Through his delirium, he looks up to see the spiraling galaxy above his head rotating faster. As its speed increases, an immense, hollow cylinder of emerald energy forms from within the center of the molten lake, rising toward the ceiling like a luminescent green tornado. The funnel of energy merges with the vortex, the two whirling in unison, faster and faster.

Mick’s mind is screaming, his eyes bulging from his head. Through the madness he sees a solitary ripple form at the center of the lake, the disturbance created by something rising just below the molten surface.

And now he can see it—rising up through the emerald funnel of energy—a being—black as night, a predatory life-form with a thirty-foot reptilelike wingspan. A pair of three-pronged talons dangle from below its torso. A faceless, anvil-shaped skull tapers back to a curved, hornlike protrusion, the beak-shaped tail half the size of the wings. An incandescent, amber-colored orb glows brightly along the neckline like a pupilless eye.

Mick watches, spellbound, as the ceiling above the spiraling galaxy of energy seems to disappear, revealing a vertical shaft of rock cut within the seafloor. The water within the shaft is also swirling, forming the base of a monstrous whirlpool.

Mick grasps the small tank of oxygen tightly to his chest. He tears away the mask, aiming the sealed valve away from his body.

With a resounding whoosh, the center of the ceiling retracts, causing a tremendous roar to fill the chamber. Mick feels his ears pop as the sea rushes in, the torrent of water channeled along either side of the cylindrical, vertical force field like Niagara Falls.

Desperate, Mick scans the perimeter of the chamber, his eyes focusing upon the twenty-three identical shafts, all but one of which pop open to inhale the rising tide.

The sound of rising thunder as the alien vessel’s giant turbines begin reversing gears in order to expel the seawater.

Mick grips the butane lighter, then opens the valve on the smaller air tank, touching the flame to an invisible, combustible stream of pure oxygen. The pressurized gas ignites like a rocket, slamming the base of the tank into his gut as it propels him backward through the air and away from the pod.

Mick soars above the molten lake of metal, then plunges into the raging river of seawater draining atop the lake’s molten metal surface.

Mick releases the emptied tank as he is inhaled by the torrent, fear and adrenaline driving his arms and legs as he directs his way toward the inoperable shaft from which he came. He grabs onto the grating and pulls himself up as the rising tide races in behind him.

Mick yanks open the hatch, staring down into the dark shaft. Don’t stop, don’t think, just jump!