Return to The Deep (From The Deep Book 2) (13 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Rainwater clung to the toilet bowl, panting as his mouth started to water. He always hated this, the few seconds before he knew there was nothing to stop the oncoming vomit. He knew the reason of course. Too little food combined with too much drink. He tightened his grip on the bowl as he felt it come, the vomit preceded by more mouth-watering. Without ceremony, he threw up the contents of his stomach into the less than clean toilet bowl. When he was done, he glanced down at the murky water. There was blood mixed in with the stuff he had ejected. Not much, granted, but enough for him to realise things had to change. He sat there, resting his head against the cool porcelain and tried to figure out if the decision he had made was the right one. It was a life changer. That was for sure, but at the same time, based on the bloody water by his head, it was one he had to make.

There was a knock on the door, three sharp rapports. Rainwater's heart sank. He couldn’t handle another argument with Clara, not after the one the previous day had ended with him desperately sucking vodka off the floor like some shameless alcoholic - which he supposed he was. Either way, the shame at letting her see him in such a way had been behind his decision finally to do something about it.

The knock came again. Although he desperately wanted to ignore it, he also wanted a chance to explain himself and put things right. Dragging himself up and flushing away the mess, he staggered to the door and threw it open.

Andrews stood at the other side. Rainwater cursed himself for not checking who it was before he answered. He had no desire to speak to anyone, especially Andrews. He was still angry at what had happened, and wasn’t sure he could hold back from attacking if Andrews did anything to further goad him.

"She's not here," Rainwater said, leaning against the doorframe.

"I know that. Can I come in?"

"What do you want?"

"Just to talk."

"I've got nothing to say to you."

"Please, just give me five minutes."

With a sigh, Rainwater stood aside and let Andrews in.

"Clara told me what happened," He said as he looked around the filthy apartment.

"She told you her version of events you mean. You bastards really did a job of convincing her to go."

"Actually, she jumped at the chance. She had every opportunity to back out but didn’t take it. She's ambitious."

"She's stupid, and you are too if you're going out there."

Rainwater walked to his bed. There was an open case at the foot of it. Andrews followed, watching Rainwater as he packed his clothes.

"I came here to see if I could talk you into changing your mind. It looks like I might not have to."

"Don’t get too excited, it's not what you think."

"So what is it?" Andrews pressed.

Rainwater turned to face him "It's none of your business."

"Wait a second; don’t tell me you're going out there alone like last time."

Rainwater grinned without humour. "Jesus, you really don’t know me at all do you? Like I told Clara, I’m done with this. I won’t be a part of it. You don’t have to worry about me getting under your feet out there. Trust me; I’m going nowhere near it."

"So where
are
you going?"

Rainwater stopped packing, dropping a sweater into his case and looking Andrews in the eye. "I'd tell you to mind your own business, but I know how you government types have a habit of finding things out. If you really want to know, I’m getting out of here. I need to get away and get my life back on track."

"Where will you go? Back to Alaska?"

Rainwater shook his head. "No. Too many memories there. I need a completely clean break."

"Where then?"

"England."

"England?" Andrews repeated. "That's a little extreme isn’t it? We could really use your help on this. If not for me, for Clara."

"Forget it. It's already decided."

"What the hell's so special about England? Why there?"

"Because it's not here," Rainwater said. "Hell, I’m not stupid. I know how much of a mess I am. What my life has become. If I came with you I’d be a liability."

"But Clara-"

"Clara has made her decision. I know her enough to understand she's stubborn enough not to change her mind now."

"Can you at least give me an address? Let me know where you'll be if we need to contact you?"

"No," Rainwater said. "That's the whole point. I want to get away from your reach. I want to be left alone."

"To do what?" Andrews countered. "Drink yourself to death?"

"No. To get cleaned up. I need to make a change."

"Okay, how about this. You come along to assist us, and I guarantee the government will put you through the very best rehab money can buy. We both know you can’t do it alone."

Rainwater shook his head. "You know, it never surprises me how little people think of me."

"It's not an insult," Andrews countered. "I used to really respect you, which is why I'll give it to you straight now."

"Go on then, let me hear it."

"Bottom line is, it doesn’t matter if it’s England, Alaska, or anywhere else in the world. We both know you can’t quit. You're an addict, Henry, and for an addict, it's always tomorrow."

"No, you're wrong."

"No, I’m not. There will always be an excuse. There will always be a reason to start tomorrow. If you really, genuinely want to get back on track, help us. In return, I’ll personally drive you to rehab and make sure you get better."

Rainwater hesitated. He didn’t trust Andrews, yet, was half tempted to believe him all the same. "Nice try." He said, closing and zipping his suitcase.

"Henry, this is a mistake. Your experience will be invaluable."

"This is your monster now, not mine."

"Is there nothing I can say to convince you?"

"No. Not a thing," Rainwater said.

"Then if you won’t give me a means to contact you, let me at least give one to you." He reached into his pocket and handed Rainwater a folded piece of paper. "That's my direct number. If, and when you get to England and you change your mind, call me."

"Alright, I won’t, but if it will get you to leave me alone, I’ll take the damn number." Rainwater said as he took the card from Andrews.

"Well, I suppose I better let you finish packing," Andrews said, walking towards the door.

"Hey, Andrews," Rainwater called across the room.

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favour."

"What?"

"Clara. Bring her back safe. Don’t forget how dangerous this thing is."

"I'll do my best. Don’t lose that number, you hear?"

"Yeah. I hear you."

Andrews opened the door, and then turned back. "Good luck out there, Henry. I really hope you find what you're looking for."

Andrews closed the door before Rainwater could respond. Rainwater looked around the apartment and let out a long sigh. "Yeah, me too," he muttered under his breath.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The 42 foot, 45,000 lb Whale Shark drifted through the warm waters of the Ningaloo Reef, just off the coast of Western Australia. Despite its size, the Whale Shark wasn't a predator like its kin the Great White. Instead, it was a filter feeder, making up its diet of Microalgae, krill, and plankton. One of only three species of filter feeder in the world, along with the Basking and Megamouth shark, it was a gentle giant of the seas.

After being freed off the coast of Florida, the creature had been aimless in roaming the seas, its senses overcome with stimulus, which it felt compelled to investigate. After spending some time in the colder Antarctic waters, it had followed a pod of migrating whales towards the temperate blue waters of the Indian Ocean. There it had homed in on the vibrations of the Whale Shark as it sucked in another huge mouthful of seawater, filtering it out through the gills and retaining the plankton and other microorganisms.

Now at almost a hundred and twenty feet in length, the creature had developed an almost insatiable hunger. Unlike its parent, which had spent much of its life trapped inside the ice cave, the offspring had become used to regular feeds during its captivity, and had retained that routine since its escape. It had already feasted on numerous squid, whales and sharks, and yet, was never satisfied.

The slow moving giant Whale Shark detected the creature as it drew closer, for now retaining its distance. Due to its size, the Whale Shark usually had no natural predators, and was hardly equipped to fight.

With hunger driving it forward, the creature flicked its tail, closing to within a few hundred feet of the shark. Hoping its size would prove the necessary intimidation, the Whale Shark didn’t flee, but faced its potential attacker head on.

Rising to the challenge, the creature charged, accelerating towards its target and opening its giant jaws ready to strike. The creature spasmed as a great jolt of pain speared through its body. Abandoning its potential meal, and leaving the Whale Shark to its own devices, the confused creature went deep as another surge of pain lit it up from within. Skimming along the seafloor, the creature came across an underwater cave system. Plunging into the darkness, another jolt caused it to smash against the side of the cave wall. It circled erratically above the floor of the cave. Another jolt of agony overcame the creature as it pushed out a pale white egg, which was almost eight feet in diameter. Unable to resist its instinctive urge, the creature snapped at the blood, which clouded the water. More pain heralded another egg, then a third. For the next five hours, the sequence repeated. When it was done, the exhausted creature lay on the cave floor surrounded by more than thirty eggs. Much like the seahorse, the asexual creature needed no companion to reproduce, only a suitable location in which to spawn. Declaring the cave and surrounding waters as its territory, the creature set out to find food and rid the waters of any creatures it deemed to be a threat to its domain.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Washington Harbour

Washington DC

The one hundred and forty foot vessel looked distinctly average as it bobbed against the dock, which was of course a quite deliberate design choice made by the United States government. Underneath the unassuming fibreglass hull, the ship was fitted with the very latest and most advanced in underwater radar and detection systems.

With more than a little trepidation, Andrews made his way down the dock to where it waited. He still couldn’t quite believe it had come to this again. Flashbacks of his time spent with Russo almost made him request someone else take the mission, and yet, he knew he would hate that even more, just sitting in an office and having no real control over what happened. Like it or not, this way was best.

He looked at the people around him as he walked down the dockside, civilians clad in shorts and sunglasses, laughing and relaxing without a care in the world. He wished he could have that, and was envious at their happy go lucky nature as they enjoyed what was shaping up to be a beautiful day.

He could see the boat ahead, and his gut tightened a little, even more so when he saw what was happening on it. There were people swarming over the rear deck with all sorts of equipment. People who shouldn’t be there. He increased his pace, eager to find out what's going on. As he got closer to the stern of the boat, he could see Clara giving directions to the three man camera crew on board whilst a fourth loaded on supplies.

"What the hell's going on here?"

"This is my crew," Clara said, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"TV cameras? Are you serious?" Andrews said, glaring at Clara.

"It's been authorised."

"Bullshit it has. I don’t know anything about it."

"Then you better check with Tomlinson. He said I could bring a crew."

"Can I have a word with you?" Andrews said, barely able to contain his anger.

"Of course, go right ahead."

"In private."

"No problem," she said, climbing onto the dock.

"Come with me," Andrews said, leading her away from the camera crew, who were now relegated to standing around and looking confused. "What the hell is this? You can’t put this on TV."

"It not for TV. It's for research."

"For another goddamn book?" Andrews hissed. "After all the trouble the last one caused."

"It's fiction, and that's exactly how I'll market it. The cameras are just so I can research everything I need to."

"And you seriously expect me to believe that Tomlinson gave the okay for this?"

"Why don’t you ask him?" She said with a sneer.

"Alright, I will," Andrews countered, determined to call her bluff.

She waited and watched him as he walked away and made the call, speaking in hushed tones and flashing the occasional killer look in her direction. She simply smiled. As a woman who had become accustomed to getting what she wanted, she wasn’t about to let anyone intimidate her. With an expression that could sour milk, she saw Andrews end the call and stride back towards her.

"I don’t know how you managed to convince him of this, but he confirmed your agreement."

"I told you he would."

Ignoring the arrogant response, Andrews went on. "You just make sure you tell this crew of yours to keep out of the way. This boat isn’t really big enough to house three extra people."

"I was going to ask about that," Clara said. "Why such a small boat? I thought the government would have the big guns out for this."

"With what explanation?" Andrews countered. "Like last time, the government want to avoid embarrassment and more importantly, questions. They decided low key was the way forward."

"And how the hell do you expect to kill this thing when we find it?" She said, a little panic creeping into her voice.

"We don’t."

"What do you mean?"

"Our job is to find it, nothing more. As soon as we locate it, we have destroyers and submarines on standby. It's not going to be a mess like last time. This time it'll be swift. No screwing around." Andrews grinned as he said it. "What? Did you expect us to go out all guns blazing and kill this thing in a hundred and forty foot boat?"

"Actually I did," Clara grunted as colour flushed her cheeks. "Why else would you ask me along otherwise?"

"Come on; think about it, you're a smart woman."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that before you were hobnobbing with those celebrity pals of yours, you were a marine biologist and a damn good one. Plus, you have experience of dealing with this thing before. We don’t want Clara Thompson the celebrity author on this trip, but the Clara of old."

"I don’t do that anymore. It's not who I am."

"If you want those cameras to roll on your little film to help you write that next best seller, you better get used to the idea. Either way, you'll have to make up your own ending to the story, because you and I will be far away from this fish when the army moves in to finish it off."

"Fine," she said, glaring at him, "I won’t go."

"That's up to you," Andrews shrugged.

"I mean it. You need me."

"As usual, you have way too high an opinion of yourself."

"Look, I already told you, I'll leave. I have no issue with not doing this."

Andrews searched her face, and knew she was lying. For as much as she could almost hide it, he could smell the desperation on her. He knew it was important to establish control now before it caused problems at sea.

"Fine," he said as he walked back towards the boat, "everyone off. You with the camera, move it now."

"Wait, what are you doing?" Clara said, jogging to catch up to him. Andrews, however, was ignoring her.

"Hey, are you deaf?" He said to the camera crew, who were looking from Andrews to Clara in obvious confusion. "Grab your shit and get off this boat."

"Alright, you win," Clara said, "I'll help you find this damn fish."

Andrews turned to her, deliberately grinning. "See? It's easy to make the right call if you really think about it. The United States Government thanks you."

"If you had any sense, you would have a tracker on this thing and know exactly where it was."

"We actually do have a tracker on it, but it's only short range."

"Which, in other words means it's useless."

"It was only intended to monitor its location in its tank for safety reasons when we were cleaning the filters and pumps. We never anticipated it would get out into open ocean."

"Great," Clara said. "What kind of range is short range?"

"Couple of miles, maybe less."

"Like I said, less than useless."

"Look, it is what it is."

"A needle in a haystack, that's what it is."

"And that’s why you're here," Andrews said. "Now please, if we can just get the hell out of here and start to look for this thing, I'd appreciate it."

"I need half an hour. I want to film an establishing shot of me getting on board the boat."

You arrogant bitch.

Andrews didn’t say it, he couldn’t be bothered dealing with the hassle. Instead, he sighed and tried to control his anger. "You have ten minutes. Anyone not on board when time's up is staying here. Understood?"

Without giving her a chance to answer, Andrews hopped onto the boat and disappeared inside the wheelhouse.