Nick Cutter - The Deep

Next, the dream got real funny. Not ha-ha funny. Funny-awful. Eldred’s skin… it healed. Or only sort of. The metal was pushed out of it, the wounds shrinking, then disappearing altogether. He stayed that way for a heartbeat, his skin flawless, then the wounds opened up again, even though there was no cause for it. It was like watching his face get torn open by invisible surgeons with terrible intentions.

“Or like watching the most awful movie,” Alice said, “rewinding it and playing it again.”

Next the sea rushed in and carried Eldred down. And Alice knew the kid would keep suffering… but he’d never quite die. He’d keep falling into the dark but he’d live on—and in an agony like no human has ever known.

“The worst part is this,” she said. “Before Eldred’s sucked out, as his body’s swirling out that rip in the sub, he catches my eye. And he says—and I hear this clearly: You did this to me. This is your fault, Alice Sykes. Goddamn you to hell. ”

She leaned forward miserably, cradling her skull in her palms. LB padded over and settled her head on Al’s knee.

“This station,” Luke said. “I don’t know what’s going on. It’s in the air, in the metal. Alice, it’s the most awful place I’ve ever set foot inside.”

“Clearly you’ve never felt the need to take a piss at a dog-racing track,” Al said with forced levity.

Luke smiled, appreciating her efforts. “There’s two possibilities,” he said. “One, something unexplainable is happening down here. Or two, and by far and away the more reasonable possibility—”

“Is that we’re going a bit batty,” said Al. “Jesus, Luke, we just showed up. This is a cup of coffee compared to the hitches I’ve pulled.”

“This isn’t a sub. It’s a different animal entirely, isn’t it?”

Alice ran her hand over her stubbled skull. “I’m inclined to agree with you. Bad enough to make Dr. Toy flip his lid. And Dr. Westlake, God rest his soul.”

With strange serenity, the two of them sat with the fact that they could be sunk neck deep into a case of the sea-sillies—or were perhaps even coming down with the preliminary manifestations of the ’Gets. It made more sense to believe they were going crazy or falling prey to the ’Gets than to believe that… well, any other logic was not logic at all. It was total insanity.

“Your brother could be suffering, too,” said Al. “He may just wear it differently.”

Dr. Toy’s words floated through Luke’s mind: You are not who you are .

THEY REACHED THE CHALLENGER.

Al said: “Stay here. Keep an eye out for Dr. Toy or your brother. Although I don’t think you’ll see them. I’ll try to get a signal up to the Hesperus . I’m not ready to pack up shop down here yet—too much on the line for that.”

Luke grudgingly nodded. He’d already come 8,008 miles—the last eight miles straight down—and he didn’t want to leave quite yet, either. He could withstand the pressure a bit longer, couldn’t he?

Al opened the hatch and slipped through. The hatch closed and locked.

Luke crouched beside LB. She chuffed, a doggy hack, and gave him a look that said: What are we doing here, boss?

“Stuck in a holding pattern, girl.”

Somewhat stunningly, Luke didn’t find it at all weird that he’d be talking to a dog. LB could well be the sanest creature down here. She set a foreleg on Luke’s knee and rested her head on his thigh.

“It’s okay,” he said. The reassurance felt cold.

A faint humming filled his ears. The feverish drone of flies hovering over a heap of shit was the revolting mental image that hum kindled. He didn’t hear it so much as feel it—the hum radiated from his bones.

The crushing pressure of the station sucked to him like a second skin. It entered his clothes, stabbing through the material; he felt as if he were wrapped in bands of sinew while a huge muscle contracted, splitting his every vein—

LB licked his cheek. The tang of her breath was bracing.

The hatch opened and Al reappeared.

“There’s no power.”

A storm of busted glass blew through Luke’s chest. “What?”

“No power, Luke. Nada. The Challenger ’s out of juice.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“No idea. I didn’t leave the fucking headlights on, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Luke flinched at the tone of her voice.

“There was plenty of juice when I left her. Now I can’t even get a charge off the glow plugs. I couldn’t stay inside too long—it’s pitch-dark and freezing cold. But that’s not all. I found something on the Edison.”

“What’s that?”

“A stock ticker. Last-ditch communication method. It runs off a pair of nine-volt batteries. If the power goes, it’ll still feed communiqués through.”

She handed him a ribbon of paper, same as the stuff that used to fall during a ticker-tape parade. Luke read the words on it in a gathering swell of dread:

“It hardly matters,” said Alice. “The Challenger ’s kaput. I sent a message back through the Edison, but they won’t be able to do anything until the ring clears. It’s as powerful as a tornado, and it’ll make mincemeat out of any vessel they send down.”

“How long will that take?”

“How long will the rain fall? How long will the wind blow? It’s nature, Doc. It doesn’t operate on a clock.”

“You said the last current ring was in place for…?”

“About two weeks.”

Two… weeks . The thought of spending that much time inside the guts of the Trieste … No. It was unthinkable.

Luke opened his mouth to ask the question— Are you saying there’s no way to get off this station? —but Al’s expression answered it well enough.

“Can we route electricity from someplace else to power up the Challenger ? I mean, in case the ring clears? Do we have a portable generator?”

Al considered it. “We do have a genny, yeah, and it could work. Draw off the main power source, but we couldn’t overdo it—a blowout could black out the whole station, and then we’re royally screwed.”

The Trieste in total darkness. Christ. Luke couldn’t even contemplate it.

“If we fed enough juice into the Challenger , we could make a low-power ascent,” she said. “Providing the current ring clears, or even slackens a little. We’d need enough juice to run the oxygen pumps, a few key utilities. We could surface fifty miles from the Hesperus , we could run into the trench wall, or steer right into the ring. Or…”

“Or what?”

“Well, I could steer us through the heart of the ring. The water is calmest there, but it’s an eye-of-the-needle maneuver.”

“But you could do it?”

Al actually smiled. “Believe it or not, I’ve done crazier things.”

“I believe it, Al. So let’s find that fucking generator.”

“Okay. But we need to head to the communications room first. Maybe I can get in proper contact with the Hesperus from there.”

They backtracked toward the wedged-open door. Luke glanced over his shoulder, certain he’d heard something—a rustling like a giant moth flapping its wings.

But there was nothing. Was there…?

A gelatinous shimmer along the ceiling—a glittery snail trail that, even as Luke watched, dimmed to nothingness.

We’re trapped , he thought. Bugs in a kill jar.

“Come on, girl,” he said to the dog. LB needed no prodding—she was already at his side.