Operation: North Sea

- 12 -

Banks made his way back into the rig’s control room.

“Are you in contact with the other incoming choppers?”

“Yep,” the operator replied. “They’re ten minutes out.”

“Ask them to slow down a tad,” Banks said. “We need a new plan of action.”

He turned to Seton.

“It was working. What happened?”

“A guess? Not loud enough, the storm is dissipating the effect.”

“Can you boost it?”

“We can try,” Seton said. “Unless you have any other ideas, I think it’s our only shot.”

“Crank it up then,” Banks said, and, to the operator, “Belay that order to the choppers. It’s time we got ourselves the fuck out of here.”

Banks returned to his spot on the gantry and lit up another smoke. Rig crew were already beginning to make their way along the pathway towards the helipad but, understandably, none had yet gone out to the pad itself. Banks felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see the doctor there.

“We’ve got your sergeant ready to move. I won’t bring him out until the last minute in this weather,” he said, then looked Banks in the eye. “Is it true about the chopper? The beast took it down?”

Banks nodded.

“Lost, all of them.”

“So what’s to say it won’t happen again? Is it worth the risk?”

“Yon beast is likely to take the whole rig down on one of these visits. We need to get off here. We’ve got a plan.”

“That song on the tannoy? That’s your plan?”

Banks didn’t reply to that, but he didn’t have to; he saw skepticism written large on the doc’s face before he turned away.

A minute later, the tannoy kicked in, almost deafeningly.

He sleeps and he dreams with the fish far below.

He dreams and he sings in the dark.

Banks looked out past the heliport. Two searchlight beams were sweeping the sea, coming closer fast.

Showtime.

He went back into the control room.

“Can we leave it running like that in a loop?” he said, having to shout to be heard above the tannoy.

“Already done,” the operator said. He had left his post and was getting into a waterproof survival suit that appeared to be eating him. “It’ll keep going as long as there’s power here in the room.”

“Then pray it stays on,” Banks replied. He turned to Seton. “Ready to get the flock out of here yet, wee man?”

“More than ready.”

When they went back out onto the gantry, the first of the two choppers had already landed and a line of crew were making their way across the accessway to the helipad. The second chopper came in at a steeper angle, the pilot expertly using the wind against itself to land dead center on the second parking bay on the pad.

There was no sign of the beast.

Not yet anyway.

He saw the doc and two of the crew pushing a trolley bed across the causeway, the sarge’s pale face showing clearly in the gloom. Banks made for the causeway with Seton beside him.

The tannoy was still broadcasting the chant.

He sleeps and he dreams with the fish far below.

He dreams and he sings in the dark.

The first chopper had filled rapidly and the rotors were spinning up ready for take-off. The noisy clatter and whirr echoed around the rig and Banks noticed, too late, that the sound was deadening the chanting. The first chopper rose slowly off the pad, the pilot clearly fighting against the wind to stop being blown horizontally across the landing area.

Ahead of Banks, the doc and his helpers were getting the sarge loaded into the second chopper. Banks and Seton were the last two people to arrive on the helipad.

“Get her up,” he shouted, realising there was no way the pilot could hear him, and broke into a run, hoping that Seton was smart enough to do the same. He’d got halfway across the helipad when the whole rig shook and shuddered from a heavy hit. The lights flickered and dimmed and the chanting could barely be heard now above the chopper noise and the wind.

Banks put his head down and, with Seton right at his shoulder, made for the chopper.

Everybody else was aboard. The doc stood bent over in the doorway, urging them forward.

The rig took another hit, harder this time. The helipad lurched hard and developed a slope. The impact caused Seton to stumble and fall flat on his face. Banks went back for him and helped the older man to his feet and had turned back towards the chopper as another jolting blow hit the rig. The lights went dark, the tannoy cut off, and now there was just the wind, the rotor blades, and a mad dash for the doorway.

The helipad was breaking up below them. Banks caught a glimpse of the beast, the great head starting to rise out of the water. He grabbed Seton and threw him forward into the doorway, saw the doc gather the older man inside to safety. The chopper began to rise, just as the deck of the helipad gave way under Banks’ feet. He reached upward, already knowing he wasn’t going to make it, and felt only yawning emptiness and death below him for a split second before a strong hand grabbed his left wrist and pulled him up.

He tumbled into the chopper, all elbows and knees, and rolled over to see that it had been Seton who’d saved him. The older man grinned.

“Not so auld now, eh,” he said, but Banks knew there was no time for chat.

“Take her up, right fucking now,” he shouted, hoping the pilot might hear. He rose and went to the doorway, looking down. The creature appeared to be ignoring the chopper in favor of wreaking carnage on the rig. From above, and getting higher with every second, Banks and Seton got a bird’s-eye view and were able to see for the first time the true size and extent of the beast.

“It’s huge,” Seton said.

“Bloody enormous are the words, I think,” Banks agreed.

It was coiled like a snake around the base pillars of the rig, crushing them inwards even as its head and great jaw tore the superstructure above to shards of twisted metal. Now that he could see almost its whole length he saw it wasn’t entirely serpentine but had four legs, short and stubby, but each tipped with a four-clawed foot. The front two limbs tore at the lower reaches of the infrastructure; the little that remained of the helipad disappeared into the seething roil of water as the beast’s frenzy grew.

Only then did it seem to take note of the chopper. It looked up, and again Banks felt as if it stared directly into his soul.

“Higher,” he shouted as he saw the coils below tighten. “Higher, now.”

The beast threw itself up, impossibly high, lifting almost all of the great length of body behind it as the jaws opened and Banks looked down into the depths of its gullet.

The jaws snapped shut only yards below them, the subsequent wash of wind almost knocking them out of the sky and forcing Banks to grab onto a hold lest he be tumbled headlong out the open door.

He watched the beast fall. It hit what was left of the rig with a crash audible even this high above in the storm and everything disappeared in a wash of spray and foam which, when it cleared, revealed only a dark empty sea.

The beast had gone again and taken the rig down to the dark with it.