Dutch bent down and examined the hole in the wall. He threw his jacket down and started taking off his shirt. “Well, now or never.”
“Not yet,” AJ said. He knew what came next, and it wasn't pleasant.
“What are you do—”
AJ grabbed Gideon by the scruff of the neck, bending him backwards over the counter.
Gideon flailed. “What the—”
“If we're going out there, I want you tell me one more thing, Doc. It's something you neglected to mention in your little speech to Bruhbaker and company.”
“What… what's that?”
“I want to know what happened to the crew. You see, I know where they were. They hunted down your friends and kept you inside this room. That's what you said, right? But what I want to know is where they are. Because as you've noticed, it's been awfully quiet, and I have a feeling we're not really alone, are we Doctor?” AJ saw the man's face change, and he suddenly felt a ghost step over his grave. How had Mason not thought to ask him? He had smashed the doc before he had a chance to spill it.
Gideon squirmed.
“You can start talking, or we can toss you down that goddamned vent shaft and let you drown in the water below. What do you say?” AJ released him, and the doctor bounced back to his full height.
“Oh,” the man said, rubbing his throat. “That won't be necessary. Certainly not.”
So, he told them.
4
The gunk oozing from the arm-sized tentacle stank unlike anything Jin had smelled in his life. The closest approximation was Mama's Canh Chua. Jin's best friend in middle school had been this Vietnamese kid named John Choy. He used to invite him over to his house, but on Sundays, his mom made this stew with fish parts and oils that smelled like rotting pussy. John said it was called Canh Chua, but why he insisted on putting Mama's before it, Jin never knew. He did know he never had the stomach to try it, and on some level, it was responsible for why he detested most Vietnamese people on sight now. They were just so goddamned dirty, maybe because they could eat shit like that without flinching. Old Johnny used to just love his Mama's Canh Chua.
“You having fun down there?”
Bending over the railing, Jin looked up and saw Peter gazing down from the level above. Christian stood next to him, and the two of them looked unbearably pleased about something.
Jin held up a plastic bag filled with the fungus. It was a viscous black color, full of chunks where he'd chopped at the thing. It looked like he'd been prospecting for hobo shit. “You want to help?”
By way of reply, Peter scrunched his cheeks and let a gob of spit fall down towards him. It was thick with tobacco juice. Jin dodged, pulling his head in and nearly smashing it on a steel pulley. “Now that's disgusting.” He heard laughter above, stuck his head back out, and shot the pair of them the bird. Then he turned back to his gear, making a mental note to add Italians to his list of inferior dirt eaters. “You're a fucking animal, St. Croix,” he yelled. They absolutely howled.
How they could be laughing, he didn't know. They were in the middle of some weird shit, and they were a long way from out of the woods. He supposed they were gloating now that the security specialist was out of the way. What happened to doing a good day's work and going the fuck home? Jesus, you didn't have to gloat, especially when a man's life was at stake. But whatever. One day, he'd be free of these psychos and be able to open his own consulting firm. This bloody field work had to go.
He threw his baggie to the ground and picked up his tool kit. Good, he thought. Back to my real job. It's not like they couldn't pay some other dipshit to collect the samples they wanted. But of course, it's Jin for the grunt work… again! Always the goddamned Asian guy.
Not that he was complaining. He'd rather spend two hours down here than five minutes with those monkeys up top. As far as repairs went though, things weren't as bad as he had thought. With a little elbow grease, he thought he could repair the antenna and restore the short range radio. Mason said there was some kind of interference going on, but he was on his own for that one. Jin had had just about enough of figuring out other people's problems. At least if he got the radio running, Bruhbaker would be happy. “Well, probably not,” he said to himself. “Jin, fix the derrick while you're it. You got time, right? Oh, and find out what's going on with the cell phones. Just out of curiosity, where are those sub-sea repeaters? Do you think you could get to those? Jesus, you're the smart one. College boy. Hurry it up!” But…
Whatever.
“You need some help down there?”
Jin poked his head back over the rails to see that Peter and Christian had calmed down.
“Seriously,” Peter said. “The place is secure. You don't want to be taking any chances with the ropes.”
“Thanks, but I don't think so.”
“Suit yourself, China-man.”
Jin hated being called China-man, especially since he wasn't Chinese. Not to mention the term was downright racist, and that's not shit you were supposed to say out loud in a professional environment.
“I think I'll be just fine without you two idiots.”
Christian hocked a spit down at him then, the loogie passing considerably closer than Peter's had.
“Piss off!”
The pair of them cackled like old crones and disappeared. He could hear them talking above, but he was too tired to give a shit. “I hope you rot.”
Jin found his backpack and brought out his harness. He would have to do a little rope work to get to the antenna cables, but that was fine. He was a professional goddammit, even if he was surrounded by morons. Peter had saved his bacon earlier, and Jin didn't forget that. As talented as the man was though, he just wasn't firing on all cylinders.
There were already support systems in place for a rope access technician, so Jin had no problems strapping in. He made sure the rope was well-secured, then stepped over the rails and perched his feet on the ledge. One of the huge, black tendrils lay just in front of him, the water fifty feet below. He made sure he had his equipment — tool kit, gloves, wiring — then floated out over empty space. The ropes held fast, but he discovered the cable he wanted was just out of reach; the tentacle was in the way.
It was massive. Jin guessed it could be eight feet wide, and the smell was unbelievable. Mama's fish stew, he thought, reaching into his shirt and pulling up a painter's mask. Oh Johnny, you fucking dirt eater. If this didn't deserve extra hazard pay, he didn't know what did.
The thing in front of him wasn't opaque like the smaller tentacles he'd cut. This one was different, and it looked translucent when he got close. There was a fluid moving inside of it, giving the thing an awful, undulating appearance. There was something else too, some… shape.
He pulled himself closer still, bringing a gloved hand up as if to touch it. There really was something inside, and it was moving. He inched his face closer, wanting to see just what the hell it was.
That's when the thing inside opened its eyes and looked back.
Chapter 14: Purpose
1
Beneath the earth, Dominik sat on a cold gray table in the middle of a cold gray room, surrounded by his colleagues. At least, that's how he had begun to think of them. The others each had a purpose, each had their own expertise. When they were down here, they weren't so different from any other research group in the real world, and each day, he clung to that idea to keep himself sane. Just four scientists doing a job, together at the lab.