Kronos

8

Jeffrey’s Ledge-Atlantic Ocean

As Atticus scoured the water in search of charging humpbacks, he fought the urge to ascend with Giona at top speed. They were too deep and would risk decompression sickness, otherwise known as “the bends,” if they charged to the surface. It was easily avoided. A simple slow ascent of seventeen feet per minute with a pause fifteen feet below the surface did the trick. The cause was equally simple. During a dive, large amounts of nitrogen are taken into the body because the diver is breathing air at a higher pressure than they would be at the surface. The extra nitrogen in the body poses no threat as long as the diver stays submerged. When the diver heads for the surface and the pressure decreases, the nitrogen is released from the body via the lungs. But if the diver ascends too rapidly, the nitrogen isn’t released quick enough, and, like a newly opened bottle of soda, the diver’s blood bubbles within the body’s tissues. Headache, vertigo, and fatigue are common symptoms, but severe cases lead to unconsciousness-sometimes death.

Decompression sickness was a danger to inexperienced divers or those who panicked during a dive, but to Atticus, avoiding the bends was second nature. And at that moment, his instincts told him to stay put. First, they might not make it in time. Second, they could pass out from the bends before reaching the surface. No, they had to face whatever was coming.

Then he saw them, ten whales, surging through the water at speeds Atticus was unaware the creatures could reach. And they were headed straight for him and Giona.

“Daddy…”

Giona’s voice quivered.

“Get ready to hold open your backup regulator. Blow your air tank.”

“Now?”

“No. If we blow it too soon, they’ll figure out its just air and keep coming. We need to surprise them.”

The whales were fifty yards off and closing fast. A huge one, a bull, led the charge.

Thirty…

Twenty…

“Now!”

Twin bursts of bubbles erupted around the pair, concealing their view of the whales. Atticus’s only assurance that his plan had worked was that they were still alive. The front whale must have veered off, the others following his lead. Atticus spun around, his suspicion confirmed by the flashes of white fading into the distance-the whales’ flukes pounding up and down.

“Daddy!” Giona was yanking his arm, her pulling so hard it actually hurt his shoulder. He spun just in time to see a cloud of silver sparkles flooding toward them. It only took a second for Atticus to identify the small creatures as herring, but the mindless fish wouldn’t be repulsed by another blast of air. They were too panicked.

The fish were on them, rushing by, slamming into their bodies like fists. Atticus hadn’t felt so abused since hell weak in SEAL training. He struck out at any fish he saw coming, angry and horrified that Giona was enduring the same beating. He could hear her, shouting in pain, shouting for him. But all he could see was an undulating wall of mirrored fish.

“Giona!” He grunted as a herring struck his open gut. “Curl up into a ball! Stay tight!” Then he followed his own advice. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, still holding the video camera. His soft spots were protected, and his body was all rounded edges. The fish were glancing off it.

He counted a full fifteen seconds more between that moment and when the last fish struck. He waited a few seconds, just in case, then unfurled like a potato bug. His body ached, but beyond a severe bruising, he would live.

He saw Giona, a hundred feet away, still curled up tight. Good girl.

“Honey…it’s all right now. They’re gone.”

He sighed with relief as she loosened her grip on her knees and uncoiled her body. She was surprisingly unfazed by the ordeal. “Have you ever seen anything like that, Daddy?”

“Herring run all the time, we just got in their way.”

“Yeah, but do herring normally chase whales?”

In that instant Atticus knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. Something had spooked the whales and the herring. He hoped it was a submarine, or some other man-made disturbance, but his gut told him otherwise. Get out! His mind shouted. Get out now!

“Giona, baby, start your ascent now. Go fast, but not too fast.”

“You’re coming too?”

He could hear the concern in her voice. She must have realized what he had. Something else was coming. “Right behind you.”

He watched as Giona headed for the surface, moving in tight circles, perhaps a little too fast, but not so fast that it would make her sick. They were still fifty feet apart when he felt a queasiness in his stomach. He could feel his hair trying to stand on end beneath the wet suit. He’d experienced a similar feeling once before, when a sniper had a bead on his head. It had saved his life then. He trusted it again.

He swung around and saw only open sea.

He turned back toward Giona and saw a nightmare unleashed upon reality. The shape slid through the water as easily as a comet through space. It looked like some kind of massive, organic roller-coaster ride, undulating up and down through the water. And Giona floated in its path.

The next five seconds were a blur, but seemed to move in agonizing slowness. He managed to shout half her name,” Gio-”

A mouth opened. Teeth flashed. Then she was gone, swallowed whole by the huge…fluid…thing. It took everything in one gulp, her body, her air tank, her camera. No trace of his daughter remained.

The apparition that took her swirled deep into the darkness below.

The ocean fell silent.

Giona…his baby…his girl…had been taken from him in a surge of violence.

Alone in the depths, Atticus wailed.

Then, like a man possessed, he surged toward the surface, straight as an arrow, as fast as he could.