A million lightyears from home, sitting alone in the dark, I watched the minutes count down, still too sober to cope with what was coming—the futile gasps, the panic. I thought of Brandy and our final minutes alone together by Urquhart Castle. I thought of William—

—my memory disrupted as the sub started rocking and filled with the sound of Ming and Ben groaning.

Great. My last few minutes on Earth will be spent listening to these two getting it on in the backseat.

The cockpit began spinning in my head.

Less than six minutes of air left.

I decided to record my final goodbyes on the Barracuda’s black box and my audio journal before I lost consciousness.

“This is Dr. Zachary Wallace. We’re marooned on Vostok’s plateau, caught in a low tide, our air supply nearly exhausted. Please tell my wife that she was the only woman I ever loved. Brandy, please forgive me for not being a better husband. To my son, William: Willy, I was so blessed to have met you. I wish… I wish I had the chance to see you grow up. I wish there was a happier ending. Just know that Daddy loves you so very much and that I’ll watch over you and Mommy from heaven. I promise.”

The countdown approached two minutes.

I closed my eyes against the whirling darkness.

“Brandy, when you see Joe Tkalec, please tell him that he was a great teacher and I should have been a better student. This whole mission, it was ego-driven. Had I acted like a real scientist instead of a celebrity—so stupid, so selfish. Forgive me.”

AUDIO ENTRY: FINLAY MACDONALD

25 SEPTEMBER 01:26 HOURS

Testing… test. This is Finlay MacDonald, True tae my Mukkers. If yer hearin’ this, then I’m deid or worse. Or maybe I’m just prepping fer my own memoir… seemed tae work for my friend, Zachary Wallace.

Zachary’s the reason I’m recording this entry, which I hereby authorize to serve as my Last Will and Testament, whereas I leave all my worldly belongings tae my sister, Brandy MacDonald-Wallace, and her son, my nephew William. Brandy, be sure tae check my savings account, as there’s a sizeable deposit jist come in. Which leads me tae tonight’s adventure and why I’m blabbing intae this device like a schoolgirl on prom night.

As I dictate this story, I’m confined inside an ADS. An ADS, William, is an Atmospheric Dive Suit tha’ looks like something an astronaut might wear fer a walk on the moon. Being self-contained and pressurized, it protects the diver against extreme pressures and the bends. But it’s a bit like carrying a cow tae market, so the joints have oil in them tae assist with movin’ aboot.