Embers in the Sea

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  “Us?” David pointed to his chest. “I’m going to Mars. You’re staying on Earth.”

  My chest tightened. “Why?”

  “Do you have any idea how hot it is there?”

  “So what? I can take it.”

  “It’s over a hundred degrees on the surface. Worse than the lower levels of the ambassador’s ship.”

  I started to sweat, remembering the long, sweltering alien halls. “But—”

  He placed his finger against my lips. Edgar snapped at him, but David didn’t flinch.

  “I’m getting readings from above. The salinity is distorting sensors, but it doesn’t seem like the scourge has started. We’re going to fly to your house, pick up your dad, and I’m taking you both to that island.”

  Part of me had forgotten the scourge, or just blanked it out of my mind. Save the world? I was all over that. But now it all seemed just a little too real. “What about Maggie. Matt. Their families?”

  I set Edgar on the floor. He sank through the tiles and disappeared.

  David’s lips tightened. “We’ll pick up whoever is at your house. We don’t have time to search for anyone.”

  “If your people are coming to take over the planet, my dad isn’t going to be home. He’ll be out with the rest of the military trying to stop you.”

  David’s sigh tore a hole through my soul. “Your archaic technology will be useless. He has to know that.”

  “It doesn’t mean he won’t try. That’s what humans do. We fight. We’re not going to just roll over and die.”

  His eyes darkened. “As I said, we won’t have time to search for him.”

  The tiniest piece of me wanted to argue with David … to plead humanity’s right to survive. But I didn’t have to prove that to him. This was out of his hands. But could I convince Dad to come with us? Would he leave everyone else behind to die?

  Probably not, but I had to try. I’d already lost one parent. I wasn’t ready to be an orphan. Even if I was technically an adult, I would always be a little girl inside.

  “Can we call him?”

  David peeked through disheveled bangs. “Yes. What is the frequency of his portable communicator?”

  Huh? “Oh, his cell phone? You mean the number?”

  Crap. He was number two on my favorites list. No one knows anyone’s actual numbers!

  My phone.

  I jumped from my seat and ran to the back of the compartment. Debris and pieces of seaweed littered the tiles, still damp from being submerged. I rummaged through a pile of mushy goo and found my backpack beneath.

  About a gallon of water splashed across the floor when I opened it. My heart sank as I picked up Old Reliable and eased him back into the pack. I doubted anything could save a camera after it had been submerged for so long. But would the phone be any different?

  Finding the small, pink case, I pushed the power button. Nothing. So much for being waterproof.

  Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I ran up front to David. “My phone is dead. Can you get any information out of it?”

  His brow crinkled as a dribble pooled along the edge of my phone case and dripped to the floor. “You’ll need to dry it out.”

  Duh. I’m not an idiot.

  I never said you were.

  Gah! Stinking telepath!

  David smiled and tapped the wall to his left. A yellow square appeared in the panel a few feet behind us and opened up.

  “Put it in there. Either it will dry, or the components will melt, but you won’t be any worse off than you are now.”

  I nodded. A deep chill stung my wrist as I passed my hand through the wall, but inside the chamber scorched like an oven. I dropped my phone inside and pulled my hand free. “Will this work for my camera too?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “It will either dry it or melt it. Same as the phone.”

  Dropping my backpack on the floor, I added Old Reliable to the opening.

  Please let this work. Please, please, please let this work.

  I sat back beside David. “How long will my phone take to dry?”

  “I’m not sure. Try it again in a few minutes.”

  The water on the floor pooled then funneled into the air. The droplets swirled like a mini cyclone as a long, solid cylinder appeared within. Silver stepped out of the funnel, and the remainder of the twister sucked into his back.

  He moved between us, his gray, shiny form glinting in the artificial light. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “How badly are you hurt?” I asked.

  “I will be fine as soon as we get to our new home.”

  “He’s lying.” Ruby appeared beside him. “His wounds are extensive. We have a yellow with us who has the capacity to heal, but she says any change in pressure could reopen his wounds.”

  David glanced at me. “I can’t guarantee pressure levels. We’re going into space, and Mars is not Earth.” His hands moved away from the controls. “We are almost at the Abyssal Plain. If you want, I can drop you off here with Silver’s people.”

  “No,” Silver said. “I will take the risk. Bring us to our new home.”

  “Are you sure?” Ruby asked.

  Their hands touched, molding together.

  “To live a lifetime with you, I would chance anything.”

  They molded together in a hug and slowly sank to the floor and disappeared.

  Wow. That was romantic—in a cheesy romance novel kind of a way. Not that anyone would want to read a book about a couple of oversized jellyfish.

  David motioned to the window. “We just breached the Abyssal Plain.”

  The searchlights shone up and over the edge as David leveled off the ship and steered us across the ocean floor. Sand puffed up around us, like a desert beneath the sea.

  He tapped a few points on the wall beside him that looked no different than the rest of the ship.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just making sure everything is okay. We’re going to ascend slowly, just like we did on the way down.”

  So that was it. We were safe. At least for now. As we left the deeper part of the sea where Ruby and Silver’s people lived, we now only had to worry about the aliens again, and picking up Dad and whoever else I could get to my house in time.

  David’s gaze stared through the window with an intensity I’d rarely seen from him. I wondered how mad he was going to be after he thinks he dropped me off on that island, and I pop out of a closet and surprise him when we’re halfway to Mars. He seriously can’t think I’ll let him go alone.

  “We’re not going to be able to drop everyone off on that island,” David said, not taking his gaze from the screen. “That would mean flying across your continent to the eastern shore, grabbing your father, and crossing the country again to get there. There isn’t enough time.” A map of the eastern coast of the USA came up on the screen. “I was thinking of dropping you off on this island here.” He pointed at a large, narrow island off the coast of Florida.

  “Cuba? I don’t think so.” I pointed a little further south. “How about here. Jamaica. Happy, smiling people and resorts and all. A much better choice.”

  He nodded. “That’s fine. But you are staying there with your father. Even if Edgar and I have to tie you up.”

  Pfft. You could try.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  We definitely needed to work on this “not reading Jess’s private thoughts” thing.

  Something swam past the window, reflecting the searchlights back in our faces before flittering away.

  “What was that?”

  “My guess would be a large fish.” His cocky grin slid away. “Make that a very large fish.”

  Whitish-gray, squirming flesh crept down the window from above. Long, suction-cupped-covered arms filled the screen. The tiny circles probed the glass like little mouths asking for a meal. The animal arched, and a pointed beak in the center of his eight star-shaped legs chirped
twice before the giant octopus skidded away.

  I furrowed my brow. “Was that the same octopus-thing we ran into on the way down?”

  “It has the same mass, but I don’t think there is any way of knowing for sure.”

  The giant creature sped away, banked, and spun back toward us. I cringed as a bright pinprick followed in the distance, quickly gaining on the octopus.

  David turned the ship.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I recognize that light. It’s attached to a giant mouth, remember? I’m getting out of its way!”

  Still yards away, the behemoth snapped, seizing one of the octopus’s legs. The animal reeled back, struggling as the huge-jawed beast thrashed, shaking the helpless cephalopod.

  David pointed our ship toward the surface and accelerated.

  I gripped the back of his chair. “We can’t just leave him there to die.”

  “Yes we can. He just bought us some time.”

  “With his life? I don’t think so. We need to do something.”

  He ignored me. But I never took kindly to being ignored.

  I focused my thoughts. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around.

  “Stop it.”

  “Not until you do it.” Turn around. Turn around. Turn around.

  A growl gurgled from his throat and I felt his resolve bend and flutter through our bond. “I know I’m going to regret this.”

  The ship banked right, flipped, and aimed right at the fighting animals. David punched his fist into the fuchsia corner of the console. The ship trembled as a clear whoosh jettisoned from below us, but with a lot less “whoosh” than we’d seen in the depths. We slowed to a stop.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked up. “Edgar?”

  The lights flashed around us. David groaned.

  “What is it?”

  “Edgar said the weapon was made to work in below-rift pressure. It didn’t take in enough water to make a difference.”

  The streaming bubbles spiraled forward and hit the behemoth with barely a nudge, but it was enough to startle it. Sliding backward, it released the octopus.

  Our eight-legged friend scampered into the darkness, leaving the swimming mouth of gleaming teeth panting and pointed straight at us.

  “Time to go,” David said.

  “I’m not arguing with that.”

  David trailed his arms over the controls, but I was still staring down the throat of something big and ugly.

  “Umm, we’re not moving.”

  He glared at me before turning to the ceiling. It was probably good that I couldn’t read his mind all the time.

  “Edgar,” he said. “What happened?”

  The walls flashed.

  “Great. Just great.” They flashed again. “How was I supposed to know using the weapon in less pressure would drain the energy cells? It’s not like you left directions.”

  “We’re out of power?”

  The swimming mouth charged, opening wide. Bubbles drifted from its teeth and disappeared into the dark. The creature’s jaws surrounded us. We shook as the behemoth chewed and chomped until we were staring into its gullet.

  “Okay, this is sooo not good!”

  “Edgar, a little help, please!”

  My chair warped to life, immobilizing me as the giant fish thrashed, shaking us in the water like an animal killing its prey. My sight blurred. My ears rang.

  The creature tossed us up before clamping down again.

  “David?” I whispered.

  I wanted to turn, to see the perfect, composed lines of his face. I wanted to believe everything would be okay, even if I knew it wasn’t. But I couldn’t move. I closed my eyes rather than stare at the ridged lines on the top of the monster’s pallet.

  David’s hand covered mine. I’m going to figure this out.

  Part of me expected him to say that. But I knew, even without searching our tether, that he was just as helpless as I was.

  The screen before us flashed pink and orange.

  “You have to be kidding me,” David whispered.

  His chair relaxed and he leaned forward, reaching into the console.

  “What now?”

  “Something is heading directly at us at high speed, from above. It isn’t organic.”

  “What is it?”

  “From size and velocity, my guess would be a missile.”

  “You’re freaking kidding me, right?”

  A square appeared inside the glass window, showing what I supposed was the rear view from our ship. A shiny dot appeared in the distance and then moved closer. Great. Just great.

  Weren’t things bad enough? I fought against the metal that had solidified around every crevice of my body. Okay, I got safety and all, but this was a little ridiculous.

  “Get this Goddamn thing off me!”

  “Did you hear the part about the missile?”

  “David!”

  The silver cylinder blasted toward us, a stream of bubbles in its wake.

  Sweet Lord. No. Please.

  My chair released. I jumped into David’s arms and squeezed him as his seat surrounded both of us. His warmth injected into me. Tears flooded my lashes as I forced every possible thing I ever wanted to say to him into a flood of emotionally charged hysterical thoughts.

  “I’m here,” he whispered, tightening his grip as the missile hissed toward us.

  25

  The explosion roared through the ship, rattling my world into a cloudy oblivion. A shrill buzz sliced through my ears—a hiss combined with a ring that drowned out all other sound.

  I held my breath as a deep numbness set in. Was I dead?

  A heated grip worked its way up my arm, clutching and prodding as if making sure I was in one piece. I lifted myself to find the horror of night blanketing us. Darkness and the incessant, screaming buzz pressed me further into a void of chaos.

  I wiggled my fingers into David’s grip, pawing for the heat. My heart leapt when his hand gripped my own.

  “David?”

  My voice bounced between my ears, booming, taunting, and mocking with each merciless pound. I wasn’t sure if I’d said his name, or only thought it, but terror riddled me when I considered trying either again.

  The sense of David entered me. The comfort, the rightness. David was there, inside me, but quiet. Disconnected. He flattened my hand and drew a circle on my palm with his finger, followed by the shape of a K.

  O-K.

  “Yes, I’m okay.” I’m better than okay. I’m alive. We’re both alive!

  I wanted to cuddle into his chest and take a moment to revel in the joy of simply existing, but a frightened shimmer rattled our bond. I’d said the words, but David hadn’t heard me. Maybe he couldn’t hear my thoughts either.

  Grabbing his hand, I drew an O and a K on his palm. His arms surrounded me, and the fear slithering across our bond faded to joy.

  I reveled in the warmth of his relief for a single heartbeat. We were all right, and the ship seemed to be in one piece. But how?

  Two short flashes singed my retinas. Maybe I’d imagined it, but David’s muscles tensed beneath my hand. Lights near the floor shone from an infinitesimal glimmer to a dull glow. David’s form shifted beside me, not more than an outline, before the illumination increased.

  I blinked away the spots dancing in my sight as the light from our ship brightened the sea outside our window. Half of the monster’s massive rear fin and a hunk of bloody, scaled hide floated past the glass. Lines of drifting gore trailed behind the body’s shredded edges.

  David gaped before his gaze trailed to me. He laughed and pulled me into another embrace.

  “We … it,” David’s voice seemed to come from a distance.

  I held my hand to my ear. “I can’t hear.”

  “Can … anything?”

  “I can hear, like, every other word.” But I could hear my own voic
e now, come to think of it.

  He turned to the console, and his lips moved, but all I heard was the word “have.”

  He swirled his arms, and the ship moved away from the ghastly remains of the giant mouth-fish.

  I jumped up from my seat. “Hey, we’re moving! We have power!”

  David smiled at me. Oh. He’d probably already told me that. The wall flashed. My little grassen must have been hard at work.

  Can you hear anything at all? David’s voice hugged me from within.

  “Yeah, I can hear you inside my head, now. I guess the buzz is getting less.”

  I had a ringing, too. It’s almost gone.

  He startled and looked to the screen, his lips forming a straight line just before a jolt of anxiety skidded across the top of our bond.

  We’d just survived a freaking missile. Now, what?

  “A communication is coming through.” His voice seemed distant below the ringing, but it was getting clearer.

  Erescopian symbols scrolled across the screen.

  “What does it say?” I plopped back into my chair.

  “It’s being translated.” A smile crossed his lips. “They are asking if we’re okay. It’s the submarine from yesterday.” We rose further, toward the silver vessel. “They saw us get caught, but they couldn’t dive this deep to help us, so they fired the missile, instead.”

  They’d fired at the mouth-fish, not us. They were the coolest submarine guys on the planet! But had they just been sitting there the whole time, waiting for us to come back?

  No. Someone sent them.

  I glanced up, as if I could see past the ceiling, through the ocean, and beyond. A warmth coated me. Someone up there was looking out for us.

  Dad. It had to be.

  I waved as we passed the submarine. Like they could see me, but I didn’t care. “Tell them thanks!”

  “Already done.” He faced me. “Ready to get out of this ocean?”

  “You bet that tight little alien butt of yours I am.” I gripped my chair, ready for our ascent, before remembering our passengers. “How is everyone downstairs?”

  David peered into the swirling liquid inside the console. “They seem fine. They probably don’t even know anything happened.”

  Lucky them.