“DSRV!” yelled Tony.
Jessica and Theresa jumped with a start. The three of them had been lying on the floor exhausted when Tony blurted out the initials.
“DSRV?” asked Theresa.
“Disabled sub rescue vehicle! We don’t need to surface. We just need to get close enough so the navy can send a DSRV and attach to the top hatch. Their bottom hatch fits over our top hatch, and they let us out into their sub. Then we scuttle this fucking tub and get outta the water,” exclaimed Tony with excitement.
Theresa and Jessica looked at each other.
“The buoys!” said Tony as he hopped up to the main console, where he began typing into the computer like a madman. He dialed up the command for the emergency communication buoy. It was the same technique as the others, except it released three buoys at once, each with a small, specially made pressurized air tank designed to speed the trip up to the surface. The redundancy was a safety in the hopes that at least one would make it to the surface no matter what.
EMERGENCY MESSAGE: Jim Lewis, Ian MacMullen, Mike Ammiano, Ted Bell all dead. Three survivors, Jessica Clark, Theresa Meyers, Tony Martinez, confined to bridge. Request immediate DSRV for docking as soon as we hit DSRV operating depth. Extreme danger. We are ascending, current depth over 18,000 feet. Expect to reach operating depth 60 hours from now. We cannot surface. Need DSRV linkup. Possible contamination. Rescue team will need hazmat suits and team requires quarantine. Situation is MOST URGENT—SOS.
Ted reread his message and hit “send.” The computer released the emergency communication buoys from the hull and the three beacons shot toward the surface, already transmitting a message that would be repeated for sixty days or until turned off.
Tony turned back to Jessica and Theresa. “That’s it. We hunker down for two days and wait for that door to open.” He pointed to the large vault door above their heads at the top of the ladder.
“And if they can’t get here in time? We’ll just hit the surface and wait for a rescue?” asked Theresa. “With that thing running around the ship?”
Jessica and Tony looked at each other. “I don’t know. Look—none of us want to bring anything to the surface. Let’s just hope for the best. It’s two days. We just gotta last two days . . .”
“If the DSRV can’t make it, I don’t think we should surface,” said Jessica.
“We can’t exactly stop in the middle of the water column,” said Tony.
“That’s not what I meant,” said Jessica. Her face was an expression of despair. “If they can’t get us off this ship while we’re under and then sink it before it hits the surface, then I think we sink it ourselves.”
Tony thought about that for a second. “You mean, while we’re on it?”
“Unless you have a better idea.”
Theresa caught up mentally. “Wait—you’re saying we just survived a battle with a sea monster just so we can drown?”
“Do you want to be the one responsible for unleashing a plague on the planet that maybe there’s no cure for?” asked Jessica.
“The alcohol killed those things! There’s a simple cure!” exclaimed Theresa.
“The alcohol may have killed them. May have. There’s no way we can bring this ship up. I don’t want to die either, Theresa. But think about it.”
Tony exhaled very slowly. He locked his fingers together on top of his head and stared up at the ceiling. “I know what you’re saying, Jess. You’re not wrong.” He leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees and looked at Theresa. “Look, Theresa. I’m no hero, okay? I don’t want to go down with the ship and all that crap. I want to live just like you do. So does Jess. But she’s right. We can’t bring this shit up. No way. But let’s not give up just yet, okay? The DSRV’s gonna get here, okay? We have two days . . . let’s just try to stay positive.”
The multiple moaning and groaning noises from belowdecks made their hair stand up.