From the Deep (24 page)

CHAPTER 51

The four men stood by the hatch door, each carrying a sledgehammer and wearing protective rain gear as they prepared to head out onto deck. Rainwater looked at them in turn. Andrews looked ready and determined, Mito was defiant and cocky, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and finally there was Dexter. He had taken some convincing to come along and looked to be the most afraid. Rainwater wondered how long any of them would last before they broke.

“Okay,” Rainwater said as he pulled on his beanie hat, realising that though he was a rookie, he was going to be by far the most experienced man on deck. “Be careful. Watch each other and let’s break as much of this ice off as possible. Dump it over the side. That stuff can really hurt you if you get hit by it.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Mito said. “You talk like it will be bullets flying around out there.”

“You might be surprised.”

“And why would that be?” The giant soldier shot back as he blew smoke in Rainwater’s face.

“Because, I guarantee you the conditions out there are unlike anything you have ever experienced.”

It was a good line to end on, and without waiting for a response, he pushed open the hatch door.  Although the conditions were frightening enough from the wheelhouse, out on deck, it was altogether more terrifying. Rainwater led them from the safety of the ships innards, the wind biting his flesh and whistling around his ears. The thundering sound of the ocean as it threw great walls of freezing water in the air was the only thing able to blot out the incessant howling of the wind.

The deck rose and fell, rolling under their feet as they shuffle stepped towards the portside rail, which was only a thigh height away from tossing them into the freezing Antarctic sea.  Mito’s cigarette was plucked from his mouth and spiralled away from the vessel as he too now pulled a black beanie hat over his ears. He seemed a lot less confident.

“Okay,” Rainwater shouted, barely audible over the wind. “Start on the external structure and whatever you do, keep your concentration. If you dislodge some of this ice and it comes down on top of your head, it could kill you.”

“This is too dangerous,” Dexter said, his stubble already flecked with snow.

“We have to do this. We don’t have a choice.” Rainwater shot back.

A jolting scrape shook the boat as it ploughed into another iceberg.

“Let’s get to it. Two on the outer rail, two on the inner structure. Let’s get this done as quickly as we can. Big guy,” Rainwater said to Mito, “you come with me. You two start clearing that rail ice. Keep an eye on the water, if a rogue wave hits us, it will sweep you off the deck and into the ocean before you know it.”

“Shouldn’t we have life jackets?” Andrews asked, looking out at the undulating seascape.

“No need,” Rainwater replied with a sick smile. “By the time we could turn around and come back for you, you would already be dead. Besides, I doubt Russo would turn this boat around anyway. Just keep that in mind, and lets clear as much of this ice off as we can.”

“Got it,” Andrews said, testing the weight of his hammer and staggering towards the portside rail, Dexter in tow.

“Come on,” Rainwater said, “let’s use that muscle of yours.” Rainwater said as he swung the sledgehammer into a built up growth of ice on the outer roof of the door.

“You do this for a job?” Mito said as he too swung the hammer at the roof, bringing a great slab of ice crashing to the deck. “You must be crazy.”

“No more than working for an egotistical prick like Russo,” Rainwater countered as he swung again, putting more effort in than normal to try and match Mito’s power, but falling short and only managing to crack the ice rather than shear it away. With the wind howling in his ears, and his fingers already numbing from the cold, he thought it would be a miracle if they all survived the night.

They worked in silence for more than two hours, too cold and exhausted to bother speaking or bickering. Rainwater’s back and shoulders were on fire, his nose and ears numb as he continued to break away the build-up of ice. Even the muscular Mito seemed withdrawn, his earlier bravado replaced by a frown as he continued dislodging the ice build-up. Rainwater paused to look out to sea, breathing in sharp ragged gasps as he saw night finally start to become day.  He checked his watch, and tapped Mito on the shoulder.

“Twenty more minutes then we have to go in.”

Mito nodded, his eyes half lidded with exhaustion.

Across the deck, Andrews was also close to exhaustion, his body punished, his mind fried by the constant fear from flirting on the edge of death.  From his position on the rail, the violence of nature was all too evident, the salty smell of the ocean all too close as it pounded the hull with incessant regularity. He glanced over to Dexter, who hadn’t spoken a word for more than an hour.  Like Rainwater, Andrews was sure he would be first to crack,  and was surprised to see he was in fact, still reasonably fresh, and was still swinging his hammer with the same vigour they had all started with and had one by one faded as conditions took their toll. His hair was frozen to his head, his glasses frosted over, and yet, he still brought the hammer down on the ice, over and over again with metronome like regularity. Andrews had to admit, it was impressive. It seemed the frightened scientist was made of sterner stuff than all of them.

Although Andrews didn’t know it, on the inside, Dexter was screaming. He could no longer feel his hands, and his body had long since gone beyond agony. He had heard about how some people could push themselves to new levels of tolerance when faced with extreme circumstances, in fact, he had been planning on writing an article on that very subject before he had agreed to come with Clara’s on this god-forsaken voyage. He had intended to write about how such things were impossible, and a person’s limits were just that – limitations that could not be surpassed – he knew now he was going to have to change his thesis, as he had long ago passed that point where he couldn’t go on and was operating on some unknown plane. He was aware of the pain in his body, and the merciless bite of the cold. He knew the fear was there, a thick thing he could taste at the back of his throat with every single crested wave or thud of iceberg on the hull.

He was also aware he couldn’t take anymore.

It seemed only he had any sense left, and nobody else could see, although chasing this creature under any circumstances was bad, chasing it into a category three storm was paramount to suicide. As his body had shifted to autopilot and taken care of the physical aspect, he had been quietly plotting how best to take control of the boat and steer them to safety.

Between swings, he glanced to Mito. He was Russo’s main source of intimidation. He would have to go if there was to be any chance of taking over the boat. He was sure once they realised what was happening, Rainwater and Andrews would help. From the little snippets of information he had picked up, it seemed the only person who wanted to be out here was Russo. Everyone else was acting under protest.

He looked at the heavy hammerhead as he swung it against the rail, splintering a huge chunk of ice, which tumbled into the ocean. It would make a great equalizer. Casually, he turned and started to walk towards Rainwater and Mito, heart pounding in his chest, throat dry as the aches and pains in his body finally started to make themselves known. Mito’s back was like a target, his slick yellow rain jacket a homing beacon. Despite his fear, his inner voice was calm, reassuring.

Hit him in the spine first, once more in the head. Do it quickly. Do it humanely.

He felt nauseous at the thought he was about to commit murder, but that reassuring inner voice was right there to soothe and correct him.

No, it’s not murder. You are doing what needs to be done for the greater good. You are doing what you need to do for Clara.

That last thought seemed to settle his nerves a little, and he readjusted his grip on the hammer, and prepared to strike.

Rainwater saw Dexter’s blue jacket out of the corner of his eye, and half turned towards him, intending to tell him they had to go back inside soon. Everything that happened next only took an instant, but seemed to play out in slow motion. He knew what Dexter was planning to do. He could see it in his eyes. They were wild and glaring, his teeth gritted as he reared back to swing the hammer at Mito.

“Look out!” Rainwater shouted.

Mito half turned and saw Dexter swinging the hammer. Even as big as he was, there was no way he could defend himself. It was at that point, as he was certain Mito was about to be killed that the  sixty foot wave slammed into the boat, washing over the deck, hitting Mito, Rainwater, Andrews and Dexter like an express train. The boat rolled to the point of capsize, then righted itself. In the wheelhouse, Clara and Russo stared out of the window and the carnage below.

CHAPTER 52

Rainwater blinked saltwater out of his eyes, and drew in a great breath of air. He was on his back wedged against the portside rail. The deck was strewn with chunks of ice, which had been dislodged by the giant wave. His relief at surviving morphed into panic as he scoured the deck for the others. Andrews was further up the rail and on all fours, coughing water and looking dazed. He saw Mito next, his face twisted into a grimace as he staggered to his feet and stalked towards Dexter, who was doing his best to scramble away from the giant soldier. Dexter somehow squirmed past his pursuer, and headed towards the interior hatch. As Mito followed, he smoothly drew his pistol and aimed for Dexter’s leg.

“No, wait!” Rainwater said, before he was silenced by the snap of gunfire. Even though the boat was still bucking and rolling, Mito was accurate, the bullet hitting Dexter in the thigh and bringing him down.

“Little motherfucker!” Mito raged as he stalked towards the wounded scientist.

Dexter was crawling on his belly, whimpering as he tried to escape. Whatever bravery he had found before the wave hit had deserted him, and he was back to being a frightened man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rainwater got to his feet and ran across the deck to intercept.

“You stay back!” Mito screamed, briefly pointing the gun at Rainwater who threw his hands up and stopped in his tracks.

“This son of a bitch was going to kill me. If that wave hadn’t hit, he’d have caved my skull in.”

“But he didn’t,” Rainwater said, trying to reason with Mito. “Put it down to the stress of the situation getting on top of us.”

Mito put a boot on Dexter’s spine, stopping his progress. “I don’t think so,” he said, pointing the gun at the back of his head.

“Please,” Dexter whimpered, “I really don’t know what came over me…”

“You can’t kill him! He didn’t mean it!” Rainwater said, taking a step forward. A powerful hand restrained him, and he looked at Andrews, who shook his head slowly.

“Don’t get involved,” he said, nodding towards the wheelhouse window.

Rainwater looked to see both Clara and Russo watching proceedings. Clara’s mouth was moving, and although he couldn’t hear her, Rainwater knew she was screaming for Mito to stop. Russo was simply watching, a half smile on his lips.

Mito levelled the weapon at Dexter’s head, and looked to the wheelhouse window to Russo.

  Time seemed to freeze as Rainwater watched, sure this was all designed to teach Dexter a lesson. After all, he was no threat, he was just a frightened man who had been pushed to the edge and snapped.

Mito, don’t.

Rainwater opened his mouth to say it, when Russo nodded. The single rapport of gunfire was almost lost in the storm. Dexter immediately stopped struggling as blood began to spread from underneath his head in a rapidly growing pool. Rainwater couldn’t quite believe he had gone through with it, and could only watch as Mito flicked the safety back onto the weapon and slipped it into its holster, then turned towards Andrews and Rainwater, his face twisted into a rictus of rage. Rainwater wasn’t looking at Mito though. He was looking at Russo in the wheelhouse, who was watching proceedings with a slick smile etched on his lips. Of Clara, there was no sign, and that was a good thing, for it meant she was spared the sight of her assistant’s body sliding across the deck with every rise and fall of the boat, leaving a bloody trail as it went.

“Everybody inside,” Mito said, glaring at Andrews and Rainwater. Too numb to argue, the pair did as they were told, and started walking towards the door. Rainwater couldn’t help but glance at Dexter’s corpse as he passed it. He knew now there were no lengths Russo wouldn’t go to, and nothing he wouldn’t do to get what he wanted.

Everything had changed.