As we watched, one of the two longer feeding tentacles deftly corralled a fish, while the others resealed the collection basket, preventing more fish from drifting away.
The pilot shook his head, amazed. "Now that's impressive."
"Yes," I agreed, trying to mask my concern. "Her brain's large and complex, with a highly developed nervous system."
"Control to Six." This time it was the surface ship's radioman who sounded urgent.
Lacombe and I looked at one another. "Six here, go ahead, Control."
"We've detected something new on sonar. Multiple contacts, definitely biologics, not a squid, and like nothing we've ever heard. Depth's seven thousand feet, range two miles. Whatever they are, they've just adjusted their course and are ascending, heading in your direction. Feeding the acoustics to you now. Dr. Caldwell seems to think it's just a school of fish, but we're officially recommending you surface immediately, do you concur?"
Lacombe turned the volume up on his sonar so Hank and I could listen.
Blee-bloop… Blee-bloop… Blee-bloop… Blee-bloop…
The pilot looked at me, waiting for a verdict.
"Way too loud to be a school of fish," I whispered, my mind racing to identify the vaguely familiar pattern. "Sounds almost like an amphibious air cavity."
"Must be a whale," offered Hank.
"At seven thousand feet? Not even a sperm whale can dive that deep." I plugged my own headset into the console to listen privately.
Blee-bloop… Blee-bloop… Blee-bloop …
It was a freakish sound, almost like a water jug expelling its contents.
And suddenly my brain kicked into gear. "I don't believe it," I whispered. "It's the Bloop."
"What the hell's a Bloop?"
"We don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?" the pilot shot back. "You just called it a Bloop."
"That's the name the Navy assigned it. All we know is what they're not. They're not whales, because of the extreme depths, and they're not sharks or giant squids, because neither species possesses gas-filled sacs to make noises this loud."
"Are they dangerous?" Hank asked. "Will they attack?"
"I don't know, but I sure as hell don't want to find out this deep." Lacombe got the message. "Six to Control, we're out of here."
Grabbing his control stick, he activated the thrusters, adjusting the submersible's fairwater planes.
We began rising, crawling at a snail's pace.
"Look!" yelled Hank. The giant squid had abandoned the catch basket and was now scampering up the bubble, its tentacles wrapping around the cockpit glass, blocking much of our view. "She knows it's out there, too."
"What scares a giant squid?" I wondered aloud, then grabbed my arm rests as the submersible was jolted beneath us and the sound of twisting metal echoed throughout the compartment.
Lacombe swore as he scanned his control panel. "It's your damn octopus. It's wedging itself beneath the manipulator arm."
"She's frightened."
"Yeah, well so am I. That sound you're hearing is our oxygen and air storage tanks being pried away from the sub's sled. We lose that and the Massett-6 becomes an anchor." The pilot repositioned his headset as he dialed up more pressure into the ballast tanks. "Six to Control, we've got an emergency—"
Another jolt cut him off, followed by an explosion that rattled our bones and released an avalanche of bubbles. Thunder roared in our ears as the sea quaked around us. Red warning lights flashed across Lacombe's control panel like a Christmas display, and the once cocky pilot suddenly looked very pale. "Six, we just lost primary and secondary ballast tanks. Internal hydraulic system is off-line. Propulsion system's failing—"
And then, my lovelies, the Massett-6 began falling.
It fell slowly, tail first, but it was worse than any thrill ride I'd ever been on. Metal groaned and plates shook, and my hair seemed to stand on end, rustling against the back of my chair.
The rest of me just felt numb.
The pilot glanced in my direction, his expression confirming our death sentence.
Ace Futrell's voice over the radio sent a glimmer of hope. "Control to Six, hang in there, guys, we're readying an ROV with a tow line. What's your depth?"
Lacombe's perspiring face glistened in the control panel's translucent light. "Three-three-six-four feet, dropping fifty feet a minute. Better get that ROV down here quick!"
I felt helpless, like a passenger aboard an airliner that had just lost its engines, accompanied by an inner voice that refused to shut up. What are you doing here? God, don't let me die… not yet, please. Lisa was right, I should've lived a little. Lord, get me out of this mess, and I swear, I'll—
The sub rolled and rattled, shattering my repentance, and I fell back in my seat, my sweaty palms gripping the armrests, my eyes watching the depth gauge as I tensed for our one final, skull-crushing implosion.
"Jesus, there's something else out there!" Hank cried, pointing between the squid's thrashing tentacles.
I leaned forward. Several long, dark figures were circling us, stalking the squid. I could see shadows of movement, but before I could focus, our bubble became enshrouded in clouds of ink.
The Bloops were launching their attack.
Through my headphones, I could hear them as they tore into the giant squid, their sickening high-pitched growls, like hungry fox terriers, gnawing upon their prey's succulent flesh.
My mind abandoned me then. Too terrified to reason, I squeezed my eyes shut — and was suddenly hit with a subliminal image from my childhood.
Underwater.
Deathly cold.
The darkness — pierced by a funnel of heavenly light!
Get to the light… get to the light—
"The light!" Opening my eyes, I tossed aside my shoulder harness and twisted the knob on the control station panel, changing the arc lights from red back to normal.
The sea appeared again, and we could see the torn hydraulic hoses and the sub's mangled manipulator arm dangling from its ravaged perch, along with the severed remains of lifeless tentacles, all swirling in a pool of black soup.
"Control to Six. The ROV's in the water. Hang in there, Don, we're coming to get you."
"Huh?" Lacombe pulled himself away from the spectacle outside to check our depth. "Control, we just passed thirty-eight hundred feet. Put the pedal to the metal, Ace, we're living on borrowed time."
I was on my feet now, looking straight up through the bubble cockpit at a lone tentacle still wrapped around the sub's tow arm. The arm's death grip was preventing the rest of the dead squid's gushing mantle and head from releasing to the sea.
Lost in the moment, I stood and watched that lifeless appendage as it slowly unfurled. The remains of the giant squid's torpedo-shaped body released, drifting up and away, away from our light.
They were upon it in seconds, long brown forms darting in and out of the shadows, each maybe twenty to thirty feet in length, ravaging the carcass like a pack of starving wolves.
They were dark and fast and were too far away for me to identify, but their size and sheer voracity intensified my fear. I was witnessing a gruesome display of Mother Nature — it was pure animal instinct— and for a brief moment I felt relieved I'd be dead long before their voracious jaws ever tore into my flesh.
Craaaaack…