5
Portland, Maine-Ten Miles Out
The water below was whipped into a frenzy as the U.S. Coast Guard HH-60 Jayhawk helicopter’s blades chopped through the ocean air. Below, Petty Officer Ryan Reilly dangled from a wire. The rescue effort was going great except for one thing-the PIW (person in the water) was unconscious. Two days of not eating and exposure to the elements had taken their toll. An hour previous, when a C-130 Hercules had spotted the woman’s bright orange life jacket and deployed rescue equipment via parachute, the woman moved sluggishly.
She’d evidently been able to inflate the life raft, but she’d lacked the strength to pull herself fully in. Her face, matted in wet blond hair, and the right side of her body were dangling inside the raft, while her left arm and leg were still submerged. She hadn’t even twitched when the Jayhawk rescue team had arrived, which made the men and woman in the chopper move that much more quickly. They could see the life draining out of the woman as they hovered above her.
Little was known about her. A mayday had been sent out, in French, from a desperate- sounding man. He’d had the common sense to give coordinates in English so the Coast Guard didn’t have to waste precious time translating. The search had been going on for two days, and finally, the woman, presumably the man’s wife, had been found. Two C-130s were still flying patterns over the area in an attempt to locate the man, but hope was running out.
Petty Officer First Class Andrea Vincent looked down from the Jayhawk, toggling the winch controls that lowered Reilly toward the PIW. She’d been with the Coast Guard for six years and taken part in hundreds of rescues. Though people often doubted that the woman with wavy black hair and such a petite frame was capable of plucking waterlogged bodies from the water, it was usually her dangling from the cable. But Reilly needed the experience. He was doing a good job too.
The plan was simple. Reilly would be lowered slowly rather than jumping in. If the woman woke and was startled, she might reenter the water and take in a mouthful of water. Reilly could handle CPR in the water, but there was no reason to risk it. Vincent looked down. Reilly had entered the water. His voice came through her headset. “I’m in. Heading for the PIW.”
“Copy that,” Vincent said. “Go get her.”
She watched as Reilly sidestroked toward the woman. All he had to do was pull her into the water slowly, wrap a second harness around her arms, connect it to his, and they’d be pulled up together.
Vincent noticed the copilot flashing her a hand signal. He pointed to his headset and flashed two fingers. He wanted her to switch to channel two. She, Reilly, and the pilot were on channel one for the rescue effort, while the copilot remained on channel two to communicate with the C-130s searching the area. It was abnormal for her to change channels during the rescue; if Reilly needed her, she’d have no way to know. But the copilot realized that, so it was probably a matter of some urgency.
“Reilly, I’ve got to switch over to two for a minute. You all right down there?”
“Copy that, Cap. She’s out like a light. I’ll have her ready to go in forty-five.”
Forty-five seconds. That was all she’d give whoever was on channel two. She switched over and flinched as a chorus of shouting voices issued from the headset. The normally calm-sounding crew’s of both C-130s were frantic. She couldn’t make out a word of it, so she shouted, “Everyone shut the hell up, then one of you tell me what’s going on!”
Her voice, though feminine, commanded attention like a Marine drill sergeant’s. The line fell silent. Then the voice of Charley McCabe came back on the line. Vincent had known McCabe for the past five years. They were friends, but while on mission were all business. She knew something was wrong when McCabe spoke.
“Andrea, it’s Chuck. Listen…” His voice was quivering. “We’ve, ah, we’ve picked something up, and it’s coming your way.”
“How far out?”
“About a mile.”
“Submarine?” Vincent knew that submarines could pop out of the water suddenly, especially if something had gone wrong, but the odds were remote.
“That was our first guess. It’s certainly big enough…but it’s moving…look, just get out of there.”
“How deep is it?”
“Will you just listen to me and get the hell out of there!” McCabe was speaking as a friend, she knew that, but it was totally unprofessional on a rescue op to break down. She wasn’t leaving until the woman was secure. McCabe’s forty-five seconds were up. She switched back to channel one.
“Reilly, what’s your ATI?”
“Ten seconds.”
“Get ready for a fast-”
Vincent’s voice caught in her throat. She’d seen something moving beneath the water, about a quarter mile out and closing-a shadow of something. Moving fast. She put on UV-coated, antiglare sunglasses, and the shape became clear. It was dark beneath the blue waters, and its shape was undulating wildly, up and down. It would be on top of them in seconds.
The panic that filled the voices of her colleagues just moments before took hold of her. “Reilly, hold on to the woman! Emergency evac in two!”
She gave Reilly two seconds to do what he had to, then shoved the winch into high gear. The pilot had heard her order as well and, without any questions, pulled the Jayhawk into a vertical climb. Vincent looked out the bay door just in time to see Reilly, clinging to the woman, rise from the water. The black apparition passed right below them, leaving massive smooth footprints-typically created by the rising and descending of large whales-in its wake.
Reilly was up a few seconds later. He released the woman into Vincent’s arms. “What the hell happened?”
Vincent quickly checked the woman’s vitals and strapped her into a seat. When she turned to Reilly, she realized that she must have gone pale. His concerned eyes spoke volumes before he said anything. “You okay, Cap?”
She nodded. “Watson. Did you see that thing?”
“Yup,” the pilot replied. “I’m on it.”
Watson was a real hotdog pilot. Even a brush with a massive sea creature couldn’t ruffle his feathers. The Jayhawk banked sharply and bolted south. “Almost on top of it.”
The whine of the helicopter blades told Vincent they were moving fairly fast, maybe eighty miles per hour. That’d be seventy knots in the water. Nothing natural moved that fast! She was at the window, glaring down at the water. It came into view seconds later, still moving like a missile, just beneath the surface. Reilly was next to her. “Good God…thanks for pulling me up.”
She glanced at him. His face had gone as white as hers must have been.
When a face appeared next to Reilly’s, they both shouted and jumped back.
The Frenchwoman was staring wide-eyed down at the ocean. She was obviously in shock, but at least part of her mind comprehended the sight below. “ Mon Dieu! Qu'est-ce que c'est? A-t-il mange mon mari? ”
Vincent and Reilly ignored that the woman they’d rescued was out of her safety harness. They looked back out the window. The black shape suddenly sank away, going deep and leaving a massive forty-foot-wide footprint behind. Vincent looked at the Frenchwoman. “I have no idea what you said…but you said it.”
Vincent glanced down. The woman was holding a digital camera-a waterproof digital camera, attached to a cord wrapped around her neck. She hadn’t seen the woman take any pictures, but she hadn’t been looking either. She motioned to the camera. “May I?”
The woman understood. “ Oui, oui, naturellement. ”
Vincent turned the playback screen on and scrolled through the pictures. There were several of the Frenchwoman and her husband enjoying a cruise on their catamaran. What happened there was a mystery she’d figure out later. She kept moving until she found a blurry aerial shot of the ocean. She scrolled through three more, all blurry. Damn. The next came shockingly clear, and Vincent felt the blood leaving her face yet again. There it was. The black shape, just beneath the surface, was like…like nothing she’d ever seen. If not for this photo, she probably wouldn’t have bothered even to report it. The thing was so unbelievable. The next picture was of the
