After that… nothing.

Where are you, Ford? What’s happened to you?

Distracted, she dumped some loose scraps and peelings into the sink and ran the garbage disposal. The loud grinding noise drew a frown from Sam, who clapped his hands over his ears.

Neither of them heard her LG mobile phone buzzing on the coffee table, one room away.

* * *

“This is Mommy’s phone. Leave a message.”

Ford swore inwardly as Elle’s phone went to voice mail. The sound of his son’s voice hit him harder than he had anticipated, but he needed to talk to Elle more than anything. He clutched a borrowed satellite phone as the transport chopper carried him over the Pacific. He raised his voice to be heard over the whirring rotors. It was getting dark outside; barely an hour had passed since he’d buried his father at sea.

“Elle…”

His voice faltered. The conversation he’d been rehearsing instantly flew out of his head, rendering him flustered and at a loss for words.

“I don’t know that they’re saying on the news. There was an… accident… in Japan. Dad’s… gone.” His eyes welled up. His throat tightened so he could hardly speak. “Listen. I’m almost to Hawaii. I’ve got a flight home. I love you both. Tell Sam Daddy’s coming home, okay? I’m coming home.”

The voice mail beeped, cutting him off. Ford put down the phone. Wiping his eyes, he peered out across the crystal-blue waters below to the Hawaiian Islands directly ahead.

He prayed that Elle would get the message.

* * *

Serizawa and Graham huddled before a glowing monitor in the Saratoga’s war room as a helpful petty officer uploaded Joe Brody’s data onto a display screen. Adapting the antiquated zip disks to the ship’s state-of-the-art computer systems had posed a challenge, but, thankfully, not an insurmountable one. The two scientists studied the telltale waveform as it plotted out across the screen. Serizawa tapped his foot impatiently against the floor. This was taking too long.

“Keep scrolling,” Graham instructed the technician. “Near the end, before the final pulse—”

Serizawa’s eyes widened. “There!” he blurted, pointing at the screen, where, just before the end of the graph, one peak was followed directly by another—as if in reply. Graham gasped out loud. The evidence was undeniable, the conclusion inescapable.

“Something responded,” Serizawa said gravely. “He was right.”

Graham lowered her voice. “You don’t think it could be…?”

He knew she was thinking of the unknown leviathan from sixty years ago, but he was reluctant to jump to conclusions. Perhaps there was another explanation.

“Search for this pattern,” he instructed.

Graham regarded him quizzically. “Where?”

“Everywhere,” he said.

Another petty officer came up behind them. Serizawa did not know his name, but could tell that he approached with urgent business.

“Doctors,” the man said. “You need to see this.”

* * *

“Terminal A, domestic gates.”