What Lurks Beneath (34 page)

T
he clanging from above was constant. Resonant, like the toll of a mission bell.

It had to be Valerie. Only she could have figured out he was here. He swore into his regulator, releasing a cloud of bubbles. He didn't know how much damage the device might cause, but he didn't want anyone near when it went off. He had to get to them.

Mack's own breathing was too loud, too fast as he struggled out of the cavern, toward the narrow shaft of light ahead. He was fighting to not float into the ceiling, since he wasn't wearing a weight belt. The device had provided more than enough negative buoyancy on the way in. He looked back over his shoulder, his light bouncing wildly over the cave walls as he continued kicking forward. He wondered how close the octopus was. Unless it had left to feed again, it was back there somewhere, in that gloom.

He felt a slight change in the still water, as though he had just encountered a light current. He looked forward again, shined his light along the cavern walls. Nothing.

Maybe the blue hole was about to blow—to expel cold water from underneath it. All the more reason he needed to make haste. He finned hard toward the shaft, searching the cavern. Then he realized something was wrong. He no longer saw the shaft of light.

He slowed, hovered, catching his breath. He couldn't possibly have gotten turned around, could he? He'd looked back a few times, but only for a few moments. He didn't have a safety line—

He felt it again. A movement of water. It rushed past him, ever so lightly, like a muffled shock wave. He wasn't sure which direction it had come from. Then it was gone. It was not a current.

It could only be one thing.

A pressure wave. Created by the movement of something very large, very close, as it displaced thousands of gallons of seawater.

He kicked harder, toward where he thought the exit should now be visible, angry at his weaker leg, where a fin was strapped to his modified prosthetic limb. He didn't look back. If the octopus was right behind him, he wouldn't be able to outswim it anyway.

He felt confused, in the same way as a person in the woods who has just realized he has taken the wrong path, a path that has petered out into brambles in a dark, strange part of the forest. But he could not turn back now.

Where the hell was he? This had to be the right way....

There. Ahead, the dark tunnel suddenly grew lighter again. But it wasn't natural light, from above. It was just his own beam, reflected off an obstruction. Something lighter in color. He strained to see past the smooth outlines of stone, to find the outlet that would deliver him back to the main shaft, and to the surface. But something wasn't right. In the dim light, the rock wall here looked too even, too smooth.

He slowed, turned and looked at the wall directly beside him, a few arm lengths away.

In his light, it too had an odd appearance. It was striated with what looked a little like conglomerate—a crumbly matrix of sedimentary rock cementing together numerous fragments of rounded stones. A geological class that didn't belong here, in this limestone cavern. The rounded river rocks embedded into it were too circular, too even.

Ahead of him, he spied a darker spot in the wall. Probably just large enough for him to pass through. A way out? He kicked toward it, paused.

He could still hear the slow, steady clanging of the lead weight.

He stared at the dark spot in the wall. It was near the center of the tunnel. He fluttered his fins once more, toward the black, almost perfectly round anomaly. Then he knew. It was not an opening. It was not part of the tunnel.

The fleshy confines surrounding him quivered.

He looked again at what he had thought were rocks embedded in the wall. They began to bulge out of it, to take their usual form. That of discs. And in the dark circle ahead, he saw movement as the great beak within gnashed once. And he knew it was too late.

The web of skin around him collapsed, huge volumes of seawater tumbling his body as he was smothered inside the impossible profusion of living flesh. He felt rigid suckers the size of dinner plates press against him, immobilizing him. His light now gone, he could no longer see what was happening.

But even through the thick blanket of flesh, he could still hear the hollow, bell-like ringing from above.

“Y
ou can't just take our boat,” Eric said.

“We have our orders.”

The armed Marine standing in front of him, a serious young man in digitized camouflage, had boarded from the contingent on the sixteen-foot rubber Zodiac boat. The soldier looked unsure of himself, and unsure of Eric's story. He probably wasn't used to taking over civilian watercraft.

“But there are divers down there!” Eric said. “In the blue hole, right over there. One is a Marine.” He swallowed. “An Iraq War vet.”

The armed soldier moved Eric to the stern of Clive's boat. Eric watched the other one onboard start the engine. They were drifting on the swells, a few hundred yards seaward from the blue hole located between them and the reef crest.

The Marine near Eric said, “Look, man, we're not taking your vessel from you. We're just bringing it back to the ship. We can talk there.”

“Your ship is almost a mile away.”

But Eric knew it was hopeless. He watched as the other three soldiers who'd come over on the armed Zodiac, its .50-caliber trained on him as he watched them come, now turned it back toward the US Navy frigate. Their driver gunned the outboard.

The one at the helm of Mack's boat engaged its engine as well, and the pontoon boat began to turn to follow the Zodiac. Eric considered telling them what Mack may have brought down there, but decided against it. He looked back at the ocean surface above the hole. How long had everyone been under now? Fifteen minutes? And Mack had been under much longer. What if they—

“Wait!” Eric shouted, pointing back at the dive site. “Someone's surfacing!”

The young Marine followed Eric's gaze, to where something dark had just broken the surface. He turned to the driver. “Slow down, Brooks! We've got something.”

 

 

Within the dark passageway, Rabinowitz felt unnerved by the hiss of compressed air entering his lungs, the immense pressure of water so deep. He knew he was churning through his air supply. He hadn't logged a dive in almost three years, and never before had he entered a submarine cave. He wondered if Clive, who also moved somewhat awkwardly next to him in full scuba gear, was struggling as much as he was.

They'd already separated from the others. Once they'd descended to a hundred and twenty feet—roughly forty feet into the maw of the marine blue hole—Clive had led them into a broad gap in the shaft. It led to the west, toward the island. Just inside it, they split up, where the tunnel quickly branched into two, maybe three dark fissures. They all knew the pipe outflow, and the beast's den, would be in one of them.

He followed Clive farther into the cave, past curves of rock that all looked the same. The place was like a maze. They could easily get lost.

Then the tunnel opened up. Here it had a remarkably level ceiling and floor. He was careful to keep the tip of his bang stick away from himself, from the cavern walls. It wouldn't take much pressure to discharge the shell.

Their cones of light danced across the rougher walls as they searched, and he wondered how they would ever be able to see anything. Outside the beams, it was almost totally black.

There still had been no sign of Mack.

Clive slowed, then stopped. He turned back to Rabinowitz and pointed. Wits directed his own light deeper into the tunnel. Something else, something that rose from the floor in a great pile and also looked like it was built by the hands of men, appeared at the edge of the beam's reach. A rusty barrel squatted on top. They moved toward it, peered over the top.

They had found it.

 

 

A new taste in the water. Faint, but distinct.

Entering a passage that led back to her brood, she expelled the last chunk of the dismembered threat from her maw. She was not hungry. And the taste unnerved her.

Her one enemy was here, now. Near her den.

The great octopus had detected the scent coming from somewhere near, perhaps in the blue hole itself. Yet her enemy only resided deep in the open ocean and never ventured to the reefs. She should have been safe within these protective caverns. Her brood should be safe. But inexplicably the foul smell of her solitary foe had reached her, overwhelming her instincts. Somehow, the leviathan was here.

As she shrunk against the wall of the side cavern, a small squirt of ink involuntarily erupted from the saclike organs in her body to cloud the water. Ink that would allow her escape. But she needed to protect her brood. And there was nowhere for her to go.

She pulled herself against the rock and changed color to match it. She ceased moving. She could still taste the great whale, through her flesh, the suckers on her arms, but more faintly now.

She waited. But nothing entered. Nothing fell upon her. No powerful bursts of painful sonar, much like those that had permanently driven her here from the sea floor. No cold, bony jaw filled with huge teeth.

Her eyes mere slits, she watched the opening to the deeper shaft. Then she felt something. A droning, high-pitched vibration came from somewhere above the hole. Getting louder. It was not a sound emitted by her enemy.

The taste had come from something else. And the taste was gone. She had been fooled.

There was nothing here that could hurt her. But her young, soon to emerge, might still be at risk.

Fear was again replaced by the urge to protect. She moved off the wall, into the main shaft of the hole, and rose toward the surface.

E
ric grabbed onto the overhead rail to keep his balance as the boat slowed, trying to maintain focus on the dark spot a few football fields away. But he didn't see it anymore. A low swell now blocked his view. He ran to the bow. Had he actually seen someone's head, or was it just something floating? It was too hard to tell at this distance.

The sound of the motor on the parting rubber Zodiac boat changed. Apparently, the Marines in that small gunship had seen something too, because they'd turned from the frigate toward the blue hole. The Marine beside Eric brought his radio to his mouth and called up his commander.

The Zodiac lost speed as it neared the hole, the three men onboard all looking down at something floating on the surface. The two not driving raised their rifles. Then, a shout.

Eric saw the rounds spraying the water a split-second before he actually heard the shots. Where the bullets sent up showers of seawater, he began to see something rising beneath the surface. Then the rubber boat was jolted to one side, sending the Marines sprawling as the driver throttled the motor to escape. One gunner went over the side.

Several enormous tentacles burst from the water, dwarfing the boat, rising above the men on it, and began to curl down around them. One arm flinched as it appeared to contact the propeller, and the sound of the motor stopped. From where he had fallen, the remaining gunner rose to a knee and swung the barrel of the mounted . 50-caliber machine gun. He fired, mowing bullets into the thick tentacles. The roar of rapid fire was accompanied by a spray of blue mist as hunks of flesh were ripped from the flinching appendages.

The monster released the boat, its arms disappearing back into the sea.

“Do something!” Eric said. It had all happened so fast, and the Marines on the pontoon with him were still glued to the scene, unable to turn away, like Romans watching a lion unleashed upon gladiators in the coliseum.

The Marine at the helm began to maneuver the pontoon toward the Zodiac, where its gunner now stood with his weapon pointed downward. The driver was trying to get the motor started. Three huge tentacles rocketed up out of the water and loomed over the rubber boat. As the gunner began to fire, they fell in unison.

There was a resounding slap when they struck the Zodiac and drove it under the surface. One of the Marines bobbed up.

“Come on!” Eric shouted. “Swim!”

The man's head disappeared below the surface.

 

 

Rabinowitz didn't know what he'd seen. Something resembling heavy, grapelike clusters dangling from the top of the cavern. But the water was murky. Not just from the lack of light, but from swirling clouds of sediment within it, like dark puffs churned up by feet at the bottom of a mucky pond.

Something in there, past this rampart of rubble, must have stirred it recently.

Kneeling on the outside of the heap, he looked at Clive. Shrugged. What the hell were they supposed to do now? He didn't know how to communicate. They must have found the lair—those huge clusters, which might have been eggs, were created by something very big. But he'd seen no sign of Mack, no sign of any deployable weapon. They were down here to find Val's uncle, not try to fight some gigantic octopus. They should get the hell out of here.

Clive scanned the water behind him, then looked back at Rabinowitz, a strange calm in his eyes. He appeared to be thinking. He gestured with his hand:
Follow me.
He kicked off the bottom, over the rocky embankment, and into the darkness of the den.

They reached the far side and moved across the floor. As they drew closer to the eggs, the natural light from behind them dimmed. As though something had created a large shadow.

Rabinowitz spun to face the entrance, but nothing was there. He looked at the crescent of bluish light over the embankment, the exit that would lead to the surface, and hesitated. The opening looked deceptively narrow now—as though the mouth of the cavern was closing behind them.

He felt a hint of panic. Sure, they'd all say he was a coward. But at least he'd be alive. Then he felt a tapping on his shoulder. Clive tugged at him. They locked eyes through their masks.

No. He couldn't leave this man alone. And he did owe Sturman.

He took a deep breath, exhaled. Followed Clive farther inside.

He scanned the dead-end tunnel for any sign of the creature. But it wasn't here. There was no room for something so large to hide. The chamber was maybe twice his height, and packed with the countless, thick strands dangling motionless from the ceiling. If they hurried, they could search the small space and get out before it came back.

They neared the first strand. He turned away from Clive and swept his light over a scattering of rocks below, searching. He looked back at the old man, wondering how long they needed to be here before they could leave. Clive was staring at something on the floor of the cavern. It looked like a pale log, with a—with a
foot
.

It was a man's leg.

Behind Clive, near the entrance to the den, something moved. Then the crescent of light disappeared entirely. The pale cavern ceiling suddenly changed colors in the beam of his dive light, from drab gray and tan into sunset hues—orange, red, pink—as if by some unseen chemical reaction.

The hard surface was somehow changing shape, from rigid rock into a fluid, moving thing, like a massive sheet billowing on a clothesline in the wind. It began to bulge outward in places, collapse in others. Parts of it broke away from the ceiling, separating, twisting eellike as they darted toward the men.

The tentacles reached Clive first. One seized him violently, began to wrap around him. He dropped his light and beat at it with his fists.

Rabinowitz thrust his bang stick toward the tentacle. But before it made contact, the tentacle jerked sideways.

There was a loud pop as the tip of the stick struck the old man's forearm. The tongue of fire flashing from the weapon momentarily blinded Rabinowitz, but even underwater he heard Clive's muffled scream. As his vision returned, he saw that the beast was no longer holding the old man. The lead shot must have struck its arm as well.

Clive's regulator had come free from his mouth. He fumbled backwards, away from the beast, clasping his ruined arm against his body. His own blood and bits of tissue swirled in the light. Rabinowitz dropped the bang stick and grabbed Clive's vest, trying to haul him toward safety. But the octopus was blocking their way out.

Rabinowitz felt his body slammed into the bottom. He was no longer holding on to Clive. Something incredibly heavy pinned him against the rocks. He looked down and saw huge coils of flesh encircling his body. Then he was being crushed. He heard the bones in his hips pop and screamed in agony.

Before he lost consciousness, he saw another arm darting after Clive.