by Rob Sangster
Outside, Barbas was running as though possessed, crashing into obstacles he couldn’t see. He veered toward the edge of the deck where the lifeline had been torn away. Within a few yards of the edge, Barbas looked back over his shoulder at Jack through burning eyes. A deep survival instinct must have warned him, because he tried to slow, but the platform sloped down in front of him. With a wailing scream, he launched himself over the edge into space above the black ocean waiting below. The force of will, money and ambition that had caused all this . . . gone.
Jack had no time to feel victorious, because he heard bolts popping and welds fracturing all along the deck. He heard the voice of the sea grow louder. It’shere—the methane beast that had swallowed Aleutian, gobbled ships in the Bermuda Triangle, and taken down Deepwater Horizon. Now it had come for them, and would destroy Chaos and its crew with total indifference.
Some of the townies and Barbas’s imports had seen Barbas run past, waving his arms wildly. All of them had felt the platform shift, something it had never done in the biggest storm. They sensed their mighty platform was in mortal danger. Fighters stopped, hands dropping to their sides. Animosities gave way to fear. They couldn’t give it a name yet, but they knew something terrifying had started.
Suddenly, four mercenaries burst out of a welding shop firing rounds from automatic rifles. They weren’t aiming at anyone, but were clearing a path for themselves to the helo. Before he could start in that direction, he felt a firm grip on his shoulder.
“Take it easy,” Gano said. “They won’t get away. While I was on that end of the deck, I checked out the helos. The Ka-52s are in the middle of a bonfire, and the two little fellows are shot to pieces. They’re not going anywhere. Just between us, I wouldn’t mind staying onboard, ride it out like it was some tired ol’ bull. Whatcha think?”
Jack saw a very different Gano—soot-smeared, somber, and apprehensive. No more bravado. He must be close to his limit.
Jack put his hand on Gano’s shoulder. “The platform is already lower, and we don’t know how far it will go. Besides, we can’t ride out these fires. As soon as something really big explodes, there will be nowhere to hide. We have to get off this thing before that happens.”
They both looked over the edge of the deck into the bubbling water.
“Don’t look good,” Gano said. “In a few minutes, we’ll have a full-scale panic to deal with. We ought to get some lifeboats ready to go. I saw a few stored down on the cargo deck.”
“If we open hatches down to shove them out, we could take on tons of water. Besides, the crew is already freaked. None of them will go below now.”
He knew something no one else did. Water pressure on the jury-rigged lock on the Pontoon Three hatch was increasing every second. When that lock failed and water rushed in, the generator would short out, killing electric power. The pontoon would fill with salt water and put immense stresses on the platform. He rubbed his eyes, emotionally and physically drained.
Chapter 43
July 30
9:00 p.m.
Chaos platform
THE MAIN DECK looked like Hades the way it’s pictured in some religious pamphlets. Most of the crew was huddled near the edge opposite the superstructure, the only area not yet swept by flame. They were about to be driven into the sea, but seemed to be clinging to denial. He had to shake them out of their lethargy, or they wouldn’t even try to save themselves.
He turned to Gano. “Go back to that rope locker and get every long length of rope you can find. Tie each one to anything strong enough to hold a man’s weight.”
Molly stopped beside him, breathing hard. He put his arm around her shoulders. “We have to get everyone into the water, but these guys are acting like they’ve given up. Try to snap them out of it.” He saw her noticing that the deck was getting more uneven. “Get a couple of dozen men to scavenge for anything that will help us stay afloat in the water. Take it all to where Jorgenson has the lifejackets.”
She took off, calling men by name as she ran. Within seconds, she was working her magic and had them collecting flotation.
Glass showered down as window frames in the superstructure were wrenched out of shape. Cable tie-downs holding the remaining heavy equipment in place snapped and whipped dangerously around the deck.
He ran to the assembly area where Gano and his helpers were at work. They were tying the end of each long length of rope to a separate bollard, about a dozen of them, and tossing the other end over the side. He tested each knot around each bollard and re-tied the ones that wouldn’t have held.
Molly’s troops were already arriving with wood pallets, Styrofoam containers, chairs, coolers, office furniture, and some other stuff that would probably sink immediately.
“Molly, try to get their attention.”
She gave a shrill whistle. “All right everyone.” She pointed at him. “This is Jack Strider. If you want to survive, listen to him.”
“We sent out a Mayday, but don’t know when help might get here,” Jack told them. “We have no choice. We’re going into the water.” The reaction was a sound like an enraged beehive. “Shut up, damn it. If you want to stay aboard, that’s up to you. If you’re going into the water, get into a lifejacket.” He pointed to the pile of flotation. “Hanging onto something in the water could save your life. Toss that stuff over the side.” He hoped wave action wouldn’t take it out of reach before they got to it. Everyone started moving at once, getting in one another’s way, but they got it done.
“Now break into groups and line up behind the bollards. Go down hand over hand. As soon as you hit the water, get away from the line or the next guy will land on your head. Good swimmers go down first and help the others. Get to flotation and raft up.” He knew some of them didn’t have the strength to hang on to the rope all the way down and would land hard in an unforgiving ocean.
“Don’t look like we’re sinking no more,” said a deck hand. “You sure about this?”
“I’m sure the fire is out of control, and I’m sure I’m getting off.”
One man broke out of his group, rushed forward, and grabbed the line above where it hung over the side. He turned his back to the rail, got a grip on the rope, and slid out of sight. A few seconds later they heard him cry “Goddamn” and then a distant splash. The next few men in line looked at one another with dread in their eyes. They could easily balk.
Jack shouted, “You”—he pointed to a heavy-jawed man at the head of the first group—“get moving. You next two, help him over.”
The evacuation was painfully slow, but began moving faster as people helped one another. Some reluctant ones hung back, almost paralyzed, and had to be prodded over the side.
What he saw reminded him of troops descending from a landing craft to storm a beach. Rope burns and exhaustion were making many get partway down and then drop like cannonballs.
He kept a constant eye out for Renatus, but he was still a no-show. Must still be in his laboratory with his priceless data. Jack raced to the lab and found the far end of it ablaze and the entrance wide open. Smoke swirled inside. Alarmed, he held his breath and edged in. Empty.
He called to a few of the dwindling number of crew still aboard. “Have you seen Renatus?” He got blank stares or quick head shakes until a tall Greek pointed to a building about fifty feet from them. Its formerly translucent walls were fire-blackened and slumped as if melted. Of course, the greenhouse. He should have guessed.
The door was hanging from one hinge. He kicked it open. Inside, heat had shattered glass. Flame had scorched every living organism. Renatus’s precious orchid sprouts were blackened waste floating in a slurry of muddy soil on the floor. Renatus sat on a stool swinging a flashlight beam around the wreckage. Nothing could be salvaged. His quest for the perfect orchid for his daughter was over. This was a funeral.
Jack heard stru
ng-out metallic groans and felt the deck tremble. “Renatus, we have to get out.”
Staring at his right palm full of soil, Renatus ignored him.
“Where is that shoulder holster of yours with your data?”
Renatus touched his right chest. He seemed to be in a daze. “I have it.”
“I’m not going to die here because of you,” Jack said, “and I’m not leaving without your data.” Without Renatus, the data probably wouldn’t be enough. He drew back his left hand, planning a chop that would knock Renatus cold so he could drag him to the ropes. When Renatus turned, his face reminded Jack that a blow strong enough to stun him might kill him.
“You have only once chance to save your daughter, or was all that bullshit?”
Renatus didn’t answer.
Jack walked to the door and then looked back. That shoulder holster was too important to leave behind. If he had to, he’d take it, and Renatus would have to decide whether to come along or stay and roast.
Chapter 44
July 30
9:30 p.m.
In the Pacific Ocean
A SPARK CAME back into Renatus’s eyes. Without cleaning the mud from his hands, he walked past Jack onto the deck. Jack raced ahead and pulled up one of the ropes dangling over the side. He’d finished tying two Alpine butterfly loops into place by the time Renatus and the Greek reached him.
Renatus looked at the rope. “I can’t—”
“You will, but first give me that shoulder holster.” He’d planned this moment as soon as Renatus told him about the samples.
Renatus had probably known this moment was coming too. He unbuckled the holster and handed it to Jack. Maybe at some deep level he wanted the best chance for his discoveries to benefit humanity. Then he reached out for a life jacket and got it buckled across his chest.
Jack didn’t thank Renatus. Each had done what he thought was best for himself. “Put your feet in these loops,” he said, “Now wrap both arms around the rope, and we’ll lower you. Don’t think about it. Just do it.”
Jack looked down at the heaving sea where a man clawed at an upended table already claimed by two other men. As it sank under his weight, the others forced him off. Then he saw Gano looking up, one arm hooked around a hunk of Styrofoam. Jack pointed to Renatus and gestured for Gano to grab him when he reached the water. When they lowered him, he would have dropped free had it not been for the foot loops. A swell caught him at the bottom, and he went under. When he popped up, Gano grabbed his shirt and tugged him clear of the platform.
Jack looked at the Greek. “Go.”
The Greek grabbed the rope and went over the side. Almost down, he let go and dog-paddled away.
Jack looked across the burning deck. He’d first visited the place as Barbas’s unwanted guest and had returned to play David. Goliath had fallen, but so had too many others. He saw none of the dead, but they were there—burned, suffocated, or gunned down. He looked up at the top level of the superstructure and saw flames flickering behind the windows of the fake Admiral’s Bridge. He hoped the men who’d refused to leave had made it to Barbas’s palatial suite for a final belt of rum.
The sheer mass of Chaos was overwhelming. Even now, it felt too big to fail. Looking up from below, many in the water might be wishing they’d stayed aboard.
He swung over the side and within a few seconds felt the cold sea rise, soak him to his waist, and fall away. He dropped the rope, sank, and came up shaking his head, wiping salt water out of his eyes. He’d passed the point of no return. He was in a new world. Now all of his attention had to be on their survival.
Gano, Molly, and Drake had made an X out of two pallets and pushed Renatus up onto the center, mostly out of the water. Better than nothing, but the gusts that whipped spray off the wave tops would quickly chill his thin frame.
The water here was around fifty degrees, plenty cold enough to cause body temperature to fall. When body temperature dropped as little as four degrees below its usual of about ninety-nine degrees, hypothermia would kick in. That’s when their bodies would start to malfunction.
When Jack swam up to his group, Gano said, “Last man off the sinking ship. Grand old tradition—if you’re nuts.” He was trying to be humorous, but his face gave away how much he despised being in the ocean. He was a desert man to the core.
“I wasn’t the last. A few refused to leave.”
In a very short time, they’d all know who had made the right decision. Or maybe there had been no right choice. As he rose and fell on the swells and wind whipped spray in his face, he flashed back to when he’d paddled a sea kayak in Paradise Bay, Antarctica. An ice cliff had collapsed, sending a towering slab in slow motion toward his boat. He’d reversed course and paddled furiously, but a powerful wave produced by the slab had flipped his boat and dumped him into near-freezing water. He’d have died within a few minutes, but a motorized Zodiac from a tour ship had moved in fast and fished him out. Was anyone on the way to fish them out?
At the temperature here, they had an hour at most before they’d drown from bodily failures due to hypothermia. Their life jackets would keep them afloat but not alive. Every one of them might be a corpse by the time rescuers arrived.
“Listen,” he said to Drake, “the platform could roll over on us. Let’s get these people at least a couple of hundred yards away.”
They swam from group to group. Some resisted, as if staying close to the place they’d worked was somehow reassuring. Others bobbed helplessly in their life jackets, already exhausted by the struggle. When they’d passed the word, they swam back to Molly, Gano, and Renatus.
Hearing a tearing sound, he turned and saw the pontoon supporting the northwest corner of the platform buckle inward. A horizontal fracture the length of a football field tore open the cargo deck. Huge containers holding thousands of tons of valuable minerals, including gold and silver, ripped loose when the platform listed. One after another they tumbled into the sea and sank. Chaos was surrendering the treasure it had sucked up from the seabed. As the last load slid into the water, the main deck slowly folded down and crushed the gap closed. In its death throes, the inanimate platform had become a living thing. Looking around, he saw shock etched into watching eyes.
Without warning, the smoking skeleton of a Ka-52 pitched over the side, jerking in the air as on-board weapons exploded, until the sea extinguished it with a prolonged hiss.
The platform was floating lower than normal, but the methane burp must not have been centered directly under it because it seemed to have stopped sinking. His eyes went to Pontoon Three, where he’d opened the hatch to cut the power. The hatch door was still visible, meaning his jury-rigged repair hadn’t been tested. Maybe the platform could survive after all, if only as a smoldering hulk.
He was about to turn to speculate on that with Gano when a colossal explosion filled the night sky with the sound and fury of an eruption of Krakatoa in Indonesia. The flame that had been sweeping the main deck like an acetylene torch had burned down into the cargo deck and administered the blow from which there could be no recovery. The platform’s spine had been broken. The remaining pontoons nearest to the swimmers distorted and buckled.
Some men paddled weakly away. Others merely craned their necks, mouths gaping, unable to comprehend that the mighty platform was slowly tilting down toward them. But instead of gaining momentum, the platform stopped at a forty-five degree angle to the sea. The edge of the deck was now hanging only twenty feet out of the water while the superstructure towered overhead.
He was afraid to take his eyes off the hulk. By now, the inferno had engulfed it, and he didn’t trust it not to reach out and attack them. At the same time, he didn’t want to get too far from it for fear any rescuers would miss them.
They watched, helpless, bobbing on the slopes of the waves and spitting out salt water. Each time a pi
ece of flotation became saturated and sank, a struggle broke out as men fought for a handhold on a new piece. Before long it would be every man for himself.
As minutes passed, the cold penetrated deeper. Jack looked at his friends. Molly was trying to look as strong as ever, but her skin was pale blue and puffy.
“Molly, how are you doing?”
It took several moments to control her chattering teeth enough to say, “I can’t feel my fingers.”
Gano, shivering uncontrollably, managed a weak smile. Drake, looking stoic, was motionless, conserving every bit of core heat. Renatus’s head hung down, and he would have drifted away if Drake hadn’t held onto his life jacket. Their temperatures had been dropping from the moment they’d hit the water. One by one, they would lose muscle control. Renatus would be the first to die.
They had passed an hour in the water when one of the roustabouts started screaming hysterically. Not at anyone, just into the sky. Farther away, a man fumbled the buckles of his life jacket open and shrugged it off his shoulders. He tried to get his shirt off, gave up, and began to paddle away, faster and faster like a frenzied dog. In seconds, his head went under. Jack heard people trying to talk, but slurring their words so badly no one could understand them. Others were babbling or calling out to faraway relatives.
Hypothermia was getting a grip on him too—breathing and pulse rates way down, fingers losing their grip on the pallet. Worse, he couldn’t think clearly and caught himself repeating thoughts over and over.
He’d persuaded these people to make a terrible gamble that help would show up before their limbs no longer worked and they sank. But help hadn’t shown up. To survive, they had to get out of the water. He looked again at the platform. Far too steep. Far too hot. Chaos had almost killed them—and might yet—but it could never save them.