by Michael Bray
“You should listen to your friend.” Russo said, his confidence restored now there was a physical barrier between him and Mackay. “You can either move into a nice cabin with a window and relax until this mission is over, after which, we will drop you back at port and let you go on your way, or you can stay here. All you need to do is sign disclaimers, confidentiality agreements bound by-”
“Forget it.” Mackay said. “You’re going down for this, Russo. You can shove your disclaimers up your arse.”
“Do you speak for everyone?” Russo said, eyebrows raised as he looked at Rainwater and Clara in turn. Neither of them spoke, and so he sighed and shook his head. “So you’d all rather stay locked in here and face trial for interfering in government business? If that happens, believe me, I’ll make sure you all rot in the worst hellhole on the planet. That, I can guarantee.”
He looked at them again, waiting for a reaction. When none came, he sighed and shook his head.
“It seems I’ve done all I can. If you don’t want my help, I’m afraid I have no choice but to have you arrested as soon as we return to port. I wish the outcome would have been different.”
“We’ll take our chances.” Rainwater said. Stepping back alongside Mackay.
“Very well, you can’t say I didn’t try.”
“You know this won’t work, don’t you?” Clara said as Russo walked towards the door.
“That question might concern me if I thought you had the slightest idea about our ability to complete this mission. We have everything under control.”
“Are you sure about that? Are you absolutely certain you’ve taken everything into account?”
Russo hesitated, and then turned back towards Clara.
“Let me guess, you think we’ve missed something, some minor detail, some overlooked thing you have seen? Let me assure you, there are greater minds than yours working on this.”
Clara flinched, and seeing the chink in her armour, Russo exploited it.
“Really?” he said, his grin growing wider. “Did you really, genuinely, think a multimillion dollar mission, vital to the national security of this country, would be dictated by the opinions and guidance of a mere marine biologist?”
Clara took a step back, as Russo continued to turn the screw.
“You were only here to verify our findings. We had our own people making the real decisions.”
“Andrews said…”
“Andrews says whatever I tell him to say. Just like he thinks whatever I tell him to think, eats when I tell him to eat, and shits when I tell him to shit.”
Russo’s decimation of her had been astounding, deflating her confidence in just a few seconds. Mackay stepped forward, teeth gritted as he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Forget this prick,” he said, glaring at Russo. “He might think he has all the answers, but there’s one thing he hasn’t allowed for.”
“Oh really?” Russo said, growing more and more confident. “And what might the greatest brains on the planet have forgotten that the fisherman has remembered?”
Now it was Mackay’s turn to grin, and the wildness in his eyes made Russo squirm a little.
“Out there. You fucks might have all the answers, gadgets, and high tech shit a simple fisherman like me can’t understand, but you don’t know the sea. I’ll bet my arse you don’t know these waters.”
“Is that supposed to frighten me? Water is water. The Victorious is perfectly safe.”
“Aye it is now,” Mackay shot back. “Wait until we hit those cold Antarctic seas.”
Russo squirmed, and his grin took on a fixed, elastic look. Just as Russo had done to Clara, so Mackay did to him, turning the screw without mercy.
“When you get out there, you’ll have violent seas. Waves of forty feet at least, maybe as high as sixty. This smooth ride you are enjoying now will become a fuckin’ rollercoaster. Temperature will be well below freezing. With the wind chill, it will feel like knives hacking at your bones. It will be so cold, you won’t be able to feel your hands or feet. Our monster ploughs on of course. He doesn’t care about the cold. This big old ship of yours, she ain’t designed to be out here. See a big hull like this is prime for ice build-up. The spray thrown by the bow will freeze to the ship. What happens then is it starts to weigh you down. Steering don’t work so well. Suddenly, this boat you are so sure of, starts getting tossed around by the waves like paper in a breeze. By now, all these braniacs you have on board are feeling sick. Every roll of the boat feels like it’s gonna capsize her, every wave you crest feels like you are goin’ nose first into the ocean.
“Your captain, as experienced as he might think he is, won’t know what to do. Maybe a wave comes, a rogue eighty footer, catches you broadside. It hits with the force of a thousand freight trains. Already weighted with ice, the boat goes over. Up becomes down, left becomes right. The lights go out. You might hear screaming. You might feel icy water pouring in on you. You don’t know where from. You don’t know how to get out.”
Mackay grinned, as everyone looked on and watched him in awe.
“Boat like this, heavy with ice will go down in maybe ten minutes. Less if the waves slam it again. This water, it’s cold enough to take the breath away from even a gobshite like you. Within sixty seconds of being submerged, your core temperature will drop. Hypothermia sets in. A strong man might hang on for fifteen, twenty minutes. A scrawny shit like you won’t make it more than five, if you manage to escape the vessel before it sinks that is. You’ll be in the water, wind raging in your ears, body so numb with cold you won’t be able to feel if you are still kicking to stay afloat. Come the end, you’ll beg to die.”
“You underestimate how strong I am,” Russo said without conviction.
“Maybe,” Mackay replied, “maybe not. You’ll beg to die, because if the water don’t get you, then our beastie is still out there and you can bet your arse it will come calling when it gets hungry.”
“Then it looks like we’ll all die together.”
Russo didn’t quite manage to sound as confident as he had hoped.
“Aye, maybe we will. Difference between you and me, is I know what to do to try to survive. You might not think so now you arrogant prick, but you’ll need me before I need you, especially when those seas start to get rough.”
Russo opened his mouth, and clamped it shut again. He looked at them all in turn, and then closed and locked the door.
“I hope that was a bluff,” Clara said quietly.
“I only wish it was.” Mackay replied.
Five miles ahead, the creature continued to head into colder waters as the Victorious gave chase.
CHAPTER 46
Royston wiped the sweat from his brow and looked out at the imposing lagoon below him. At an impressive two thousand feet in diameter, and the same at its deepest point, Royston was sure it had to be one of the biggest man made containment facilities in the world. It was an impressive sight. He watched as cranes lifted panelled sections into position, closing off the last few sunlight filled areas of the large domed roof. Jackhammers drilled, machinery growled as thousands of workmen scurried around. It truly was a thing of beauty, and looked even more impressive from his lofty position at the back of the structure. Trautman joined him, and for a moment, they simply watched.
“Looking good ain’t it?” Trautman said.
“It is. I was worrying about finishing for Sunday, and here we are ahead of schedule.”
“That’s why I’m here actually. I just got word we need to start filling this thing tonight.”
Royston turned towards Trautman. “It’s not ready yet, tell them we can’t.”
“They weren’t askin’,” Trautman said with a sour grin. “Assholes said they want the pumps switched on by late this afternoon.”
“That’s not a problem in itself, the structure will be fine, but the filtration system is-”
“I know I know. No need to preach to the converted. I already told em’ we don’
t have it online yet, plus the roof isn’t finished and the thousand or so other minor jobs that still need to be done. Hell, you know what these assholes can be like. They didn’t want to know. They insisted, so I told them we would go ahead and start pumping seawater into this place as long as they didn’t hold us responsible if it all goes to shit.”
“Are the pumps online? That was all assigned to you guys on second shift.” Royston said.
“My guys got the job done. Those things are ready to go. We can start pumping seawater into this place as soon as we get everyone clear of the bowl.”
“Why do you think they’re in such a rush?”
“Who knows? As long as I get paid, I really don’t give a shit.” Trautman said, looking at his watch. “Do me a favour, get any of your people out of the bowl, we start the pumps in an hour. By late this afternoon, this place will be full of seawater. Let’s hope those filtration systems work like it should, or repairing them is going to be a bitch.”
“What do you suppose they plan to keep in here?” Royston asked.
“Couple of the guys have been wondering the same. I hear it could be whales, a family of them. Something about studying how they interact or some shit like that,” Trautman said, shrugging his shoulders. “Whatever it is, it’s none of my business. I just wanna get this job done and get out of this damn heat.”
“I hear that.” Royston agreed, because he too wanted away from the build. There was something off about it, something not quite right with how the entire thing was being run. The sooner he was on a flight back to England, the better. Something in his gut told him things were about to go bad. He unclipped the radio from his belt, patching in to his crews.
“Clear the bowl, I repeat, clear the bowl. We’re filling her in an hour.”
CHAPTER 47
Barraged by a vicious Antarctic storm, the Victorious ploughed ahead, somehow managing to stay afloat. The sky had turned to the colour of lead, and was already blasting sleet at the boat with increasing velocity.
“We have to call this off,” Andrews said, staring at Russo who looked impassively out of the wheelhouse window, his view a bucking, rolling landscape of waves and snow.
“The path to paradise begins in hell.”
“What is that, Shakespeare or something?” Andrews asked.
“Dante, and quite appropriate, don’t you think?”
“Come on, Russo, you have it tagged. This storm is only going to get worse if we-”
“The storm doesn’t interest me.”
“We could all die!” Andrews said, garnering a few nervous glances from the crew. Russo saw it, and offered a cold smile.
“Are you afraid of a few waves and a little snow? I thought you Langley boys would be made of sterner stuff.”
“Come on, this isn't about measuring dicks. We have people on board and this storm is only going to get worse. Look at these charts,” he said, thrusting the papers towards Russo. “We’re heading right into the middle of a category three storm. If you think this is bad, just wait until later.”
“You feel free to panic if you must. I’m completely confident this vessel can handle anything the ocean can throw at it.”
“Enough of the Americana bullshit. You think this storm cares about the history of this boat? You think it cares that you think we’re indestructible?” He pointed to the officer piloting the boat, who looked completely out of his depth. “You really think this guy can steer us safely through these waters? Look at him!”
“And yet, you seem to be the only one complaining.”
“That’s because everyone else is too afraid to tell you how it is. If you want to throw your life away, then that’s fine. You don’t have the right to drag the rest of us along with you.”
“You can get off at any time, it’s not like we need you around here anyway.”
“You’re a god damn liability, Russo,” Andrews said, striding across the wheelhouse and towards his quarters. Russo only grinned, then turned back to the dizzying, undulating seascape.
“Is that true?” he whispered next to the pilot’s ear. “Is it true you’re out of your depth?”
“Sir, I…” The young pilot stammered.
“It’s okay. I just need to know if we need to get someone else to do this.”
“Sir, I’m prepared to stay at the controls, but if there is someone more capable on board, I would be happy to step aside.”
Russo stood and felt his stomach somersault as the boat crested a thirty-foot wave and smashed into the sea, sending a huge white wall of spray exploding into the air. He unhooked his radio from his belt and lifted it to his mouth.
“Mito, bring our guests. I need to speak to them.”
Ten minutes later, Mackay, Rainwater and Clara stood in the wheelhouse, watched carefully by Mito and his men.
“Before you ask, it’s a no.” Mackay snapped.
“I want you to take the controls of this boat. I can make it worth your while.” Russo said anyway.
“I bet you will. I’m still not interested.”
“Even if I let you and your friends go?” Russo asked, eyebrows raised.
“Seems to me that's out of your hands now. By the looks of things, you’ll be lucky to see dawn again.”
“Which is why I want you to take over. You know these waters. You know how to navigate them safely.”
“Not in conditions like these.” Mackay said, finding a smile despite his stomach rolling as the boat slewed across the waves.
“Are you admitting you aren’t good enough? Are you rejecting the challenge?” Russo asked, flicking his eyes to Clara then back to Mackay. The grizzled fisherman grinned.
“If you’re trying to talk me into proving you wrong, it won’t work. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna bail you out of this one. You made the call to come into what looks to be the mother of all storms, and will have to deal with the consequences.”
“You don’t understand what I’m saying,” Russo said. “This is just the edge of it. We’re heading right into a category three, and it seems we’re unequipped to deal with it.”
Mackay’s confident sneer faltered and he exchanged worried glances with Rainwater.
“You have to pull out. Get back to dock.” Rainwater said.
“I can’t do that.”
“I don’t think you get it,” Mackay said,“there ain’t’ no safe way to navigate a category three storm. I told you what would happen, but you were too stubborn to listen.”
“Just call it off, pick up the search in a few days.” Rainwater cut back in.
Russo stood and stared, elastic grin etched onto his face. “I have a job to do. How can I go back to my superiors and tell them I was derailed by a storm.”
“That won’t matter,” Mackay said, “because if you don’t turn back, there’s a good chance none of us will make it out of here alive.”
“Take the controls. Guide us safely to my monster, and I’ll guarantee you will be freed and all charges against you dropped.”
“Fuck you,” Mackay said, grinning at Russo.
Rainwater was sure Russo would break. Instead, he nodded and turned to the flustered captain who was struggling to control the ship.
“Do you have a name, son?” Russo asked.
“Jenkins, sir.” He replied, as a twenty-foot wave smashed over the bow, smattering the windows with icy seawater.
“Stand down. You’ve taken us as far as you can.”
“Sir, I—”
“That’s an order, Jenkins. Relinquish the controls.”
Jenkins did as he was told, leaving the boat without a pilot.
“Don’t be an idiot, Russo, You need someone to steer the boat. If you don’t hit the waves just right, we’ll capsize.” Rainwater said, glancing to the rolling seas outside.
“Tell your friend to do as I’ve asked.”
“Nobody tells me what to do. Especially not you,” Mackay said, holding Russo’s gaze.
“Then it looks like we’re in
fate’s hands.”
The boat bucked and rolled, prompting Mito to step towards the controls.
“Don’t you touch those!” Russo screamed, the veins bulging out of his neck. Mito shrank back, and like everyone else watched out of the window as the boat forged ahead without anyone to control it.
“Is this creature really worth it?” Clara said, trying to ignore the icy fear in her gut. “Is it worth our lives, your life?”
“ This isn’t just about the creature,” Russo said, grinning as the boat was hit broadside by a wave and listed sickly to the right, before righting itself. “This is about orders. About seeing a job through to the end. This is about my reputation.”
“All you’ll be remembered for is failure, and getting a boat full of people killed.” Rainwater said, balling his fists hard enough to leave tiny white crescents in his palms.
“No. I’ll be remembered as the man who gave his all, including his life to try to complete his mission. I’m prepared for whatever comes. I wonder if you are too.”
“I told you before. Death doesn’t scare me. If it’s my time, it’s my time,” He glared at Russo. “But unlike you, I have a duty to protect my friends. I’ll pilot this boat for you, but I ain’t taking it into a storm.”
“You’ll stay on course; otherwise, I’ll have one of your friends thrown overboard. Remember, I only need you. Think about that.”
Mackay walked towards the controls, and paused to glare at Russo. “I’ll get you for this. I promise you that.”
“Don’t take it personally. We all have a job to do. Mine happens to be one of those dirty ones that nobody else seems to want.”
Mackay paid no attention, instead staring out of the window as he took the controls.
“Are you a religious man, Russo?” Mackay asked as he steered into another giant wave.
“I went to church when I was a boy, why?”
“I suggest you start praying. Because from here on out, there are no guarantees.”
“Get us safely through this storm and I’ll make it worth your while.”