“Hell, yes. I’ve taken her to down to six thousand feet in the Bahamas.”

Carl climbs topside, his face beet red. “Hey, are you guys eating, or what?”

9:22 P.M.

A tapestry of stars covers the cloudless night sky.

Carl is leaning on the transom, organizing his tackle box for the third time that day. Rex is below, cleaning up dinner, while Iz listens to the undersea acoustics from the pilothouse.

“Manatee, come in.”

“Go ahead, Edie.”

“I’ve been listening on SOSUS. The noises are getting louder and faster.”

“I know. Almost sounds like a runaway locomotive.”

“Iz, I think you ought to leave the area. Iz?”

The sonic screeech torches his ear canal like a white-hot poker. Iz flings the headphones from his head in agony and drops to one knee, feeling disoriented, the ringing in his ears unbearable.

“Rex! Carl!” He hears only a muffled echo.

An unearthly green light causes him to look up. The interior of the pilothouse is aglow with an iridescent emerald shimmer radiating from the water.

Rex pulls Iz to his feet. “You okay?”

Iz nods, his ears still ringing slightly. The two men stumble over the scuba gear and join Carl in the stern, too focused on the brilliant light to notice the smoke coming from the amplitude modulator’s sizzling electronics board.

God Almighty. Iz and his two friends stare dumbfounded at the sea, their faces glowing a ghostly green from the ethereal light.

The Manatee is bobbing along the surface of a circular swatch of luminescent sea, at least a mile in diameter. Iz leans overboard, stupefied by the surreal visibility created by the incandescent beacon originating somewhere along the seafloor, some two thousand feet beneath the boat.

“Iz, Rex, your hair!”

Carl points to their hair, which is standing on end. Rex fingers his ponytail, sticking up like an Indian feather. Iz rubs a palm across his hairy forearm, registering sparks of static electricity.

“What the hell’s happening?” Carl whispers.

“I don’t know, but we’re moving out of here.” Iz hurries back to the pilothouse and pushes the engine’s POWER button.

Nothing.

He pushes three more times. He checks the radio, then the GPS navigational system.

“What’s wrong?” Carl asks nervously.

“Everything’s dead. Whatever’s glowing down there has short-circuited all of our electronics.” Iz turns to see Rex pulling on his wet suit. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see what’s down there.”

“It’s too dangerous. There could be radiation.”

“Then I’ll probably be safer in my wet suit than you guys will on board.” He fastens the straps of the vest holding his air tank, checks his regulator, then slips on his fins. “Carl, my underwater camera’s by your feet.”

Carl tosses it to him.

“Rex—”

“Iz, thrill-seeking’s my hobby. I’ll snap a few quick shots and be back on board in five minutes.”