looked at the dark water in the harsh beam of her xenon flashlight. “I’d estimate this is less than two feet deep,” she reasoned.
“Maybe eighteen inches,” Grant agreed.
“Where we stand,” Brigid continued. “But Kane dropped, which means it’s deeper ahead.”
Grant nodded, passing her his flashlight. “Here, hold this,” he said. Then, following her logic, he sank down on his knees and crawled forward, hands sluicing through the water as he felt his way. “Hard floor,” he reported, “with a little give, like carpet maybe.” He reached forward, moving slowly. “Still floor, still floor...there!” He turned back to Brigid, smiling. “There’s a drop here, stairs maybe.”
She watched as he dipped lower, still reaching forward, testing the terrain. “Careful,” she said, when his face came close to the water.
“It’s all right,” Grant assured her. “I think I feel somethi—”
At that moment, Grant felt something wrap around his arm, and in an instant he, too, was dragged under.
Brigid splashed forward, playing the beam of the flashlight over the dark surface. “Didn’t I just say to be careful?” she muttered, gazing into the murk.
* * *
GRANT WAS SINKING. There was something dragging on his right arm, using its weight to pull him down in the water, deep down into the gloom. He had at least had foresight enough to take a breath as he’d felt the thing grab him, wrap around him, pull him down. Now he circulated that breath in his lungs as he was dragged ever onward.
He couldn’t see a thing, it was so dark. The only light was back up at the surface: Brigid using the xenon flashlight.
He would drown. That’s what was going to happen.
Forget about finding Kane for a moment, just save yourself, Grant told himself. You ain’t no good to Kane dead.
The thing held tightly to his right wrist like a manacle, a dark shape dragging him down and down and down. For a moment Grant saw something flash in the darkness, a row of teeth wide as his forearm.
As the creature opened its mouth for a better grip, Grant pulled his arm away, then kicked as hard as he could, simultaneously stunning whatever it was and propelling himself away, back toward the surface.
* * *
TOPSIDE, BRIGID BAPTISTE was standing at the edge of the deep well beneath the redoubt floor. It should not be there, she knew—redoubts were designed to be impregnable, and the mat-trans located at the base.
She wondered how big the gap was. Could she step over it, if she managed to locate the far rim? And how deep was it? A few feet, or a quarter mile or more? Most importantly, where did it lead?
She tried her commtact again, desperately hoping for an answer from Kane or from Grant, wishing that one of them could hear her and respond.
“Come on, Kane, come on, Grant—one of you say something already,” she hissed into the hidden mic.
Then she spotted a dark shape materializing beneath her in the depths, and a moment later the waters surged and Grant came lunging to the surface, gasping for air.
“Grant, you’re okay,” she called, wading over to him.
He winced as she shone the light over his face, one thousand candles of wattage blasting into his eyes like a nuclear explosion.
“Sorry...sorry,” Brigid began, turning the beam away. As she did so, she saw the figure looming behind her, also emerging from the water, twin rows of teeth gleaming as they caught the flashlight’s ray. The creature’s skin looked dark and rippled in the harsh glare of the xenon light, almost like armor, and for a moment Brigid’s mind whirled, fearing that this was another Annunaki overlord, reemerged on Earth to enslave mankind. But it wasn’t Annunaki; it seemed more animal than human, a wild thing.
The creature pulled itself out of the water into a position that Brigid guessed was a close approximation of standing upright. It was unclothed and taller than a man, about seven feet at full extension, with a long snout like a dog and lips pulled back from vicious pointed teeth. The teeth followed the jaw around from sides to front, each one the length of Brigid’s pinkie finger. The being had a thick, muscular tail, as long again as its height, curling across the floor, just visible in the water. Brigid figured it had been a crocodile once, a few iterations of DNA ago. It was a mutie now.
“Brigid,” Grant gasped from behind her, “get down.”
She responded automatically, ducking low as Grant began firing on the emerging creature. Two bullets flew, racing to the target, drilling against the chest of the croc-like mutie. The sin eater sounded loud in the confines of the corridor, echoes reverberating with the swish of the water. In the aftermath, the croc staggered back a step, then plunged back down, disappearing with a splash of its enormous tail.
Brigid spoke angrily, still watching the location where the creature had disappeared. “What are you thinking? We don’t know if that thing’s a friend or foe.”
“Yeah, we do. One of them just pulled me down under the surface,” Grant declared. “I’m calling it.”
Brigid flashed him a look before scanning the vicinity. “Any sign of Kane?” she asked.
“I couldn’t see shit down there,” Grant told her. “But I can tell you this much—it’s a bastard long drop.”
“What is it?” Brigid asked. “A well? Sinkhole?”
He glared at her. “I was too busy fighting for my life to check.”
“Humph. It happens,” she retorted, playing the xenon beam about once more.
Suddenly there was movement all around the two Cerberus warriors. They sensed it as much as saw it, and then five more of the croc-like creatures emerged from the water—two from the corridor leading back to the mat-trans, three more from the deeper space behind Grant.
“We could be in trouble,” he muttered, raising his blaster again.
* * *
AIR. THAT CAME FIRST. Everything else came in a rush afterward, filling in with memory and logic and guesswork, but the air came first. Kane breathed it, grateful, feeling that slosh of liquid inside him where he had sampled a mouthful of the filthy water when he had been dragged beneath the surface.
How long had he been held under? A minute? More? He had blacked out, the cold ache of the water pressing against him even through the protection of his shadow suit. His face still felt like ice.
Kane heard something: a voice. It sounded awfully close, and for a moment he wondered if he was awake or asleep, because he couldn’t recall where the heck he was.
His eyes snapped open, only to find pitch darkness, a black so absolute the thought that he could be inside a box or a sack crossed his mind. But no, there was no material pressed against his face, and he couldn’t feel that telltale bounce of air as he breathed out, so he wasn’t close to a wall or box lid.
He was soaking wet, his clothes heavy, as if they would drag him down
