Chapter 13 #3
I absorbed that, uneasy but not surprised. “Well, if our paths cross again, I might still tag along.”
He didn’t smile, but a faint tension flickered at his mouth. “Maybe. Just don’t expect a guide.”
We fell silent, but the pod felt more crowded than ever. A space too full of things unspoken, and too much water pressing in on all sides.
A sudden, blaring alarm shattered the quiet. Hayden and I both jerked around. The radar had turned from green to pulsing red, a thick dark shape moving in from the left.
Hayden muttered a sharp curse. “Binoculars, now.”
I shoved them into his hands. He angled them, muscles tense as wire.
He stared through the lenses for a long moment, and I watched his jaw work. “That’s no wraith-shark,” he said finally, voice a little low. “Way too big. Looks like a whale.”
I swallowed, trying to read the chaos of red on the radar. “Are whales safe?”
He kept his gaze on the creature, steering us for a better view. “Most of the time.”
We drifted forward and the pale shape slid into view: a creature bigger than anything I’d ever seen outside of an old book.
Its skin shimmered faint pink under the pod lights, and its head was oddly domed, almost gentle, with a wide, placid tail moving in slow, steady sweeps.
It didn’t look like a hunter. If anything, it seemed sluggish… unwell.
Hayden’s voice was quiet. “As I said, a whale.”
He didn’t take his eyes off it. I couldn’t help staring too, torn between awe and unease. The whale let out a low, mournful groan that seemed to vibrate right through the hull. For a moment, nothing else existed.
“She’s something,” Hayden said, softer than before.
I glanced over. “You think it’s a she?”
He almost smiled. “Just a guess. Most beautiful things are.”
I let out a shaky laugh, not sure if he was teasing or half-serious. “Guess I’ll allow it.”
The whale arched downward, moving slowly beneath the pod. I tracked her shape, mesmerized, until something caught my eye… a bloom of pale matter rising on the far side of her body. The water was suddenly filled with small, wavering chunks, drifting upward in the current.
I leaned in, squinting. “Hayden, do you see that? Is she… bleeding?”
Hayden’s expression hardened as he angled the pod in, eyes locked on the sight.
We hovered over the whale, just in time to catch the source: two long, bone-pale sharks latched onto her flank, their bodies flexing with each bite.
Their jaws telescoped out, tearing flesh in savage, mechanical motions.
Even through the glass, I could see the hard, blunted snouts, more like battering rams than faces.
“Shit,” Hayden muttered, slamming the controls into reverse.
“Wait, aren’t we supposed to get close and shoot?” My voice was too loud, edged with panic.
“Wrong angle!” he snapped, but it was already too late.
One of the sharks broke off, flashing upward. In a heartbeat, it crashed into the pod’s underside with bone-rattling force. The whole vessel bucked and spun; I flew out of my seat, smashing into the rear of the cockpit, pain sparking behind my eyes.
Before I could recover, another blow rang out—metal screaming, my back jarring against the ceiling. The pod went dark, every light snuffed out at once.
“Power’s dead,” Hayden said through gritted teeth, pounding at the controls. “Comms are fried.”
My heart hammered as I squinted into the murk, fighting for focus. The whale was sinking away, her blood turning the water to a cloudy haze. Our pod was sinking faster.
“The blood’s calling in more,” Hayden growled. “Get in your seat. NOW.”
I scrambled forward, strapping in with shaking hands and grabbing the binoculars.
Out in the gloom, five pale shapes arrowed toward us. Fast, purposeful, unmistakably hunting.
“More are already here!” I shouted, panic tightening my throat.
A pit yawned in my stomach as I caught the details: ridged, blunt heads, black eyes cold and endless, teeth jagged and raw, glinting pale in the darkness. They were nothing like the creatures from our books. They looked like things the ocean never meant to share.
Hayden dove into the back compartment, hands moving with brutal efficiency. Something clicked, followed by a shrill electronic beep.
“Tighten your seatbelt,” he ordered, voice flat.
I fumbled at the strap, yanking it tighter. “What are you—?”
“Just do it.”
A heavy thud shook the pod. The control panel flared to life and the engine roared, rattling my teeth. Hayden seized the wheel, muscles rigid, and shoved us upward—away from the feeding frenzy below.
The pod bucked and jerked as if fighting him, pitching me hard into my harness. Pain spiked behind my eyes; I braced for another impact.
“What’s wrong with this thing?” I yelled.
“Emergency override,” Hayden shot back. “Controls are rough. Hold on!”
But we were already hurtling straight toward one of the circling sharks.
“Swerve!” I barked, adrenaline burning away any hesitation.
“I can see it!” he grated out, wrenching the wheel.
The pod clipped the shark’s side with a sickening jolt, sending it tumbling. Blood and pale flesh billowed in our wake as we lurched upward, breaking from the fray.
Below, more sharks converged on the whale, carving through what was left. For a split second, I saw the divers—small, fragile silhouettes near the cave. Then two of the predators peeling off, angling toward the entrance.
“They’re going for the divers!” My voice cracked as I pointed.
Hayden reacted instantly, forcing the pod downward in a stomach-dropping dive. “Get ready,” he said, voice rough with urgency. “When I say go, hit the red button on your right. The red, not green.”
“Red,” I repeated shakily, fingers hovering over the control. “Got it.”
“GO!” Hayden barked.
We hit the buttons in unison. Twin missiles tore into the water. One clipped a shark’s tail, spinning it off into the gloom. The other shot past, missing the mark. Hayden gunned the pod forward, tracking the second shark, but it was already surging ahead, a pale blur zeroing in on the divers below.
My heart slammed against my ribs. The divers—heads down, still working—didn’t know what was about to hit them.
And then, out of nowhere, another pod streaked in, its pointed nose colliding with the oncoming shark. Bone shattered, blood clouded the water, and for a second the threat seemed blunted.
But the rear screen flashed red: more blips converging from below, shapes rising out of the murk.
I forced my voice steady. “More are coming. The divers need to get out, now!”
Having spotted the rescue pod’s intervention, the divers were already scrambling back toward the submarine—frantic, kicking hard, painfully exposed against the murky water. They looked like easy prey.
Hayden’s whole body seemed to lock in, every muscle taut with concentration as he spun our pod to face the approaching sharks, putting us squarely between the divers and the frenzy beyond. “Hit them. And don’t stop until I say,” he said, never breaking focus.
We hammered the red buttons, launching missile after missile as more pods swung into formation beside us. Together, we made a ragged defensive wall, trying to hold the sharks at bay with sharp bursts of firepower.
But the predators splintered, some tearing straight into the bleeding sharks, others veering off toward the rocks.
Blood and chaos turned the water into a churning, clouded mess.
Bodies spun and thrashed—sharks colliding and biting each other in the frenzy.
I lost all sight of the divers in the turmoil.
“Divers are back!” Hayden suddenly barked over the noise.
“How can you tell?” My voice sounded raw even to me.
His eyes were fixed on the other pods as they peeled away. “Everyone’s pulling out. That’s our cue.”
Sure enough, the defensive line was breaking—pods retreating to the submarine’s safety.
Hayden wasted no time, guiding us sharply back to the docking platform.
Our pod clamped onto the glass surface with a shudder, and I scrambled out, legs shaking, every muscle aching with exhaustion and leftover fear.
Inside, the rest of our team had already gathered around Greg, the adrenaline and shock still etched on all their faces.
“We’re going to have to cut this excursion short,” Greg announced, grimacing as he surveyed the shaken crew. “Let the area clear before returning. Good grief, we’ve had a run of bad luck today.”
I barely heard him. Hayden hauled himself up beside me, jaw set, hands braced on his knees. He looked pale, sweat streaking his forehead. Still, he managed to straighten to his full height, grunting under his breath.
He gave me a once-over, concern flickering in his eyes. “You alright? You hit your head pretty hard back there.”
I tried to say I was fine, but the room spun and my knees gave out. I dropped onto the nearest bench, pressing a hand to my temple. “I… I think so,” I managed.
Hayden didn’t say anything for a moment. He just lingered nearby—not close enough to hover, not far enough to be gone. He pulled out his phone, thumbs moving with quiet purpose.
“You’re going to the hospital,” he said, already dialing. “Work injury means Fairwell pays for it.” His voice had that brisk, just-the-facts edge, but I could feel his focus on me as he spoke instructions down the line.
I leaned back against the cool wall, fighting the drumbeat in my skull and the lurch in my stomach.
When the medics arrived, Hayden stepped aside without a word. But as they carried me out, I caught the briefest glance back: his eyes steady on mine, expression giving nothing away, as if he was measuring the distance, or making sure I was really leaving.
Daylight streamed into my eyes, blinding and raw. Through the haze of adrenaline and pain, all I could think was: this job better be worth it.