Return to The Deep (From The Deep Book 2) (22 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The Navy ships that Andrews had called in duly arrived on site as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon line. More than a dozen vessels now surrounded the two boats, which hadn’t moved since the attack. Andrews stood on the deck of the two hundred and twenty foot vessel sent by Tomlinson, a heavy blanket draped over his shoulders. He watched as everyone from Greg's boat was handcuffed and transported to a police boat that was on scene. They had already checked the paperwork for the boat and linked it back to a known arms dealer in New York. He stood and watched as the vessel was searched under the glow of spotlights from the surrounding boats.

"Sir."

Andrews turned to greet the man in military fatigues that approached.

"What is it?"

"We found the remains of the creature, sir."

Andrews nodded, not quite sure how he felt about it yet.

"What about the cave?"

"We found and destroyed the eggs as ordered, however, we discovered something unexpected."

"What did you find?"

“Deeper into the cave, there were five egg casings that had already hatched."

Andrews felt his stomach plunge into his shoes.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Positive, sir. We've taken samples to the lab for analysis."

Andrews barely heard him, instead, he stared out over the ocean, trying to put his thoughts into some kind of order. There was a giddy lightness, some heightened feeling of dread, which left a sour taste at the back of his throat.

Five eggs.

Five of these beasts free and on the loose.

"Sir?" the man said, plainly confused at Andrews's vacancy.

"Sorry, say again?"

"I said Commander Tomlinson wants you to make contact with him right away."

Andrews nodded. "I will, I just need to make a quick phone call."

"He was insistent, sir. He said it's important."

"So is this," Andrews muttered. "I have to tell someone I couldn’t keep the promise I made."

The man in the fatigues hesitated for a moment, and then headed back towards the busy command centre of the vessel.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Rainwater was packing his bag when Ross walked into the cabin. The burly Scotsman folded his arms, watching Rainwater pack.

"Goin' somewhere?" he said.

"I have to go back. I can’t stay here."

"I thought you'd come ere tae get away from yer old life," the Scot said.

Rainwater stopped packing and turned to face Ross, his eyes pink and puffy. "I can’t just stay here and accept what happened."

"It's only been a few days, laddie. Terrible, terrible news about this lassie. I'll grant ye that. But ye can't do anythin' by goin back there. It won’t bring her back."

Rainwater opened his mouth, almost telling Ross what Andrews had told him about the other creatures, which were somewhere in the ocean. Rainwater was still haunted by the way that Andrews had sounded when he called, how flat and empty his voice when he said the words Rainwater would have done anything not to have to hear.

She's gone, Henry. I'm so sorry. I couldn’t save her.

"There's something I have to do. I need to face this head on. I can’t explain. Something's changed."

"Aye, I see that. Ye haven' touched a drop 'o' the booze since ye were told about that lassie passin' on."

"I don’t need it anymore," Rainwater said as he turned back towards his bag. "I used it to hide from this, but I know now I can’t. I know what I’m supposed to do now."

"Ye know what mah brother would ah said te ye don' ye?"

"I can guess," Rainwater replied, almost managing a smile. "But he'd also understand why I’m going back."

"Aye, he would," Ross said. "That's why ahm comin wi ye."

Rainwater stopped and glanced at Ross. “I can’t ask you to do that."

"Ah didn’t say ye did. This is mah call."

"If you're anything like your brother, I guess talking you out of it isn’t an option."

"Ye got that right. We Mackay's are a stubborn family. Whatever ye have to deal with, I’ll help ye. I'll also help ye make sure ye stay away from the drink. That’s a dark road, lad, one ye already walked on."

"Thanks, I really do appreciate it. If you're coming with me though, you should know exactly what I’m going back to do."

"Then ye better start talkin', lad."

II

An hour later, Rainwater was sitting in the passenger seat of Ross's mud splattered black jeep, watching the Scot lock up the cabin. He had told him all about the creatures that were on the loose, and that, one way or the other, he was going back to finish what had started all those years ago. Ross jogged to the car and climbed into the driver’s side, rubbing his hands together against the cold.

"Right, let’s get tae the airport and get this show on the road," he said as he shifted into gear and pulled away from the cabin, leaving the peace and solitude behind. Rainwater didn’t answer. He stared out of the window, waging a war with his own internal demons, who even now were trying to tempt him back off the wagon. He tried to close his eyes and immediately saw Clara's screaming face.

No.

He thought sleep was something that would evade him for some time yet. Instead, he contented himself with staring at the lush Scottish hills, the hues of green and brown a far cry away from where he knew his future lay, which was on the ocean. Shuffling down in his seat, he prepared himself for the journey ahead of what he knew he must do, no matter the cost.

EPILOGUE

The immense laboratory stretched for almost a quarter of a mile, its pristine white walls surrounding a space filled with the very latest in cutting edge genetics sequencing equipment. Its four hundred strong staff worked in unison, the very best in their field. Decker walked through the room, arms behind his back, one hand clasping the wrist of the other. He was greeted by a white haired, grinning scientist in a white coat and with a five day beard growth.

"It's done, Mr Decker," the scientist said, unable to hold off his grin.

"Walk with me," Decker said, not slowing. "You managed to stabilise the sequence?"

"Yes sir."

"So we can proceed with the cloning?"

"Yes sir."

Decker nodded. "What level of projected success rate?"

"Well sir, as you know, we were initially looking at around the seventy five percent range, however, due to the high quality of the samples you provided, I-"

"What level, Doctor Morris?"

"Ninety seven point five."

Decker nodded. "Excellent work. I'll see to it that you and your staff receive a healthy bonus."

"Thank you, Mr Decker. If I might ask though, now that you have the ability to create these creatures, what will you do with them?"

Decker smiled and came to a halt, looking down into the immense shallow pool below.

"Whatever I want to, Doctor Morris. Whatever I want to."

The doctor nodded as Decker looked into the pool. Inside, at various stages of artificial growth, were over a hundred eggs, some almost fully grown.

"It all just depends who's prepared to pay the best price," Decker muttered under his breath as he watched the work go on.

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On the Boardwalk

Five o'clock on a California summer afternoon, you bet the Santa Cruz beach boardwalk was busy with tourists.  The boardwalk bustled with citizens enjoying the classic amusement park rides, like the Giant Dipper, Cyclone, Logger's Revenge, and Double Shot.  Across from the vintage rides, the beachgoers were trying to catch what was left of today's sunshine. 

What they would also catch was death.

Surging from the Pacific Ocean, the two-ton creature displaced enough water to cause a rolling tsunami wave to smash into the boardwalk.  Rides were shattered into high-flying tatters by the force of the enormous wave.  Helpless citizens were sucked under the water's wicked power.  Those who were far away enough from the shoreline were screaming and running for their life.  Barbara Hampton, who had been about to relax on the beach, called the police on her cell phone.  Barbara was screaming for the authorities to send help, and send it now. 

What can the police do about this, Barbara thought, even as she heard the dispatcher talking on the other end.  Every ounce of gall drained from her body once she saw the beast surface from the ocean.  The eye really had to take in the enormity for several seconds before recognition of any kind could be made.  This was like no beast she had ever seen before.  The thing was spinning like a thrown disc and traveling high up in the air.  The chopping sounds were deafening as it kept taking flight.  There was only one thing she could compare it to, and that was a giant starfish.  The five prongs were made of thick bone and caked in an ancient greenish-black algae.  The rest of its mass was a drab gray color.  Each prong was slashing through the air, slicing through the tops of skyscrapers, tearing highways into pieces, and colliding into cars and downgrading them into steel pulp. 

Ten city miles were turned inside out in less than fifteen minutes.  Flames were breaking out in pockets of the city and spreading in residential and business districts.  Fire trucks and emergency response crews struggled to help the citizens in need because most of the roads and highways were in shambles.  Emergency crews wouldn't be able to save Barbara.  The flying starfish creature flew above her, eclipsing her in its shadow.  Before the starfish splashed back into the ocean, Barbara's heart stopped dead in her chest. 

Golden Gate Terror

"Whoa, whoa, whoa shit!  Sorry for the crazy driving, folks.  Jesus, did you see that thing?  Holy mother of God!"

Arnold Goodman steered his cab towards the shoulder of the Golden Gate Bridge.  The suspension bridge was jolted by the impact of the raging waves below.  The other cars also pulled over in unison to the side, right after the giant geyser of water spewed from the depths of the Pacific Ocean.  Arnold had seen many things in San Francisco he would rather not have seen, but this, this, topped everything in his prior life experience.

Arnold's patrons, a young couple who couldn't be older than twenty, stared in horror through the window with their eyes bulging from their sockets. 

They won't help me one damn bit, Arnold thought.  Wet behind the ears, dry inside the brains.  Young kids have no common sense or ability to think critically.  Generation dumbasses, that's what they are.  The "do everything for me" generation.  I guess it's up to me to deal with this mess, as always.

"Leave it to me, folks," Arnold said with incredible determination,  "I'm not taking any chances.  Whatever that was, it's not coming near us."

The cabbie dug under his seat for his .45 revolver. 

"Stay in the cab, folks, I turned off the meter and I'll be right back."

Arnold thought the young couple was going to piss themselves.  Leave it to me, he kept thinking.  Leave it to Arnold fucking Goodman to deal with the world's problems.  Like always. Like fucking always. 

The geyser of water stopped spewing.  The moment that happened, something blasted high up in the sky.  Arnold swore it was a government aircraft of some kind.  It was thin, aerodynamic, and made of shiny black material.  Definitely an aircraft, Arnold thought. 

Figures.  This is some kind of government testing ground.  I'll not be a part of any cover up.  I'll shove this .45 up their bureaucratic assholes, and I'll never stop popping rounds until every last one of 'em are dead.  I don't care how many times I have to wipe the shit off my gun.  You can't keep me silent.  I know what I'm seeing, damn it.  Arnold fucking Goodman can't be silenced. 

Arnold realized in the next moment that he was dead wrong about his observations.

This was no government aircraft. 

The black mass was almost as long as the Golden Gate Bridge itself.  It hovered over the bridge waiting.  Arnold could hear air hiss through the numerous holes in its body.  The hermetic pressure caused the water in the San Francisco Bay to boil. 

Arnold fired four shots at the black mass.  He ducked back into his cab when the mass lowered itself closer to the bridge.  The bullets got the floating mass's attention, and it was not happy.

Arnold flipped the meter back on and started driving down the bridge.  "I know when it's time to get the hell out of here.  My watch says go!  Strap your seatbelts on, kiddos!"

The couple in the back was screaming.  Arnold said everything in his customer experience canon to calm them down.  Nothing would work.  Arnold's heart was running a marathon in his chest.  He was almost to the point of losing his cool, too.  

The thing looks just like a giant string ray. 

No damn way.

The suction sound of air, like a hundred airplanes engines about to take off at once, kept increasing in power.  So deafening, Arnold had to stop the car and cover his ears.  Every window in the car burst.  Glass shattered on the hundreds of vehicles scattered about the bridge. 

Arnold ducked down when the hood and trunk of the cab were wrenched upwards and flung aside by the massive surges of air.  Cyclone forces spun vehicles on their wheels. Some vehicles were pitched over the side of the bridge, flung like toy cars.  The bridge became a deadly high-speed destruction derby of chaos. 

Right when Arnold shouted, "Hold on, folks!" the top of the car was peeled back like a tin can.  Arnold was lifted up so hard that it snapped the seatbelt restraining him.  The young couple hadn't worn their seatbelts and were spring-ejected upwards immediately.  Arnold did four upside down, right side up spins.  Massive numbers of people were hovering in the air after being forcibly removed from their vehicles. 

Arnold craned his neck as he was suctioned towards the string ray's body.  Black sleek skin covered its underbelly, as did thousands of mouths with lips the texture of black liquorice.  Arnold was sucked head first into one of the champing maws and devoured alive. 

Blood rained down upon the Golden Gate Bridge.

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