Return to The Deep (From The Deep Book 2) (18 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

With the camera crew pointing at the helicopter as it approached and Andrews idling the boat, they watched as the chopper came in low, hovering just twelve feet above the deck. The rear door of the helicopter slid open, and Clara stepped out, one foot wedged in the winch hook. She was lowered down, making a show of it as she neared to the deck. She stepped off and waved the chopper away, waiting until the winch cable was retrieved and the helicopter was streaking away from them towards land.

"I thought you were making a documentary, not an action movie," Andrews grumbled as she joined him in the wheelhouse.

"Any movement?" She asked as she shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it on the table.

"No, the creature seems to be sticking to this area. It chased the whales for a while and then stopped, turning back and hanging around this location. It's gone deep now and doesn’t seem to be moving."

"Hang on," she said, grabbing a sea chart and rolling it out on the table. "According to this, we're right on top of a pretty extensive cave system. It all seems to make sense."

"You think that’s why it abandoned the whales? Because it didn’t want to move out of its territory?"

"Usually that’s not the case with predators. It's incredibly rare for them to abandon a kill."

"So why did it?"

"It's probably not as complicated as you think. Most species aren’t as complex as humans are. It could just be that it had eaten its fill."

"Alright," Andrews said, reaching for his phone, "that's good enough for me."

"What are you doing?"

"Calling it in. Our job was to find this thing, nothing more. There is a destroyer and a sub waiting for our call."

"But you can’t be sure this is our creature," Clara blurted.

"I thought you said I could."

"It's likely, but we really need visual confirmation."

"So what do you suggest, we wait until it surfaces?"

"No, that won’t do it. If it has recently eaten it could be down there for a while."

"Well, it's a risk I’m willing to take. That's our tracking signal, so I don’t think you need to worry. It's time to call our boys in to blow this thing out of the water."

"Explosives?"

"What else?"

"High powered stuff I take it?"

"Yeah, why."

"This entire cave system sits on a fault line. It's highly unstable. I wouldn’t use anything explosive down there if I were you. You don’t know what the outcome will be."

"Outcome? As long as the creature is dead, I don’t care."

“If you detonate explosives down there, you could cause all kinds of seismic activity; maybe even trigger a tsunami if you bring those caves down. The structures are huge down there.”

"Alright, so what do you suggest? We have the signal, it’s obvious this is our creature."

"Just because you located the signal doesn’t mean it's the creature," Clara said.

"Come again?"

"There are a number of reasons why we could have followed this signal here, and it could be something else."

"Come on, that’s a stretch even for you," Andrews said. "Let’s cut the crap, I know what this is really about."

"I have no idea what you mean," Clara said, looking anywhere but at Andrews.

"You came out here expecting to make some action packed documentary and are pissed because we accomplished our mission without drama."

"That’s not it; I just want to be sure."

"Well, I’m sure enough. Give me one example of how this isn't our creature and I'll hear you out."

"Okay, let’s say it got into a fight with some other predator, maybe a pod of aggressive orcas. It’s possible one of them could have bitten the creature and took the tracker with it. Am I right in thinking the tracking device was close to the upper layer of the skin?"

"Yeah, it was," Andrews said, seeming less sure of himself.

"Well, doesn’t that stand to reason as a possibility?"

"Possibly true, but unlikely," Andrews countered.

"Still, I can’t imagine Tomlinson being too pleased if you drag that destroyer all the way out here and it is a false alarm."

Andrews grunted and paced the cabin, arms clasped behind his back. "Alright, so what did you have in mind?"

"It' simple really. The water here is relatively shallow, I can dive down there and-"

"Absolutely not."

"You didn’t hear me out."

"I don’t need to hear you out, the answer is no. I won’t have deaths on this mission if I can avoid it. Sorry."

"Look, this is the only way to be sure. I'll dive down there and take a camera. As soon as I get visual confirmation, I’ll come right back up. No heroics."

"And in addition to this good deed you get some breath taking one of a kind video footage to help you in your career, right?" Andrews snapped.

"Look, I haven’t hidden the reasons I came out here. Yes, I want to get research material for the new book, but I also want to help. You should give me more credit."

"You should think more like the Clara from five years ago. She'd have kicked your ass for even suggesting this."

"People change," she said, feeling the colour rush into her cheeks.

"Not always for the best."

"Look, say what you will. I’m going down there and you can’t stop me. You have no authority over me," she said, striding to the steps leading to the galley and cabins below.

"This is insane," Andrews said, grabbing her by the arm, "did you forget what happened last time?"

"That was different!"

"How? It seems the same to me, I won’t let you kill yourself. I promised Rainwater I'd keep you safe."

"He has no say in what I do!" She screamed, pulling her arm free. "Nobody does. He's probably too damn drunk even to remember that conversation."

"Then why don’t we ask him?" Andrews said, grabbing his phone and scrolling to Rainwaters number.

"I thought you didn’t know where he was?"

"I always knew where he was going. He's in Scotland. I planted a tracker in his case when I went to his apartment."

She shook her head, face twisted into a scowl. "You people really are slimy pieces of shit."

"There's the Clara I know," Andrews shot back.

"I’m going to get changed into my wetsuit," she said, heading down the steps. "Tell Rainwater to keep the hell out of my business. You do the same."

Andrews dialled the number and waited, phone pressed to his ear. "Come on, Henry, pick up the damn phone."

II

Rainwaters phone pulsed on the table by his bed. Reaching past the half-finished bottle of scotch with a hand, which felt like it, belonged to somebody else, he picked it up and lifted it to his eyes, squinting to see the display. He knew it was Andrews, and grimaced. As drunk as he was, he was nowhere near wasted enough to deal with the government official, and ignored the call. Despite his best intentions to get clean, the lure of alcohol had followed him all the way to Scotland. His sobriety had lasted less than one full day, and he was already in Ross's bad books after failing to get up in time to go out fishing. Like a snowball rolling down a hill, the more mistakes he made, the bigger his problem became. He could almost feel his body starting to give up the fight. He was starting to feel lethargic and old. He stared again at the phone, ignoring the questions racing around his brain.

What if something was wrong?

What if Clara was in trouble?

What if Andrews was calling to tell him something terrible had happened?

No.

He wasn’t equipped to deal with any of those things in any way. Not yet. His eyes lingered on the scotch, the golden liquid seeming to invite him in, and its taste sure to rid him of worry and doubt and send him to the hazy place where things didn’t matter.

"Fuck you, Andrews," he muttered to himself.

Tossing the phone on the table, he snatched up the scotch and took a long drink.

III

Clad in a blue wetsuit, Clara walked towards the deck. "So what did he say?" she said as she prepped her camera.

"He didn’t answer."

"Drunk probably."

"Please, just wait, this isn’t safe."

"You've been bitching at me to be the Clara of old. This is exactly what she'd do."

"I'll restrain you if I have to."

She paused, flanked by her camera crew. "So you're prepared to put your hands on a member of the public? That’s assault. I'll have witnesses."

Andrews noted that the entire incident was being filmed. He smiled and shook his head. "You bitch. You manipulated this. This is all part of the show."

She didn’t deny it, and didn’t have to. The arrogant half smile said it all. "I’m doing this no matter what you say. Now are you going to help me or not?"

"This is a mistake. I want that on record."

"It is."

"Then it looks like I don’t have a choice," Andrews muttered.

"Glad you see things my way. Now come on, we don’t have much time."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

He knew the dream well. It came to him often, and even when he was drunk like now, it still played out with awful vividness. It always started in the ice cave deep inside the Ross Ice Shelf just after Russo's grenade had exploded. Always clear, always vivid.

Screams reverberated around the chamber.

Ice splintered.

Debris fell.

Searing agony in his chest and leg brought Rainwater's world back into focus as he tried to shake off the intense ringing in his ears. He surveyed the scene. There were bodies scattered in and around the water. Some were incomplete. From his vantage point, he could see a severed leg bobbing across the surface of the water. Clara was on all fours, coughing and wiping away the blood, which now matted her hair against her cheek. She had been lucky. Mito was face down on the ice, his dead eyes staring into the floor from the pulpy remains of his face. One bloody arm hung out of the mound of ice, which had landed on Russo.

Rainwater got to his feet. The air was filled with pained moans of the wounded and dying.  Some of the more fortunate of Russo's men had been out of the blast zone and were now helping their colleagues to safety.

Through the ringing in his ears, he could just about hear Clara screaming. He followed her line of sight, past the ice that had buried Russo towards Mackay. He was sitting in the water, leaning against the stranded juvenile creature, which had escaped mostly unscathed from the blast.

Mackay's entire left side was a burnt, charred mass of flesh. He was holding his stomach, and Rainwater could see soggy entrails protruding from between his fingers. Rainwater knelt beside him, blinking away tears as he held his friends' free hand.

"Hang on, Mac, we'll get you some help, we..."

"Don't," he said, his voice calm and accepting, "it's done. I'm finished."

"We can get you out of here, and get you to a hospital..."

"Come on, lad, look at me. We both know I'd never make it. Besides, I killed a man. At least this way I won't have to spend the rest of my years in a prison cell."

In reality, it was at this point when Russo had shot Rainwater in the shoulder, only for Mackay to tie his foot to the young creature. As Russo had struggled, Rainwater, Clara, and the mortally wounded Mackay, had shoved the creature back into the water, taking Russo with it. They knew they had to end it, to destroy the creature. He saw his dream self in a time before he was a slave to alcohol. As always in his dream, Clara looked at his wounded shoulder.

"How bad were you hit?" she asked, looking at the blood seeping through his fingertips, as he clutched his shoulder.

"It's not too bad."

"Can you move?"

"Yeah, we have a bigger problem though," he said as he nodded towards the T7 on the ground.

"Remote was damaged by the blast."

"Then forget it. We need to get out of here."

“I'll do it manually."

"You can't stay here," Clara said, staring through the blood, which covered her face. "Let it go, we need to get out of here."

"We made a commitment to end this, and that's exactly what we need to do."

"The plan was to remote detonate, which we can't do now. Let's forget it. You don't need to become a martyr."

"People are dead because of me. This is what I deserve."

“Don't give me that hero crap," she said, glaring at him. "I lost someone too. We won't do their memory any good if we stay here. There'll be another chance."

"There won't, they'll come in and take it if we leave now. We have to finish it. You know I'm right,” he said, looking Clara in the eye.

"I'll do it," Mackay gurgled. "We all know I'm gonna die here anyway. Let me go out my own way."

Clara looked at Rainwater. They both knew Mackay was right.

"You know what to do?" Rainwater whispered, feeling nauseous at the idea of leaving Mackay.

"Aye, I know what to do. You two get out of here. Just get me out of this bloody water first. I can't feel my legs," he said, trying to smile but only managing a grimace.

Rainwater and Clara dragged him out onto the ice, propping him against a jutting natural ledge. The ground beneath him immediately turned red with blood, which ran towards the water's edge. Rainwater positioned the weapon, helping Mackay get comfortable with it.

"Aim for the roof," he said, choking back tears. "This whole thing should..."

"I get it," Mackay said, finding a smile. "Now get out of here, both of you."

Clara started to help Rainwater to his feet, when Mackay grabbed him and pulled him close, whispering in his ear.

This was when the dream always changed. When Mackay had whispered in his ear for real, he had told Rainwater that if things got too bad, he should go to his brother in Scotland. In his dreams however, it played out very differently.

The frightened eyed, bloody faced Mackay of his dream would look at him in disgust.

"Why did I waste my life for you? Look at you. Pathetic."

In his dream, he panicked, tears welling up in his eyes. "I’m sorry, I’ll change!" he screamed.

"You can’t change. You're a waste. A fuckin' waste."

"I’m sorry, I-"

"Here," Mackay had said, shoving the concussion weapon at Rainwater. "You might as well stay down here with me since you've wasted your life."

He screamed at himself not to, yet, it always went the same way. The dream version of himself lifted the weapon towards the roof of the cave and fired, bringing the entire thing down on top of them to the sound of Mackay’s laughter.

Water.

He gasped, coughing and gagging as he was dragged back to consciousness. He blinked, for a moment sure it was Mackay standing at his bedside before realising it was Ross, empty bucket still in his hands.

"Get yer arse up. Phonecall for ye."

Rainwater sat up, looking at his sodden pillow and pushing his wet hair out of his face.

"What did you do to me?" he coughed.

"Loch water. Only sure way tae wake yer up. Hurry up. This yank seems keen to talk te ye.”

II

Clara swung her legs over the edge of the boat, and was suddenly a lot less brave than she initially thought. For as innocent as the crystal blue waters appeared, she knew that somewhere below, their monster lurked. Despite what she had told Andrews, she was in no doubt as to what she was heading towards. She was helped into the water by her camera crew, unable to still the racing tempo of her heart. Although she was a keen diver, she was a few years out of practice and had never dived under circumstances as extreme as this. She knew that the slightest error, the slightest loss of concentration, could lead to disorientation, and in turn, her being lost in the caves, destined for a painful death as she waited for her air to run out.

Pushing such negative ideas aside, she gave the thumbs up, kicking to stay afloat as the underwater camera was lowered to her. She had hoped Andrews would come out to see her off, but he had retreated inside, probably watching the feed from her camera and showing his dissatisfaction at her decision by not making an appearance on deck.

Knowing that if she put it off any longer, she might lose her courage, she took a last look at the bobbing hull of the boat, and then descended into the solitude of the Indian Ocean.

III

Dripping wet and significantly sobered up by his soaking, Rainwater stumbled from his bedroom to the main room of the cabin, sitting down heavily in the chair by the phone and picking up the receiver.

"Is this you, Andrews?" he grunted.

"Who else? I tried to call but you didn’t answer your phone."

"I know. That's because I didn’t want to talk to you."

"Trust me, you want to hear this. It' about Clara."

His breath caught in his throat. "What's happened?"

"We found the creature’s lair, or at least we think we did."

"Antarctica?"

"Indian Ocean. We think it's in a cave system a few miles off the coast of Madagascar."

"What about Clara. What has she done?" Rainwater said, feeling the goose bumps pop up on his arms.

"You have to understand, I tried to talk her out of it, I tried to talk to her, but she's stubborn."

"What has she done?" Rainwater said, struggling to control his temper.

"Just remember, I did everything I could to-"

"Just answer the question," Rainwater snapped.

"She's in the water. She wanted to dive down and get a visual confirmation."

For a few seconds, Rainwater couldn’t respond. A million responses seemed to jam between brain and mouth. He stammered, swallowed, and stammered again.

"You still there?" Andrews said, his voice hollow and distant.

"Why the hell didn't you stop her?" Rainwater blurted.

"What could I do? She's too damn stubborn for her own good. She wouldn’t listen."

"So you just let her go? I told you to protect her."

"You were given every opportunity to come out here yourself and do that, so don’t you put this on me."

The truth of Andrews's words stung Rainwater enough to derail his frustration. "Are you monitoring her?"

"She has an underwater camera with her. I have a live feed here on deck."

Rainwater stood and paced as Ross looked on. "Keep on the line. I want you to update me on everything that happens."

"I can go one better than that. Do you have a computer there?"

"I brought my laptop."

"Power it up. I’ll patch you into the feed."

"How can you do that, you don’t know where I am?"

"Northern tip of Scotland, around two miles from the coast. You're in a cabin owned by Ross Mackay, who, if our satellite information is accurate, is there in the room with you."

Unsure if he was more disgusted or impressed, Rainwater sneered, hoping Andrews could sense the expression. "You always knew where I was, didn’t you? Where I was going?"

"Of course I did. It's my job. Don’t take it personally."

"Yeah, well, your plan won’t work. I have my laptop but no internet connection here."

"Don’t worry about that, I’ll connect you via satellite. Go ahead and set it up."

Rainwater set the phone on the desk and hurried to his room, grabbing his laptop bag. Returning to the desk, he powered up the computer, waiting as it clicked and whirred into life. He snatched up the phone whilst he waited.

"Okay, I’m booting up now. Do you need anything from me?"

"No, the satellite is already on you. When you get a request for remote access, accept it and I’ll do the rest.”

Rainwater did as he was told, watching as his pointer moved about the screen of its own accord. Moments later, a window opened showing the unmistakeable ocean, as Clara approached the huge cave system on the sandy ocean floor.

"Okay, I have it," Rainwater said. "Can you communicate with her?"

"One way. She has an earpiece in, so I can speak to her. Unfortunately, she can’t respond."

"Andrews, please get her up safely."

"I’ll do my best."

Rainwater and Ross watched the footage as Clara made her way closer to her destination.

IV

The isolation of the ocean had brought a sense of calm to Clara, despite the danger she was swimming towards. Below her, appearing out of the gloom was the cave, its rocky mouth one of hundreds, which littered the ocean floor. Like the maw of some sea dwelling leviathan, the cave yawned towards her, its edges riddled with corals. Small fish lazily drifted in and out of Clara’s vision as she slow kicked towards the entrance. Flicking on her torch, she shone it into the darkness, wishing its beam penetrated deeper and threw back more of the recessed dark areas beyond.

"Easy, Clara," Andrews’s voice said in her ear, making her reflexively bite down on her regulator in fear and surprised at how loud it was. "Just be careful."

Dammit, Andrews, shut up
. She thought as she left the open space of the ocean for the darkness. Her torch was barely adequate, and visibility was poor.

Clara swam into the depths, swinging the torch beam from side to side. It was as she was swallowed by the darkness, she realised what was bothering her so much.

There were no fish inside. Nothing stirred within the cave, and she suddenly felt incredibly isolated and alone. Adjusting the camera in her free hand, she followed the contour of the wall as it went deeper. Something came out of the darkness, a flash of white caught in her torch beam. She turned both camera and torch towards the half decomposed sperm whale skeleton where it lay on the floor of the cave, tiny chunks of rotten flesh moving with the currents on its body, as dozens of scavenger fish feasted on the remains.