Ex-Isle, Peter Clines [ebook smartphone .TXT] 📗

the crew wouldn’t have anywhere to go, so all possible radiation sources would be shielded for them, too.

Just ahead of him and off to his left, in the middle of the spraying lines and spinning circles, there was a dull spot. Just enough to register. Long and thin, like a gigantic cigar. It was about a mile past the island and picking up speed.

Now that he knew where to look, he could also pick out the wiggling, kicking form at the end of it. Nautilus was actually pushing the sub. It weighed a hundred tons or so, and he was pushing it through the ocean like a guy trying to push start his car.

Maybe he was the strongest man in the world when he was in the water.

Zzzap swooped down and flitted along the surface. If Nautilus was still outside the submarine, there wasn’t any danger of him launching a missile at the last minute. So once it went down, the threat should be done.

And even as he thought this, the kicking figure stopped pushing and slid up the length of the ship. Heading for a hatch. Nautilus had spotted him, and apparently the merman was a big fan of Operation: Spoilsport.

Zzzap knew the basics of nuclear bombs. Enough to know there was a small chance he could set off a warhead if he passed through it. So no burning a hole through the front of the sub.

He wasn’t sure where the reactor was located, but he was willing to bet it was toward the back, closer to the propellers and the actual engine. Logically, from the back, it’d be propellers, engine, then the reactor. So if he punched a hole or two through the back fifth of the sub, he felt pretty sure he wouldn’t cause a major radiation leak or an explosion.

Well, not an additional explosion, anyway.

He steeled himself, lined up, and knifed down into the water.

The ocean boiled at his touch. Only a thin sheaf of it, barely half an inch from the energy form, turned to vapor as his energy bled off into the surrounding water. But it kept bleeding, like a gunshot wound to the gut. He hemorrhaged heat as more and more water poured in to fill the envelope of steam around him.

Zzzap willed himself even hotter, easing back on the mental hold he kept around himself. He cut through the submarine’s hull. Water bubbled around him as it flooded into the ship and hissed into steam on the molten edges. A few tubes melted, a steel shaft, and he was out the other side, his phantom skin crawling at the physical contact.

He looped down through the ocean and shot back up through the sub. This time he went straight through the engine, a huge block of hardened steel. It turned to slag at his touch, and he blasted out the top of the hull. More water seethed around him, and then he was back in the air.

The ocean roared and churned below him. A last few air bubbles erupted from the sub and scattered the patch of boiling water. Steam rose up off the cooling water. Lots of steam. Ten seconds in the ocean had created a dense fogbank, and it was spreading out across the water.

Zzzap shuddered in the sky. On a guess, he’d just used up about a quarter of his energy. Maybe more. He didn’t want to think about what that meant when he changed back to human form. It wasn’t like he had a lot of excess weight to burn.

Below him, the water bubbled and spat into the air. He could just see the long shadow, the cool lack of radiation, as its tail end sank down. The nose tilted up and brushed the surface. Then the sub let out a last burst of air, rippled the water one more time, and headed down to the ocean floor.

Zzzap hoped he hadn’t just cooked the last six blue whales. He couldn’t see anything floating on the surface. Nothing the size of a whale, anyway. Or even a dolphin.

Or a person.

He wondered if Nautilus had made it inside the sub. Or, if he hadn’t, if he’d been scalded by the water. Neither was a pleasant way to go.

Then he thought of the children hanging in cages, waiting to be drowned, and found he didn’t care.

The wave of warm steam rushed across the island. Condensation coated everything. St. George wiped water and sweat from his brow.

“Wow,” said Madelyn. “I thought that was a bomb going off.”

“Me, too,” he said. He glanced up at the cruise ship. People lined the higher railings. “Everyone okay up there?”

The Lemurians waved and called back.

“They’re still a bunch of jerks,” muttered Madelyn.

“Try to remember they’ve been under different conditions than us,” said St. George.

“Yeah,” she said, “sometimes people are in bad conditions, but sometimes they’re just jerks. Maybe they weren’t all jerks to start with, but I think a lot of them are jerks now.”

“At least you’re just calling them jerks.”

“I’m being polite.”

The fog brightened around them. It wasn’t daylight. More like a full moon had come out from behind the clouds. He looked up and saw the glowing figure above them.

“Whoa.” Madelyn looked up at the wraith. “Are you okay?”

Maybe. Not sure. Zzzap’s light was dim, not much more than a hazy glow in the mist.

“How bad are you?” asked St. George. “We can try to get some of our supplies back. Maybe get you a couple sweet potatoes from their—”

Zzzap waved his arm. I’m past the really hungry phase, he said. I don’t think…I think I shouldn’t change back until we’re somewhere with, y’know, better medical facilities.

“Yeah?”

Yeah. I’m…I’m feeling a little light-headed.

“Do you need to go now?”

I’ll be okay. Just…don’t ask me to kill any more submarines. The wraith shook its head. Besides, how would you two find your way home without me?

Madelyn peered out at the ocean through the mist. “So that was the sub?”

Yeah. It’s about half a mile down by