Life breeding on the skeletons and creating something new.
As they drift over the pirate ship, Miles’ gaze latches onto a human skeleton half in and half out of a door in the deck of the ship. It’s covered in barnacles as well, though still very much identifiable. A pirate, probably as the ship was sinking, woke up and tried escaping the ship. Maybe his pant leg got snagged on a nail. Maybe he was hurrying so much he tripped and cracked his head on the deck hard enough to knock him out. Whatever the case, he died as the ship sank.
Jenna expertly maneuvers through the shipwrecks.
“Why are they all in this spot, though?” Miles asks.
Jenna huffs out a breath. “Maybe the earthquakes and everything stirred them all up here?”
It makes sense. Unless this is a focal point of attack by…something…
And if so…what?
If there’s something out here that sunk these ships, it has to be one aggressive, mean bastard.
Then again, that’s all speculation. Maybe the quakes fucked everything up. Sucked ships from other locations in and spat them out on the newly formed Shelf. It’s possible, he supposes.
It’s also very possible there’s something big stalking these particular waters.
He checks the thousand-yard scan. Nothing but a school of some fish or another and what might be a pod of orcas since humpback and grey whales and dolphins have been extinct for a dozen years or so now.
Nothing large enough to destroy anything.
The graveyard stretches on and on and after a while, he wants to tell Jenna to speed back up. He’s had enough of this shit. They are on a mission and ogling over fallen ships is just wasting time.
But he stops himself from giving the order. Jenna is no doubt thinking about her friend right now. She needs a bit of time.
So, he once more leans back in the chair. Just before his eyes shut, he says, “They’re still heroes.”
He falls asleep before she responds.
When he wakes some time later, Jenna is singing some song to herself.
He rolls a bit to look at her. She steers the STAV and, smiling, as she sings, “Dead, they all fall down. I have…this thundering sound. Of power, against all man.”
He’s not sure if he has ever heard that song before, but it sounds familiar.
“Unload,” Jenna sings. “Unload and reload, all of’em, like putrid toads.”
The name of the song still refuses to surface in his mind.
Once her singing begins to lull, Miles says, ‘How long was I out?”
“Dying in—oh, hey, welcome back. Been about an hour.”
“How much closer until we get to our destination?”
“Should be an hour,” Jenna says. “Give or take.”
Ahead, through the glass of the STAV is nothing but dark water. At least as far as the lights reveal anyway.
“How was the graveyard?”
Jenna shrugs. “Once you see one pirate ship, you’ve seen them all.”
He adjusts his seat so he’s sitting upright. He’s still tired, more than a little thirsty and needs to take a piss like no other right now. Bladder swelling, he stands. “I’m gonna take a leak. You okay here?”
She waves a hand at him while she studies the waters through the windshield and the scans on the monitor.
Miles hurries out of the cockpit and into the main body of the STAV. Emma is asleep, head resting on Geri’s shoulder. The old woman gives him a small smile as he passes.
“It’s a tight fit, bro,” Jakob calls after him.
He doesn’t respond. He knows what the head looks like in the STAV. Something more like one of those ancient telephone booths than a bathroom at all. Even a tighter squeeze than the old latrines Colonel Ramson made them build during the Marine/Seal crossover thing everyone thought would be awesome, but never was. The project, to merge both branches, proved to be a disaster. Tempers ran too hot. No one worked as a team, no matter how much the Colonel roared at them to do so. There was respect among the branches, but that only went so far. Eventually the project was scrapped and both branches returned to their usual routines.
One thing both Marines and Seals agreed on, however, were the narrow latrines.
Miles squeezes into the STAV’s tiny bathroom, finishes his business while each shoulder presses against the wall and shut door.
Sighing, he opens the port to let the urine splash into the waste tank. “Whoever designed this smoked too much crack,” he mutters to himself and steps out.
The team are all seated, none of them talking. Geri, head cocked at an odd angle, b
egins to snore. Emma leans over, checking out whatever Ma is tapping at on her tablet. Sylvi is reading. Guether is picking at his fingernails with the tip of his knife and Jakob…well, Jakob pulls out a small wad of snot from his nose and wipes it on the side of the seat.
Miles stands between the two rows of seats, wanting to say something. Anything, really. But no words form. All he can do is glance at each of them. His mind buzzes with possible ways to motivate them and boost morale, and then flicks each away one by one. When all he feels is trepidation and the growing need to find his little brother, all that shit strips him of any speech.
So, instead, he nods and returns to the cockpit.
“That was the longest piss in the history of pissing,” Jenna says as he shuts the door.
“I had to turn into a pretzel to get into that…whatever you want to call it.”
“It’s called the head, but I guess closet works too.”
He plops down in the seat beside her. “I want to punch whoever designed that in the nuts.”
Jenna snorts, then bursts into laughter.
He smiles, leans back in his seat and stares out into the endless ocean.
His thoughts soon turn to Mike. His little brother. All he has left of his family.
It’s been, what? A few days since the serpent sank the USS Cutter? Something like that. If Mike is still alive, he’s most likely in a raft or one of the pods. Although, maybe not a pod because all pods are programmed to locate and depart to the nearest land mass upon being deployed. So, unless the pod Mike got into was damaged in some way, he’s more than likely on a raft, which is a last resort during a sinking.
“About a half hour now,” Jenna says. “But you know he’s probably not near the area anymore, right?”
“I know,” he says, still staring out the curved windshield. “We’ll begin our search from ground zero.”
“That might take a long time, Miles.”
He snaps a glare at her and she visibly flinches. “I don’t care. Whatever it takes.” He stares out the windshield again and repeats, “Whatever it takes.”
He feels her gaze on him like two hot spikes piercing the side of his face. Ignoring this as best as he can, he mutters, “We have to try.”
“Miles,” Jenna says, tone very low. “We are trying.”
Sometimes life shits on you, Miles knows. Sometimes it chews you up and spits you out in a wad of greasy flesh. Sometimes it’s like a little kid tapping your forehead with a small fingertip. Not necessarily painful, but annoying as all hell. But sometimes…it gives you a break. Life backs away and allows you to actually breathe for a moment.
All Miles is looking for is that breath. Just one tiny breath.
A while passes and Jenna says, “We’re here.”
He glances at her, then out the curved windshield. It doesn’t take long to spot the USS Cutter.
The ship is massive, yes. Huge. Yet its hull is so mangled it gives Miles a very real idea what kind of monster he might be dealing with.
Jenna steers the STAV toward the battleship for a closer look. And no matter how much he wants her to begin the search, he’s curious. The closer she gets, the more details come to light and he kind of wishes they hadn’t.
A couple of hammerhead sharks circle the wreckage, though dart out of the way as the STAV nears.
“My god,” Jenna whispers.
Miles leans forward while Jenna maneuvers the STAV even closer to the hull. Mangled isn’t the right word. Decimated might be closer. It had literally been ripped apart. And the more Miles studied the massive hole, the more he noticed the tooth marks and deep gouges in the metal. It’s like this thing simply came up and bit a hole into the ship. And it’s not the only hole. There’s also one, much larger, in the bow. Not only this, the ship appears to have been twisted, making Miles think about how pythons constrict their prey and crush them to death. The image is a nasty one, so he shoves it away quickly.
He’s about to look away and tell Jenna to send out two-mile pings for anything on the surface when something thumps against the STAV’s windshield. Jenna gasps.
The body, held by the movement of the STAV, does not slide off and Miles gapes directly into the scarlet, empty eye sockets of a woman. Some of her face is missing, possibly chewed away by sea life. She finally slips off the windshield but another body floats from the wreckage. This one a man. One of the hammerheads swings around, darting toward the body.
Before the dead man can reach the STAV, the shark snags him by the leg and rags him out of sight.
“Get us away from here,” Miles says, choking down a hard lump in his throat. “Send out two-mile pings.”
“Yeah,” Jenna says, her voice barely audible. “Sounds good.” She moves the STAV away from the wreckage and propels it a few hundred yards away. She presses some button and faces Miles. “Pings four miles out are being sent.”
“You can do that?”
Jenna levels a look on him. “Are you really that stupid, or just pretending?”
“Guess I’m that stupid. Last I knew we could only ping two miles out.”
She chuckles, claps a hand on his shoulder. “Times have changed, old man.”
“Heh, apparently.”
“Don’t do that.”
He frowns. “Do what?”
“Don’t say, ‘heh’, you sound like a grandpa.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “Maybe I am.”
Jenna laughs. “Doubt it. You can’t even stay in a stable relationship for more than two months.”
“I…heeeyyy…”
She laughs a bit more. “Well, it’s true. Anyway, be quiet so I can hear the pings when they come back. You’re seriously messing with my mojo here.”
“Since when do you have a mojo?”
She swishes a hand at him. “Shut up.”
In a military situation, she’d be up for a report for misconduct. Here, though, all Miles can do is smile. He doesn’t say anything more and waits for the pings to reveal something.
No doubt Murdock’s men are near and keeping watch, but when the pings come back, he’s surprised. There are no ships or vessels of any kind for four miles. But…
He taps his monitor. “What’s all this?”
“Looks like minor debris,” Jenna says. “Almost three miles out. But we’ll go look.”
While she sets the coordinates, Miles’ heart quickens. Maybe Mike will be amongst this debris. Although, being only three miles away feels unrealistic somehow. The ocean has currents after all, like a vast river. Realistically, Mike could be anywhere by now. Still, Miles holds out hope, as one does, his brother will be amongst the wreckage.
The STAV closes the distance and—
“Life forms,” Jenna mutters.
He frowns at his monitor. Six heat signatures pop out of all the blue and gray images. “Human?”
“Looks to be,” Jenna says.
A sense of triumph spills through him. “Let’s check it out.”
“We’ll risk being seen, though.”
Miles thinks this over, and after about a minute, he says, “Do it.”
Jenna sets the depth to SURFACE, as pointed out on his monitor and the STAV floats upward.
Fidgeting in his seat, he wishes the damn STAV would rise faster. All submersibles are always so slow at surfacing. It’s a safety thing, he knows, but shit…
Once they breach the surface, Jenna says, “You can go up and see what’s going on now.”
“Can’t I do it from here?” Miles asks. “I mean, in case we need to dive?”
“There’s nothing major showing up in the thousand-yard radius,” Jenna says. “I think you’re okay for now.”
Not thinking, simply moving, Miles bolts out of his seat, finds the ladder in the cockpit and says, “Open it up.”
There’s a loud whooshing noise and the small hatch pops open as he climbs the ladder.
He has no idea what to really expect, but old lessons die hard. Trusting the gut is often better than tru
sting a computer. Human instinct is a powerful thing. Seeing with one’s own eyes solidifies belief. It’s something he’s always known, but Jenna reminded him of. Three years away has really messed him up.
The wind outside wheezes across the hole above him and when he climbs to the top and peeks his head out, he’s assaulted by the salty air. Miles coughs, tries to take shallower breaths to allow his lungs to adjust to the salt laden winds. Then he pulls himself up and sits along the edge of the hole into the STAV. It’s morning and the skies are flawlessly blue, the sun a massive ball of angry heat already baking into him. One thing he misses about the Atlantic are the more reasonable temperatures. Nothing as scorching as it is out here. In fact, it’s almost comfortable on a majority of the Atlantic. Well, until you venture south, then things get choppy and nasty with all the massive waves and constantly shifting weather. Snow to rain, sun to ice.
Water slaps the sides of the STAV. Seagulls cry, circling above. God, he hates those fucking things.
Squinting against the glaring sun off the water, Miles’ heart stutters.
For a moment, he can’t find the words or voice to express anything.
Then…
“Shit.”
For, floating all around the STAV were bodies. Many of them are wearing lifejackets, though some aren’t. The latter float either face down or cloudy eyes staring at the sun. The rest bob with the small waves, heads lolling.
As he gapes, a seagull swoops down, lands on a nearby corpse, and stabs its beak into his eye. A second later, the bird yanks the dead man’s eyeball out and hops to another corpse to swallow it down.
Rage, unlike anything he’s ever felt before, explodes through him. He pulls the pistol from the holster on his hip, aims at the seagull and squeezes two rounds into the fucking bird. It squawks once before flapping into the water, soon dying.
Miles stands on top of the STAV and inspects each corpse he can as Jenna propels the vessel slowly through the horror show. None of them, so far, are Mike, which leads to a spark of hope. Still, he carefully looks at every face, besides the ones face down in the water. Once they are through the swath of corpses, a shiver scuttles through him like tiny, black spiders. There are so many. All this life just…gone. And all of them no doubt died of exposure to the deadly sea. In a way, maybe it would have been better to go down with the ship or eaten by the monster that sank them in the first place. Why the damn thing hadn’t swallowed them up is beyond Miles. Maybe all it lives for is to destroy things, not consume. Why would a demigod eat people anyway?
Dark Waters Page 10
