From the Deep (27 page)

CHAPTER 58

“They’re leaving.” Clara said as she stared out of the window.

Mackay and Rainwater joined her, watching the group of twelve men in matching red winter clothing shrug into backpacks, and hook coils of ropes over their shoulders.

“Maybe they’re just getting ready for the Coast Guard to arrive?” Rainwater said, not believing it himself.

“I doubt the Coast Guard will be coming at all.” Mackay said, tapping on the glass. “I see that prick Russo with that big son of a bitch Mito. He wouldn’t be out there if we were just waiting to be picked up.”

“Surely they aren’t about to try to cross the ice?” He said, glancing at Mackay.

“I wouldn’t put it past em’. Especially considering the lengths he’s gone to so far to get what he wants.”

“You think he would really risk trying to cross that ice on foot and climb the shelf?”

“I think at this point he’s willing to try anything.”

“We need to do something,” Rainwater said.

“May not have to,” Mackay muttered as he returned to his bunk and lay down. “If they are planning to walk out over the ice, chances are the arseholes will kill themselves anyways.”

“So what do we do?”

“Nothing. Let them get on with it if that’s what they want to do.”

“We can’t just sit by and watch,” Clara cut in, sitting on the edge of the second bunk.

“I don’t see what choice we have. Might be an idea to get comfortable. We could be here for a while.”

“If they all go out there and something happens, we’ll die in here.”

“They won’t leave the boat completely empty. My guess is there will be a skeleton crew on board in case they need to radio back for help. Relax, nobody will forget us.” Rainwater said, watching as preparations continued outside.

”Hey, they really are leaving,” Clara said, as she watched Russo and his men climb over the edge of the boat and begin to cross the ice.

“Crazy bastards,” Mackay said as he and Rainwater joined Clara at the window.

Russo immediately realised he had made a mistake. The idea had seemed entirely plausible from the boat, however, now they were walking across frozen ocean, and it took a tremendous effort of will to keep going. He could feel the frightened and hateful eyes of his crew on him as he followed Morrison, trying as best he could to ignore the cracking under his feet with each step. It was like a giant game of Russian roulette. Morrison had taken great pleasure in telling Russo how the landscape – although seemingly solid – was actually a series of icebergs that had been frozen together. He made a point of explaining that as long as they didn’t step on the joints between the bergs directly, they should be fine, but also pointed out that because of the snowfall, actually spotting them would be nigh on impossible. Russo glanced at Morrison ahead. His shoulders hunched, hands thrust into his pockets. His breath pluming as he traversed the ice. Of them all, he was the only one who still seemed unafraid, and looked to be taking some form of sick delight in the worries of the rest of the team. In single file, they inched towards the giant ice shelf, which up close was even more intimidating as it towered above them.

We will never be able to climb that thing.

He had been repeating it over and over to himself as they neared, and only pride stopped him from abandoning the mission.

Just keep moving. One foot in front of the other.

The advice was sound enough. The reality of the situation was that he was beyond afraid. He glanced over his shoulder. The
Victorious
was already no more than a ghostly shadow in the swirling snowstorm.

Forwards then.

Time passed and lost all sense of meaning. Shadows lengthened and the sky started to grow dark, and still the ice held. Russo started to wonder if they might yet make it.

The
Victorious
was eerily quiet since the crew had ventured onto the ice. The night had been long, and what little sleep Andrews had managed to get was broken with nightmares of dying out here alone because of Russo’s incompetence. He walked the deserted corridors of the stricken vessel, grateful for the time to think about what to do for the best. There was no way to contact the outside world. No way to raise the alarm and get help if the boat slipped from its perch and started to take on water. The wind rocked the stricken vessel, and Andrews couldn’t see any way Russo and his team could have possibly survived the climb in such awful conditions.

He walked out on the deck, grateful for the warming sun on his face despite the intense bite of the wind. He lifted his binoculars and scanned the ice shelf, expecting to see bodies littering the base of the shelf, of telltale dark pools where the team had fallen through the ice to their death. To his surprise, he saw none of those things. He could see the blue climbing rope swaying against the face of the shelf.

The crazy bastard made it.

He lowered the binoculars, and looked out at the dense field of ice that had locked the stricken
Victorious
in its grasp as far as the eye could see. He suspected recovering the boat wouldn’t be an option, and it was destined to a future at the bottom of the Antarctic ocean, a relic to showcase Russo’s blind incompetence and blinkered need to succeed at all costs.

“Screw this,” he muttered under his breath, grateful actually to hear a human voice amid the silence. He knew exactly what he had to do.

“How did you sleep?” Rainwater asked Clara, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I didn’t really,” she replied. “I really could use the bathroom though.”

“Tell me about it.”

Both of them looked at Mackay, who was asleep on his side, snoring loudly.

“Looks like somebody had a decent night anyway,” Rainwater muttered.

Clara chuckled and walked to the window.

“Any sign of activity?” Rainwater said as he pulled his boots on.

“Not that I can see.”

“At least the sun’s up,” he replied as he joined her at the window, squinting at the glare.

“That might not be such a good thing.”

“Oh, why not?”

“If the ice starts to melt and break up, the boat could slip free and sink. We would drown in here.”

He didn’t reply. The thought of a horrifying, claustrophobic death in the tiny, locked room was the worst thing he could imagine. His thought process was broken by the sound of the door being unlocked. Clara and Rainwater shared a quick glance, and then were joined by Mackay, who was roused from his sleep and stared bleary eyed at the door.

“What the hell do you want?” Rainwater said to Andrews.

“Relax, I’m not here to cause trouble. Russo’s already done enough of that. I’m letting you out.”

“I thought Russo ordered you to keep us locked in here?” Mackay said.

“Russo isn’t in charge anymore.”

“And now you expect us to trust
you
?” Clara said.

“Do what you want,” Andrews shrugged. “I’m going to make coffee. It will be in the galley if you want some.”

The trio watched him go, and then looked to each other.

“What do we do now?” Clara asked.

“Well, I don’t know about the two of you,” Mackay said, rubbing his eyes, “but coffee sounds good to me.”

CHAPTER 59

They listened as Andrews filled them in about the discovery of the fissure and Russo’s plan to go to it on foot.

“He’s crazy,” Clara said, shaking her head. “That thing is too big to function out of the water. It’s not possible that it has dragged itself into a cave.”

“I agree,” Andrews replied. “He seems to think there’s some kind of underwater entrance which opens into a pool or lagoon of some kind inside the ice shelf.”

“That’s plausible. Even so, I don’t know what he hopes to achieve by going to it on foot.”

“No, me either. All I know is this entire situation has gotten out of hand, and even if he can’t admit it to himself, Russo is out of control.”

“I doubt they made it up the face of the ice shelf. Not in those conditions last night.” Mackay said as he drained his coffee cup.

“They did.”

Everyone looked at Andrews, who squirmed in his seat. “Russo radioed in early this morning to say they had reached the top of the shelf and were proceeding to the crevasse. He wanted to know how far out the containment vessel was.”

“The crazy son of a bitch.” Rainwater muttered. “I can’t believe he actually made it.”

“Can’t you stop him?” Clara asked Andrews. “He’s a liability to himself and everyone in his command.”

“He doesn’t answer to me.”

“He must answer to somebody.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Couldn’t you call the Coast Guard? Maybe have somebody come and pick us up?”

“Can’t,” Andrews said with a shake of the head. “Russo destroyed the radio. He wanted to make sure nobody stopped him from completing his mission. All we have now are shortwave walkie-talkies. There’s nothing else we can do.”

“We could go after him.”

Everyone looked at Rainwater, who in turn lowered his gaze to his empty coffee cup.

“What I mean is, we can follow him and put an end to this.”

“You are startin’ to sound as crazy as he is, kid,” Mackay said.

“You don’t think I thought of that?” Spat Andrews. “I tried to talk him out of it, the guy won’t listen.”

“Maybe words aren’t enough anymore. Maybe action is what we need.”

“Didn’t you listen to anything I told you? Who knows how far up the chain Russo is. I can’t do anything.”

“Bullshit,” Rainwater snapped back. “You have a duty to protect us don’t you?”

“Well, I…”

“Isn’t that what you government types do? Protect us from things like this? Surely you must see now that we have to end this?”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

“Russo’s hell bent on capturing this thing, correct?” Rainwater said.

“Yes,” Andrews snapped.

“Then we have to destroy it.”

“This isn’t some kind of bug you can crush under your shoe. This is a giant. Even if we wanted to, we can’t.”

“I know a way.” Clara said.

All eyes turned to her. “I know a way we can stop him. It won’t be easy. In fact, it’s not even guaranteed to work.”

“What did you have in mind?” Rainwater asked.

She finished her coffee, took a deep breath, and told them her plan.