Laurel Hightower
Keeper Ellis was already gone when Mel got to the Stack.
She searched the place thoroughly, but there was no sign of the man she’d been sent to relieve. She stood in silence and felt the weight of the empty facility. She was always alone out here, that was nothing new, but there was supposed to be a day’s overlap when the Keepers switched out. It gave them an opportunity to exchange information, catch up on how the previous six weeks had gone. There was never anything new, but it was a reassuring little nicety. A final human interaction to tide her over during the long, quiet nights.
His bag was gone, though the bunk was unmade, musty sheets tangled at the foot of the sagging twin mattress. She left her gear and went back to the observation deck, checked the camera feed. All was still, the four screens filled with different angled views of the unbroken surface of the water. She breathed out, letting her shoulders relax. Sunk into the desk chair and stretched her legs out. Frowned when her shoes skidded. She ducked her head, peered into the dim space, and froze.
Water. A puddle on the concrete, hidden beneath the console’s desk. Mel’s chest tightened, her mouth going dry. Had it rained before Ellis left? Had he left a door open, or dripped dry while watching the screens?
That was the reassuring explanation. She wanted desperately to believe it. Even a pipe leak from the shower above would be preferable, considering the only other source of water in the Stack came from the Wet Room. Nine feet of salt water siphoned from the rocky beach far below, layered over the humming reactor core. Keeping it cool enough to prevent a meltdown, radioactive isotopes crammed in every drop. The level had to stay high enough to avoid a temperature spike, low enough not to slop over the edges of the in-ground pool. There were multiple layers of concrete slab beneath the pool itself, but if droplets escaped onto the surrounding deck, it was too easy to imagine them clinging to a shoe covering or sliding along divots and cracks until they reached groundwater. An excessive precaution – the Wet Room was sealed, requiring entry through two sets of doors with an airlock between.
And yet. Water, here, beneath the desk.
Her heart surged, a sickly feeling in her gut. If the water came from the pool, she was already exposed to radiation. She wiped her wet shoe ineffectually on the floor, holding her foot away from her body. She had no idea how to clean it, how to avoid further contamination. She leaned close to the screens, searching the feed for anything out of place. A puddle on the ground, a crack in the concrete edges. There was nothing, but she couldn’t confirm the depth just by eyeballing it.
She looked over her shoulder at the plain, black phone hanging on the back wall. There were no number buttons, not even an old fashioned rotary dial. The phone only rang one number, and it was the sole method of communication with the outside world.
Mel took three steps toward it before she stopped. Ellis’s absence was reason enough to check in, but she knew what they’d say.
What about the water? And they’d be right to ask – if there was some kind of leak, the risk to the core was of paramount importance.
Mel sucked in a breath and headed for the Wet Room. Pushed the button to open the first set of doors, changed into her slicker suit and mask in the airlock. She wasted no time opening the second set of doors, but as they whooshed closed behind her, she froze in place, held her breath.
A ripple crossed the onyx surface of the water.
The plastic face shield of Mel’s mask fogged with her quickened breath. What moved beneath the surface of the pool? The only thing in there was the reactor core, nine feet below the surface. The room was hermetically sealed – there was no way air movement could cause the disturbance. Was the reactor melting down? Were those light ripples the first sign of a temperature increase? She wasn’t trained in nuclear containment – the Keepers were glorified night watchmen, only there to keep tabs and sound the alarm. It was an oddity that bothered her when she was first hired – why have a nuclear facility with no trained personnel? But she’d let herself be lulled by Ellis’s insistence that there was no real risk. And the job worked for her, allowed her to hide from her usual fears for six weeks at a time. Gave her anxiety plenty of opportunity to conjure new terrors, but at least they weren’t of the human variety.
Sweat pooled in Mel’s armpits and on the back of her neck. Her face shield was coated in condensation, and for a panicked moment she wondered if that was a result of increased humidity as the protective layer boiled away. She forced herself to move, to cross the room to where the depth finder hung on the wall.
‘Depth finder’ conjured images of something high tech, with precise methods of measurement. But tech and radioactive isotopes don’t mix. They had to go old school in here, so the finder was a twelve foot titanium rod, its surface carved in pleasant patterns that made gripping it easier. Lightweight but unwieldy, Mel managed to unhook it and get to the water’s edge without getting caught on the sweating stone walls. She stopped a foot away, unable to make herself go any closer.
There should be safety rails. Something to prevent her tripping over her own feet, or the rod, and plunging into water that might melt her flesh from her bones. But there was nothing, only empty space surrounding the perfect circle of black water. Ellis laughed at her when she voiced her fears, told her she’d seen too many movies. It was only water. Sure, it might increase her risk of cancer if she fell in, but that was just added incentive to watch her step during her daily trip into the Wet Room.
Ellis didn’t get it. He must not feel that pull of self-destruction deep in his core. The grip of desire to speed catastrophe, to go ahead and get it over with. This close to the edge, she pictured it on an endless loop. Overbalancing as she placed the depth finder, its weight unable to keep her from going over the side. Splashing face first into the opaque water, powerless to stop a reflex to suck it deep into her lungs. And buried in her heart, a fear unacknowledged even to herself: that the water was not empty. That things lurked beneath the surface, always out of sight, keeping still only to lure her in. Once she was in their habitat, on their turf, they would rise, brushing against her flailing body, take her in their jaws…
Mel lurched in place, her stomach flipping with the sudden movement. She locked her legs, held one hand out to the side to regain her balance. Breathing hard, she made herself count to ten before moving again. Slowly, carefully, she placed the depth finder along the edge like she’d been taught.
“Never stick it in too far from the edge,” Ellis told her. “You don’t want to put it straight through the core.”
Mel shuddered, pulling the rod as close to the edge as she could get it. Sunk it until she felt it make contact with the concrete bottom of the pool.
She squatted, squinting at the measurement. Nine feet, two inches. Relief flooded her body, bringing a wave of coolness in its wake. The level was fine, even a bit high, but she could correct that easily. This close she could tell, even through her suit, that the ambient air was no warmer than usual. The core was fine.
Her body still shaking once she’d left the Wet Room, she pulled the desk chair to the wall by the phone and lifted the receiver. She listened to thirty or so seconds of hushed white noise, then a series of clicks.
“Yes?” came the voice finally.
“Keeper two-four-oh, Melissa Ruth Proust.”
“Keeper Proust. Your shift just started – what’s the trouble?”
Mel kept it simple. “Keeper Ellis was not in the facility when I arrived.”
Silence on the other end of the line, then: “Odd. Very well, is that all?”
“I’m… not sure,” said Mel, looking over her shoulder at the black and white camera feed.
“Tell me everything.”
Mel did so, leaving nothing out. The voice on the other end was quiet, letting her finish before speaking.
“So the level was fine.”
“Nine feet two inches, yes. I’ll bleed off the excess.”
“No. Leave it,” said the voice.
Mel frowned. “Leave it? But the level—”
“Two inches is no reason for concern. Better not to… disturb anything.”
The lack of precision bothered Mel, but after a brief struggle she agreed. “And… the puddle? The water under the desk?”
“Do you have your Geiger counter?”
Mel swallowed. “I’ll get it.” She went to the wall where the unit was holstered, flipped it on with a wince. What if it started clicking like crazy?
“Keeper Proust?” The voice issuing from the phone’s handset was small, tinny.
Mel took a breath and approached the puddle, holding the counter out as far as she could reach.
It stayed silent, and her knees went weak. Thank fuck.
“It’s fine,” she said as soon as she picked the phone back up.
“There you go. Feel better?”
“Yes, thank you. Keeper two-four-oh—”
“Keeper Proust.”
The voice cut into Mel’s sign off and she fell silent. “Yes?” she asked finally, when nothing else was said.
“It’s best if you stay inside for the next few days. Can you do that?”
The relief Mel felt from the silent Geiger counter drained away. “Why?”
A long silence. “Storms in the area. You’ll be fine in the Stack – that building’s been there forever. But batten down the hatches, please. Run through your drills every day.”
Mel wanted to ask why. But she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer.
“Stay vigilant, Keeper Proust. Our safety is in your hands.”
As Mel reached to replace the handset, she told herself she didn’t hear a mournful cry in the patterns of soft white noise.
* * *
Mel woke from a dream of whales calling in the distant dark. Her cheeks felt tight, tracks of dried tears pulling her flesh. She sat up, trying to banish the deep sense of sadness that accompanied her up from her dream.
The sound came again, this time to her waking ears. Mel held her breath, heart pounding. She’d never heard whale calls out here, not in the six years she’d been coming to the Stack. Could their sound even carry out of the water? It seemed unlikely, but she was no naturalist.
Keeping still, she waited to hear it again. When it came it was much closer, deep and mournful, the lowest registers thrumming through Mel’s teeth. She hugged her knees, making herself small. It hadn’t sounded like a whale that time. More like the cries of something dead, no longer of this world. So close to her… was something in the building with her? But what the hell could make a noise like that?
She should check. It was an anomaly, and therefore her job to investigate. But it was dark in the old stone room where she slept. What if something waited beneath the bunk to grab her ankle, take her under? Was it Ellis? Dead in some horrible accident and back to haunt her?
The longer she sat there, the more sure she was that something shared the darkness with her. Listening to her breathe, hovering just far enough away she couldn’t feel its touch. She couldn’t stay here until morning, not wound as tight as she was. She gritted her teeth, reached through the clutching darkness and yanked the chain on her bedside lamp.
Its yellow glow banished the shadows closest to her, but brought little relief. A trail of water led from the cracked door of the room to her bedside.
“Oh, fuck,” she breathed, wide eyes fixated on the water. Was it raining? Had the roof developed a leak? She couldn’t hear a storm outside, but the old stone walls were thick. Shaking, she grabbed a hoodie from the end of the bunk and pulled it on, careful to avoid the water spots when her feet hit the floor.
Teeth chattering, she slipped down the stairs and into the main control room. More water out here, but not, she noted with relief, coming from the doors to the Wet Room. She hurried to check the screens and saw nothing but the monochrome view of a still pool.
At the Stack’s outer door that led to the beach, she punched in her code with shaking fingers but was greeted with an array of red lights and an admonitory beep. The door stayed closed.
Frowning, Mel tried again, slower this time. She got the same response, and dread turned her to stone.
“No, this is bullshit. The code worked to get in,” she said under her breath and tried a third time. Still the door remained closed, and a second later the phone gave a shrill ring from the wall.
Mel stood still, staring across the room. She’d never heard it ring before – her employers waited for the Keepers to call, not the other way around. She approached slowly and pressed the phone to her ear without speaking.
“Keeper Proust? Are you there?”
“I’m here. Why is the door locked?”
Several seconds of silence answered her. “We agreed you would stay indoors.”
Anger flashed, heating Mel’s face. “I needed to check something. Did you change the code remotely?”
“We’re not sure what’s going on. If the outer lock has been triggered, that means the system has identified a possible containment breach. I don’t need to tell you how serious that is.”
Mel swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the glass box on the wall behind the desk, protecting a flat black pull-down handle. When Ellis explained it to her on her first night of training, it dug a hole in the pit of her stomach.
Break glass in case of breach.
Last line of defence. She’d imagined what such a moment would look like. The desperation a person would feel breaking that glass, reaching in and throwing the switch for their own destruction. Inevitable death as a Hail Mary, the only thing preventing catastrophe.
“Protocol has been initiated, Keeper Proust. Remember your training. Straighten up and tell me what’s going on up there.”
The tone pissed her off, but Mel found herself responding to the admonition, falling back on her training. “More water.”
The voice was tense. “Where? The Wet Room?”
“No. Sleeping quarters. I was woken up by something, a noise, and when I turned the light on there was water everywhere.”
“What kind of noise?”
Mel took a breath. “Just whale calls, but the water—”
“Check the Wet Room.” The voice was tight, almost shrill. Nothing like the calm responses she’d heard up until tonight.
Mel went to the monitors, scanned them for anything out of place. Nothing, except…
She leaned close, squinting at the screen filled with a close-up of the water’s surface. Had something moved? A shadow in the pool, slipping from one side to the other?
“Keeper Proust? Is something moving in the water?”
Her mouth was dry. “It’s the reactor coolant pool. Why would—”
“Answer me.”
Mel scanned the screens again. “Maybe. I can’t tell if—”
“Then make sure.”
Mel crossed her free arm tightly across her belly. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“Get in there and find out. Now.”
Her heart thudded in her ears and she hung up the phone without answering. She’d been in the Wet Room plenty, at least once every day of her shifts, and with the safety protocols in place, she had nothing to worry about. But now there was a different protocol. If there was a breach that might end in her breaking the glass and throwing the switch, she didn’t want to know. She cast a glance at the closed outer door and wondered if there was an override.
But Mel was nothing if not a rule follower, and in spite of her dread she set her shoulders and approached the Wet Room doors, bringing the Geiger counter with her. Pulling on her protective gear in the airlock, she looked down and saw more water pooled in several spots. Her breath came faster and she tried to make her mind accept that she wasn’t getting out of this unscathed. Flipping the switch on the Geiger counter, she frowned when it registered nothing. It should have reassured her, but the world had been turned on its axis.
By the time the second set of doors slid open, she was hyperventilating, her mask so fogged she could barely see. And what was she supposed to be looking for? She knew fuck all about nuclear physics.
The thought made her frown down at the silent Geiger counter. She was in the reactor room, close to the pool – there should be some isotopes registering. In fact, there was always a minimal amount of background radiation in any environment – so why wasn’t it making any noise at all?
The same deep, mournful cry that woke her from sleep sounded from outside, closer this time. The Geiger counter slipped from her sweaty hands and hit the concrete. Bending to pick it up, she caught sight of something pale piled out of sight on the far side of the pool, tucked behind a concrete pillar. Frightened enough to be sick to her stomach, she left the device there and drew closer, knowing what she would see.
Keeper Ellis. Some of him, anyway. His body was waterlogged, missing huge chunks from his torso, shoulder and thigh. The skin of his face had loosened and slid, leaving his mouth gaping, eyes swollen shut. Mel’s gorge rose and she backed away as the call sounded again. She turned to the water. Whatever was calling, it came from within the pool.
She made herself inch closer, eyes fixed on the onyx surface, afraid to blink. It reminded her of staring at a corpse in a coffin, the way they so often looked like they were about to draw breath the moment your head was turned. Like Ellis on the grate behind her. If she kept focused on the water, nothing would breathe.
Something rippled along the surface, a ridged back cresting an inch or two out of the water as it travelled the circumference of the pool, bubbles churning in its wake.
Mel moaned and dropped to her haunches, afraid to lose her balance, certain she’d tip into the pool with whatever swam in its depths. Her imagination stuttered and stopped, overwhelmed with thoughts of undersea creatures exposed to years of radioactive water. Mutating, growing, changing into something more horrifying than nature intended.
A loudspeaker crackled to life in the far corner and Mel screamed.
“What’s in the pool, Keeper Proust?”
“Ellis – he’s here, in the Wet Room. I don’t know how I missed him before, but he’s—”
“What’s in the pool?”
She looked up, searching for the speaker. “How did you know something was in there?” she asked hoarsely.
Heaving breaths took up space and made Mel’s chest tighten, as though whoever spoke to her had taken all the air. Then a resigned sigh, and the voice sounded tired when it came again.
“It’s always been there. Since the beginning, since the Stack was built around its containment. It’s been… sleeping.”
Mel scooted away from the pool’s edge as the ridged back broke the surface again, circling faster now. This time she saw it was a pair of raised lines, the flesh between them dark and scaled. A preternatural growl like a crocodile’s approach sounded, and a pair of impossibly big, dark eyes rose from the depths.
“Sleeping?” Mel said, her body shaking as she pressed herself against the concrete wall. “What is it?”
“Certain death. That’s what it is.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means what it sounds like. Ellis is only the beginning.”
“What about the core?”
Another pause. “There is no reactor core.”
Mel felt a flush of shame, of fury at her own gullibility. Of course there was no core. Why hadn’t she questioned Ellis closer? But she knew why. Because he’d laughed at her, and she’d leaned into the assumption that, like usual, she’d missed something obvious to everyone but her.
“Keeper Proust, the danger is real. If that creature breaks containment and reaches the mainland, there’s no telling how many people will die. You have to engage last line defence. Break the glass.”
The eyes in the water stayed fixed on Mel’s, and she couldn’t look away. It had been here all along. Sharing space in the dark depths, slumbering while the Keepers puttered around it, not knowing what lay beneath. She shuddered, and the whale call sounded again, this time from outside the building.
The eyes in the water opened wider before dipping out of sight, the pool churning as it swam in agitated circles. It returned the call from outside and Mel clapped her hands over her ears.
Calls from inside. Calls from out. Something out there, communicating with the creature in the pool. Mel lowered her hands slowly, mesmerised as more of the creature rose from the surface. Never enough for her to gauge the full size of the thing, or to see its head or shape. It was big, and very old – she felt its age, its ancient intelligence. This thing had swum the oceans when the Earth was new, a force beyond her understanding. That was all the knowledge she had, beyond what the voice from outside had told her. That it was dangerous, that it had to be stopped. She fought the urge to look back at what it had done to Ellis, the jagged tooth marks she knew she would find in his flesh if she looked close enough.
The low, clicking growl sounded again and Mel saw the eyes once more. Immense, bottomless, vertical pupils glistening. She didn’t bother telling herself she was safe out of the water. It had gotten Ellis. It could get her, too.
“Keeper Proust? You see it, don’t you? It has to be stopped. Break the glass now, before it’s too late.”
Mel wondered if she’d even make it past the thing in the pool. Could it understand what was being said? Would it know what she was planning to do? If it killed her and there was no one to initiate self-destruction, how long would it be before it lumbered onto a beach, starving from such a long hibernation?
Why did it have to wake now, after all this time, and on Mel’s watch? It suddenly made sense, the strange application questions about family and dependants, connections beyond what an employer had an interest in. They wanted Keepers who were unmoored in the world, more likely to sacrifice themselves. Regardless of what she’d signed up for, she didn’t want to die.
The thing outside called again. There were two of them. That was why the creature in the pool had wakened after all this time, pulled by the call of its own kind.
“Who is that out there?” she whispered to the unblinking eyes. “Mama? Boyfriend? Kiddo?”
The creature didn’t move or blink, its focus all on Mel. Did it sense hope for its escape in her hesitation? Or just its next meal?
“What’s happening, Proust? You have to go, now, fast as you can.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I told you, if it breaks out—”
“How would it do that? If it could break from the pool, why wouldn’t it already have done it? Why is it still here?”
The Wet Room shook with the vibration of an impact to the structure. The eyes slid out of sight and the surface grew still once more.
“Proust. Melissa. There’s no time to waste. You can do this. You must do this, it’s your job. Your purpose.”
Mel pushed to her feet and shuffled closer to the water’s edge. “My purpose is to die?”
“To save. There’s no higher calling, no greater act than the preservation of life, and—”
“Just not my life. Or hers.”
“There is no her, only it, and you must—”
Mel would never get peace from that voice. Telling her what to do, what she was worth. Who and what was deserving of life, love. Happiness. It would grate in her ears until the day she died, and she would never have any peace as long as she could hear it.
She went to the water’s edge and stared into preternatural eyes. Felt the sickening lurch of her stomach as her body fought to keep its balance while her psyche demanded she give in to the void. She’d spent her whole life afraid. Spinning outcomes both likely and far-fetched, the imagined risks keeping her hemmed in, unable to let go. It was exhausting, watching that water for movement. Watching dead bodies and waiting for them to breathe. Watching her future while braced for disaster.
Don’t give yourself time to think.
She closed her eyes and stepped over the edge.
She felt its scaled, muscled body pass by her hip the moment she entered the pool. Terror kicked off, her heart-rate surging, and she waited to feel teeth clamp around her, inexorable jaws drag her deep. At this point it would be a welcome relief, an end to the silent, eternal scream of her mind. Her movements in the water were jerky, uncoordinated as adrenaline flooded her veins with no clear course of action. Why the hell had she thought this was a good idea? Legs kicking erratically beneath her, she looked at the slick stone wall of the pool and knew she couldn’t take it back.
Her breath coming fast and shallow, she turned, looking for the creature. Squinting, she thought she saw shadows moving below, beyond the pale shape of her feet. Whatever it was moved quick, shooting up at high speed. She couldn’t look away. This goes much deeper than nine feet.
She saw the open mouth, the widening jaw full of blunted, broken teeth before they closed around her left leg. Blood bloomed in the water around her and she sucked in a breath, but the scream never came. She was underwater too fast, her hip burning as the leg was pulled nearly from its socket.
I’m going to feel this. It’s going to eat me and I’ll feel every second of it.
She shot past a circular ledge of stone jutting out from the walls of the pool, narrowing the space. She knocked one flailing arm on the edge of it and knew the ledge was what she felt each time she used the depth finder. Like an idiot, never questioning her instructions, her made-up duties. She’d only ever been here for one reason – to die in the service of the greater good. The risk was still here, but so much older and more unknowable than nuclear contamination.
Then she saw a glow coming from below and wondered if there was a core after all. Wouldn’t that be perfect – so many horrible ways to die bundled together. Still, it was better than breaking that glass and waiting to see what form of death would come for her. She squeezed her eyes shut, her head roaring with pressure as the creature pulled her downward.
Then the pull on her leg stopped and her descent halted. The thing must have bitten her leg off finally – the pain in her hip was excruciating, but she thought she’d feel her limb’s absence more than this. She kept her eyes closed and waited to die, not wanting to see the creature consume her flesh.
But the need for air burned her lungs, her chest heavy and aching. Was she going to have to drown, too? She opened her eyes and in the glow of whatever lay below, she saw the creature eye to eye.
Mel didn’t dare move. She floated there, who knew how deep, communing with something older than time. She looked down, saw the ocean floor below, lit by the soft glow of bioluminescence. Both legs still there, though the left one was mangled. How could she see? Was the pool open to the ocean after all? Had it broken open after all this time?
Another impact shook the Stack, its effect muted in the cushion of water where Mel fought against an increasing urge to draw water into her lungs. Something moved in the darkness below, big enough to shake the old stone building. How big would that be? Her panicked mind groped for an answer but slid off the walls of her fear. Another eye peered up at her. Kin of what swam in the pool with her, and Mel gestured downward.
Go. I won’t stop you.
The creature lunged and caught hold of Mel’s leg again, whipping her downward with a half body roll that churned the water. Then she felt what she hadn’t been able to see. The bottom was glass. Thick, reinforced by the feel of it, which explained why the creature outside hadn’t been able to break in. Though, did she feel a hairline crack in the glass beneath her foot?
How long had they been separated? How long had the one outside been searching for its kin, calling into the darkness with no answer, as its other lay slumbering? That was love. Commitment. Ties that bound closer than anything Mel had experienced. Lungs ready to explode, she struck out fast, swimming upward with no care for the building pressure between her ears and behind her eyes. Drowning, the bends, being eaten – it was all the same to her now. Breaking the surface with a gasp, Mel’s vision was blurry, red. She found what she wanted without trouble – the long metal rod of the depth finder. With fading vision she looked around the edges of the pool one last time. Could she scale them? Maybe. It didn’t matter – she’d committed to her course of action. The highest calling – preservation of life. Of love. Who said it had to be human? Humans were a plague on this planet. Maybe it was time to step aside.
With the metal rod in her hand, Mel dove deep. Her left leg hung unresponsive, the ligaments stretched past their capacity, but still she moved fast, feeling the ledge of stone brush her shoulders. The cold, alien scrape of scaled flesh against her own. Holding the blunted end of the rod before her, she bashed it against the glass below, where she thought she’d felt the crack. The water slowed her momentum, deadened her impact, but two or three more jabs gained her a spiderweb of splintered glass.
The air she’d brought with her from the surface was running out fast. Mel’s chest hitched as involuntary action took over and she breathed in cold, dark water. The rod drifted from her hand, her bulging eyes watching the jerking movements of her body as it slowly, painfully died.
A vast change in pressure and the feeling of being sucked further downward. Muted pain as her back scraped against jagged glass, then she floated free in the dark depths of the ocean. Big, ancient things moved past her on their way to a long overdue reunion.
Mel’s vision went dark, her struggle over. The corpse breathed no more and never would, no matter what eyes watched the Keeper’s body floating in the silent ocean. The oldest form of life had wakened and been loosed upon the world. There was peace in answering the call of the void at last.