Shadows: The Complete Trilogy

Six

Six

Brice grabbed three of the packs, Ryann the other two. When she nodded, he made his way back through the door. But not before he saw how the drips were now a continual flow of water.

In the bridge, everyone was out of their seats, standing on the wall. They grabbed their packs and shouldered them. Nobody spoke, or‌—‌as far as Brice could tell‌—‌even looked at one another. The whole scene felt like a training session, but one that shouldn’t be happening.

He adjusted the straps on his own pack, pulling it firmly against his back. He bounced and rolled his shoulders, checking for any friction. There was none.

And that felt comforting. The pack was a part of him, just like his jacket and his boots. He mentally ran through an inventory of everything he carried, either on his back or in pockets, and each item appeared as a picture in his mind.

He didn’t know if that was in his own mind or through his lattice. Ryann’s words hovered over everything, spreading possible implications like cracks across glass. He couldn’t trust his lattice any more. His muscles would need to function on their own, with no back-up. His senses would be dulled. When adrenaline flowed‌—‌like it was doing so now‌—‌it would be uncontrolled.

Brice used to enjoy training dark. But this was no longer training.

Splashing water echoed form the cabin, like someone pouring a never-ending drink. Brice looked into the gloom, and wondered why he couldn’t see a puddle, until he realised the whole wall shimmered and rippled.

The water rose, and broke through into the bridge, tumbling around the door in its own little waterfall. Nothing as impressive as the Tumbler, but it hypnotised Brice, how the water cascaded down, individual drops consumed by the whole, all working together like some vast living organism. The amorphous beast stretched out, surrounding the crew. The water reached Brice’s ankles, then crept over the top of his boots.

It was cold, but he sensed the temperature rather than feeling it, and he wondered if his lattice was retaining body heat, or if adrenaline was numbing him to any pain. The effect was the same either way, so maybe it didn’t matter. He twisted his legs, moving the slight pressure from his calves to his shins and back, playing with the water. It was something to do while he waited.

The water rose, creeping over his skin like icy fingers, his trousers and then jacket wicking the moisture up even higher. His skin pulled tight in anticipation, and he gasped as the coldness hit his chest. As it reached his chin, he tilted his head back and his feet lifted from the ground.

Or, rather, from the wall. Brice kicked upwards, then pedalled his feet, keeping himself afloat.

The water was murky. He could no longer see his legs, and when he dipped a hand beneath the surface it disappeared from view. There were other shapes, blobs that would be the crew’s bodies, but nothing was defined.

Run-off. That was the technical term, wasn’t it? With the storm, loads of soil and whatever else was being flushed into the river, and this was all being thrown over the Tumbler. The plunge pool would be churning everything up, and now that water had almost filled the Proteus. Water that was more than just a liquid.

He didn’t want to think about what else it contained.

Cathal asked.

Brice looked around bridge, at least what was still above the surface. The wall above was closer now. Of the two forward seats, one was already submerged. Tris’, Brice noted, and that pleased him. But the water only took a few seconds to reach Keelin’s seat. Soon, only a small air pocket would remain.

He took a long breath, stretching then squeezing his lungs, pushing them to their limit. He didn’t know how long he’d be under for. The short swim to the hatch wasn’t a problem, but Brice had no idea what to expect after that. The flow might be strong enough to carry him further downstream. There might be fallen trees to negotiate. The Proteus might be deeper than they knew.

Too many possibilities.

Something collided with Brice’s head, and he moved to one side, away from his own chair. The door to the cabin was now underwater, and only the air pocket remained.

An influx of cold water swirled round his body, and he pulled in breath with a shudder. He felt silt against his skin.

Cathal moved to one side of the door. “Okay, time to move. Ryann on point, followed by Keelin, Tris, Brice. I’ll bring up the rear.” He grinned, water droplets shaking from his stubble. “Let’s go swim.”

Ryann took a breath, then dropped beneath the surface, becoming nothing more than a vague shape that passed through the door into the darkness beyond.

Keelin followed, then Tris. Data-monkey floundered for a moment, trying something like a surface dive, one foot coming up to bang loudly on the wall. Brice held his laugh in, not wanting to swallow any of the water.

When Cathal nodded, Brice brought his hands up and let the weight of his boots and pack pull him down. At the last moment he filled his lungs and sealed his mouth.

Even with lenses, it was hard to see beneath the surface. The water was gritty, and tasted foul. He pulled himself into the cabin, grabbing the table and then pushing upwards, through the hatch.

Then he was in the river, and the water was colder than he expected. The flow pulled at him, but he kicked against it, simultaneously pulling the water with cupped hands. The motion of swimming in full kit felt strangely comforting.

It took him a moment to realise he’d broken the surface, because the water didn’t stop. It simply changed from a constant swirl to the heavy rapid-fire downpour of the rain.

Shapes slid through the water, towards the bank with the wall of trees. One splashed more than the other two. Only a fool like Tris would try an overarm stroke.

Brice kicked, bringing his arms round in the water, and followed. A few strokes, no more than about ten, and his hands found branches, and he pulled himself through the detritus thrown to the edge of the river. Some of it came away in his hands, some of it held him. He pushed with his legs, and occasionally his feet found purchase. A couple of times they sunk into what he hoped was only mud, and his legs strained as he freed them. But he never stopped. Hand over hand, now under a branch, now half-out of the water, he worked his way to the bank.

And then he was out, grabbing a solid tree to stand up. He coughed, and thought he’d gag. The river taste coated his tongue, and he tilted his head back, letting the rain run down the back of his throat.

Ryann, Keelin and Tris stood a short way off, looking out across the river, and Brice followed their gaze. He could just about make out the far bank through the downpour, the dark trees merging with the black clouds that hung heavy. The surface of the river itself was a rolling beast, wide and dangerous. As he watched, a shape span past, too big to be a simple branch. The river threw the small tree around like it was nothing.

Just as it had done with the Proteus.

Cathal stood by his side. Brice hadn’t seen him climb out.

sussed Keelin.

The question came from Tris, but it was what Brice was thinking, too.

Brice could imagine Cathal grinning.

Ryann walked into the forest. Brice took one last look over the river. He could not see any sign of the Proteus. The river had claimed it.

Then he turned, and followed the others into the trees.