Robin Cook - Abduction

“Harvey, do you have any idea what’s going on?” Donald demanded.

“Not the slightest idea,” Harvey said. Like the others he was holding on to the sides of his seat to keep from being thrown out of it. The vibration was increasing.

Donald snatched the Luger and pointed it at Arak. “Contact these bastards and get them to stop whatever they are doing! If not, you are history.”

“Look,” Perry called out, pointing to the side-scan sonar display. “You can see an image of the craft. It looks like a double-layered saucer.”

“Oh, no!” Arak exclaimed when he saw the new image. “It’s not an interplanetary ship! It’s an intergalactic cruiser!”

“What difference does that make?” Donald yelled. The vibration had increased to the point that it was truly difficult to stay in their seats. The heavy steel hull of the submersible creaked and groaned under the stress.

“They are going to take us back!” Arak cried. “Sufa, they are going to take us back!”

“It is all they could do,” Sufa sobbed. “It’s all they could do.”

The vibration stopped with a jarring suddenness, but before anyone could respond, there was a tremendous upward acceleration. All the occupants were pressed into their seats with such force that, for the moment, they could not move or even breathe, and they were rapidly brought to the brink of unconsciousness. The inertial force was accompanied by a strange light that enveloped the submersible’s interior. In the next instant, everything reverted to normal except for a yaw, suggesting a wave action that wasn’t present earlier.

“My God!” Donald groaned. “What the hell happened?” He moved, but his limbs felt heavy and sluggish, as if the air had become viscous. But the effect lasted only until he’d flexed his joints several times. Then he felt normal. Instinctively, his eyes scanned the instruments. He was surprised to see they were reading normally. But then he glanced at the battery level. To his dismay, the gauge showed the batteries had been drained of what charge they had had, indicating the submersible was on the brink of losing power. Then he saw something else astonishing: they were in only fifty feet of water! No wonder they were being buffeted by waves.

Donald’s eyes shot over to the sonar display. The Interterran vessel, or whatever it was, had disappeared. Instead Donald could see that the ocean floor sloped upward. It appeared that dry land was a mere hundred fifty feet ahead.

The other occupants of the submersible were reviving themselves after the bizarre ordeal.

“I wonder if that’s what astronauts feel when they blast off into space?” Perry moaned.

“If it is, I’m not interested in going,” Richard said.

“It’s similar,” Arak said. “But not the same. Of course, you are too unsophisticated to recognize the difference.”

“Shut up, Arak,” Donald said. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Indeed you have,” Arak said. “And you deserve your fate.”

“Prepare to surface,” Donald said. “We’re running out of power.”

“Oh, no!” Perry cried.

“It’s going to be okay,” Donald assured everyone as he used compressed gas to blow ballast. “We’ve got dry land dead ahead.”

The surge of the submersible increased dramatically as they came up and broached. While there was still a bit of power left, Donald frantically tried to get a LORAN fix. When that didn’t work he tried the Geosat. That didn’t work either. “I can’t understand this,” he said. He scratched his head. It didn’t make sense. “Somebody go up into the sail, crack the hatch, and see if they recognize where we are. We should be somewhere in Boston Harbor.”

“I’ll go,” Michael said. “This area’s my old stomping ground.”

“Be careful with this wave action,” Donald warned.

“As if I haven’t been in boats much,” Michael scoffed.

While Michael climbed the ladder up into the hatchway, Donald rapidly took everything nonessential off-line to conserve what little power remained in the batteries. But it was no use. The batteries were drained, and a moment later the lights went out, and they lost all headway.

Up in the sail they heard Michael crack the hatch. Pale morning light shined down into the darkened submersible. They could feel the humid sea air and hear the harsh but welcome cry of seagulls.

“That’s music to my ears,” Richard said.

“We’re just off one of the harbor islands,” Michael called out from above. “I don’t know which one.”

At that moment the submersible struck the sandy bottom with a jolt and began to turn sideways in the surf.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Donald cried. “This thing is going to founder.”

As the secondary humans scrambled out of their seats, Arak and Sufa raised their hands and pressed palms lovingly. “For Interterra,” Arak said.

“For Interterra,” Sufa repeated.

“Come on, you two,” Donald yelled to the two primary humans. “This sub’s about to tip over, and when it does it’s going to flood.”

Arak and Sufa ignored him but instead continued to press palms dreamily.

“Suit yourselves,” Donald said.

“Someone bring up my armor,” Michael yelled down the hatch.

There was a mad scramble up the ladder, especially after the sub careened and a slosh of water came crashing down the hatchway. Topside everyone except Michael jumped into the surf and struck out for nearby shore. Michael tried to go back down the ladder but changed his mind when the boat heeled over completely. It was with some difficulty that he managed to swim free.

Harvey had to be helped in the wild surf, but everyone except the Interterrans made it to the steeply pitched beach, where they flopped down in the warm sand. Michael was the last to pull himself from the undertow. Richard teased him mercilessly about his sunken Greek armor.

The weather was superb. It was a mild, hazy summer morning. Warm sunlight sparkled across the water, giving an inkling of what its midday power would be. After the effort in the surf, the group was content to rest, suck in the fresh air, watch the gulls soar, and allow the sun to dry the flimsy satin garments clinging to their bodies.

“Now I feel sad about Arak and Sufa,” Perry said wistfully. The Oceanus had tipped over on its side and was filled with water. It was already farther off the shore than when they’d disembarked. The wave action was dragging it back out to sea.

“Not me,” Richard said. “Good riddance as far as I’m concerned.”

“It’s too bad about the submersible, though,” Donald said. “It’s not going to last long out there. It will probably end up on the bottom off the continental shelf. Damn! I was hoping to power it right into Boston Harbor.”

Just after Donald spoke a particularly big set of waves reared up. After they broke and the foam receded, the submersible was gone from sight.

“Well, there it goes,” Perry said.

“After our story is told I’m sure there will be a lot of pressure to salvage it,” Michael said. “It’ll probably end up in the Smithsonian.”

“Where are we?” Harvey asked. He pushed himself up on one elbow and looked back at the low, windswept island. It seemed to be only sand, seashells, and saw grass.

“We told you,” Donald said. “It’s one of the many Boston Harbor islands.”

“How are we going to get to town?” Perry asked.

“A couple hours from now there’ll be pleasure boats all around here,” Michael said. “Once people hear our story they’re going to be fighting over the honor of giving us a ride.”

“I’m looking forward to a nice dinner where I know what I’m eating,” Perry said. “And a telephone! I want to call my wife and daughters. Then I want to sleep for about forty-eight hours.”