Not for the first time, she wondered if insanity had granted him any peace, or made his hell even worse. What must it be like to crave blood so much that its absence breaks a mind? Would he ever fully recover?
No. I can’t accept that. Antoine is strong.
Hehadto recover.
And Gabe and Ryan were mistaken. Cally would find a way of feeding him back to health without him destroying some helpless victim in the process.
Somehow.
The whir of the bow-mounted crane pulled her from her thoughts, though with the limited visibility of her helmet, she could see little of what was happening. It was like having half a goldfish bowl strapped to her head, with no way of seeing past the sides. The suit pressed in, and she couldn’t move her arms or legs.
Besides, Brent had warned her not to try.
The crane whirred again, lifting then turning, its boom extending out over the side of the boat.
Brent going in.
It was time. Or it would be soon.
Cally felt the sudden urge to pee, even though she’d gone only a few minutes before.
Just nerves. She hoped. Until they came back up, there’d be no way to relieve herself.The least of my problems.
Ryan appeared before her. “Ready?” he called, his voice muffled.
“Ready!” she yelled back.
“Fuck, Cally!” Brent’s voice came through their radio with a tinny edge, his exasperation carrying clearly. “You just deafened me.”
She winced. He had told her the mic was open by default, and she’d forgotten. “Sorry.”
Vibrations through the suit as they did something outside, a clang of metal on metal, then she felt herself lifted into the air. Her stomach tensed.This is it.
Brent’s voice came again. “Remember, you’ll be lowered vertically. Don’t do anything until the hoist gets released, then I’ll walk you through basic movements.”
“Got it.” That sounded composed, didn’t it? Not so bad.
The crane swung her out over the side of the boat, and beneath her the waves swelled and rolled, dark and heaving. As the suit dipped lower, the surface drew closer, spray splashing onto her visor.
“Steady now,” Brent said. “Might be a bit rough going in. Just wait until I give you the all-clear.”
“I remember.”
The boat lifted and fell as the waves rolled beneath the hull, and the effect felt magnified as she was swung through the air on the end of the hoist. It was nauseating, and she knew exactly how Noah felt. Her stomach roiled, and she swallowed hard.
Don’t throw up. That would be bad. That would beverybad.
The crane groaned as she was lowered, the sound carrying through whatever cable was attached to her suit. The crane wasn’t designed for this—Brent had said it three times already—and judging from the jerky descent, he wasn’t wrong.
The world tilted sideways as the boat lurched with a passing wave. Cally felt the sick twist of inertia as the suit tipped and spun.
Not the controlled descent Brent had promised.
A wave caught her dangling legs, slamming her into the shock rest. The suit lurched, striking the water side-on, and a metallic twang echoed from behind her head. She had a half-second to register the crane hook releasing before she splashed into the sea. Thrown again into the suit’s padding, she sank fast, the waves disappearing overhead. All sound from the surface vanished, replaced by her own breathing, loud in her ears, echoing off the helmet’s interior.
A sharp hiss reverberated through the suit, like gas leaking out. Was that normal?
A light flashed amber on her HUD, and despite going over them all a dozen times, she couldn’t remember which one it was.
