Robin Cook - Abduction

The three people stared at each other for a beat.

“I guess we’ll have to crack the hatch and see,” Suzanne said.

“Open the hatch?” Donald questioned. “What if the gas is not breathable or it’s even toxic?”

“Seems to me we have little choice,” Suzanne said. “We have no communications. We’re a fish out of water. We’ve got ten days of life support but what happens after that?”

“Let’s not ask that question,” Perry said nervously. “I say we crack the hatch.”

“All right!” Donald said with resignation. “As captain I’ll do it.” He stood up from his pilot’s seat and took a giant step over the central console. Perry leaned out of the way so that Donald could pass.

Donald climbed up inside the sail. He paused while Suzanne and Perry positioned themselves just underneath him.

“Why don’t you just undog it but not open it,” Suzanne offered. “Then see if you smell anything.”

“Good idea,” Donald said. He took Suzanne’s suggestion, grabbing the central wheel and turning it. The sealing bolts retracted into the hatch’s body.

“Well?” Suzanne called up after a few moments. “Smell anything?”

“Just some dampness,” Donald said. “I guess I’ll go for it.”

Donald cracked the hatch for a brief moment and sniffed.

“What do you think?” Suzanne asked.

“Seems okay,” Donald said with relief. He opened the hatch about an inch and smelled the damp air that flowed in. When he was satisfied it was as safe as he could determine, he pushed the hatch all the way up and poked his head out the top. The air had the salty dampness of a beach at low tide.

Donald slowly rotated his head through 360 degrees, straining his eyes in the darkness. He saw absolutely nothing but intuitively he knew that it was a big space. He was staring into a silent, alien blackness as frightening as it was vast.

Poking his head back inside the submersible, he asked for the flashlight.

Suzanne got it for him, and as she handed it up she asked what he’d seen.

“A whole lot of nothing,” he replied.

Reemerging from the hatch, Donald shined the flashlight in the distance. The mud stretched away in all directions as far as the light could penetrate. A few isolated mirrorlike puddles of water reflected back at him.

“Hello!” Donald called after cupping his hands around his mouth. He waited. A slight echo seemed to come from the direction of the Oceanus ’s bow. Donald yelled again; a distinct echo came back in what he estimated to be around three or four seconds.

Donald climbed back down into the submersible after lowering the hatch. The others looked at him expectantly.

“This is the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“We’re in some kind of cavern that apparently was recently filled with water.”

“But now it’s filled with air,” Suzanne said.

“It’s definitely air,” Donald said. “Beyond that, I don’t know what to think. Maybe Mr. Bergman is right. Maybe we’ve somehow been pulled inside the seamount.”

“The name is Perry, for chrissake,” Perry said. “Give me the light! I’m going to take a look.” He took the flashlight from Donald and clumsily climbed the ladder up through the sub’s sail. He had to hook one elbow around the top rung and jam the flashlight into his pocket to raise the heavy, wedged-shaped hatch.

“My god!” Perry exclaimed after he had imitated Donald’s actions, including testing for echoes. He climbed back down but left the hatch ajar. He handed the flashlight to Suzanne, who took her turn.

When Suzanne returned the three looked at each other and shook their heads. None of them had an explanation although each hoped one of the others might.

“I suppose it goes without saying,” Donald began, breaking an uncomfortable silence, “we’re in a difficult situation to say the least. We cannot expect any help from the Benthic Explorer. With the series of earthquakes, they’ll naturally assume we suffered some kind of disaster. They might send down one of the camera sleds, but it’s not going to find us in here, wherever the hell we are. In short, we’re on our own with no communication and little food and water. So…” Donald paused as if thinking.

“So, what do you suggest?” Suzanne asked.

“I suggest we go out and reconnoiter,” Donald said.

“What if this cavern, or whatever it is, floods again?” Perry questioned.

“It seems to me we have to take the chance,” Donald said. “I’ll be willing to go on my own. It’s up to you if you want to join me.”

“I’ll go,” Suzanne said. “It’s better than just sitting here and doing nothing.”

“I’m not staying here by myself,” Perry announced.

“Okay,” Donald said. “We have two more flashlights. Let’s take them but only use one to conserve the batteries.”

“I’ll get them,” Suzanne said.

Donald was the first one out. He used the ladder rungs mounted on the side of the sail and the hull to climb down. The rungs were there to provide access to the submersible when it was in its chocks on the afterdeck of the Benthic Explorer.

Standing on the final rung, Donald shined the light down at the ground. Gauging how deep the Oceanus had sunk, he estimated the mud was twenty to twenty-four inches deep.

“Is something the matter?” Suzanne asked. She was the second one out and could see that Donald was hesitating.

“I’m trying to guess how deep the muck is,” he said. Still holding on to a rung, he lowered his right foot. It disappeared into the ooze. It wasn’t until the mud reached the lower edge of his kneecap that he felt solid ground.

“This is not going to be pleasant,” he reported. “The mud is knee-deep.”

“Let’s hope that’s our only problem,” Suzanne said.

A few minutes later the three were standing in the mud. Save for a slight glow emanating from the open submersible hatch, the only light came from Donald’s flashlight. It cast a meager cone of light in the utter blackness. Suzanne and Perry carried flashlights, too, but as Donald had suggested, they were not turned on. There was no sound in the vast dark space. To conserve the submersible’s batteries, Donald had turned off most everything in the sub, even the ventilation fan. He’d left on one light to serve as a beacon to help them find the sub again if they wandered too far afield.

“This is intimidating,” Suzanne said with a shudder.

“I think I’d use a stronger word,” Perry said. “What’s our game plan?”

“That’s open to discussion,” Donald said. “My suggestion is we head in the direction the Oceanus is pointing. That seems to be the closest wall, at least according to my echo.” He looked at his compass. “It’s pretty much due west.”

“Seems like a reasonable plan to me,” Suzanne said.

“Let’s go,” Perry said.

The group set out with Donald in the lead followed by Suzanne. Perry brought up the rear. It was difficult walking in the deep mud and the smell was mildly offensive.

There was no talk. Each was acutely aware of the precariousness of the situation, especially the farther they got from the submersible. After ten minutes Perry insisted they pause. They had not come to any wall, and his courage had waned.

“Walking in this muck is not easy,” Perry said, avoiding the real issue. “And it also stinks.”

“How far do you think we’ve gone?” Suzanne asked. Like the others she was out of breath from exertion.

Donald turned and looked back at the submersible, which was no more than a smudge of light in the inky blackness. “Not that far,” he said. “Maybe a hundred yards.”

“I would have said a mile, the way my legs feel,” Suzanne remarked.