CHAPTER 10
Chatham Rise South Pacific Ocean, Longitude 44° S, Latitude 176° W. 400 meters below the surface.
The dark water embraced the two divers in cold pressure. Casey turned slowly, the beams from his helmet lights diffusing in the gloom after less than a hundred feet.
He gave an OK hand gesture to Tyler, who returned it, and then moved out from under the habitat.
Like two astronauts on a spacewalk, they climbed up the side of the spherical shell marked ‘4’. Debris from the scuttled ship had spread over some distance, and Casey considered them lucky that the entire habitat hadn’t been completely crushed.
Tyler set his feet on a ladder and pulled on a chunk of bent steel. The metal scraped over the habitat, leaving deep scratches in the paintwork. Casey moved up to help; no point in making more holes.
Together, they heaved the wreckage aside. A pocket of trapped air erupted towards the surface like a fart bubble in a giant’s bathtub. Casey waved the dirt away from the shell. The wreckage had cut through the sphere’s aluminum cladding and the section underneath had flooded. He made a note that Sphere 4 was damaged beyond repair. He had tried to access that sphere from inside, and almost drowned them all.
Tapping Tyler on the shoulder, Casey indicated they should move on. Sphere 3 appeared to be airtight, though the communications array in the central spire had fallen across it. Tyler lifted a six-foot long aluminum tube. It housed one of the sensor antennas which had snapped clean off the base when the entire assembly went over.
Casey spoke into the microphone in his respirator. “Stop fucking around.”
The younger man saluted him with the pole and tossed it aside as they moved on to Sphere 2.
A steady stream of bubbles marked where the sphere had cracked. Casey swept the silt that had settled on the shell aside, clouding the water until he could see the gash in the metal.
“Got the patch?” he asked.
Tyler nodded. “How much?”
“Half-meter length should do it.”
Tyler unrolled a length of matted fiberglass material and handed the trailing end to Casey. Using his dive knife, Tyler cut through the fabric and tucked the rest of the roll back into a dive bag on his belt.
The underwater epoxy came in a special aerosol can. Like an industrial strength can of shaving foam, it came out as a fast-setting resin for the fiberglass patch. The two divers worked over the split in the sphere; Casey holding the material against the surface while Tyler squeezed the adhesive out of its tube and used a palette knife to smooth it down.
After ten minutes, they pulled back and assessed their work.
“Not bad aye, boss?” Tyler had the cocky arrogance of youth. Casey nodded. Patching one leak didn’t improve their survival chances by anything.
“Move on to the next one.”
After they spent another five minutes lifting steel debris off it, Sphere 5 also proved to be undamaged. Casey watched the water around them for sharks while Tyler tossed the garbage off the roof.
“Fuck!” Tyler yelped. Casey twisted in the water, searching for any advancing threat. Tyler was stumbling backwards off the sphere’s roof. In his wake, a broken corpse rose in the current and bobbed like an abandoned doll.
From the clothing, he was one of the engine room crew. Probably killed in the explosion, or drowned in the sudden flood of water that tore through the ship after the charges went off.
“Easy,” Casey said. “He’s dead. Nothing he can do to you now.”
Tyler’s breathing sounded ragged over the comms and Casey could see the whites of his eyes as he stared at the body.
“This shit is fucked up.”
“Tyler, stay focused. Look at me. Okay. Head back inside, I’ll move him.”
Tyler shook his head, “Nah. I’m okay, aye. Just freaked me a little when he popped up.”
Casey lifted the dead man by the shoulders and Casey took his feet. The body had a weird Jell-O-like quality to it. Lethal crush injuries or the pressure of the explosion had snapped most of his bones.
“On three, we hop down,” Casey said.
“Okay”
“Three.” Casey jumped and Tyler went with him. They floated down to the cold mud, sending small clouds puffing up when they landed.
“Put him over there.” Casey nodded towards the darkness away from the habitat. The ocean would take care of the body in no time. Crabs, worms, fish, and even sharks would remove all trace in a week.
Moving with an awkward gait under the strange load, the two divers walked away from the habitat. Casey didn’t want to lose sight of the structure and kept glancing back to make sure it was in view.
“Look out!” Tyler yelled. The body in Casey’s hands jerked. He let go and leapt backwards. The sharks had come out of the darkness and the nearest one’s massive teeth snapped on empty water as the body sank to the bottom.
“Move!” Casey yelled, his voice distorting the radio microphone in his helmet.
Tyler used his gloved hands and feet to propel himself in a rapid crawl away from the drifting corpse.
The sharks circled, homing in on the engineer’s body and driving forward to snap chunks of the grey flesh. Casey felt a hot fury rising in his chest. Fuckers.
He pulled a dive knife from the sheath on his leg and pushed towards the nearest shark. The dense water resisted his slashing motion, but the knife caught the shark along the side behind its gills as it snapped at drifting scraps. The water darkened with blood. The shark convulsed, thrashing in the water and moving out of Casey’s reach.
Oh crap… he passed into the drifting cloud of fresh blood and dropped into a crouch. The sharks were moving more rapidly, six, seven… all great whites. They weren’t attacking each other, or hunting independently; they seemed to be working together, coming at their target from different directions, driving a couple of panicked fish ahead of them.
Casey turned on his feet, catching sight of a shark as it opened its mouth to take a chunk out of his shoulder. The diver jerked aside and stabbed upwards, the blade plunging deep into the shark’s underbelly. The knife dragged out of Casey’s hand as the fish leapt away with a flick of its long tail.
“Boss! Come on!” Tyler had returned to be within transmitting range for the dive radios. Casey scuttled backwards, keeping his back near the ocean bottom and watching above for attacking sharks.
Tyler was striding forward with the aluminum pole under his arm like a jousting lance. He thrust at an approaching shark. The end of the pole glance off the creature’s sloping head and it quickly changed direction.
“I told you to get back inside!” Casey panted.
“Can’t, sharks are sniffing around the dive entrance.”
“The fuck?”
“I reckon they can smell us and want a piece, aye?”
“Sharks can smell really well, but that’s in water.”
“They can’t sniff out the girls inside, can they?”
Casey wanted to say, of course not. Then he remembered something about sharks. “They can detect electrical fields. Like the kind generated by a fish hiding in the sand or behind some camouflaging seaweed. Or even peoples’ heartbeats.”
“Here they come again.” Tyler was backing up and readying his aluminum pole. The sharks swam across the divers’ view, keeping out of range, but moving to get behind them. Being stalked by predators that could come at you from almost any direction, even directly overhead, made seeing them coming challenging.
“What do we do?” Tyler sounded close to panic. He jabbed the pole at a shark, which simply swam out of reach and continued circling.
“Follow me,” Casey said and marched away from the habitat. Tyler hesitated and then followed.
For Casey, the idea of climbing out of the water while the sharks were closing in made his toes curl and his balls shrink up to his armpits.
The sharks closed in as the two divers strode across the ocean floor. A few jabs from Tyler’s aluminum pole sent them
veering away as the wreck of the Waitangirua loomed out of the darkness. Even broken, the ship towered over the two divers. Tyler stared in awe at the fallen vessel. It felt weird seeing it here on the bottom, as dead as a beached whale.
Casey climbed up the hull, walking over the dull painted surface as if he were hiking over a low hill. Tyler took one last look around in the darkness and then added some air to his buoyancy vest so he could float up to join his boss.
They paused at a gaping hole torn in the side of the ship below the waterline. It’s ironic, Casey thought. Now the entire ship is below the water line.
“Wreck diving used to be fun,” Tyler said.
“Be extremely careful. We don’t know if there are any more explosives or what other hazards are now loose.”
Tyler thought that sharks were probably pretty high on the hazard list right now. Being inside a wreck could only be safer.
“We’re looking for the waterproof batteries, cables, and anything that could be used to generate an electric current,” Casey explained.
“Sure thing, boss.” Tyler dipped his head into the wide opening in the ship’s steel skin. Inside the hull, everything was pulverized or broken. He deflated his vest and slid deeper, watching for jagged edges and sharp points.
Casey went in feet first, sinking slowly as he turned to scan the dark water. A shark bite on his ass was not how he wanted this dive to end.
Chapter 11
Chatham Rise South Pacific Ocean, Longitude 44° S, Latitude 176° W. 400 meters below the surface.
With their headlamps illuminating the destruction, Casey led the way deeper into the ship. The fuel tanks hadn’t ruptured and here, deep in the guts of the ship, the water was mostly free of oil. They reached a steel pressure door, one of the bulkheads intended to protect the rest of the ship if the lower level flooded.
“Slowly…” Casey warned. Tyler took a grip on the locking wheel, and working together, they twisted it to the open position. The door cracked open, water at equal pressure on both sides allowed it to swing out of the frame. They continued through the ship, both divers taking note of the way back to the only exit they had.
Torn paper, food scraps, and plastic floated through the dark water. Everything moved on the currents, creating shadows that lunged and receded in the shifting lamplight.
Casey knew that the supplies he needed would be in a waterproof locker, near the deck level of the ship. He could have directed Tyler to swim to the deck side of the wreck, but there were opportunities to find things they could use inside, too.
The divers collected loose items as they went; a waterproof flashlight, though the lens had cracked; a folded plastic tarpaulin still bound up in a strap. In the corridor that ran past the galley, Casey found a small avalanche of tinned food that had spilled across the floor.
“Aww, man, beans?” Tyler almost sounded like he was grinning over the comms.
“Yeah, high in fiber and protein. If you need to fart, you can go the hell outside.”
The younger diver seemed as resilient as a rubber band. Even in the face of near-certain death, he bounced back to frat-boy humor and fart jokes. The feeling that Tyler kept his spirits up by trusting that Casey would get them all out of this alive, turned the older man’s stomach to churning acid.
A check on their remaining air-supply indicated they had about twenty minutes of safe dive time left. Casey bagged the cans and indicated to his dive computer. ”Watch your air.”
Tyler nodded and checked his own readout.
They crept through the twisted wreckage of the stricken ship the chaos of the explosions and the sinking were settling and everything still gleamed under their lights. Soon enough, the sea would start the long colonization process. Like the jungle covering an ancient city, the sea would cover the wreck with worms, silt, and the shells of animals that would live and die on the ship.
The way to what would have been the deck had opened in a ragged tear with the steel hull torn open. The two divers emerged to float next to the deck that now stood like a cliff next to them.
“We should get back, eh?” Tyler said.
“Two more minutes, there’s something I want to check.”
Casey made his way along the wall of the deck. It felt eerie to have the deck that he had walked on now turned on its side. He stopped at a hole where the first of the two submersibles had been stored. The entire vehicle had gone, torn to pieces by the explosives dropped into the compact cabin.
Turning slowly, Casey noted that the second sub was missing from its anchor point. There were no signs of a second explosion, and he slowly sank down towards the starboard rail that rested against the silt of the ocean floor.
“Chief?”
“Follow me down if you can, Tyler; stay close and keep an eye out for sharks.”
The second submersible had tumbled off the deck and now lay on its side less than twenty feet away from the wreck. Casey made a conscious effort to slow his breathing. If the sub had survived, and could be salvaged, it might be what they needed to get them to safety.
The heavy-duty plastic tarpaulin that protected the submersible from the sun and elements when it was safely stored on deck, floated like a cape in the water, a corner of it pinned under the sub.
With a cold hand, Casey swept the silt away from the clear bubble and peered into the sub’s Perspex and steel cabin. An orange plastic container, about the size of a lunchbox lay on the pilot’s seat. For whatever reason, it hadn’t detonated like the other bombs. Getting it out would be suicidal, but then, so would staying down here until their air ran out.
Tyler’s hand waved in Casey’s peripheral vision. He gestured at his dive computer and the numbers were flashing red.
“Time to go.”
Casey signaled okay, and with an eye out for hunting sharks, they made their way up and over the prone hulk. The dark water felt eerily empty the closer they got to the habitat. With no sign of sharks, Casey’s nerves cranked up a notch. The predator you couldn’t see was the one that may well be hunting you.
Turning slowly, the divers arrived at the entrance portal under the habitat. From here, it was a simple matter of swim up a few feet and climb out into the dive chamber.
“You go first,” Casey said into his comms mask.
“Age before beauty,” Tyler replied. “C’mon, man, it’s getting cold.”
Casey didn’t bother arguing. The kid was tired and chilled to the bone. In a few minutes, they could both be getting a hot drink and some dry clothes. Casey inflated his vest and rose upwards, breaching the surface with a slight splash. He climbed out of the water, using the short ladder bolted to the deck to get up.
Shedding his mask, BCD, weightbelt, and tanks, Casey turned to help Tyler as he breached the surface.
“Give me your weight-belt,” Casey ordered.
Tyler dropped his hands, working the clip to release the belt. The water rippled around him and he looked at Casey, his eyes wide and bulging in terror behind his mask.
The shark took him around the legs, slamming Tyler against the rim of the dive portal. Casey heard Tyler’s head crack against the frame and then he vanished, the shark dragging him out of the chamber.
“Tyler!” Casey dropped to his knees, scanning the blood-clouded water for any sign.
The rippling surface shattered as a flat grey head burst into the room. Casey yelled, throwing himself backwards as the shark’s jaws snapped the air. The fish sank out of sight, leaving Casey pressed up against the dive chamber wall, shivering with cold and shock.
CHAPTER 12
Chatham Rise South Pacific Ocean, Longitude 44° S, Latitude 176° W. 400 meters below the surface.
“Casey? Casey?” Aroha shook his arm. The diver was staring, unblinking at the water. “We heard you scream. Where’s Tyler?”
“I should have sent him up first,” Casey whispered.
“Oh, shit…” Aroha looked at the water. The blood had faded now, swept away by the constant currents. “Y
ou couldn’t do anything.”
“We should bring him in here, get him warm. He will be in shock.” Nari stood in the open doorway to the inner chamber, her arms folded across her chest.
“Right.” Aroha moved around Casey and helped him stand up. His skin felt cold to her touch and he started to shiver.
“He looked right at me.”
Aroha couldn’t tell if Casey was referring to Tyler or the shark.
“Come inside, we’ll get you warmed up.”
The women sealed the door to the dive chamber and stripped Casey out of his drysuit. He didn’t argue as they guided him to one of the narrow bunks and wrapped him in blankets.
“Can you heat some soup?” Aroha asked Nari. The Indian scientist drifted away to the tiny galley without comment.
“Sub,” Casey muttered.
“What?”
He tried again, speaking between shivering convulsions. “Sub. On the wreck. Way to-to the surface. Slow decom-decompression.”
“I thought you said they were blown up?”
“Bo-bomb didn’t go off. It’s-s-still sitting there. Sub-ub could go-go easy.”
“Holy shit,” Aroha breathed.
“Pro-problem,” Casey managed. “Only room for t-two.”
“So the others wait here, while the other two surface and raise the alarm. We get a rescue ship out here and we all go home and laugh about this in a year’s time.”
Casey closed his eyes. His feet and hands were burning as the blood flowed back into them. “Long time…” he whispered. “Too long.”
Aroha watched him slip into sleep. He had barely rested since they came down here. With the shock and the cold, he was exhausted.
“Soup,” Nari announced.
“Thanks. He’s asleep,” Aroha replied. Nari shrugged and warmed her hands around the plastic mug. After a moment of silence, she set the cup down on the floor and retreated to her blanket nest.
Hell's Teeth: A Deep Sea Thriller Page 7