As Lightfoot scampered on top, he saw the large steel loops used by the winch to lower it from the ship. He grabbed one and pulled himself closer, careful not to lose his grip on the cable. He pulled hard on the cable and managed to get it a foot closer. It was getting tighter as the sub continued to fall back into the depths faster than Emerson and his team could feed it down. Lightfoot pulled himself closer and passed over the small window on top of the sub. Glancing down, Lightfoot could make out the interior lights which were very dim and now completely submerged below the water inside. The silhouettes of Clay and Caesare were both staring back at him, each breathing through a small air canister.
Inside Clay raised his head and grabbed the controls again. He needs some slack! He pulled the stick all the way back, tilting the craft up with what little power they still had.
As the K-955 inched higher, Lightfoot pulled hard again on the cable and got just enough slack to run through one of the giant loops. He grimaced as he struggled to push the end through, but with one last effort he managed to clip the large hook up and back onto itself. He pressed his mask closer to verify it was secure, then pushed a large button on the side of his mask.
“She’s hooked!” he yelled.
His voice was broadcast up and over the ship’s external speakers. When Tay heard Lightfoot’s voice he ran across the platform and wrapped his hand around a chromed colored lever. He forced it up several notches to engage the motor at full power. The giant platform on the stern suddenly dipped deeply into the water as it counteracted the inertia of the sub’s descent. They all stumbled and turned when the motor let out a terrible screech before eventually beginning to turn, pulling in the cable.
Below them, Lightfoot was sliding off the top when the sub jerked upward. He quickly grabbed hold of the thick rubber oxygen line. Above him on deck, Emerson’s two extra crewmen jumped to the other side of the platform to help pull the oxygen line back in hand over hand.
They ignored the churning of the motor as it continued to reel in the cable, turning faster and faster.
As they pulled him up, Lightfoot kicked his feet hard to try to catch the sub. Once on the surface, he needed to get the sub’s hatch open as quickly as possible. Clay and Caesare had been completely submerged inside for several minutes which meant their canisters would soon be out of usable air. Lightfoot got close enough to grasp the hatch handle and hang on, riding the sub as it rose to the surface.
“Fifteen feet,” said Harris over the loud speakers.
Emerson looked up at the announcement then back to his men. “Okay, get to the edge and hold on. She’s coming up hard!”
The four men held onto something near the end of the platform to steady themselves. The wheel behind them was turning now at top speed. This was going to be rough as there was no chance to bleed off any momentum before the sub breached the surface which meant it was going to overshoot. And since the cable was fed directly over the side of the stern rather than from the large extended winch, the sub was most likely going to come up hard under the Pathfinder.
“Ten feet!” called Harris’ voice.
Moments later the sub smashed into the underside of the Pathfinder’s stern platform. All four men were lifted completely off the deck and into the air along with everything else that was not nailed down. Equipment and tools flew everywhere, and they all came down hard together. One of Emerson’s junior crewmen lost his grip and slipped overboard, hitting the K-955’s now exposed tail and disappeared into the waves.
“Man Overboard!” yelled Emerson. The other junior crewman nodded and searched for his shipmate. Once spotted, he grabbed a float ring and jumped in after him, barely avoiding the sub as it pitched and rolled out from under the Pathfinder. A deafening shriek of metal on metal filled the air as the port side of the sub scraped along the bottom of the platform before finally freeing itself. As it rotated freely, Lightfoot popped up out of the white swell still holding onto the hatch. He ripped off his mask and turned toward the circular door, straddling his legs across the top. He shook the water out of his face and gripped the handle hard turning it with everything he had. The wheel relented and slowly began to turn. Lightfoot kept working it and then, with a heave, pulled it open. Instantly, hundreds of gallons of water came flooding out along with two large dark figures.
As the water poured out, the weight of the sub quickly changed and it began to roll backwards, taking the hatch opening back beneath the water. Lightfoot scrambled against the hull’s rotation, staying upright as it turned. Less than thirty feet away, the heads of Emerson’s two junior crewmen popped up unharmed. Now all eyes were on the area of water in front of the twisting sub.
After several seconds, both Clay and Caesare surfaced and looked around. They spotted Emerson and Tay and pointed back to the sub. “Get the Triton!” they yelled.
Everyone looked to the K-955 and spotted the small Triton, flopping back and forth, miraculously still clasped in the sub’s retractable claw. Lightfoot scrambled down to the tiny rover and unhooked it. He then pulled it behind him as he slid down the side of the K-955’s belly and into the water with the Triton in tow.
All five men slowly made their way to the ship’s platform. Emerson and Tay reached over the side and pulled them up one by one, grabbing Lightfoot and the Triton last and hefting it up over the heads of the others who all sat slouched forward, feet hanging over the end, trying to catch their breath. Emerson and Tay set the Triton down and joined the rest of the men, sitting down behind them.
After a long silence, Emerson reached over and put his hand on Clay’s shoulder. He gave him a broad smile. “I was afraid we might just lose you two.”
Clay looked at Emerson and returned the smile, his chest still heaving. His soaked hair hung down pasted against his forehead with water streaming down over his face. “The thought crossed our minds once or twice.”
Emerson turned to his crewman. “Whitey, Ballmer, you guys alright?”
Whitey, the larger of the two nodded his head. “Yep.” Next to him Ballmer merely held up his hand and gave a thumbs-up.
Emerson turned to Caesare. “Caesare?”
Caesare put his hands behind him and leaned back on them. “I’m okay.”
Emerson took a deep breath and looked at the K-955 rolling back and forth in the rising swells. The sub had deep scrapes covering most of its side but remained on the surface still tethered to the Pathfinder by the large steel cable which was slack, yet still visible below the surface of the water. “Anyone else really starting to hate this place?”
28
Kathryn Lokke reached up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes before opening them. She looked at her watch and then peered around the tent. 5:00 a.m. and only Andrew’s sleeping bag was empty. Pierre and Tadri remained completely buried inside their own bags, neither leaving any skin exposed. Kathryn looked at the thin layer of ice which formed around the base of the triple layered, insulated tent. She thought about how even the most modern materials still could not keep you from freezing your butt off. At least you still felt like you were freezing it off. She was sure that in reality these advanced materials provided some serious protection in spite of the attention they paid to the cold that still managed to get through.
Kathryn turned onto her back and closed her eyes for several minutes, trying to gauge her chances of getting back to sleep. Eventually, she frowned and turned back over. She grabbed her thick knit cap and put it back on her head then pulled the sides down over her ears. She quietly pulled herself out of her bag and sat up, putting her thick jacket on, followed by her insulated pants and Gore-Tex boots. She managed to unzip the vinyl zipper without waking Pierre or Tadri and poked her head out.