From the Deep (18 page)

CHAPTER 39

The great beast readied itself to attack its crippled foe, and yet remained cautious. It could sense the cage and the two other heartbeats within. Although it had previously swallowed the shark cage containing Milton, the steel had cut the insides of the creatures stomach as it was swallowed, causing it to regurgitate its meal. Much like the sharks that had attacked it, the creature’s entire stomach was expelled from its mouth like a balloon, pushing out the unwanted steel frame and with it, partially digested lumps of blubber and flesh. It was a painful and uncomfortable process, and one that the creature was not in a hurry to repeat.

It was cautious, and kept its distance from the cage, waiting for the creatures within it to die. Greg had seen similar behaviour in sharks, and knew that attack was imminent. In that instant, he forgot all about gambling debts and the suspected affair his fiancé may or may not be having - all that mattered was survival. He turned towards Paul, who was still clinging to the bars and staring at the circling beast. He then turned his attention to the hatch, which was pinned closed by the dead great shark. He saw a flicker of movement and glanced at Paul who was backing himself against the cage, his eyes wide as they peered through his mask. Greg whipped his head around in time to see the creature accelerating towards them. He knew they wouldn’t survive, there was no way they could. He bit hard on his regulator and hoped it would be quick, and that he wouldn’t feel the agonising pain as his flesh was punctured by the beast’s jaws. Greg closed his eyes, waiting for the black warmth of the bite, which would signal the end of his life.

The creature opened its mouth to bite down on the cage when it registered the signal coming from behind. Enraged that another animal was challenging its dominance, the creature abandoned its meal, and turned to face its attacker head on. The snub-nosed T7500 missile sped through the water, guided from the surface towards its target by Russo, who could see everything unfolding from the nose mounted camera

He could see the creature on screen as it closed in, opening its mouth to bite down on the missile a split second before the proximity sensor triggered the detonation.

Greg had managed to force enough of the hatch open against the dead weight of the shark’s corpse when the concussion wave hit. The shockwave rocked the cage violently, snapping his hand – which was trapped between cage and hatch- like kindling. With no protection from the blast, Paul was slammed against inner wall of the cage, his head smashing against the bars as he was flung like a ragdoll. With his mangled hand trapped in the hatch and the full weight of the shark’s body pinning it down, Greg hung helplessly, trying to shake away the ringing in his ears as he peered through his cracked facemask. Something caught his eye. He looked around as multiple species of dead fish began to float to the surface. All sizes, all varieties. He saw a dolphin, floating vertically past the cage rotating in a graceful arc as it climbed. The ocean had gone from battleground to a macabre showcase of the dead, as species after species floated to the surface.

He had heard about this before. Some people used to fish this way back before it was made illegal. Blast fishing where dynamite would be tossed into the water would cause the stunned fish’s swim bladders to rupture, resulting in a horrible, painful death. Although he could see a huge number of animals floating to the surface, he knew it could have been worse, as many of the larger species of fish had already fled away from the carnage that had taken place. He shifted position where he hung by his arm, biting down hard on his regulator as pain jolted from his wrist. It was then that he saw the creature.  It too was motionless and gently floating belly up towards the surface, its tentacles splayed out and drifting in the current. Again, he was mesmerised by the sheer scale of the animal. It was completely unlike anything else he had ever seen before, and fear aside, he appreciated its majesty.

***

On the surface, there was initially no indication of the huge undersea explosion. The
Victorious
bobbed gently on the shimmering ocean, Russo staring at the waves as Mito prepared the barbed harpoon tracker. A few smaller fish appeared on the surface, then the dolphin, which had pirouetted past the cage. Russo smiled as memories of the pond full of frogs came back to him. He could see the colour of the water grow from dark to light, and knew their target was about to surface. The water parted, and so large was the animal that it at first appeared as if a new island was growing out of the ocean. Even Russo, who knew what to expect, drew breath as the giant breached a hundred and fifty feet ahead of the boat, floating half on its side, its tentacles limply bobbing with the tide.

“Mito, call the wheelhouse, tell them to get broadside. I don’t want to miss this shot.”

In the cage, Greg struggled to free himself. His ears were still ringing from the explosion, and salt water dripped into his eyes from the hairline crack in his facemask, but he was otherwise in reasonable shape. He stopped flailing and checked the gauge on his trapped right hand, confirming his fears. The small wristwatch like device told him the air tank on his back was running dangerously close to empty. He estimated he had less than fifteen minutes of air left before he would drown. The thought of death renewed his energy, he redoubled his efforts, alternating between trying to yank his arm free, and getting enough advantage to displace the shark corpse, neither of which seemed to be doing anything but sending explosive jolts of paint through his broken wrist. He began to suck air greedily from the regulator, knowing every breath was precious, but still unable to help himself. On the floor of the cage, Paul didn’t stir, and had slumped to the side, a steady cloud of blood mushrooming from the wound in the back of his head. Faced with the fact he was never going to be able to move the dead shark that was pinning the lid of the cage closed, Greg knew he would have to make a drastic choice. The floor of the cage was also hinged in case of emergency, and he knew it was his one and only way out. First, he had to free himself. He looked at his mangled hand, and realised what he needed to do.

How much do you want to live?

He asked himself as he twisted and tugged at his arm.

How far will you go to survive?

It was then that absolute clarity came to him and he stopped struggling. It was extreme, and he knew he would have to do it quickly before his air supply ran out. Despite the urgency, there were a lot of questions he didn’t have the answer to.

Could he go through with it?

Could he withstand the pain, and if he did, could he get to a doctor in time?

What if he passed out halfway through?

Answers or no answers, it didn’t matter. There was no other choice. Taking a deep breath of precious air, he unsheathed the hunting knife from his diving belt, the blade warping the light as he held it to his face. It was a good knife. Sharp too. He hoped it wouldn’t hurt, maybe if enough numbness had set in…

No.

Enough delays. He had a job to do, and every second was precious.

Pleasedonthurtpleasedonthurtpleasedonthurt

He repeated it over and over in his head, praying he would have the strength to do what needed to be done. As he began to hack through the soft flesh of his wrist, prying bone away from bone, shearing tendon and flesh, brilliant, white hot agony surged through his body, and he bit on the regulator hard enough to fracture two teeth.  As he carved away at his wrist  through a cloud of blood, tears streaming down his face and mingling with the salt water that had already penetrated the mask,  another question came to him.

What happens if the creature wakes up?

Back on the surface, the
Victorious
was now alongside the creature, which was bobbing on the surface a hundred yards from the boat. Russo readied the harpoon.

“Mito, are we ready to fire?”

“Yes sir.”

Russo lifted the weapon into position, nestling it on his shoulder in the same way a rocket launcher might be aimed. He peered through the sights, bringing the mottled grey flesh of the creature into focus and positioned his finger over the trigger. To ensure maximum chance of the dart staying attached to the creature, Russo wanted to tag it somewhere between the eye and the first giant dorsal fin. Further down the body would risk the device being detached by a wayward swipe of the tentacle or encounter with another creature.  Despite the sheer scale of the animal, his target area was relatively small. He took a deep breath and prepared to fire. Before he could launch the harpoon, a streak of colour flashed across his field of vision. He blinked and lowered the weapon in time to see the
Lisa Marie
, which had pulled broadside with the
Victorious
and blocked Russo’s shot. On deck, Rainwater, Bo, Mackay, and Morrison stood facing Russo.

“Move, get out of the way!” Russo yelled, the veins in his neck bulging.

“I don’t think so,” Rainwater called back. “There are people in the water. It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re obstructing a government official in his line of duty to-”

“Save the bullshit, pal,” Mackay yelled. “We ain’t moving till we get those people out of the water.”

Rainwater found it hard to suppress his smile at how flustered Russo had become.

“If you don’t move I have the authority to-”

“What are you gonna do? Have me discharged again?” Mackay interjected, spitting on deck as he glared at Russo.