Noah's Ark: Encounters (29 page)

When the baby eventually crowned, he felt quite lightheaded. Repeating to Vicky that she should breathe, he realised the advice applied equally to himself.

“I can see the head!” His excited words were drowned out by Vicky’s moaning, and went entirely unheard. “Take a deep breath, and push with the next contraction.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” she bellowed.

The contraction came immediately, and with an almighty effort, the baby’s right shoulder was delivered, then the left. Dan held the tiny, delicate head in his large hand. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the child’s neck. He said nothing about it to Vicky, just kept muttering encouraging words whilst slipping a finger between cord and neck.

With one final push, the baby was born, slipping into Dan’s hands.

“You’ve done it! The baby’s out!” The words stuck in his throat as his emotions choked him.

“Why isn’t it crying?” Vicky was panting, exhausted.

Dan lay the child on the towels with which he had covered the floor. It was a delicate shade of blue, and made no noise. It didn’t seem to be breathing. His mind raced through everything he knew about childbirth. It wasn’t much, but he’d been to the classes, he’d been vaguely aware of the documentaries on television that Vicky had insisted in recording and watching back at mealtimes, and he seemed to remember having read something a long time ago.

“Dan? Why isn’t the baby crying?” She leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, face paler than he’d ever seen it.

Something clicked. He checked the nose and mouth were clear. Then with one finger, he gently tickled the infant’s left foot, then the right.

The tiny thing coughed, then wailed. Incredibly, it made even more noise than Vicky had managed.

The relief was immense, and Dan noticed that he, too, had started breathing again. He looked up at his wife, and found she was blurred. Everything was blurred.

“Let me see,” she said quietly.

“Of course.” He wiped away the tears with the back of his hand, wrapped the baby in a thick towel, and lifted it gently into her arms.

“Well?” she asked.

“Well what?”

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Oh! I didn’t even notice!”

“You big idiot.”

He hugged her, not caring about the blood on his hands.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Dan pulled a couple of the towels over Vicky.

The door opened and a man hobbled in, leaning on a walking stick. “Hello, I am Doctor Lister. I heard you were looking for someone from medical? Oh, my. It would seem I am rather late.”

Through the open door, they heard the sound of an explosion in the distance.

• • •

Daniel joined Jake at the bow of the
Lance
.

“You, sir, are a bloody genius if I may say so.”

Jake shook his head. “Not yet. If the
Ambush
doesn’t target that sub and put it out of action before she dives again, then we’re no better off. They won’t fall for the same trick twice.”

“Even so, Jake, using the raft? Very clever. I would never have thought of that. Lucky those guys targeted it and not the
Ambush
.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Jake said, grinning. “That radio made sure the
Ambush
knew what was going on. At least, I hope they understood my message. Where are the others? Are they okay?”

“It was a bit of a ride back there. That wave knocked poor Bodil out of her chair, but she’s alright. The boys are taking her back inside.”

They both stared at the enemy submarine. It was turning, no longer facing where the raft had been.

“Why aren’t they diving?” Daniel scratched his head. “They must know they’re a sitting duck. Surely the
Ambush
will have picked up the sound of them coming out of the water.”

“That was the plan. Even if they hadn’t surfaced, the torpedo launch must have shown up on the passive sonar. And yet, they’re not diving. Which means…”

“They don’t think they’re in danger.”

“Right. Which means…”

“They think they really did just sink the
Ambush
?”

Jake turned white as the implication dawned on him.

“Hang on.” Daniel was catching up. “If they think the
Ambush
is gone, that makes the
Arcadia
a target!”

“With no protection, they think they’re free to fire on her. Shit! Come on
Ambush
, where are you? Oh! The radio!” He reached into his pocket, but the radio had gone, knocked out when he was thrown to the deck. “It’s gone! Where’s the third one?”

Daniel stared at him.

“The third radio, Daniel? Where is it? If I broadcast another message, they’ll understand the
Ambush
is still out there!”

“The others have got it,” he said. He turned and started to run to the back of the ship.

Jake spun back round and looked out to sea. The strange angular stealthy submarine had completed her manoeuvre. She was facing directly towards the cruiser. “Come on…” he whispered. “Where are you guys?” He scanned the horizon, hoping to see the familiar black tower of the navy’s pride and joy, but the surface of the sea remained stubbornly unbroken.

He heard footsteps behind him. Daniel was back. “Here!” Arm outstretched, he held the radio in front of him. “It’s tuned in, go!”

Jake grabbed the device, checked the channel, and held it to his mouth. He looked out to sea again, and opened his mouth to speak.

“Too late,” he said quietly. “It’s too late.”

The two men stared at the hostile submarine. With barely a sound, something long and slender had shot out of the front.

Jake’s mouth fell open. He watched in disbelief as, just below the surface of the water, the torpedo sped towards the
Spirit of Arcadia
.

Thirty-Three

J
AKE
STARED
AT
the torpedo, his brain denying the image his eyes were relaying. The implication was just too huge. The submarine, off to his left, was diving again. To his right, blissfully unaware of the fate it was about to meet, was the
Spirit of Arcadia
. His workplace. His home. His family. His world. Speeding between the two, the weapon that would bring about its demise.

Not all hands would be lost. Not immediately anyway. The
Arcadia
still had some life rafts left. She was a big ship; she would take time to go down. Some might escape. Some might even make it to the
Lance
. And what then? The little research vessel couldn’t sustain life indefinitely. To escape the cruise ship would only serve to delay death.

“Jesus,” was all Daniel managed to say, before he threw up.

For Jake, time slowed down. His mind had processed the information to hand, and was going into overdrive, trying to find a solution. He felt as though he was waking up for the first time in his life, every sense on high alert. He discovered a clarity of thought the likes of which he had never before experienced.

From nowhere, he knew exactly what to do.

He strode quickly but calmly back along the deck.

“Daniel! With me,” he ordered. The young sailor, still dumbstruck, did as he was told, falling in line behind his captain.

Jake stopped and examined the rack of harpoons. His hand ran along them, fingers brushing against their slim metal bodies until they stopped on one with an explosives warning label.

“You don’t think…” Daniel began.

Jake ignored him and pulled the harpoon free. “Load this up,” he said.

Daniel took the device and stared at it.

“Quickly!”

While the weapon was being loaded, Jake positioned himself at the rear of the cannon once more.

Daniel stood aside and Jake searched the sea for the torpedo. He traced the straight line between where the submarine had disappeared below the water on their port side, and the cruise ship off the starboard side. There was no tell-tale trail of bubbles, no obvious wake, no disturbance of the water that gave any clues as to its whereabouts.

“There!” Daniel pointed at a shadow moving quickly. It was almost directly in front of the bow of the
Lance
.

“Move!”

Jake swung the harpoon cannon around to his left. It wouldn’t turn far enough; a safety precaution. It was impossible to fire across the
Lance
’s own deck. His eyes never left the dark patch of water speeding towards its target. The cannon held fast, his fingers curled around the trigger. He emptied his lungs and held his breath. His mind was clear and focussed. He had absolute confidence in what he was doing.

The torpedo cleared the bow; it was almost directly lined up with the launcher.

“Now,” Jake whispered. He squeezed the trigger.

It would have been the perfect shot. His timing was impeccable. The harpoon would have caught the torpedo dead centre. But nothing happened.

There was no launch. The explosive arrow stayed exactly where it was.

His mind, so clear and focussed, was filled with a thousand questions. Daniel usefully boiled them all down to just one: “What the fuck?”

Jake squeezed again. And again. On the fourth attempt the harpoon exploded out of the launcher and was away. But he hadn’t followed the torpedo, hadn’t tracked his target and moved the cannon. The harpoon arced out over the sea, and plopped harmlessly into the water where the deadly payload had been moments before. It didn’t even explode.

Jake roared with frustration, but it was a brief moment of anger. Just as quickly, he got himself under control. He hadn’t lost the torpedo. It was closing fast on the
Arcadia
, but there were still a few precious seconds left.

“Another!”

“On it,” Daniel cried. He was pulling out the only other explosive harpoon. It was loaded into the launcher, and the sailor jumped back out of the way.

Jake swung the grey tube around. He was now facing directly towards his own ship.

The shot was a difficult one. The torpedo was tracking away from him at an angle. He breathed out once more, all the time judging the speed and trajectory of the enemy weapon. He could almost hear Lucya whispering in his ear, guiding him, encouraging him. Still moving the launcher, still tracking, he squeezed the trigger.

Nothing.

He never blinked. He breathed in then out, kept the cannon rotating gently the whole time, following, stalking. He squeezed a second time.

The cannon recoiled very slightly as the harpoon rocketed out of the launch tube.
 

“Yes!” Daniel’s hands were thrown into the air.

Jake said nothing. He stood up straight and watched the little piece of metal soar through the sky. The torpedo was almost upon the ship. Sixty metres away. Fifty meters away.

The harpoon descended in a graceful curve.

Forty metres.

The arrow head dipped below the water, out of sight.

The world seemed to go black. Jake saw only a tiny patch of water, the shadow barely visible in the distance. It was out of his hands now.

• • •

“Close your eyes, Erica,” Lucya said. She kept her own eyes open, staring at the leader, showing she wasn’t afraid.

The metal table leg swung towards her.

At that precise moment, there was a huge explosion. Not like the previous explosion. This was bigger. Closer. It was followed almost immediately by a second explosion, further away.

Three things happened at once:

The lights all went out.

The ship rolled violently to the starboard side.

The metal pole struck Lucya.

It missed her head, instead catching her full in the side. She felt her ribs crack as it connected. It could have been worse. As she was already tumbling, rolling with the ship, the blow lost some of its force.

Erica was suddenly beneath her, screaming. In the dark, with the ship churning so violently, it was hard to know which way was up. Lucya was reminded of having had the same problem in the pipe. She remembered to use gravity to orient herself. The feeling was returning to her arms and she pushed herself up, freeing the girl.

Around them, there was shouting as the Koreans panicked, not knowing if they had been attacked by their own submarine, or if the whole thing was a ploy by the security team to take the classroom. Their voices were joined by a chorus of screams from the terrified children.

The lights flickered once, twice, then came back on. The ship was rolling back the other way.

Some of the men were in a heap at one end of the room. Partially paralysed, they could do nothing to help themselves.

The leader was back on his feet. He was reaching for the gun that had ended up on the floor in the commotion.

It was Erica who stopped him. She was alert, and her limbs reacted faster than those of Lucya. The girl sprang forwards and charged at him.

“Erica! No!” Lucya cried out, but she was too far away, and too late.

Her head down, Erica rammed the leader in the groin. It may not have been elegant, but it was mightily effective. The man went down heavily on his knees, which cracked as they hit the ground. His hands were still free though, and he reached for the weapon. Lucya was there. A blow to his arm knocked it free the very second he touched it. She raised her fist again, but one of the other men grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. She shrieked in pain. Erica leapt onto the man’s back, but he bucked and threw her off. She staggered backwards and was caught by some of the other children.

The leader was recovering. He raised his hands and placed them around Lucya’s throat. She struggled, but her arms were locked behind her, and — she realised with alarm — she could no longer feel her legs. The virus too, had her in its clutches.

“Enough,” the leader said, choking on the word. “Enough.”

His hands gripped tighter. For Lucya, the world started to go black. Her lungs heaved and strained, desperate for oxygen. She looked into the Korean man’s eyes, and understood that he was enjoying this. He was enjoying killing her.

Then, a movement at the side of the room. A bang. The scraping sound of table legs on the floor. Shouting. Shapes approaching. Children screaming.

The man’s hands were pulled away. Lucya fell to the floor, choking and retching. Somehow Erica was by her side, calling her name, hugging her. She tried to look up, to see her one last time, but the room swam around her then faded to darkness.