Jason flew out the door, instantaneously plunging toward the sea. He felt along his chest, trying to find the rip cord. It wasn’t there. He frantically patted his chest. He found a little tab and pulled. He was sucked up into the air.
The chopper hurtled downward, Phil frantically tugging at the seat belt. “I can get it, Craig! I can get it!” But when the seat belt unclicked, Phil suddenly realized what Craig Summers already knew. It was too late for both of them. What had been a spinning kaleidoscope of ocean and sky suddenly became all ocean. The water rushed closer incredibly fast and…
THE CHOPPER didn’t sink immediately. Like a drowning windmill, its rotors labored mightily against the sea. It floated for several seconds, then submerged.
Jason entered the sea feetfirst, the ocean’s chill hitting his skin. He quickly removed the sopping-wet parachute and floated. It was suddenly very quiet, nothing but tiny breaking waves and light wind. He looked around nervously. The creature was still alive. Somehow, he knew it, he sensed it, even if its gills had dried out, it was still alive. And it was in the water with him. He looked up as the huge Vertol descended, Darryl at the helm now, Lisa looking down from the open door, weeping.
Jason suddenly sensed something behind him. There was a loud splash. He spun around and… A breaking wave. He felt sick. Craig Summers and Phil Martino were gone. Perhaps the creature was too. As the Vertol’s blades started flattening the water around him, he realized if the Demonray was somehow dead—and still harpooned to the Sikorsky—its body would be dragged to bottom of the ocean. They’d never see it again, never know for sure what had happened….
He dove, kicking as hard as he could. With sun-dappled water surging past his face, he quickly knifed lower…. Then he saw it far below him, something very large, descending slowly toward the depths. It was the helicopter, he could make out the bright yellow. He caught up to the machine, grabbing the trailing ladder. It pulled him lower, and he guessed the depth at a hundred feet. The water was darkening. Hand over hand, he climbed lower still, and forgot about the creature. He had to get Craig and Phil, their bodies. Barely able to breathe, he reached the passenger-side door and… There was nothing there, both men ripped out of their seats by the impact. Craig Summers and Phil Martino were gone.
Jason let go at a hundred and thirty feet and, strangely, didn’t feel like he needed to breathe. He just floated in the half-light, watching as the machine descended toward the darkness. Then the end of the ladder was pulled down and past him. One of Darryl’s harpoons was attached to it. But nothing else was. The creature was still alive.
He began swimming up. They had to find the Demonray fast, and he knew exactly how.
CHAPTER 88
“I’VE GOT to get my scuba gear!”
Sopping wet and hanging from the lifeline, Jason wasn’t even inside the helicopter yet. “And harpoons!” He climbed in awkwardly, collapsing on the metal floor. “And I got to get them right now.”
As Lisa slammed the door closed, Darryl’s face was blank. He looked down at the smashed orange parachute in the sea below. “It’s still alive?”
“I realized even if its gills did dry up, it might be able to get oxygen through its spiracle.”
Darryl nodded. “I’m sorry about Phil.”
Jason paused, looking up. “I’m very sorry about Craig, Darryl.”
“At least it’s out of the trees.”
“It will be back. Unless we find it first, it will be back.”
“Then let’s get that equipment.” The chopper sped back to the land.
“A homing beacon?”
As the Vertol shot out of the parking lot, Jason was surprised. In the tail of the slender harpoon Darryl had just handed him was a tiny transmitter the size of a quarter. “I didn’t think these high-tech gizmos were your style, Darryl.”
“They’re not. Didn’t even know we had them; they’re Craig’s.”
Jason turned to Lisa. “If I can shoot it, we can use the homing beacon to locate it.”
Lisa nodded. She was already holding the transmitter.
As they crossed the shoreline, Darryl glanced at the distant dark mountains looming over the sea. Moments later, he hovered to a stop at the exact location where the Sikorsky had gone down, then turned back. “Sure you don’t want me to do this, Jason?”
Jason zipped up his wet suit. “Then who flies the helicopter?” He grabbed his harpoons and oxygen tank and clomped toward the door. When he put his hand on it, Lisa’s was already there.
“Be careful.”
He kissed her, then, seconds later, jumped into the flattened seas. From below, he gave her a final thumbs-up, then ducked under a wave and disappeared.
POOR VISIBILITY, Jason thought, diving lower. With broken rays of sunshine providing the only light, tons of particles were floating everywhere. Leveling off at a hundred and ten feet, he wished he’d brought a flashlight. Scanning in every direction, he saw no sign of the creature, no sign of anything. He swam north.
The ocean appeared empty, but with the poor visibility he couldn’t be sure. After ten minutes he didn’t see a single fish but came upon something considerably less exotic. Garbage, apparently from a construction crew: bloated cement bags, waterlogged cardboard boxes, and a punctured inner tube. What kind of people came out to the ocean to dump this stuff? As a cloud above blocked out the sunlight, he swam forward, clutching his harpoon gun tightly. Given the poor visibility, he could literally swim right into the creature if he wasn’t careful—he suddenly stopped.
There it was. Just ten feet away. Huge and black, just floating there.
It didn’t seem to be aware of him, perfectly still and not looking in his direction.
Ever so gently, he kicked backward, and it made no attempt to follow him.
He swam farther away, then stopped and watched it. It didn’t budge. Was something wrong with it? Was it dead?
Minutes passed, and it still didn’t move.
He swam toward it.
As he got closer, he realized: it wasn’t the creature at all. It was a sheet of black plastic, another piece of floating garbage. He swam past it and saw something else behind it, also large and black. More of the same? He couldn’t see it clearly, so he swam closer….
It was thicker than plastic. He swam closer. Much thicker.
He froze.
It was the creature. This time he was sure of it. It was bleeding heavily, Darryl’s harpoons no longer inside it, no doubt jarred loose by the violent plunge into the sea. The animal didn’t seem to be aware of him. It didn’t move or otherwise give any indication it knew he was near. Was it hunting him?
It suddenly jolted.
But then it didn’t move. It had just repositioned itself.
Jason didn’t understand. What was it doing? Why wasn’t it swimming for the land?
The water lightened, and it turned right for him.
He didn’t move, tried not even to breathe.
The Demonray held still—just twenty-five feet away.
Then the sun lightened further, and it swam toward him.
He kicked backward as hard as he could.
Like a bird in molasses, it just swam closer. Twenty feet away.
He positioned his harpoon, but it caught on his wet suit.
Fifteen feet.
He got it loose….
Ten feet.
Aimed…
The creature suddenly froze.
He didn’t fire. Breathing rapidly, he drifted lower and watched it, trying to understand. Why had it stopped? Was it afraid of the harpoon? Or were its sensory organs malfunctioning, perhaps in shock from the sudden environment change?