Sea Dragon Apocalypse || The Chase

Sea Dragon Apocalypse

Previously on Sea Dragon Apocalypse … nothing happened at all … this is the beginning.

1. The chase

A MAN OF MANY SUCCESSES, BLAYDE nevertheless silently recognized that all of his honors, awards, and wealth had slowly grown meaningless without a companion. For nearly two decades, he’d allowed himself to become so thoroughly entrenched in his work that he’d distracted himself from that reality but when Sam came sauntering into his life, she’d decimated that facade. She’d consumed his thoughts and had proven a constant distraction.

Hearing soft footsteps, he turned to observe her tightly gripping the railing while tepidly stepping onto the side deck, eyeing the cloudy skies that had been intermittently rumbling for the past hour. Eyes wide with apparent anxiety, Blayde estimated she was worrying over possible lightning strikes. Regionally, it was a common phobia he’d long since lost but there remained sufficient reason for her concern. Since the great earthquakes, lightning strikes had grown far more common than one might expect. Lady Stickleback was mostly immune to the local phenomena but no one would know that by looking at her.

“We’ll be fine,” Blayde assured her. Slapping the cabin wall next to him, he added, “She’s got tech to prevent lightning strikes.”

Sam grinned shyly, cast her gaze toward the western sky as it lit up from a nearby strike, resumed her expression of uncertainty as she walked toward him.

Exhilarated to see her, Blayde smiled, wondered if her stunning figure was the result of high-end genetic engineering or nature’s beauty lottery. Paler than native Aleutians, she was tall but not lanky, probably less than three inches shy of his rounded six feet, standing barefoot. She wore a form-hugging shark skin wetsuit (one he’d custom designed the last game night she’d attended) that emphasized her particularly curvy figure and she sported large, dark brown eyes, thick hair, and a charmingly round visage that rendered her both cute and siren-esque. Although unpretentious, her natural gait sent electric sparks through Blayde’s spine as he watched her slink along the side deck.

“Wow,” he growled with brazen flirtatiousness. “You own that suit.” He donned a huge smile, squinted his eyes a little, and pursed his lips while shaking his head to emphasize the point.

Sam grinned openly, cast her eyes aside, and ran her finger up and down the sandpapery, textured forearm of her newly printed wetsuit. It felt real, Blayde knew. A distant thunderclap stole her attention and summoned a chuckle from Blayde.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, “once you’re underwater, you’ll barely notice the weather out here.” Her anxiety wouldn’t last long, he guessed. He’d seen her with her friends. Charisma blossomed once she became familiar with someone. This was just a first date. She’d just need a few gestures of encouragement.

He opened his arms, raised his eyebrows, tilted his head, and donned a questioning expression to see if she was open to a hug for a greeting. She obliged and held on longer than he’d expected. His heart pounded.

“Ready?”

Apparently surprised by the question, Sam immediately smiled, seemed to make an effort to suppress it, nodded her head as she focused again on the western horizon.

“Perfect. Usually, I’d invite you in for a quick drink but with this weather, we’d probably prefer to be deep underwater. It’s actually perfect timing. The water is choppy toward the surface but the deeper we go, the less the wind effects the water. Now’s actually the best time to explore because the sea life will be particularly active where we’ll be exploring. And we can always grab that drink afterward.”

Anxious to get going, he gently placed a helmet over her head, noticed she’d remembered to braid her hair tightly so it wouldn’t get snagged in the suit, ensured it sealed well before offering diving gloves. “You may remember from when I described it last time,” he began, “but it’s important to remember these,” he said, pointing to dozens of tiny cylinders lining the base of the palms. “Use these thrusters gingerly until you get the hang of it. The suits are tough but you’ll feel pretty beat up if you shoot yourself into the rocks or out of the water.” Blayde laughed. “Don’t get me wrong — it’s fun to shoot yourself out of the water — but too much is painful so it’s best not to try it first time around.”

He offered a big grin but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were fixed on the gloves.

Once her gloves were on, he traced his finger all around her wrists, sealing the gloves to the suit. “If you need to take these off for any reason, makes sure to seal them like I did. It’s not hard, but if you forget, the thrusters don’t synch as well and you’re more likely to have glitches. You felt how they shifted when they sealed?” he asked.

Sam nodded, grinned, said nothing, traced her fingers over the seal like he’d shown her.

It wouldn’t do anything now, he thought, but appreciated the fact that she was trying to remember details. Blayde waited a moment for her to speak but she remained quiet. He wondered if she remember that her voice would be muffled if she spoke with her helmet on while he had none. No matter, he thought. She didn’t need to speak out loud. Her eyes spoke clearly enough.

Blayde grinned as he observed those huge doe eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. He couldn’t believe he’d landed such a hot date. She barely looked as if she’d made her mid-twenties and he was all but certain that was her true age. In reality, he didn’t look much older than her, but senolytic cocktails had been his regular mistress for decades. Blayde hadn’t said anything and she hadn’t asked. If the possibility of him being her elder wasn’t an issue for her, he certainly wasn’t going to bring it up. She was old enough to know that a few, wealthy older men played the field the same as their younger counterparts. Besides, he still felt twenty. And usually, that was how he acted as well.

It nearly felt a lie to volunteer his true age, anyway. It was akin to admitting he’d never grown up, admitting he’d squandered away too much of his life and had still failed to take it seriously. Sure, he’d acquired plenty of money and accolades, but truth be known, he felt like his job was a never-ending field-trip and it fit his personality perfectly.

Blayde donned his helmet and offered a few last words of advice while he fastened his gloves. The latest model transmitters allowed his voice to sound through her helmet as if there was no helmet at all. “You have plenty of crystals in your helmet so we can stay underwater until morning, but when you start to feel tired or hungry, let me know and we’ll bail when you’ve had your fill, okay?”

Sam responded nothing, continued to smile like a child holding a lollipop the size of a watermelon. Unlike Blayde, she wasn’t prone to squander words.

He smiled in return, passingly noted the strong, homey smell of saltwater on his helmet. The sea had been his only reliable companion for more years than he cared to admit. “When I went down the first time, I almost used up the crystals before going back to the surface.”

He didn’t tell her old school crystalline breathing tanks he used as a boy only lasted a few hours. “Ready?” Blayde grabbed her hand and placed his left foot above the side deck along the railing, traced his memory to ensure he’d properly anchored the boat.

“Yes.” Sam copied his posture, placed her left foot along the railing, and prepared to jump. Although discernibly excited, her voice was soft, reserved. That was best anyway. Even the best underwater transmitters tended to echo underwater if one spoke too loudly.

“Balance with me,” he instructed, leaning his left leg against the higher railing and rising up so his right foot was on top of the higher rail post.

Although timid, Sam copied him without any trouble.

Blayde fancied she’d be a natural diver so he released her hand as he took the final step over the rail and dove in face first, trusted she’d be game to follow without extra coaxing. As bubbles surfaced, Blayde inspected Sam carefully through the clear waters, breathily whistled. On a whim, he’d programmed her suit to have ridges like a zebra shark and colored it much the same. It had been a last minute custom modification, but he decided it was destined to become a new fashion trend. With Sam as the model, he’d make a killing off the code. It wouldn’t be the first time a simple idea had gone viral.

“Alright,” he called after the bubbles largely dissipated, “keep your legs mostly together and just a little bent but flexed while you’re learning. When you curl your fingers together while pushing your palm forward, your foot thrusters will engage at the same time. For now, use all four at once. You won’t be happy the first time or two you only try two thrusters. Watch.”

Blayde dove beneath the water, straightened his arms and legs, stretched his arms to face roughly the same direction as his legs, and alternated using two thrusters at a time. He moved through the water like a waddling penguin and chuckled. The tide heaved and sparkled as heavy rainfall dotted the surface overhead and then flashed briefly under a nearby lightening strike. A school of fish, spooked by the light, quit feeding on flying insects and raced to deeper waters.

Stormy conditions weren’t exactly safe but Blayde wasn’t the prudent, don’t-take-risks kind of a guy. Life was meant to be full of adventure. Although Sam seemed somewhat reserved, Blayde sensed a similar disposition. Still, his cheerful demeanor dampened momentarily as he passingly considered the unlikely possibility that lightening could strike the company boat. The tech was very good, but imperfect, and there had been a surprising number of close strikes over the last hour or so.

Nevertheless and notwithstanding company policy, a strike wasn’t any more likely here than at the company dock so he ignored the mental warnings. No matter. All company vessels were insured to the smallest screw. If necessary, he’d just claim he’d been exploring deeper waters for too long to notice the weather and everything would be fine. He was known for long dives. Catering to safety measures could wait for another time when he wasn’t hosting Miss Perfect.

Blayde circled back toward Sam, pointed to his left, and gently engaged his thrusters, looking over his shoulder to ensure she didn’t get left behind. She followed him surprisingly closely, as if they’d been diving together for weeks. Within a half hour, she was confidently shadowing him along the jagged underwater terrain. Dangerous or not, underwater exploration during a storm never disappointed: sea life was more active than ever. He made certain to take things slowly, to enjoy the coral gardens and places where fish were known to feed during storms. She didn’t seem to need any follow-up instructions. A natural, he thought, with no small satisfaction.

Soon, they ventured into deeper waters. Blayde spotted a few fish he hadn’t identified before, mentally instructed the helmet to take pictures, identify the new fish, and store the information for later review. This he did with little or no thought. It was habit, part of his job. As the waters grew darker, Blayde illuminated his green floodlight and instructed Sam to do the same.

After they’d explored the deeper terrain for another half hour or more, a large school of fish unitedly dashed toward Blayde and Sam in a sustained blitz that lacked the artistic flair they were known for. Equipped with shark vision technology, Blayde’s helmet illuminated the subtle glow of various flora and some fishes.

“They’re fleeing a predator,” Blayde intuited, immediately regretting his choice to say anything out loud as Sam’s emotional status icon flashed red. Tracked on his helmet’s interior panel, various icons kept track of Sam’s heart rate, perspiration rate, brain activity, and a half dozen other bodily scans. Required by law to ensure new divers weren’t pushed too hard in the deep, Blayde simplified the icons in his mind to mirror traffic light rules. Green was good. Yellow was a bother, but okay. Red required attention.

Until now, he’d been satisfied that Sam was thrilled to be touring coastal waters, excited to explore a new area of life, and perhaps, growing in attraction toward him. Fear was the last thing he wanted flashing across her icons. Still, the ocean was naturally a savage environment and pragmatic considerations couldn’t be completely ignored.

His helmet audibly warned him in the sultry alto voice he’d pulled from a girlfriend decades earlier. “Unknown species, roughly thirty feet long, traveling nearly thirty-five miles per hour.” Blayde cursed. Sam’s helmet would be telling her the same thing.

He’d never observed great whites swimming that fast when attacking but he’d read reports claiming it wasn’t impossible. Similarly, he hadn’t read any contemporary accounts of a great white longer than twenty-three feet, but then again, helmet scanners were occasionally buggy so he ignored the detail. The suits came standard with various shark repellants but Blayde knew well enough that their effectiveness was sketchy at best. A hydrogel hagfish bomb might create a helpful barrier between them and the shark but it would likely suffocate smaller creatures faster than the mammoth beast chasing them. He quickly considered the odds, dismissed the thought, and determined he wouldn’t gamble Sam’s safety given these circumstances. What if she didn’t follow instructions and swam through the gelatin mass?

“Curl your body and bend your legs like this,” he instructed, as he mimicked fetal position and allowed his body to spin. As quickly as Sam followed his order, he gave her further instruction. “Blast five short bursts from your thrusters and then head back as fast as you can.” She complied, spun a little off course, recovered relatively quickly. Hundreds of fish swarmed all around, bringing unwanted visual confusion as the green floodlights bounced off their silvery bodies. Blayde’s helmet augmented that confusion by adding the subtle green-glow patterns near their dorsal fins.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he instructed. “Put your thrusters on as fast as you can control them.” Blayde quickly regretted those instructions. Sam veered off course as she approached forty miles per hour. Blayde rarely felt comfortable with speeds like that. If underwater currents pushed hard, the pressure could result in serious back injuries. He’d been laid up for weeks one time.

“Hold up a little,” he instructed, worried she was going to take them too close to the northern underwater caverns where navigation was tricky and where they’d surely be unable to navigate away from whatever was following them. At least Sam was veering away from the large school of fish. Whatever the exact species of the unknown predator, it would likely follow the most promising, familiar dinner.

Sam slowed one thruster faster than the other, sending her into a sharp arch right back into the middle of the frenzy as the blitz of fish began catching up to her position.

Undoubtedly, the slower, less healthy fish were about to be shred to pieces, Blayde considered.

“Your heart rate is quickly approaching an unhealthy rate,” his helmet warned.

“Shut up!” he blurted.

“I didn’t say …”

“Not you,” Blayde answered.

“Predator is closing in distance,” the sultry voice warned.

“Blast it! Stay still and then straighten up like a pole. Flex all your muscles,” Blayde barked at Sam as he pressed through the swarm of fish. He’d be able to grab her without injuring her if her limbs weren’t limp. As soon as he got close, he slowed his thrusters but only momentarily. “Hold on and wrap your legs around my waist,” he instructed again as he pulled her close. He threw his arms down, straightened his body, engaged his thrusters and hoped he’d be able to navigate the waters with this imbalanced deadweight wrapped around his torso.

“Improved reading. Unknown species forty feet long or possibly longer. Speed increasing to …”

“Shut up!” Blayde blurted a second time. The words undoubtedly echoed in Sam’s ears, but she remained silent nonetheless. Her icon flashed brighter red and brain scan readings showed an alert Blayde had no time to review. His mind focused on continually adjusting his arms and legs to compensate for their combined, imbalanced weight. They quickly fell into an undulating pattern not dissimilar to dolphin play and passed the swarm of fish, gained enough distance to feel safe. Blayde relaxed a little but left thrusters fully engaged.

“Predator within fifty feet.”

Blayde scowled at the red level warning, surprised and overly conscientious that Sam’s helmet would be offering the same warning. “Damn!” He consciously held back his voice, avoided yelling. Blayde verbally engaged the navigation function of the helmet, gauged his distance from the boat, and briefly rejoiced. Now would be the best time to veer farther away from the swarming school of fish and that would set them on a straighter course to the boat.

“We’re gonna make it,” he assured Sam as they sped up and veered away from the fish. He might have gained better traction with her had he not just sworn at his helmet, but none of that mattered too much: she held on tightly and said nothing.

“The predator is moving away from you,” the helmet’s alto voice chimed. “Clear reading. Unknown predator is forty-one feet long and swimming at thirty-three miles per hour. Multiple appendages fail to match any known marine life. Closest land comparisons are reptilian.”

“Holy hell,” Blayde swore under his breath. Then, governing his tongue a little, relegated his thoughts to silence. Massive and damn fast.

Blayde slowed his thrusters, rotated his torso, and tried to capture a clear sighting of the creature. Already too far away to see clearly, he adjusted the floodlights, instructed Sam to turn hers off, and used the telescoping function of his helmet to get a closer look.

Although focused on its prey, the changing foreign lighting briefly caught the attention of the predator who glared at it. As it did, light reflected off its eyes, creating a surreal reflection that mimicked the effect of glowing orbs. Blayde froze. Sam began to loosen her grip and pull away from Blayde but he pulled her back towards himself, captured the beast’s movements on video until it disappeared again, and threw his arms back down his side.

Undulating toward the boat felt less frantic than before, but Blayde nevertheless felt his heart pounding heavily against Sam. Soon, he slowed his thrusters until he could safely unwind her body from his. “We’re safe,” he announced as they relaxed into a surprisingly gentle bobble on the water’s turbulent surface.

“What was it?” she asked.

Sam didn’t look fearful to Blayde any more. Her icon color morphed oddly, approximating an orangey-green, leaving him uncertain as to what it meant, left him wishing he dove with other people more often so he could better remember what various gradients of color indicated. Nevertheless, her grin seemed a permanent fixture, betraying the excitement befitting a teenager who’d beaten the odds and escaped a close encounter with the police.

Lightning struck not far from where they’d last seen the creature. Sparkling flashes of light scattered across the water’s surface toward the two of them.

“Uhhh … I’m not sure,” Blayde lied. Sort of. He felt stuck in a quicksand of disbelief, unable to process the possible reality of it all.

“Can you show me the video?”

“Mmmm … yeah,” he answered reluctantly. He didn’t want to share it, felt stupid for being so inarticulate. “You … might not want to see it.”

“Why not?” she asked coyly, tilting her head like an iconic valley girl and apparently sensing some tease that wasn’t there.

Already transmitting the video to her helmet, Blayde fumbled for words to explain. “It kind of looks like—”

The video began playing on both of their helmet screens.

Sam’s icon immediately turned a bright, solid orange, flickered.

“A sea dragon,” she finished for him. The image was blurry but the shape was unmistakable.