CHAPTER 81

Eric stood on the upper deck of the frigate, watching the water for any movement. Several minutes had passed since the wounded octopus had disappeared below the waves. But none of the others had surfaced. There had been no sign of them at all.

He’d been forced aboard the warship by the Marines. The one driving Clive’s boat had realized the situation was hopeless when the last of his buddies had gone under, and he’d gunned the boat away from the hole, back to the frigate. On the upper deck, Eric and the two soldiers had joined a small group standing at the side railing, watching for the octopus to reemerge. The vessel had been slowly closing in since the first shots were fired from the raft, and they were only a few hundred yards away now. Eric looked over at the armored gun turret trained on the area. He wondered if even this huge cannon would be enough to kill the beast.

Someone yelled, and Eric saw why. A person’s head emerged at the surface.

“Wait! Don’t shoot,” he shouted.

The cannon fired. The deafening noise made Eric jump. The heavy round struck the water just past the diver. But there were no follow-up shots. The gunner had realized what he was seeing.

It was Clive. He coughed and raised an arm over his head.

Eric’s ears were ringing. He grabbed the arm of the Marine next to him. “We have to rescue him!”

The soldier shoved him away. “It’s too dangerous. He’s on his own.”

Eric looked back at Clive. Even though the frigate was much closer to him now, the old man was still some distance away. He seemed to be dazed, or hurt. He was leaning back in the water now, floating. Where were the others?

“Goddammit! You need to save him. What’s wrong with you people?”

The Marine clenched his jaw. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.” He headed toward the bridge.

A minute later, Eric heard a whine next to him and looked over. It was a winch, mounted to a boom. From the side of the vessel, an ROV was being lowered into the ocean. But not to help Clive. Eric recognized the vehicle, and the payload it was carrying. They were sending in an explosive.

“Where’s your captain?” Eric said to another sailor standing at the gunwale. “I need to talk to him, right now. Before they send any weapons in. There are more people down there.”

But it was too late. A moment later, the boom released the ROV and it disappeared under the surface.

Eric swore and looked at Clive. He appeared to be unconscious now, and a dark spot was clouding the water beside him. Probably blood.

Eric glanced aft at the lower deck, where just past a deserted helicopter pad the two dive boats were now both tied off to the stern. Nobody was guarding them.

He took a step back and watched for a reaction from the Marines beside him. But everybody on deck was against the railing, transfixed on Clive and the water around him. Eric took two more steps, toward a ladder running to the lower deck. Still no one noticed. He turned and ran.

He scrambled down the ladder and leapt quietly onto the metal deck, then dashed across the empty pad to Clive’s boat. As he cast off the lines, he wondered if the keys were even still on it. But there was no time.

He jumped down into the open bow of the much smaller vessel, collapsing against the padded seats as he landed. He hurried to the helm. The keys were in the ignition. He heard a shout from the frigate.

He fired up the engine and slammed down the throttle.

 

 

From inside a dark side tunnel, Val and Sturman heard the muffled boom. She guessed it was probably Eric’s bang stick.

They’d been looking at what was left of a metal grate now torn free from the end of the outflow pipe. At the noise, they turned around and kicked in the direction the other men had taken. But before they reached the point where they’d first split with the others, Sturman noticed a cutoff in the side of the labyrinthine tunnel. They passed into it to find themselves entering the flank of a broad, flattened passage. To their right was a mound of rock, weakly silhouetted by light from outside, and to their left—

Val stared in wonder into the den, at the multitude of grapelike clusters containing thousands of the whitish, pale, teardrop-shaped objects.

Eggs.

They were enormous for those of a cephalopod, each the size of a large pear, and strands of them had been woven by their mother into hanging braids, which concealed most of the den like the beaded curtain in an Asian restaurant. It was even more difficult to see anything past the nearest strands because the water in here was murkier, hazy with dark particles of something.

They huddled inside the small opening on the side of the cave, waiting to see if the octopus would return. As the water cleared some, Val saw the light. A dive light, still on, resting on the cavern floor.

Sturman tugged at her shoulder, and they began to move into the den. As he turned left and moved under the mucus-covered strands, searching, she headed right, toward the mouth of the cavern, and the flashlight. While he searched for the device, she would watch for its return. Warn him if it came back.

They would have to hurry. The octopus would be back soon. As Val finned closer to the motionless light, she still didn’t see anyone near it. She realized why they hadn’t noticed it at first. It was pointed in the other direction, its bulb up against the base of the embankment built to guard the brood.

Val stopped when she noticed something else resting on the bottom. Just past the light, sunken into the rocks.

Oh, please, no.

But it was. What was left of a person. A man’s arm, still connected to part of a torso.

She began to kick toward it, and hesitated. These were the remains of someone she knew. Maybe her uncle. She felt revulsion, but she moved closer. She thought she saw a ring gleaming from the hand.

She took a deep breath and directed her dive light at the curled fingers.