“I suppose it goes without saying,” Donald began, breaking an uncomfortable silence, “we’re in a difficult situation to say the least. We cannot expect any help from the Benthic Explorer. With the series of earthquakes, they’ll naturally assume we suffered some kind of disaster. They might send down one of the camera sleds, but it’s not going to find us in here, wherever the hell we are. In short, we’re on our own with no communication and little food and water. So…” Donald paused as if thinking.

“So, what do you suggest?” Suzanne asked.

“I suggest we go out and reconnoiter,” Donald said.

“What if this cavern, or whatever it is, floods again?” Perry questioned.

“It seems to me we have to take the chance,” Donald said. “I’ll be willing to go on my own. It’s up to you if you want to join me.”

“I’ll go,” Suzanne said. “It’s better than just sitting here and doing nothing.”

“I’m not staying here by myself,” Perry announced.

“Okay,” Donald said. “We have two more flashlights. Let’s take them but only use one to conserve the batteries.”

“I’ll get them,” Suzanne said.

Donald was the first one out. He used the ladder rungs mounted on the side of the sail and the hull to climb down. The rungs were there to provide access to the submersible when it was in its chocks on the afterdeck of the Benthic Explorer.

Standing on the final rung, Donald shined the light down at the ground. Gauging how deep the Oceanus had sunk, he estimated the mud was twenty to twenty-four inches deep.

“Is something the matter?” Suzanne asked. She was the second one out and could see that Donald was hesitating.

“I’m trying to guess how deep the muck is,” he said. Still holding on to a rung, he lowered his right foot. It disappeared into the ooze. It wasn’t until the mud reached the lower edge of his kneecap that he felt solid ground.

“This is not going to be pleasant,” he reported. “The mud is knee-deep.”

“Let’s hope that’s our only problem,” Suzanne said.

A few minutes later the three were standing in the mud. Save for a slight glow emanating from the open submersible hatch, the only light came from Donald’s flashlight. It cast a meager cone of light in the utter blackness. Suzanne and Perry carried flashlights, too, but as Donald had suggested, they were not turned on. There was no sound in the vast dark space. To conserve the submersible’s batteries, Donald had turned off most everything in the sub, even the ventilation fan. He’d left on one light to serve as a beacon to help them find the sub again if they wandered too far afield.

“This is intimidating,” Suzanne said with a shudder.

“I think I’d use a stronger word,” Perry said. “What’s our game plan?”

“That’s open to discussion,” Donald said. “My suggestion is we head in the direction the Oceanus is pointing. That seems to be the closest wall, at least according to my echo.” He looked at his compass. “It’s pretty much due west.”

“Seems like a reasonable plan to me,” Suzanne said.

“Let’s go,” Perry said.

The group set out with Donald in the lead followed by Suzanne. Perry brought up the rear. It was difficult walking in the deep mud and the smell was mildly offensive.

There was no talk. Each was acutely aware of the precariousness of the situation, especially the farther they got from the submersible. After ten minutes Perry insisted they pause. They had not come to any wall, and his courage had waned.

“Walking in this muck is not easy,” Perry said, avoiding the real issue. “And it also stinks.”

“How far do you think we’ve gone?” Suzanne asked. Like the others she was out of breath from exertion.

Donald turned and looked back at the submersible, which was no more than a smudge of light in the inky blackness. “Not that far,” he said. “Maybe a hundred yards.”

“I would have said a mile, the way my legs feel,” Suzanne remarked.

“How much farther to this supposed wall?” Perry asked.

Donald yelled again in the direction they were going. The echo came back in a couple of seconds. “I’d guess somewhere in the neighborhood of three hundred yards.”

Sudden movement and a series of slapping sounds in the darkness to their immediate left made them all jump. Donald whipped the light around and shined it in the direction of the noise. A stranded fish made a few more agonal flip-flops against the wet mud.

“Oh, my gosh, that scared the bejesus out of me,” Suzanne admitted. Her hand was pressed against her chest. Her heart was racing.

“You and me both,” Perry confessed.

“We’re all understandably on edge,” Donald said. “If you two want to go back, I’ll continue the reconnoiter myself.”

“No, I’ll stick it out,” Suzanne said.

“Me, too,” Perry said. The idea of returning to the submersible by himself was worse than forging ahead through the mire.

“Then, let’s move out,” Donald said. He started off again and the others fell in behind him.

The group slogged ahead in silence. Each step into the unknown blackness ratcheted up their fears and anxiety. The submersible behind them was being swallowed up in the darkness. After another ten minutes they were all as tense as a piano wire about to snap, and that was when the alarm sounded.

The short burst of sound crashed out of the stillness like cannon fire. At first the group froze in their tracks, frantically attempting to determine from which direction the alarm had come. But with the multiple echoes it was impossible to tell. In the next instant they were all slogging their way back toward the submersible.

It was flight in full panic; a mad dash for supposed safety. Unfortunately, the mud did not cooperate. All three tripped almost immediately and fell headfirst into the odious ooze. Regaining their feet, they tried to run again, with the same result.

Without a word to establish consensus, they resigned themselves to a slower gait. After a few minutes, their lack of significant headway made the futility of their flight apparent. Since there had been no surge of water refilling the cavern, all three stopped within steps of each other, their chests heaving.

The multiple echoes from the horrendous alarm died out and in their wake the preternatural stillness returned. Once again it settled back over the inky darkness like the smothering blanket in Perry’s nightmare.

Suzanne raised her hands. The muck, which she knew was a combination of planktonic carcasses and feces of innumerable worms, dripped from her fingers. She wanted desperately to wipe her eyes, but she didn’t dare. Donald, who was slightly ahead, turned to face Suzanne and Perry. Mud was streaked across the glass of his flashlight, reducing its effect so that he was lost in shadow to the others. They could just make out the whites of his eyes.

“What in God’s name was that alarm?” Suzanne managed. She spit some grainy debris from her mouth. She didn’t want to think of what it might have been.

“I was afraid it meant the water was returning,” Perry admitted.

“Regardless of what its actual meaning is,” Donald said, “for us it has an overarching significance.”

“What are you talking about?” Perry questioned.

“I know what he means,” Suzanne said. “He means that this is no natural geological formation.”

“Exactly!” Donald said. “It’s got to be a remnant of the Cold War. And since I had top-secret clearance in the United States submarine service, I can tell you it’s not our installation. It has to be Russian!”

“You mean like some kind of secret base?” Perry asked. He glanced around the black void, now more awestruck than frightened.

“That’s the only thing I can imagine,” Donald said. “Some kind of nuclear submarine facility.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Suzanne said. “And if it is, our future is suddenly significantly brighter.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” Donald said. “First, it’s going to make a difference only if somebody is still manning the facility. If there is, then our next worry has to be how much they want to keep it a secret.”