shook his head. “I’m not sure. I entered the correct numbers, I swear, but the countdown is starting at sixty seconds.”
“Hand it over.”
He handed her the mine, and she punched in an abort code. Nothing happened. Fifty seconds.
She punched it in again. Still nothing.
She’d have to speak to someone about this equipment. Whoever was supposed to maintain it was doing a lousy job. Irritated, she took the all-in-one tool kit from her belt and flipped out the Phillips screwdriver.
The screws turned. And turned. But otherwise, didn’t move outward. They were stripped. She brought the explosive device closer to her mask and noticed scratches around the outside of the case with the majority being around the screws.
Underneath her tight black wet suit, the hairs on the back of her neck strained to rise, as she realized the problem with the timer was not accidental. Quite the opposite.
Sabotage.
Then true horror washed over her. If someone had taken the time to change the timer and strip the screws then it was a sure bet there was a reason.
Like blowing a huge hole in the ship.
Which meant a larger charge.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
The console blinked the countdown. Twenty-five seconds. She dropped the mine, pushing it toward the bottom of the ocean and away from the ship, herself and her trainee. “Latham, get to the DVP and get moving. Now!”
He swam over to the idling machine and set it in motion. The engine sputtered, stopped. He pushed the start button. Still, nothing happened.
Her heartbeat pounding in her ears, Jess pushed him aside and pounded on the console. “Start, you bitch.” The machine refused to engage.
Perhaps this was a bad joke, she told herself. Taylor, hoping to make her late for the rendezvous so he could win their ongoing bet of who bought the beer.
The bitter taste of fear in her mouth told her different. “Taylor, you there?”
There was no reply, but neither did she expect one. Mission protocol, after all. Damn. “If you can hear me, get out of here. We have a problem,” she shouted into the microphone.
She prayed Taylor and Eielson were where they were supposed to be. Sushi was a big ship. They would be fine unless the charge was so big it disintegrated the entire ship.
However, she and Latham were much too close. “Swim,” Jess said to Latham. “Fast.”
Latham followed her into the dark water away from the ship, the miniscule beams emanating from their flashlights a thin, bright path into the dark void. “Ma’am, what’s wrong?” he asked, his drawl more pronounced than she’d ever heard and his breathing hurried and harsh in her earpiece.
Fifteen seconds. They weren’t going to make it. “I’m not sure,” she lied. “Just swim.”
She pumped her legs and within seconds was ahead. No one was better in the water. She’d never lost a race in school or since she joined the Marines.
If left to herself, she might even outrace the explosion.
But that would mean leaving Latham. A trainee. A young man who trusted her to be a commander and do the right thing.
The right thing did not mean leaving a man behind to die.
She slowed, grabbed his arm and pumped her legs again, pulling him along beside her. He was heavy, slowing her. She refused to let go. He was not going to die. Not here. Not like this.
Neither was she.
“Ma’am, we’re not going to make it,” Latham said, his voice laced with fear.
“Yes, we are, and Latham, stop ma’aming me,” Jess snapped.
Behind her, the limpet mine exploded.
Definitely bigger than a cap gun.
Next to her, Latham’s eyes widened in fear. Her gaze shifted, adjusted, and she saw her reflection in his mask. Her dark eyes were wide. Panicked.
Then the percussion wave rolled over them, tumbling them in its wake. Someone screamed, and for a brief, agonizing second she thought her head would explode. Blackness claimed her, and she sank into the dark.
The darkness surrounding Jess was absolute. Almost tangible with its thickness. She swam through it like water. But somehow, she knew it was different. Something evil. Slick. Oily.
Still, she swam. She’d lost something. Something important.
No, she realized. Not something. Someone.
“Latham!” She screamed for her recruit. Out of the blackness, she spotted him next to her, sinking facedown into the ocean’s depths. She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him to the surface, but the darkness dragged her down.
Kicking harder made no difference. Pulling at the dark with her hands didn’t help.
Still, she fought. She had to save him.
Then the pull of the abyss flipped Latham over, and she froze in horror. His mask was shattered. His eyes wide and sightless. His mouth gaping in horror.
She tried to let go of the corpse that was once a man—a boy—under her guidance but found herself unable to release her grip. Instead, he acted like a stone, dragging her into oblivion. The farther she sank, the faster she went. Soon, she sped past animals that were the stuff of legends. Giant squid. Eels as long as a barge. Fish with lights for eyes.
Something came from below and grabbed her feet. Shook her like a doll. She lashed out, fighting with every ounce of her being.
She refused to die. Nature would not beat her.
“Jess.”
A voice called to her, pushing past the fear and the panic. “Jess.” She recognized the insistent, familiar baritone. Taylor.
She opened her eyes, blinking at the lights around her. There was no ocean. No depths pulling her down. No darkness that went all the way to hell.
There were white walls. Stainless steel fixtures. Air. A bouquet of daisies on a small table. She was in a hospital.
Disoriented, she untangled her feet from the sheets and yanked the oxygen tube from beneath her nose. Taylor tried to take her hand. She flinched.
He took a step back, waiting. Patient, as always.
Jess blinked again then scrubbed her face with her palms trying to make sense of the world. How had she gotten to the hospital? Why was she here?
“You back with us?” Taylor asked.
Back with them? She didn’t understand. “What?” she asked, her voice croaky. Her throat felt as dry as the desert.
