Chapter 56 - The Abyssal Leviathan
Reaching Leviathan-1 without being obliterated from the surface required an impossible path: Samuel Bellini’s private intake sluice.
Constructed during the height of the Cold War under the guise of an industrial water pipeline, the sluice was a six-foot-wide submerged pressurized tunnel that ran straight from the water filtration plant out into the deep trench of Lake Michigan, originally intended to siphon cooling water for an underground nuclear bunker.
"The pressure locks are ancient," Silas warned as we stood in the staging vault beneath the breakwater crib, fitting ourselves with compact rebreather masks from an emergency locker. "If the intake valve fails while you're inside, the hydraulic shock will crush your ribs before you reach the lakebed."
"Then don't let it fail," Marco said, strapping a tactical knife to his calf and securing his waterproof holster. He looked at Silas. "You're staying at the control console."
"Someone has to cycle the purge cycle manually," Silas said, leaning against the iron terminal, his color growing paler by the second. I noticed a dark, widening stain along his left ribcage—a flechette had grazed him during the firefight, and he hadn't said a word.
"Silas, you're bleeding," I said, stepping forward with my medical kit.
"I’ve been bleeding for thirty years, Laura," Silas said softly, gently waving my hands away. "This old clock is winding down. Yours is just starting. Get out to the trench. When you reach the hull of that monstrosity, look for the secondary ballast port beneath the propulsion thrusters. That's where Samuel's override key fits."
He handed Marco an obsidian cylinder—identical to the key we had pulled from his father's chair in the study weeks ago.
"Marco," Silas added, his voice dropping into a solemn gravel. "Your father was a monster. But he loved you enough to build you a heart that no man could ever stop. Don't let them take it."
Marco looked at the old man for a long, heavy second, then gave a single, resolute nod. "Hold the line, Silas."
"Always," the old fixer replied.
We stepped into the airlock chamber. Silas engaged the controls from the exterior window. With a deafening rush of icy foam, the lock filled with freezing lake water, completely submerging us in darkness.
The outer hatch groaned open, exposing the black, infinite abyss of Lake Michigan.
May you like
Hand in hand, linked by our bioluminescent pulse and our shared oxygen, Marco and I kicked out into the freezing depths toward the colossal shadow hovering above the lakebed.
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