The Demon Crown: A Sigma Force Novel by James Rollins

Author:James Rollins [Rollins, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780062381736
Amazon: 0062381733
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2017-12-05T06:00:00+00:00

1:52 A.M.

Seichan braced her arms and legs against the fuselage walls, pinning herself within the plane’s wreckage. The Japanese bomber had cracked upon impact, splitting the hull in two. She kept her back to the cockpit, where the collapsed skeleton of the pilot still hung in a knot of moldering belts.

The name of the lake—Deadly Well—proved all too true for that airman.

Let’s hope it’s not the case with us.

She stared across the two-meter gap of open water that separated her from the aft end of the aircraft. Palu had crammed his shadowy bulk into that half. It was a tight fit. Due to the dark depths, she could only imagine the strained expression behind his mask.

Moments ago, the two of them had entered the fringes of this sunken graveyard. They had lagged behind the rest of the team—or rather, she had. Palu had kept at her side, likely upon Gray’s orders.

She had been having difficulty with her ScubaJet. It refused to click into its highest gear, forcing her to compensate with kicks to keep her moving as fast as the others.

Normally it wouldn’t have been an issue.

But her current situation was far from normal.

Even now, sharp knives of pain carved through her muscles. Her arms trembled as she pressed her palms against the inner hull. Every fiber in her back burned, sculpting her spine with fire.

She took a moment to lean on her Guild training. She quieted her mind, shuttering away the discomfort behind cold walls. She drew deeply upon the oxygen in her tank. She had been taught that pain was the body’s early-warning system. It did not necessarily equate to damage or disability, which seemed to be the case here. While everything ached or burned, she sensed her overall strength remained.

For now.

And now was all that mattered.

Gray and the others were in trouble.

As she and Palu had traversed the graveyard, the world ahead had exploded with a silent mushroom cloud of brilliance. The algae-coated debris field stood out starkly against that flare. Her mask’s goggles amplified the blaze, burning a temporary hole in her vision.

Still, she had left the night-vision gear in place and instinctively moved into the shadows—where she had lived most of her life. She scouted for shelter, drawing Palu with her, until she came upon the broken plane on the lake’s bottom.

They were lucky to have found it so quickly.

As she reached the hiding place, a two-man submersible had risen out of the depths. In the blaze of its lamps, she made out dark motes rising toward the surface.

Gray and the others.

Soon thereafter, bright boats appeared, skating across the roof of this watery world. With their quarry trapped, the submersible swung its nose toward the graveyard and headed this way. Its light swept back and forth.

Does it know we’re here or is this search merely precautionary?

Either way, she could not outrun it.

As it entered the graveyard, she studied her adversary. The submersible was really a two-man sled, what was known as a wet sub, with its riders outfitted in full scuba gear.

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