by Stuart Clark
* * * * *
Wyatt and Byron were too euphoric to initially sense the motion of the Santa Maria. Happy to be alive, the pair of them laughed and joked and moaned about their aches and pains and could have done so until the others arrived to meet them.
“I’m getting too old for this nonsense,” Byron laughed. Wyatt smiled but his smile was quickly replaced with a frown. His eyes darted around; looking for something. An explanation to what his body had told him just happened.
“Did you feel that?” he asked.
“Feel what?”
“I don’t know. It felt to me like we moved. Like we rocked or something.”
“No. I didn’t feel anything.”
The two men stopped and stood absolutely still. Silent.
“That,” Wyatt said suddenly. “Did you feel it then?”
Byron nodded. “I felt something. What could it be, though?”
“I don’t know.”
“Water.” Byron said quickly, as if struck by a sudden flash of inspiration.
“Possibly,” Wyatt mused, nodding thoughtfully.
“No, really,” Byron said, pointing over Wyatt’s shoulder to the window beyond. “Water.”
Wyatt turned. At the bottom of the window a thin brown line had appeared in which bits of muck and dirt swirled. Above the line, the surface glinted silver and gold as it reflected the suns’ light. A shoreline or bank was visible in the far distance.
“Must be our lucky day,” Wyatt said. “Landing in water must have saved our lives.”
“I wouldn’t count on that just yet,” Byron added grimly. “We’re sinking.”
CHAPTER
10
She had lain here for over a month. Here since the last time she had fed. Now she slowly digested that meal for the brood that grew and shifted occasionally in her abdomen. In all this time she had not moved save for the few exceptions when another inhabitant of the massive lake had examined her huge frame, thinking she were dead and looking for an easy meal. They were rewarded with a twitch of muscle or the swing of her massive head and the snap of jaws that would send them hurrying away, back into the depths and the safety of the darkness. Other than this, she had no reason to move. She had no natural enemies except others of her own kind—but now something troubled her.
She sensed something. A shock wave. A fleeting change in the water pressure that swept along her body and dislodged some of the silt that had deposited on her length as she had remained here motionless. With two strokes of her massive tail, she rose off the mud bed and emerged like a ghost from the gloom, the layer of filth on her back falling away like a shroud.
* * * * *
Wyatt looked at the window in horror. What Byron had said was true, the layer of brown water was clearly getting deeper as he watched. “We must have taken some hull damage when we crashed,” he said. Despite their size the ships were designed to stay afloat for some time before they went under. “We must be taking on water somewhere.” Then, he remembered the rest of the team far below them in the cryosleep chamber. “Shit! We’ve got to tell the others!”
He frantically looked around the nearby consoles for the headset that had flown off his head on impact. He spied the tiny metal frame to the right of the windows that the water continued to climb. When he picked it up he groaned.
“What? What is it?” Byron asked, concerned.
He turned with the headset in his hands. Saying nothing, he held it up for Byron to see. The tiny, fragile microphone attachment had snapped and the two resulting plastic fragments dangled limply, connected by the wire flex that ran between them. “I’m going to have to go down and get them,” he said. “We can’t communicate with them.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No,” Wyatt said firmly. “We don’t have time. You get to the exit hatch on the roof.”
Forgetting his pain, Wyatt moved swiftly to the storage hatch. He pulled out his pack and swung it onto his shoulder in one motion. The doors seemed to part quickly as he approached them, as if they too sensed the urgency of the situation. Wyatt stepped through, looking first right and then left as he considered his options. He looked back at Byron. “I’ll see you topside in a few minutes,” he said and with that he was gone.
* * * * *
Bobby led the other three through the winding corridors and up the occasional ladder as they made their way to the bridge. They traipsed mostly in silence but she was aware of the occasional moan and groan from the three men behind her. She did not know whether their complaints were directed at her or an audible protest at pain caused from their injuries, neither did she care. A deep gash on her forehead bled profusely and blood ran down the side of her face and into her eye, tainting her world with red. She felt dizzy and sick.
* * * * *
Jogging down the corridor, for it was the fastest he could move, Wyatt winced with the occasional twinge of pain. As he passed the lift he hesitated, thinking of the time it would save him if he used it and remembering the speed with which the water climbed outside. He went to press the button but then decided against it. It might save him time, but using a lift in this situation was extremely dangerous. But then what about the time it would save, and the pain it would save him? He went to press the button again and stopped himself again. No. He could not do it. Much as he hated the idea, he would have to use the ladders between the floors.
He located the nearest ladder and realizing that time was short, placed a boot either side of the handrail and simply slid down, landing heavily. His legs collapsed under the combined weight of him and his pack and he fell onto his back and stayed there for a moment, groaning and waiting for the pain to subside. Slowly, he picked himself off the floor. He would not be trying that again.
* * * * *
Bobby heard the metallic clang above her. It sounded distant. “Shhhh,” she commanded the others. They stopped and stood in silence, peering at the tubes and pipes that ran and zigzagged their way along the ceiling, their eyes flicking from one to another, not knowing what it was they were looking or listening for. Then they heard a faint metallic thumping, consistent with footfalls. “Wyatt?” Bobby said quietly, a thin smile breaking over her face. “Wyatt!” she called. “Wyatt, we’re down here!”
* * * * *
Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the distant voice. He had chosen wisely in his route to intercept the others. Inspired, he quickened his pace. He could see the next ladder at the far end of this new corridor. “I’m coming!” he shouted back to them.
When he reached the ladder, he looked down into the dark void of the deck below. In the darkness there suddenly appeared a pale ellipse. It was Bobby’s upturned face. A wave of relief washed over him and he saw the feeling reflected in Bobby’s expression. “Thank God,” he said. He beckoned her up the ladder with a swift motion of his arm. “Come on. Come on. Hurry!”
Bobby made her way up the ladder, painfully slowly it seemed. As her head and shoulders appeared through the hole in the floor, Wyatt grabbed her pack and hoisted her up the rest of the way. Then came Chris and Kit, and Par was the final member of the group. After Par had been pulled up Wyatt returned his attention to the ladder, expecting to find another in need of assistance. He found himself looking at an empty hole. He turned to the four people now stood next to him, looking at each of them quickly. When no one said anything, he looked back down at the hole in the floor.
“Where’s Kate?” he demanded, turning quickly on Bobby.
Bobby was shocked by the alacrity of Wyatt’s question, but more so by the look she found in his eyes. “You mean, she’s not with you…or…or…or Byron?” she stammered, unsettled by implication.
“No, she’s not with me or Byron. So where the hell is she?” Wyatt insisted, a hint of anxiousness in his voice.
“Well, she lost Furball. She went after it.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. He did not need this. Not now.
“Why? What is it? What’s the problem?” Bo
bby asked, realizing now that this whole situation was a lot more urgent than she originally thought.
“We’re taking on water,” Wyatt said. “That’s the problem. The Santa Maria is sinking.”
Behind Bobby, Chris’ eyes widened in horror. Wyatt sensed Bobby tense, whether from fear or in anticipation of the castigation she thought she was going to receive he could not tell. He turned to say something to her, to remind her that Kate was her charge and that this should never have happened but thought better of it. There simply was not time and they had all been through enough already. He looked at her and for the first time noticed her injury, his eyes straying to the streak of crimson that spoiled her features. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Bobby said, nodding and playing the whole thing down. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Okay. I’m going after Kate. You people get yourselves up to the top hatch. Byron should already be there. Now go!”
Bobby went to speak, to suggest that she help Wyatt in his search, but she knew she was weak and would probably slow him down. She stopped herself.
“What? What is it?” Wyatt asked.
“Nothing,” Bobby said. “I’m sorry,” she added, her voice cracking as the shock and the trauma began to take its toll upon her. Wyatt thought for a moment that she was going to break down and he had never seen Bobby cry, not in all the years he had worked with her. He placed his hands on her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” he said. He smiled, “I’ll find her.” A smile struggled across Bobby’s face, crooked and tainted by the myriad emotions that raged inside her. “Now go,” Wyatt said. “You’ve got to get out of here and you don’t have much time.”
* * * * *
“Furball?” Kate peered into the darkness of one of the many alcoves which pitted the corridor. Seeing nothing, she moved on. “Furball,” she said again, “Where are you? This isn’t funny, you know!” The corridor was silent except for the echoes of her footsteps and a strange creaking sound which she had only recently begun to notice.
She turned the corner and found herself faced with an identical view to the one she had just left—a long dim corridor flanked on either side by paneling and occasionally, exposed tubes and piping. Far ahead she thought she saw something move. “Furball?” she asked, frowning. “Furball, is that you up there?” Entering into the corridor, she walked towards the movement. Peering into the pitch-blackness to her left, she could see nothing. There was a sound behind her and she spun, her eyes darting frantically around until they located two pinpricks of white in the blackness. “Furball?” she asked again.
From somewhere nearby the creaking sound came again and then suddenly something tiny shot across the corridor and blew a hole in one of the pipes close to Kate. Instantly a jet of white steam plumed into the corridor. Kate screamed in fright, bringing her hands up to protect her face. Furball jumped out of the darkness to land on her. The creature was frightened too. She could feel its tiny frame shaking as she pulled the creature close to her. Another of the tiny missiles flew past her and ricocheted down the corridor, making three or four metallic pings as it rebounded off paneling and piping, leaving dents in its wake. Kate could not comprehend what was happening until, beneath the steam, she spied a single jet of brown fluid squirting into the corridor, squirting through a tiny hole in one of the panels where a rivet should have been.
Whatever that brown fluid was, it was exerting so much pressure on the paneling that it had started to actually blow the rivets out of their holes, firing them like tiny bullets and making them equally as dangerous. That would explain the creaking she had heard, the paneling was actually groaning under the pressure.
As she stood there, another of the rivets whizzed past her and punched a hole in the opposite wall. Two more streams of fluid shot into the corridor. She had to get out of here! She looked behind her and then through the steam, shifting her head to try and see beyond the white clouds. It was then she realized she did not have a clue where in the great ship she was.
“Kate!” She thought she heard someone call her over the hiss of the escaping steam. “Kate!” the shout came again.
“Here!” she shouted, amazed and relieved that someone had found her. “I’m here! Hurry!” More and more of the rivets were working their way loose and whizzing past her, each accompanied by the appearance of another stream of the filthy, foul-smelling water.
Through the steam a single dark figure appeared, emerging swiftly through the swirling white clouds like an apparition, one arm held high to protect his face from the scalding, superheated gas.
“Wyatt,” Kate gasped. She extended her free arm and moved towards him to embrace him, to thank him for coming after her, but he was oblivious to the meaning in the gesture. He swept past her, never losing his stride, grabbed her outstretched hand and continued on his flight down the corridor almost dragging her along behind him, instinctively ducking the tiny rivets as they banged and whizzed around them.
“Come on,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”
When they reached the nearest ladder, Wyatt stepped aside and let Kate climb up it first. When her feet had passed the level of his head he began his own ascent. No sooner had his feet made contact with the rungs, he heard a wrenching sound. A tortuous metallic scream as something gave at the far end of the corridor. He stopped and looked towards the sound but could see nothing beyond the swirling cloud of white steam which filled the square passageway two hundred yards away. In an instant the white clouds were engulfed in a wall of foaming, angry brown water which raged towards him with frightening speed. Wyatt’s eyes widened in horror. Frantically he placed a hand on Kate’s backside and shoved as hard as he could. “Move!” he screamed at her. “Go! Now!”
* * * * *
He spun the locking wheel on the exit hatch and then grasped it firmly with both hands. He hoped the Santa Maria was not completely underwater by now. If it was and he opened the hatch then they would be blown away by the torrent of water which would pour in through the opening. Worse still, the sheer weight of water above them might prevent him from even opening the hatch and they would be trapped inside as the ship slowly sank. Kate looked at him anxiously, clinging tightly to Furball, unaware of the doubts and concerns that filled his head. He had no choice but to try and open the hatch.
He shoved, and the seal gave. The heavy lid lifted up and away until it turned over on its hinge and swung open. Light streamed in through the hole and the pair of them shielded their eyes from its brightness. Wyatt scrambled out and onto the ship’s roof, then quickly turned and helped Kate up to join him. Then, for the first time, he took a look around.
His suspicions were correct. They had taken some hull damage. Supply containers and other assorted debris floated and bobbed on the surface around the ship. Every now and then a new container would erupt to the surface with a whoosh, startling them both.
A hundred yards away he spied the others. They had grabbed some of the containers and put their packs and weapons on top of them. Now they were pushing these makeshift cargo barges in front of them and kicking for the shore, leaving swirls and foam in their wake. Getting away from the ship before it went under and sucked them under with it.
Wyatt quickly slipped off his pack and jumped into the filthy water, striking out for the nearest container. When he got to it, he grabbed it and headed back toward the ship.
“Hand me your weapon,” he said. Kate did as she was told and passed the gun down to Wyatt who was treading water next to the ship. He took it from her and placed it on the container. “And mine,” Wyatt added. Again Kate complied. “Now scramble down the side of the ship and hang your pack in front of you as you come down.” Kate followed his instructions. Wyatt lifted the pack as it slid down towards him and pushed it across to join the weapons. “Now you’re going to have to get in the water with me. Can that thing swim?” Kate looked down at Furball who was clinging desperately to her jacket.
“I don’t know.”
/> “Well if it can’t, it better be a bloody quick learner.”
Kate looked down at Furball again. It gripped her jacket with the long claws that had given it such exceptional grip on the trees when they had first discovered it. It was clearly not adapted for any kind of life in water, anyone could have figured that out, but now was not the best time to realize this. Slowly, she coaxed the animal to release its hold on her and then, when it was free, she slid further down the side of the ship until the toes of her boots were in the water. She extended her arms as far as she could toward the container, holding Furball out in front of her, and then threw the animal towards the floating mass. The action completely shifted Kate’s balance and she slipped off the side of the Santa Maria and splashed into the murky water. The creature yelped as it flew through the air, not expecting to be propelled in such fashion, but it landed safely and perched itself atop Kate’s pack.
“Okay, push this in front of you like the others are doing and just head for the shore.”
Kate blinked comically at Wyatt.
“Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” Kate said. “Just got a bit of shit in my eye.” She smiled even though the timing was wholly inappropriate. Wyatt half-smiled but he could not bring himself to laugh, not given their situation.
“Okay. Go. Hurry. You’ve got to get away from the ship before she goes down.”
“But what about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be right behind you. Now go.”
Kate nodded and Wyatt was sure she was going to say something else. There was a moment’s hesitation and then Kate turned her attention on the container and its load and pushed it away, heading off after the others.