Authors: Stuart Clark
“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!”
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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.
Wyatt looked around. He needed another container that would be big enough to support his pack. He saw one, but it was quite a distance away. He set off towards it.
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The thing that had troubled her was here. She could not see it for she had lived in a world of darkness all her life and so her ancestors had lost the use of eyes many generations ago, but all her other senses indicated that something large was in front of her. She had approached it cautiously for it was huge and nature’s unwritten rule stated that any unidentified object was potentially an enemy before it was prey, and any bigger unidentified object commanded even more respect and caution. However, this monstrous structure that faced her now seemed completely oblivious to her presence, or if it heeded her at all, made no action or reaction to suggest this.
Her simple brain registered that it was this foreign object that had caused the disturbance. It was this that had roused her from her slumber. But now she had trouble reconciling this conclusion for the shock wave that had passed through the water had been huge, certainly consistent with an object or creature of this size, but she detected no motion from the thing in front of her. She was aware of something, though. Faint vibrations passing through the water, their signature muffled as if blocked by something, their source difficult to pinpoint.
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Wyatt grabbed a metal rung on the
Santa Maria
and hauled himself up the side of the stricken vessel dragging the container behind him. His pack was where he had dumped it after coming out of the exit hatch. Right on the top of the ship.
Slowly, he clawed his way up the side of the ship, grabbing rungs and bolts and any piece of jutting metal which doubled as a handhold. When he reached the flat top-side of the craft, he stopped there, exhausted, resting his left arm, the one which had worked so hard to get him there, massaging it with his right, now free of the burden it had carried to this point. He stayed there only briefly, only until the circulation in his tired arm had appeared to have returned to normal and the feeling of the threat of imminent cramp had passed. He realized that time was precious, and placing his pack on top of the container, half-scrambled, half slid back down into the water in a fraction of the time that it had taken him to make his ascent.
He looked ahead. Bobby and the other men appeared to be very close to shore now, although he realized that his perspective could be deceptive. Kate was about seventy-five yards behind them, he guessed, and maybe seventy yards from him. He took a look behind him. Only about twenty feet of the
Santa Maria
remained above water; her rate of decline had accelerated and she was starting to list away from him. He had to get out of here. Now. He pushed the container away in front of him and headed after the others.
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“Not far now,” Byron said, encouraging the others. He took a look around. Kit still looked strong and quite easily capable of making it to the shore. Chris was obviously fatigued but he seemed to increase his efforts on hearing Byron’s optimistic appraisal of their situation. But Byron was more concerned about Bobby who, for the first time in all the years he had worked with her and for reasons completely beyond her control, was being beaten by the situation. Her head wound was still bleeding profusely and Byron dreaded to think how much blood she had lost since their splashdown over an hour ago. She was pale and tiring visibly, each kick of her legs becoming more and more of an effort.
“Did you hear me, Bobby?” Byron asked. “I said not far now.”
Bobby said nothing, her eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration, each movement taking every bit of her mental as well as physical strength. It was only her mind that was willing her on now—she was running on overdrive. Byron was worried. This, he knew, was an exceptionally dangerous time. If Bobby’s spirit broke then she could simply stop and slip under the surface, emulating the
Santa Maria
behind them. What worried him more was that he
was
worried. So many occasions the pair of them had worked together and he had never had cause to be concerned for her welfare. Bobby was a strong woman who could take care of herself and let any man who thought otherwise know it. He began a silent prayer for her. A voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Bobby’s.
“What if I don’t believe you?” she said, managing a weak smile.
Byron grinned at her joke, thankful that his doubts had been unfounded.
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Wyatt heard the
Santa Maria
’s last gasp behind him. A huge outrush of air as the ship went under and the waters closed together above it with a
schlop
.
He had no idea how far away from the ship he had got for he had never looked back after setting off, just kicked his legs as fast and as furiously as he could to put as much distance between him and it. He felt a sudden fear rising up inside him. His backward motion suggested he had not gone far enough.
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Kate turned to see if Wyatt had been true to his word and he was indeed, right behind her. She had not heard him splashing around in the water and had started to grow concerned. On turning, she was shocked to see no trace of the
Santa Maria
at all, the ship had slipped silently under the surface and the only thing to ever suggest it was there was an exceptionally flat, calm piece of water punctuated by huge, slow moving, solemn swirls, a contrast to the rest of the lake, whose surface glimmered with sunlight from the dancing ripples. She saw Wyatt some distance behind her. He raised a hand, acknowledging her, so she politely waved back and turned away again, oblivious to his predicament.
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Wyatt began to panic. Much as he tried, no amount of kicking was going to stop him sliding backward through the water, back to the spot where his ship had vanished. He looked up, hoping that one of the others might see him and do something, anything, and for a moment he thought his prayers had been answered. Kate turned to look back towards him.