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We . . . hear . . . you . . .
“‘We’?” Max repeated, sounding elated that they’d found anyone at all. “How many are in there?”
Juan relayed the question.
Twenty-six in engine room. Rest of sub flooded.
Out of a normal crew complement of a hundred twenty-nine—maybe more, since there were Navy SEALs on board—only twenty-six were still alive. Tate had killed over a hundred U.S. sailors to cover his crimes.
“What’s your situation?” Juan asked them.
Have immersion suits. But hatch jammed.
Immersion suits were emergency survival gear stored on the sub. To escape a downed sub, the sailors would put them on and enter the escape trunk’s air lock. When the hatch opened, the buoyant suits, which were equipped with short-term breathing apparatuses, would float to the surface and double as life rafts until help arrived. The problem was, the sailors couldn’t get the hatch open to escape.
“There’s about a ton of rocks covering the hatch. How much air do you have left?”
CO2 building. Estimate three hours O2 left.
“I don’t think the U.S. Navy will get here before then,” Max said.
“Then we have to get those rocks off so they can get out,” Juan said.
“I agree. But if we start moving them around with the robotic arm, the Barosso might hear us.”
“Let’s do it,” MacD said. “We gotta get those boys out.”
Juan nodded. They’d have to risk it.
“We’re going to clear the hatch so you can get out,” Juan told the desperate men below them.
Thank you.
Max detached the transceiver and moved the Nomad to the hatch.
With careful precision, he controlled the submersible while Juan operated the robotic arm. He began lifting rocks and carrying them away one by one. It was a tedious task, but there were no shortcuts. It would be worse to cause a second avalanche that covered the hatch all over again.
Fifteen minutes in, MacD said, “Do you hear that?”
Juan was so intent on picking up rocks that he hadn’t heard anything.
“What was it?” he asked MacD.
“Ah thought Ah heard a faint tapping.”
Juan told Max to pause for a moment. Perhaps the sub crew was trying to tell them something.
Then he did hear it. Taps on metal. But it had a higher pitch than the ones they’d heard before.
The tapping continued.
“It’s another Morse code message,” Juan said.
SOS. In DDS.
Max looked at Juan in surprise when he understood the message.
“What are they saying?” MacD asked. “Is there a problem in the engine room?”
