I proceeded to loop the end of the rope around Ben’s upper body and the chair, using them as an anchor. I looked back, estimating the distance from the bow cockpit to the sub’s tailfin.

Wallace, this is insane.

“Zachary, one of the injections you and your deceased colleagues received prior to your descent was a microscopic probe that calculates blood circulation. It takes approximately sixty seconds for a human heart pumping at an average of seventy beats per minute to circulate an adult’s six liters of blood. According to Dr. Liao’s monitor, her blood circulated thirty-two times from the moment you set out to explore that tunnel until the moment you ascended. Captain’s Hintzmann blood volume circulated forty times, the higher rate due to his exertion while he was doing a bit of rock climbing.”

Measuring six armlengths of rope, I tied the cord around my chest and climbing belt.

“Zachary, your reading was quite a bit different. According to your sensor, your blood circulated 1,127 times, the equivalent of just over eighteen hours of heartbeats.”

“What?” I paused from knotting the rope. “How is that possible?”

“It’s possible only if you had entered a portal to another dimension.”

I wanted answers, but first I needed control.

Grabbing the MANUAL EMERGENCY HATCH, I pulled the lever.

A blast of icy water shot into the cabin as I dropped feet-first past Ming and into the flooded borehole, the dark shaft of ice illuminated by the sub’s exterior light and my night-vision goggles.

Dangling by the Barracuda’s tailfin, pinned between the sub and a geyser of pressurized thirty-seven-degree water, I held my breath and felt for the umbilical cable. Locating the plug, I attempted to brace my stocking feet against the slippery chassis, cursing myself for not having worn my spiked climbing boots.

Realizing what was happening, the Colonel ignited the Valkyries, attempting to toss me from the rising sub or burn me alive.

The heat evaporated the water around me and warmed my body as I yanked the plug free.

The lasers abruptly ceased.

In the same amount of time it took the Big Bang to explode in a vacuum of space, my ears popped as a vacuum of ungodly pressure flung me back into the aft compartment and slammed the acrylic cockpit shut.

A hundredth of a second later, a geyser of water erupted around the sub, launching it another thirty feet before pinning it, bow-first, against the slush-filled roof of the borehole.

22

“Sentence first, verdict afterwards.”

—Lewis Carroll

I opened my eyes to bone-chilling darkness. A sonic buzz rattled my ears. Disoriented, I fumbled my way around like the lone survivor in a plane crash, orientating myself by identifying the dead.

Persistence persevered over panic, and I managed to locate the night-vision goggles and power up the sub.

That was the extent of the good news—that I had regained control of the Barracuda. Everything else was bad.