Not Yet Your Time by James Terminiello

Author:James Terminiello
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Koehler Books
Published: 2025-08-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Rust, metal fatigue, and gobs of dried lubricant made it a chore and a half for Arshad, Titus, Shen, and Kanenas to spin open the hatchway of the mysterious ARA Martires de La Rioja. The stench that roiled up from the darkness below nearly dissolved their nose hairs, and the sound of gurgling water was not a compelling argument for venturing into the dark and odoriferous void.

Kanenas staired down into the uninviting blackness. “Not much of a swimmer you know, my brother and sister refugees.”

“Go!” Aiza yelled. Her weapon carried particular weight at this juncture.

Kanenas grinned at her. “A torch would be lovely, my dear. Might bump my sconce on something rocky or metallic even before I get a chance to drown myself.”

The next moments seemed like an eternity but actually took mere seconds. Titus heard the sound of bashing at three of the enormous room’s doors. Arshad then commanded that everyone rush down into the hatch. Shen balked and then produced a brace of cell phones he had secretly discovered earlier. They were fully charged but not yet programmed, and they had flashlights. The rush was on to launch into the unknown.

Titus was the last to enter the hatchway and as he closed it, he felt the unmistakable vibration of concussion bombs designed to obliterate everything in the room above his head. He did not need to tighten the hatch. It was already being held down by growing layers of sparking and slithering bits of destroyed technology marinated with shards of dancing and spinning rubble. Titus had no desire to be anywhere near the ongoing conflagration, so he slid down the ladder like a hurried firefighter only to land ankle deep in icy cold, reeking, Hudson River water. He yelped.

“What has happened?” demanded Arshad aiming his gun on Titus for no good reason.

Recovering, Titus could not resist being enigmatic. He pointed upward. “They solved the problem.”

Kanenas, always quick on the uptake, took over. “Informed sources told this reporter that the terrorists, that would be you Arshad and my dear sweet Aiza here, tinkered with some secret technology and poof! All were lost. I, for one, will miss me. Such a lot to offer this world. Ah well. Life is short. Glow while you can. And fade nobly like a satisfied ember!”

“Who said that?” Sonata was strangely inspired.

“Me,” confessed Kanenas with a sheepish grin.

“So. We are dead,” concluded Shen. “Officially.”

Titus, who had the strongest sense of smell among them, was more for getting on with this fool’s expedition.

He offered his analysis. “Okay. Okay. The thems upstairs think they got us, but eventually they will sort through the mess and not find any human paste or Shen’s number five molar or whatever. If we hurry, we have just enough time to catch pneumonia down here.” He could not be upbeat, but he did see that the Pumpkin was beginning to fray, so he smiled. And it hurt.

“Where is this Hoboken place?” Aiza too was for getting on with it. She had already scraped her leg on something she did not want to identify in the watery murk.

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