Thomas Marsh stood before Elena in that blue-lit chamber, his old hands resting on her shoulders as she stood encased in the ancient diving suit. The brass helmet sat on the stone bench beside them, waiting for its final placement. Through the thick canvas and reinforced plating, Elena looked vulnerable—a young woman about to walk into a war that had been raging since before America was founded.
"Listen to me carefully," Thomas finally
said, his voice quite steady despite the tears on his face. "Elly, what l'm about to tell you might save your life down there."
Elena simply nodded.
The crystal lantern sat between them on the
bench, shinning with that eerie blue light that looked to pump with the larger Binding Light mechanism behind them.
"The Drowned Ones hunt in
patterns," Senior Marsh began. "They'll circle you first, testing the barrier's strength. Typically they first look for weaknesses, looking for gaps in the light's coverage. When you hold the lantern, keep it at chest level—that gives you maximum coverage above and below. Never raise it above your head or lower it to your waist. That creates blind spots they'll exploit."
Ellen didn't react at first.
"Okay?"
"And what if they attack directly?"
She asked.
"They won't. Not at first." Thomas
moved to the equipment rack and pulled out two cylindrical devices Elena or maybe nobody had seen before. They were about two feet long, made of brass and copper with rubber grips, charged with contained energy. "These are shock pipes. Modified cattle prods powered by a galvanic battery your great-grandfather designed in 1903. They release an electrical current good enough to stun anything that gets too close."
He demonstrated the grip, showing her how to hold them with the discharge end pointed away.
"You carry one in each hand when you're
not holding the lantern. The charge will penetrate water for about six feet.
Anything within that range gets hit with enough voltage to stop a horse. Unfortunately, it won't kill the Drowned Ones—they're too tough for that—but it'll give you some important seconds to retreat."
Elena took the shock pipes that were quite
heavy for her. They were heavier than they looked, and she could feel a faint vibration through the rubber grips—the batteries charging.
"How many charges?" she asked.
"Fifteen per pipe. Thirty total. Use
them sparingly. Once they're depleted, they're just expensive clubs." Thomas took a paused there.
"And Elly—the electrical discharge will
temporarily weaken the lantern's barrier. It's a trade-off. You use the pipes when something breaks through, but using them creates a momentary gap that others might exploit. Timing is everything."
He pulled out a waterproof watch and strapped it to her wrist over the suit. "You have one hour of air. I want you back in forty-five minutes. That gives you a safety margin for the unexpected. And there will be unexpected things down there as well both know."
"What about the Meridian? How long do I
need to hold the barrier?"
"The Coast Guard estimated thirty minutes
to reach them in this storm. You need to buy them that time. Get to the ship,
extend the barrier around it, and hold position. When you see the cutter's
lights, you fall back to a safe distance and let them work."
Eventually, Thomas picked up the helmet, but didn't place it yet. Thought this was probably his last chance to speak to her
face-to-face, and he was choosing his words carefully.
"Elly, I'm saying every choice has
consequences. But you've already made yours, haven't you? You were always going
to go down there. From the moment you heard that mayday, you were committed." Thomas smiled sadly. "You're too much like me. Like your grandmother. Like every Marsh who's ever worn this suit. We can't walk away. It's not in our nature."
Elena barely smiled and lost again in her
thoughts or possibly fears.
Mr. Marsh lifted the helmet, positioned it
carefully over her head. "Remember—clockwise to seal, counter-clockwise to
remove. If you need to surface fast, turn it counter-clockwise and push up. The
helmet will detach and you'll flood, but you'll be able to swim freely. It's a last resort, but it's saved lives before."
The brass settled into place with an odd
grinding sound. Thomas turned it clockwise, and in the next moment Elena's world transformed.
Sound became muffled, as though she was
hearing everything through thick cotton. Her breathing filled the enclosed
space—loud and quick. Panic. Through the four glass ports, she could see her
father's face, his lips moving in what looked like prayer.
He checked the seal three times, his hands
shaking. Then he picked up the crystal lantern and placed it in her gloved
hands.
The sensation was something else even through the thick canvas and leather. Energy powered up her arms, into her chest with
awareness that shouldn't be possible. She could feel them now—scattered through
the waters around Beacon Point. The Drowned Ones.
Waiting.
Watching.
Aware that something was about to change.
Thomas handed her the shock pipes next. She gripped them awkwardly, trying to balance the lantern and the weapons. Thomas showed her a harness built into the suit—a kind of clip where she could secure
the lantern to her chest, leaving her hands free for the pipes when needed.
He pointed to the water-filled shaft at the
edge of the chamber. Then he pressed his hand against her helmet's viewport.
Elena pressed back.
Thomas's lips moved: Come back to me!
Then he stepped aside, and Elena walked to
the edge of the shaft. The water below was absolute darkness, as if no light could live in it. Elena thought it was because the waste of the entire town had been flowing into it for years. Sad! The lantern's light could barely reach ten feet before the polluted water swallowed it.
She took a breath—loud and hollow in the
helmet—and went ahead.
At first, the cold hit her like a physical blow. Even through the thick suit, the Atlantic's October chill found ways in. She gasped, her breathing suddenly changed, but the suit's weight dragged her downward. The water closed over her head, and for a terrifying moment she couldn't tell which way was up.
Then the lantern's light stabilized, and she
saw the shaft walls around her. It was actually the moment, she somewhat forced
herself to breathe slowly and evenly, conserving her air supply. Also, the
weighted boots helped her descend in a controlled manner, and after what felt
like a year, she could feel the shaft open up into the larger ocean.
That change was overwhelming for her.
The confined stone walls disappeared.
Suddenly she was in open water—vast, dark, empty in every direction. The lantern created a sphere of blue light around her, maybe twenty feet in diameter. Beyond that was nothing but void.
And movement.
After a certain miles of swimming, Elena caught a sudden glimpses at the edge of her
vision. Shapes sliding past just beyond the light's reach. Sinuous. Almost human in silhouette but wrong in every detail that mattered.
She clipped the lantern to her chest harness
and raised the shock pipes, one in each hand. The devices made a faint noise,
ready to discharge.
According to the compass on her wrist, the
Meridian was northeast, roughly two and a half miles. She checked the depth gauge—forty-five feet. Manageable. She could walk along the bottom for part of
the journey, swim when necessary.
Elena started moving, using a combination of walking and swimming to make progress. The only trouble she was dealing with,
probably whole the way through, was the damn suit she was wearing. It was very awkward, and impossibly heavy.
Step, push off, glide, step.
The lantern's light moved with her, a bubble
of safety in the dark.
As she was about to invade the red zone, she saw the Drowned Ones beginning to gather.
At first, she only saw them out of the corner
of her eye—quick flashes of pale skin, big eyes shining in the lantern light,
and a hand reaching toward the barrier before pulling back as if it was hurt.
Then they became bolder.
One of them swam right in front of her, close
enough for her to see it clearly. It was about the size of a human, but it looked strange. Its body was too long, its arms bent in odd ways, and its legs were joined together like a tail.
The creature turned its head and stared at her with completely black eyes. When it
opened its mouth, she saw rows of sharp teeth, and bubbles floated out as if it was trying to speak or laugh. Elena gripped the shock pipe tighter, ready to use it, but the creature stayed just outside the barrier, watching and waiting.
Not attacking. Strange though!
More joined it.
They circled her now, a dozen of them, then
twenty, then more than she could count. They swam in complex patterns that
might have been beautiful if they weren't so clearly predatory. Elena stood in
the middle of swirling, pale creatures with big, dark eyes.
One darted forward, and let out a loud
scream, which she could hear even through her helmet and the water. When its
hand touched the glowing light, it burned right away and turned black in a most
disturbing way. Elena saw it happen from mere a distance away.
The creature quickly pulled back, moving
wildly, and the others spread out in unison. Maybe for a moment.
But they came back.
They always came back.
Elena kept moving, trying to ignore the
circling shapes, focusing on the compass bearing. Northeast. Two and a half
miles. She'd been in the water maybe fifteen minutes. Still on schedule, but
her air was already working harder than she'd expected. The reason behind was the
cold; it was making her breathe faster, and the constant vigilance—watching the
circling Drowned Ones, looking for attacks—kept her heart rate high in all the
way possible.
She heard the song then.
It started as a vibration she felt in her
bones rather than heard with her ears. It resolved into something almost like
music—wordless, haunting, impossibly beautiful and terribly wrong all at once.
Don't listen, she told herself.
Dad warned you about this.
But it was hard not to listen. The song—promised belonging. It promised transformation into something greater, something that
could survive in the dark, something ancient.
Elena shook her head so hard, trying to
dislodge the thoughts. Her hand found the crucifix hanging around her neck
beneath the suit—a silver cross her grandmother had given her years ago. She
pressed it against her chest.
"The light shines in the
darkness," she whispered, her
voice hollow in the helmet. "And the darkness has not overcome
it."
The song faltered slightly, as if surprised.
The Drowned Ones pressed closer, and thanks to her forever bad luck, one breached the barrier fully.
It came from below—a large male with arms
like an octopus and a face that might have been human a thousand years ago. It
reached for her leg, claws extended, moving with some pace.
Elena jabbed downward with the right shock
pipe and triggered it.
The electrical discharge fire up the water
like lightning. Blue-white current arced from the pipe's end into the creature's outstretched arm. It convulsed, every muscle locking, and tumbled
away beyond the light's reach.
But Thomas had been right. The moment she discharged the weapon, the lantern's barrier flickered. Just for a heartbeat—but it was enough.
Three more Drowned Ones surged through that momentary gap.
Elena spun, triggered the left shock pipe. Grabbed one in the chest. It seized and fell away. But the other two were on her, claws
scraping against the suit's brass reinforcements, desperately looking for weak
points.
She used the right pipe again. Hit one in the
face. Its head snapped back and it released her, drifting away with smoke
rising from burned flesh.
The third one, certainly the strongest among
them all, found a grip on her air tank. She felt the suit shift, felt herself being pulled backward madly. Panic took over her. If it damaged the tank, if it ruptured her air supply—
Elena twisted, brought both shock pipes
together, and somehow discharged them simultaneously into the creature's torso.
The double charge was devastating.
Certainly beyond her imagination.
The Drowned One literally flew backward,
every muscle in spasm, trailing bubbles and blackened flesh. It hit the edge of
the light's range and tumbled into darkness.
The barrier reasserted itself, stronger than
before. The circling shapes retreated slightly, wary now. They'd learned she
could hurt them.
Elena checked her equipment. The shock pipes showed nine charges remaining on the right, eleven on the left. Twenty total.
She'd used ten charges to fight off four attackers. At this rate, she'd be defenceless
long before she reached the Meridian.
She needed to be smarter.
Elena started moving again, but this time she paid attention to the Drowned Ones' patterns. They didn't attack randomly. They
waited for moments of weakness—when she stumbled on the rocky bottom, when her
attention was focused elsewhere, when the lantern's light wavered. If she could
move smoothly, keeping the barrier steady, they were less likely to test it.
The seafloor began to slope downward.
According to her chart memory, this meant she was approaching the trench that
ran parallel to the coast. Deeper water. More Drowned Ones. She'd need to swim
now rather than walk.
Elena pushed off the bottom and began a
modified swimming stroke, using her legs for propulsion while keeping the shock
pipes ready in her hands. The suit fought her, but the water's buoyancy helped.
She made progress, slower than she'd like but steady.
The depth gauge read sixty feet. Seventy.
Eighty.
The water pressure increased noticeably. She could feel it in the suit, in her ears, in her chest. The brass reinforcements
creaked softly—not dangerously, but enough to remind her they were under
stress.
And the Drowned Ones changed.
The ones down here were different from those in the shallows. Larger. Older. Less human in appearance. One that swam past
had a head that was more fish than man, with barbels hanging from its jaw and
eyes on stalks. Another had six arms arranged in a ring around its torso. A
third was so pale it was almost transparent, its internal organs visible through translucent skin.
These ones didn't circle playfully. They
assessed. Calculated. Communicated with each other through gestures and that
haunting song that never quite stopped.
Elena checked her watch. Thirty minutes had passed. She should be close now. The Meridian should be—
There.
Through the murk ahead, she saw a
massive dark shape. The hull of the container ship, listing badly, sinking
slowly. Emergency lights still flickered along its deck, and she could see
movement—people running, desperate, trying to reach lifeboats.
And around the hull, swarming like ants, were
hundreds of Drowned Ones.
They clung to the ship's sides, tearing at
seams and portholes. They swam through breaches in the hull, dragging things—or
people—back out into the water. The ship was dying, and they were feeding.
Elena's hands tightened on the shock pipes.
Thirty charges left. Hundreds of enemies.
This was impossible.
Then she saw him.
Floating near the Meridian's bow, watching
the carnage with an expression that might have been regret or might have been
hunger, was a Drowned One that stood out from all the others. It was more human
in appearance—pale but not scaled, with recognizable features, with eyes that
still held a spark of what might be human consciousness.
David!
He turned toward her, drawn by the lantern's
light or perhaps by some deeper sense. Their eyes met across a hundred feet of
dark water.
He smiled.
That same crooked smile she'd fallen in love
with. And he began swimming toward her.
Elena had to make a choice. Fight through
hundreds of Drowned Ones to reach the Meridian, knowing she didn't have enough
charges to clear a path. Or confront David, the transformed thing her boyfriend
had become, and see if any part of him still remembered being human.
Above, the Meridian groaned as another
section of hull gave way. She could hear screaming even through the helmet and
the water.
Seventeen souls. Seventeen lives depending on what she did in the next sixty seconds.
The Drowned Ones circled, waiting to see what the keeper would choose.
And David swam closer, one webbed hand
extended as if in greeting or perhaps in warning.
Elena Marsh made her choice.
She raised the shock pipes, one in each hand, and charged toward the swarming mass of creatures destroying the Meridian. The
lantern's light blazed brighter, responding to her actions, pushing back the
darkness.
The Drowned Ones scattered before her like a school of fish, then reformed behind her, cutting off retreat.
But David's voice reached her somehow,
through the helmet, directly into her mind: "You can't save them all,
Elena. You can only choose who dies."
But she was a Marsh. A keeper. And Marshes
didn't choose who died.
They chose who lived.
The battle for the Meridian began.