Steven Kent - 100 Fathoms Below

“You sure you’re feeling well enough, White?” the captain asked.

“Positive, sir. Let me do this.”

Captain Weber nodded. “Fine. You’re on. But if we’re wrong about the coolant, you’ll be alone out there with God only knows how many of those things. You won’t be able to signal us if you need help. We can cover you from the hatch until you’re as far as the mess, but after that, you’ll be completely on your own.”

“Understood, sir,” Jerry said.

“Captain, sir, let me take a weapon and go with him, just in case,” Tim said.

“That’s a negative, Spicer,” the captain said. “I told you, I’ll need you in the control room when the time comes.”

“I’ll be fine, Tim,” Jerry said. “Besides, I can move faster on my own.”

Tim let it go. It was out of his hands. This, he realized, was Jerry in crisis mode. Confident, brave, capable—nothing like the circumspect newcomer Tim had met on launch day. This was the sailor who had run into Philadelphia ’s burning auxiliary engine room while everyone else ran the other way and single-handedly saved the submarine. This was the sailor Captain Weber had hoped Jerry would prove to be when he had signed off on the transfer to Roanoke .

“All right, then, White,” the captain said. “You’d better get out there before the coolant becomes too weak to protect you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Lieutenant Carr said. “This stuff’s got a half-life of ninety years.”

He picked up the bucket and passed it to Jerry. It was made of lightweight plastic, but filled just over halfway with three gallons of seawater it weighed twenty-five pounds. The irradiated water sloshed against the sides of the pail.

Jerry looked at it skeptically. “You’re sure this stuff is safe for humans, sir?”

“Well, that’s the good news and the bad news,” Lieutenant Carr said. “This coolant is low dose, which means you’ll be fine. But it also means the vampires won’t react to its presence as strongly as they did to the reactor itself. They won’t be happy about the radiation, but it won’t do them serious harm unless they touch it. If you run into trouble out there, you’re going to have to splash the coolant on them. That means getting up close and personal. You’re sure you still want to do this?”

“You know it, sir,” Jerry said.

Captain Weber handed him a battle lantern to hold in his free hand.

“Be careful out there,” Tim said.

Jerry nodded. “I’ll see you in the control room.”

“Would you like a sidearm from the weapons locker as well?” the captain asked.

“No, thank you, sir,” Jerry said. “A gun won’t stop the vampires.”

“I didn’t mean for them,” Captain Weber said. “I meant for you, in case the coolant doesn’t work.”

Tim went cold, but he didn’t say anything. Jerry swallowed hard, then shook his head.

“The coolant will work, sir,” he said. “It has to.”

It was Jerry’s second foray out of the reactor room and into the pitch-black submarine, and he had to wonder whether he was pushing his luck. The first time, LeMon, Bodine, and Duncan—or rather, the vampires they had become—had let him pass without attacking. He couldn’t count on being so lucky this time, especially since he was carrying a bucket of radioactive holy water to kill them with. He knew now that it was the ambient radiation from the reactor room that had held them back before. It was as poisonous to them as sunlight. But he was leaving the protection of the reactor room behind, and despite what he’d said to Captain Weber, he wasn’t entirely sold on Lieutenant Carr’s theory about the irradiated water. He hoped to God Carr was correct, not just for his own sake but for the rest of the crew’s as well. They couldn’t stay in the reactor room forever with no food or water. This was their last, best hope of taking back the boat, and if Carr was wrong, Roanoke was doomed.

The reactor-room hatch led out directly into the mess. He stepped carefully down the short flight of stairs. The mess was the closest space to the reactor room, and the captain and those protecting him would have to pass through it to reach the main ladder up to the control room. Therefore, it was vital to the success of their plan that the mess be secured first, and any vampires hiding there eliminated.

In the light from the reactor room behind him, Jerry’s shadow stretched ten feet ahead. He glanced back at the men gathered in the open doorway, covering him with their Browning M1911 pistols. Bullets wouldn’t be enough to kill any vampire that attacked him, but they might slow it down until he got away.

Got away . That was wishful thinking. There wasn’t far to go on a submarine, and there were few places to hide.

At the bottom of the steps, he shined his lantern into the mess—and nearly jumped out of his skin. He had forgotten about the corpses of Ortega and Keene that were slumped at one of the tables. He hadn’t braced himself for the sight of them with their throats torn out, their glazed eyes staring back at him. He took a deep, shivering breath and walked into the mess. Up close, he could see the strips of muscle and skin hanging from the ragged wounds in their necks, the blood-slick meat glistening in the lantern light. Jerry kept moving.

At the service counter, he saw a spread of day-old sandwiches—the last meal Lieutenant Abrams had served. Beside the sandwiches were two bowls of yellowing mayonnaise. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in at least six hours, but he was nowhere near desperate enough to eat anything here, now.

Setting his lantern on the counter, he grabbed an empty plastic soup bowl and dipped it into the bucket.

He whispered to himself, “This damn well better work.”

He splashed the coolant across the deck of the mess, hoping it would be enough to kill any vampire who stepped in the puddle. He took the rest of the small stack of soup bowls from the service counter and lowered them carefully into the bucket. Though Carr had assured him the water was safe, he still yanked his hand out quickly after releasing the bowls.

He decided he had better check the galley too. It was right next to the mess, and the perfect place for the vampires to hide before attacking. He picked up his lantern again, walked the few steps to the galley, and aimed the light inside. The bulkheads and deck were spattered with big plum-colored stains of dried blood. Men had been killed in here, but he didn’t see any bodies. The place looked as though it had been abandoned in the middle of meal prep. Various cooking utensils lay scattered across the deck, along with several overturned pots and pans. There was no sign of the crewmen whose blood was all over the galley. Either the vampires had already taken them down to the torpedo room for disposal, or…

Jerry swallowed, and backed nervously out of the galley.

Or the bodies had gotten up on their own.

He pulled a bowl from the bucket and splashed coolant water across the deck. At least it would keep the vampires away. He turned and nodded to the men in the reactor room doorway, who closed and secured the hatch, cutting off the light from inside. He was on his own. The plan gave him thirty minutes to create a path up to the control room and secure it. Normally, thirty minutes would seem excessive to go such a short distance, but he was glad for the extra time. So far, he had been lucky and hadn’t encountered any of the vampires, but he didn’t expect his luck to hold out indefinitely.

He heard the scuff of a shoe on the deck farther down the corridor. He froze and aimed the lantern in the direction of the sound, looking for movement. Just another dark corridor filled with countless hiding places. Shit. This was starting to look like a terrible idea. Running into a burning engine room had been a lot less scary.