The Cure

The Descent

Journal Entry: 31 May 2035

Today is the day.

The sub is ready. Final systems green. I’m beginning descent into Challenger Deep, the lowest point in the Mariana Trench. The bio-signatures we’ve tracked for months point here—where the biochemical compound that may be shielding coastal populations from the Theta Plague is at its most potent. If the signal’s real, this could be the answer. I have to find it. For Danny. For all of us.

No crew. No backup. Just me and the weight of 11,000 meters of water above. The others said it was suicide. Maybe it is. The sub’s crush depth is just over 10,000 meters, and comms drop around 7,000. Past that—blind descent. Silence and steel.

Timothy should be here. He helped trace the toxin’s path—fish to feed to bloodstreams. We named it Theta Plague. It morphs faster than we can model. Worse than COVID. Faster than Ebola. A ghost. And my son is its hostage.

As I cross 6,900 meters, the sub groans like a leviathan’s yawn. I tighten my grip on the descent lever.

“Delta Charlie 13, approaching 7,000 meters. Holding for confirmation,” I call into the mic.

Static.

Then: “Delta Charlie 13, you are clear to proceed to 9,000. Check in once signal permits. Godspeed.”

I continue. The hull groans. The pressure grows. Two decks, minimal oxygen, twenty-four hours of survival margin. This was always a long shot.

Checklist: green. Life support: steady. Hull integrity— Red lights. “Hull damage imminent. Emergency protocols engaged,” the AI screams.

I run diagnostics—nothing obvious. Maybe a false alarm. Maybe not. I’m deciding whether to abort when—

“...mand...Delta...Cha...teen...come...n...”

My heart stops.

“Ti...plea...Da...need...you...”

Tim?

“Tim? Command, repeat! What about Danny?!”

But only static replies. And then I see it.

A pulsing glow. Outside the lower port. A moment later, the sub lurches violently—something’s hit us. Hard.

No fish could do that here. Only a squid. A big one.

“Electromagnetic defense up. Hull sealed,” I bark. The shaking stops.

But something's inside the defense field.

Ascent protocol initiated. I won’t die down here.

As I rise, the radio clears.

“Delta Charlie 13, come in.”

“What happened to Danny?!”

“Dr. Manzano? This is Velasquez. Tim's not even on duty. No one's used this channel.”

“I heard him. He said Danny needed me.”

“You’re almost home, Tia. Just breathe.”

In the dive chamber, I ready myself. I look around to relieve the pressure of the chamber to allow me to open the hatch. The defense shimmer returns. That glow again—closer now.

A coral-like structure pulses with soft light, then dims as I approach. Camouflage. I collect it. One vial. Another for the water. Back inside, I collapse. Two samples. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Thirty minutes later, I surface.

Anika hugs me like I’d been gone a decade. Carl is already scowling.

“You were gone six hours, not six years,” he sneers.

“I was attacked. Protocol dictated return.”

His voice is poison. “Do your job, or we cut your funding.”

But Danny is worth more than their money. I say nothing.

That night, I sit beside my son’s hospital bed. He’s still breathing. For now.