The Black: A Deep Sea Thriller

by Paul E. Cooley

  But what the hell would change the structure so much that metal destroyed metal while plastic did nothing? Calhoun had popped the damned thing with the end of the screwdriver to no effect. Hadn’t even managed to put a dent in it.

  This makes no sense. He listened to himself and a grim smile appeared on his face. That seemed to be the mantra ever since they drilled the first well. Nothing made much sense anymore. Between AUV 5’s constant problems, the oil that didn’t act like oil, and a changing ocean floor, this particular drilling endeavor defied all logic. Period.

  “Well, that was quick,” Harobin said. Calhoun looked over at the geologist. The man’s eyes were focused on his screen, but his fingers were tapping on the workstation’s edge.

  “What?” Calhoun asked.

  The man turned in his chair and smiled. “Wells been spudded.”

  Calhoun blinked. “Bullshit. No way they got it done that fast. No way.”

  “According to Gomez, they’re already sending down the drill bit.”

  Thomas stood from his chair. “Nonsense. They’re fucking with you. There’s no way—“ He paused as his phone beeped. Calhoun sighed and pulled it out of his trouser pocket. “1 message from Shawna Sigler” scrolled across the screen. Frowning, he tapped in the unlock code. The phone’s screen filled with text. “The fuck?”

  “Problem?” Harobin asked.

  Calhoun glared at the geologist. “Catfish?”

  The tech turned around in his chair and tilted his head at Calhoun. “Yeah?”

  “I have to go help Shawna. Do me a favor and ask Vraebel for a security officer to meet me at the lab.” He turned around and rushed out of the office.

  Harobin traded stares with Catfish. “Security officer? Was he serious?”

  #

  Four AUVs circled the second drill site. AUVs 1,3, and 4 traveled in separate orbits around the drill string. Each orbit was further from the ocean floor and wider than the last. AUV 5, on the other hand, hovered a mere ten meters above the rock and sand.

  Its cameras and sensors were filming everything. Once the spud bit had been sent down, it detected the RFID signature and a new subroutine kicked into gear. Its rear camera watched the nearest beds of tube worms while its forward camera focused on the spud site.

  The drill bit began to turn. It knew this from the frequency generated inside the string. Sand and rock moved aside as the bit started chewing into the earth. AUV 5 activated its seismic sensors. Waves of sound from the disturbance registered as normal. AUV 5 was as happy as a machine could be. It watched as the drill string slowly grew in length.

  The robot’s sensors suddenly detected something new. The ocean floor rumbled behind it. The tube worm beds had all turned their heads toward the drill string. The rumble grew. AUV 5 continued to film the area. A new subroutine launched and told the robot to begin moving in that direction. It detected new movement in front of it and the routine stopped dead in its tracks.

  A long, black tentacle reached upward through the ocean floor. The water around the drill string became an impenetrable cloud of debris, but the robot’s thermal imaging continued taking video. The tentacle wrapped around the drill string and pulled. Another reached out and did the same. Then another and another.

  The ocean floor shook. A divot formed around the drill string as the tentacles pulled downward. The robot squirted a data stream to AUV 1. AUV 5 continued to watch while AUV 1, the highest in orbit, responded to the alert by emptying its ballasts and ascending as fast as it could. The warning was coming. But it was already too late.

  #

  Entire universes must have been born, lived their lives, and extinguished themselves between each breath. Afraid to move, afraid to so much as blink, she’d been staring at the thing beneath the table for an eternity.

  The black ooze was still motionless. She didn’t know how long it had been since she texted Thomas, and she was afraid to look at her phone. The monitors on the wall flashed information, but she didn’t dare avert her gaze.

  She spent the time thinking about weapons, chemical structures, something she could use. The liquid was light sensitive, but only to high frequencies. Any source that approximated natural sunlight must be deadly to it. Did that include the UV spectrum? It was made of hydrocarbons. Would engineered bacteria eat it? Would it even damage it? What about—

  Something tapped on the hatch across the room. Shawna nearly screamed. She’d managed to get her heart rate under control, but it was once again off to the races. The phone in her hand buzzed. She risked a glance at it.

  “Can you talk?” a text from Calhoun said.

  Her fingers tapped the call icon and she slowly raised the phone to her ear. The ring lasted all of a second.

  “Shawna,” Calhoun’s gravelly voice said, “if you can’t talk, don’t.”

  “I can talk,” she whispered. She could barely hear her own voice over the thumping of her heart. “I don’t think it can hear.”

  “What’s your situation?”

  She tried to talk, but there was no saliva in her mouth. She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to make her wince. Her mouth filled with moisture. “It’s between me and the hatch. It’s sitting beneath the lab table in the shadows. Thomas, it’s sensitive to light. Halogen light. Anything that approximates sunlight.”

  “Okay, calm down,” he said. His voice was even, but she could tell that was forced. He might be as scared as she was. Or maybe he was just humoring her. “Is it sensitive to movement? Vibration?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay,” Thomas said. “I’m going to knock on the hatch, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She prepared herself for the sound, but she jumped anyway when loud bangs erupted outside the hatch. She was sure they were loud enough to echo down the hallways, but through the thick steel, they sounded like distant thunder. The liquid didn’t react.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “Good. I’m coming in.”

  Before she could find her voice to say anything, there was a loud click and then the hatch squealed open. Shawna kept her eyes focused on the puddle beneath the table.

  Calhoun stepped through the hatchway, his head down and eyes scanning the floor. He stopped just inside the room. “I don’t—“ He paused and his face turned grim. “Okay, I see it.” He looked up at Shawna. “You okay?”

  “I have to pee,” she said.

  Thomas opened his mouth, closed it, and then started to chuckle. She joined him, a tear appearing at the corner of her eye. “Well, let’s get you out of here so you can do that in privacy.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Let’s.”

  He walked down the side of the room directly in front of the hatch. An extra set of lab clothes hung off the pegs on the wall. He grabbed one of the gloves. “Keep an eye on it for me,” he said.

  “I don’t dare close them,” she whispered. “Thomas?” He turned to her. “I’m fucking terrified.”

  Calhoun nodded. “I know. Tell me what you know. Tell me what it did.” He turned back to the wall and seemed to take inventory of everything there.

  She swallowed hard. “I poured it into test tubes so I could test it against other chemicals. It didn’t react to anything I tried.”

  “So what kicked it off?” he asked.

  “I used the halogen work lamp,” she said pointing to the table. “The small sample practically evaporated. A 1/4 oz. of the stuff crawled out of its test tube and went down the table.”

  He turned and blinked. His eyes went back to the small puddle beneath the table. “That’s a quarter ounce?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Looks too big for that,” he said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Calhoun donned a lab apron and a mask, but didn’t put on the gloves. Instead, he held one of them in his hands. “I ever tell you I was a great pitcher in high school?”

  Shawna giggled at the sudden smile on Thomas’ fac
e. “No, you didn’t.”

  He nodded. “I was awesome. If I hadn’t broken my damned shoulder while skate-boarding,” he said, “I could a been a contendah.”

  She started to laugh and then saw what he was going to do. The sound died in her throat. Thomas threw the glove beneath the table. It hit the floor a foot in front of the amber liquid, slid into it, and stopped.

  Nothing happened.

  “Well,” he said, “that was anti—“

  A curl of smoke drifted up from the glove as it dissolved into the oil. The glove was made of polymers with steel woven through it. The polymers had been completely consumed, but she could see the remains of the metal threads sitting on top of the slick.

  Calhoun let out a deep breath. “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah,” Shawna agreed. She waited a beat. “Thomas?”

  He nodded. “I see it.”

  The puddle of liquid was no longer a deep amber. It had darkened considerably toward its original black. As they watched, the strange substance spread an inch or two in all directions.

  “What in the fuck?” Shawna said. “Did it just… Did it just grow?”

  “Yes,” Calhoun said, voice shaking. Thomas’ fists clenched and unclenched and then he let out a deep breath. Shawna thought she could see the man force himself under control. When he looked at her, his face was set in a gentle smile. “I guess it’s hungry.”

  She swallowed hard. “Got any ideas?”

  He thought for a moment. “You said it slid off the metal table?”

  “Yeah. Down the leg and everything.”

  “Okay,” Calhoun said. “I have an idea.” Tongue in the corner of his cheek, he slowly slid across the wall toward the lab equipment. “You let me know if it starts to move.”

  “Damned right I will.”

  He scanned the wall and then grinned. “So it didn’t consume the metal. Didn’t consume Pyrex. What do those two materials have in common?” He pulled a large metal tray from the wall. Its sides had an inch high lip. Light gleamed off its surface. He held it in his hands and turned to look at her. “Think, Shawna. What do they have in common?”

  She let out a breath. “Tightly packed molecular structures.”

  “Right. So maybe it can’t displace them if they’re packed a certain way,” Calhoun said. He turned to face the table. The puddle was closer to Shawna’s side than his. “That would explain why it can only absorb certain materials.” The large man lowered himself to his haunches. His joints cracked and he grimaced in pain. He smiled at her. “Fucking age. Catches up with us all.”

  Thomas looked back down beneath the table. He took a long, slow breath. She could see tremors running down the man’s arms. “Be careful, Thomas.”

  He nodded. Knees creaking, he duck walked around the table and toward the far side. Shawna’s eyes were riveted on the liquid. It hadn’t moved, hadn’t bubbled, hadn’t so much as twitched. Calhoun took another deep breath and moved to cover the puddle with the tray.

  The rig vibrated. He looked at her, his face a round O of surprise. The floor rumbled and then the rig shook. Calhoun fought to keep his balance. And then the lights went out.

  #

  Spudding was old hat and nothing special. The drill crew sent down concrete casing. They sent down a large drill bit and then started the damned thing drilling. Very simple. Once the surface hole was made, they’d retract the spud bit and replace it with a regular drill bit. Then they could start bringing up real oil, the real black.

  So why was the fucking rig shaking like it was in the middle of a goddamned hurricane? Gomez grabbed on to a railing as two of his men flew overboard.

  He yelled an alert to the rest of the crew, but no one was listening. The generators heaved and then went silent, but the rig continued to shimmy from side to side. “Two in the water!” he screamed. “Port side! Get your asses moving!”

  Hard hats had tumbled off and slid along the deck as Leaguer shook. “Turn off the fucking drill!” he screamed. When the drill continued rumbling, Gomez turned to look at the control station.

  The drill operator wasn’t at his post. A large smear of blood covered the back of the station. He could see a motionless leg sticking out from behind the steel platform. Cursing, Gomez shuffled on unsteady feet to the drill controls. T. Reed, the drill operator for the morning shift, was dead. His head had smashed into the metal panel. Fragments of his skull peppered the rig floor like bloody, broken eggshells.

  The panel’s LEDs were flashing yellow and red. Backflow pressure was redlined. If the drill continued siphoning, they were going to have a blowout. He stabbed his hand on the large emergency button. The rig shook again as the turntable slowed and then stopped.

  Heart hammering in his chest, Gomez blew out a long hiss of air and looked up at the deck. Five of his men were at the port side and looking down into the hundred foot chasm that separated the rig deck from the ocean. Gomez’s inner ear was still having problems adjusting to the motionless rig. “Where are they?” he yelled as he approached the men.

  One turned to him and blinked. Gomez grabbed the front of his shirt. “Where the fuck are my men?”

  “They— They didn’t make it,” the crewman said.

  Gomez peered over the railing. When the rig shook and knocked them off, the deck must have been swaying in the other direction. As they fell, it hit them on the way down. Thousands of tons of metal pounded their bodies. The superstructure below the railing was covered in blood.

  “Jesu Christie,” Gomez breathed. “Roll call! Now!” he screamed. The men near the railing didn’t move. “Get the fuck to your stations. Now. And goddammit, section chiefs better have numbers for me in two minutes. Move your fucking asses!”

  #

  His chest burned. The fresh cup of coffee he’d made had splashed down and inside his shirt. Vraebel was still hissing through his teeth when the power went out. The LED monitors blinked out and the sound of the A/C died. He turned to Terrel, his XO.

  “Get to the generators. See what the fuck is going on.” Terrel didn’t reply as the rig shook again. He ran through the hatch and down the hallway. Vraebel picked up the red phone handle. He didn’t know if Gomez would hear it with the chaos he saw below.

  He could see Gomez over by the railing with a group of men. They peered down over the side. Vraebel’s balls turned to ice. “Answer the goddamned phone!” he screamed. Gomez continued staring over the railing. When he turned back, Vraebel saw the expression on his face. Dead men. The only question was how many.

  “Answer the fucking phone!” he yelled again. But it continued ringing. He slammed the handset down. The lights flickered and then came back on. The A/C started to flow again. One crisis down, he thought. But he knew that was bullshit.

  The drill wasn’t moving. Gomez had shut it down. Vraebel had a second to thank God he’d hired the man. The red phone buzzed loud enough to make him jump. Vraebel pulled up the head set. “Bridge,” he said.

  “It’s Gomez, Martin.”

  “What’s your status?”

  A long pause followed the question. He stared down at the deck and could see hands and fingers raising. Gomez was taking roll call.

  “We have power again,” he finally said. “Even to the consoles. But we’re missing two men.”

  Two men. “They’re not missing. They’re dead, aren’t they?” he said in a flat monotone.

  “Yes, Martin. I think they hit the ballast on the way—“

  “Any other casualties?” Vraebel asked.

  Another pause. “Reed is dead. The rest? Scratches and bruises. Harrison has a broken wrist. Other than that, I think we’re okay.”

  My ass, Vraebel thought. “Get Harrison to the doc.”

  “I sent two men with him. They’ll be there ASAP.”

  “Good. Any idea what the fuck happened?”

  “No. No warning. I don’t know if we hit a gas pocket or what.”

  Vraebel shook his head. “If we’d hit a gas pocket that big, we’d
either be on fire or sunk.”

  “True,” Gomez said. The sound of his voice was muffled as he covered the receiver. “Check the goddamned stand! See if it’s twisted!” The sound of the deck engines and generators returned. “We have to do some checks down here. I’ll have a damage report for you as soon as I can.”

  “Make it happen, Steve.”

  “Will do,” Gomez said. The man sounded exhausted and in shock.

  “And Steve?”

  “Yeah, boss?”

  Vraebel bit his lower lip. “Good job, man. It wasn’t your fault.”

  Another pause. “Thanks, Martin. Talk to you soon.”

  The phone went dead in Vraebel’s hand. He placed it back in its cradle before picking up the white phone. He punched in a few numbers and waited for the other end to pick up.

  “Drilling office,” a breathless voice said. “Harobin here.”

  “Andy. What the fuck is going on down there?”

  “Martin,” Harobin said. “What the fuck is going on period? What the hell was that?”

  “You fucking tell me! What did we hit?”

  Harobin coughed. “I— I don’t know. Readings were good. Everything was good. And then the rig started to shake.”

  “Is Standlee there?” Martin asked.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “You tell that fucker to get his ROV down to 18k and find out what the hell happened,” Vraebel said.

  “I— Hang on a sec.” There was a murmur in the background. “Standlee says he’ll have a report for you soon.”

  “Fucking better,” Vraebel growled into the phone and hung up.

  #

  When the lights went out, Calhoun was inches away from the puddle. The shaking rig had almost knocked him to the floor. The clank and rattle of glass and steel hanging from the walls was loud enough to make his ears ring. The sudden plunge into pitch black forced a shriek from his throat. Shawna didn’t fare much better. It only lasted a couple of seconds before the emergency lights kicked in, but the darkness seemed to last an eternity.

  As the red emergency lights snapped on, Calhoun’s eyes were stuck on the space in front of him. The liquid that had been stationary started to slide toward him. He let out a scream and slammed the tray down atop the puddle. He duck walked out from beneath the table and then headed to the far wall.