Rig Page 8

  J.D. smiled, lowering his head for a moment. Then he moved, his hand extending outwards, connecting with the side of her face. The movement was so rapid, most didn’t see it, but heard the explosive crack when his hand struck her cheek. She let out a scream, staggered back against the wall, stunned, her hand to her face.

  “You talk to me like that one more time,” J.D. said, “I’ll gut you. This isn’t a fucking democracy. This isn’t a business. This isn’t even the fucking army. This is my show and if you get in my fucking way, I’ll fucking kill you.”

  Rhonnie didn’t say anything else. She whimpered a bit, a small trickle of blood running from the side of her mouth. When Karmen stepped forward to touch her, Rhonnie snarled and slapped her hand away.

  “Now,” J.D. said, “Mark and Larry, did you find the surveillance tapes?”

  “Yes,” Mark said, “although they are DVDs, actually.”

  “Whatever,” J.D. said, “and Lazlo, have you found anything yet?”

  “I have some data printed out that might give us a timeline of events,” he said, getting to his feet. “I am raising the drill right now. None of the sensors on the end of the drill are working. I wanted to see it up close. With that storm out there, I don’t even know how we’ll reach it.”

  “One thing at a time,” J.D. said. “Larry, can we get back in touch with the mainland?”

  “I can try,” Larry said, “but with that wind and that storm, I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “Terrific,” J.D. said. “OK, I want you guys to get the DVDs, and Lazlo, you and Monica bring the data you’ve got so far. The rest of us, let’s get to that recreation room down here. There’s a DVD player in there, maybe we can study the tapes. We can’t do anything about the storm right now, so let’s just take things one step at a time. We’ll figure out something once things calm down.”

  Everyone moved rather slowly, unsure of what to do, then Mark nodded and began walking up the stairs. Monica, Lazlo and Larry followed. Rhonnie continued to rub her face, glaring at J.D., but she eventually knelt down to gather up the supplies she had dropped. Joe headed for the recreation room. Karmen looked up at J.D.

  “What if that storm doesn’t die down anytime soon?” She asked.

  “We either drown, starve to death or die of thirst,” he said, “or we shoot each other. Take your pick.”

  Karmen stared at him for a moment, then turned and walked down the hallway. J.D. looked down at Rhonnie, but she was busy picking up the last of her medical supplies and heading for the stairs. He decided it was best just to head for the recreation room, which is what he did.

  * * *

  They gathered in the recreation room minutes later. Even Rhonnie was there, hovering in the background, holding an icepack to her mouth and doing what she could to make a spectacle of herself and her injuries. The rest of them found spots on the couches in front of the television. Larry brought the DVDs with him and Monica and Lazlo had reams of paper in front of them. The building shook slightly from the wind outside, but no one spoke about that at this time. It was one thing at a time for the moment, and everyone had a set jaw, a poker face, looking serious and trying to concentrate on what they had in front of them.

  “These are the security videos of the control room,” Larry said. “They’re in black and white and without sound, but I am hoping we can match up the times with the data Lazlo and Monica have and try to figure out what they are looking at.”

  Larry sat down on the couch and hit play. The screen was blank for a moment, and then leapt to life, showing a slightly-fuzzy black and white picture of the control room. The room was bustling, with maybe six men and women, dressed in cover-alls and walking from one work station to another. Most of them were seated. They appeared calm, even slightly jovial, full of smiles.

  “This is right as the rig was going online,” Larry said. “They’re doing some systems checks before they start drilling.”

  “Everything checked out fine,” Lazlo said. “They had some minor issues, but they were quickly fixed and everything was ready to go.”

  “I’ll fast forward things,” Larry said, pointing the remote at the DVD player.

  The screen’s picture began to jump ahead, the time signature in the lower right-hand corner advancing. The people began moving rapidly, the picture jumping, the scene changing. Larry stopped it.

  “This is when the drilling really started,” Larry said. “It looks normal here, too.”

  “Everything was,” Lazlo said, flipping through his papers, “up until they reached the nine mile point. Things start getting weird right about then.”

  Larry hit the button again, once again the figures on the screen began moving rapidly, jumping ahead. People sat and then disappeared a second later, moving off-camera, then coming back in. The time flipped forward again, moving rapidly, forward, on the right side of the screen. Suddenly there appeared to be something flashing near the top of the screen, on the main display of the control room.

  “Right here,” Larry said, stopping and then pausing, looking at Lazlo, waiting for him to catch up.

  “Yeah, the drill started moving wildly,” Lazlo said, “ as if it had dropped into a cave or something. However, all of the geological indications were that there were no caves beneath this drilling spot.”

  On the screen, people began running into the room. The light continued to glow, eerily white in the black and white footage. People were shouting, their mouths opening wide, so J.D. figured there was an alarm going off somewhere. People were pointing at the main screen and then at their screens in front of them.

  “The temperature readings had been getting higher for a few minutes,” Lazlo said, still looking through his data, “but nothing that was causing anyone any concern. Then, the drill seemed to break through into a hollow space, oscillating and moving wildly. They stopped the drill, but the temperatures starting spiking. Spiking higher than anyone had ever seen. It’s certainly higher than I’ve ever seen.”

  “Look,” Mark said, pointing, stepping forward to point directly at the screen

  He came forward and pointed directly at what appeared to be a woman on the screen. She was holding her hands up to her ears, her face contorted in pain and discomfort. There were others, looking up, looking around, faces contorted in pain, confusion.

  “She hears the noises,” J.D. said.

  Mark nodded. Larry swallowed and began playing the footage again. People were running around faster now, seemingly frantic, hitting buttons, pushing keys on keyboards. The light continued, flashing, steadily, seemed to grow brighter, filling the screen, making it turn white. A man turned to face the camera, there was blood trickling from his nose, his eyes were filled with fear.

  “It was about this time that the mayday calls started, “ Larry said.

  “The temperature spiked into the thousands of degree,” Lazlo said, “then everything just cut off from the sensors.”

  The footage continued, the people on the screen appeared to be screaming. Another face turned and was caught by the camera, blood now streaming from the woman’s eyes, nose and mouth, her hands clasped to her head. There was an eruption of blood from the bottom right corner of the screen, splattering the console in front of the man, and he slumped forward, face down.

  “Christ,” Joe whispered.

  “Was there any blood in the control room?” Mark asked

  Lazlo, Monica and Larry shook their heads.

  On the screen, the light seemed to be getting brighter, the screen suddenly in negative, whites and blacks reversed. Then the screen turned completely white and then went blank. After a few moments of just a white and then a black screen, the television screen filled with static and snow. There was nothing more.

  “That’s it,” Larry said quietly.

  “I think I know why there are no readings from the sensors on the drill,” Lazlo said, “but I need to go outside and look at it.”

  “Are you insane?” Joe asked. “Didn’t you see the weat
her out there?”

  “The way to the drill isn’t quite as exposed, “ Lazlo said, “I don’t have to cross the open deck to get to it. Plus, maybe we can rig a way to tie ourselves on. I’d prefer not to go alone, if that’s OK.”

  J.D. nodded. “Fine, if you think this will help clear anything up. I’ll go.”

  “I’ll go too,” Joe said, reluctantly.

  “Me too,” Karmen said.

  “I think you should stay here,” J.D. said to Karmen.

  “Are you turning sexist on me, Kartos?” Karmen replied.

  “Not at all,” J.D. said, “I’m just thinking if myself, Joe and you all get washed overboard, these remaining folks might be totally fucked.”

  Karmen nodded. “Point taken, but I’ll be standing by the door watching. I’m not going to let you guys wash overboard without a fight.”

  “Fine,” J.D. said, “let’s grip it and rip it.”

  He turned, along with Joe and walked out of the room. Lazlo looked around at everyone else and then he stood up and walked out.

  “What does that mean, anyway?” Mark asked.

  Larry shrugged. “Kind of annoying, though, isn’t it?”

  “Very,” Mark agreed.

  Then the two of them walked out of the room, headed down the hallway. Rhonnie stood up and walked back to her conference room, still holding the icepack to her mouth. Monica shrugged and walked back to the control room, all of them were now carrying walkie-talkies and she held hers at her side.

  * * *

  The wind was howling to the point that they couldn’t hear each other without leaning into the other person and then screaming into their ears. Lazlo, Joe and J.D. had cables with clasps at the end of them wrapped around their waists and then affixed to a metal railing that ran from the building to the derrick and the drill. The door banged open against the building when they opened it and J.D. felt the air ripped from his lungs. He closed his eyes, wishing he had safety glasses or something, tears streamed down his face, the moisture ripped from his eyes and thrust down his chin.

  Lazlo moved forward, leaning forward into the wind, his hand up over his head. Joe followed suit, directly behind, his hand out, ready to grab Lazlo if he started to go over, or get washed away. The waves were still crashing down on the rig, all around it. It was a very strange sight to look slightly up at the tops of waves. The rig itself seemed not to move, and J.D. marveled at the technology that moored the structure to the bottom of the ocean. He too followed, walking slowly, his legs seemed magnetically attached to the surface of the rig. J.D. looked back to see Karmen holding onto the doorway, her own line attached, but staying back.

  The three of them moved forward, and it seemed like J.D. that it took hours. There was only the wind, stinging rain and sea spray, and constant noise. Waves crashed and the ocean moved. As J.D. looked out to see, seeing the waves rolling, he felt sick just watching them.

  They climbed, metal stairs, slick with salt water, their feet dragging against the metal. Finally, after an eternity, they reached a spot beneath the oil derrick. There was some semblance of a wall here, the wind slightly sheltered, but they still had to shout. As soon as they came into view, J.D. could see what had happened to the sensors and the drill.

  The end of the drill was a lump of melted metal. The long metal shaft ended, turning golden, then brown, then black, the end of the drill bit, where the teeth should have been to grind into the rock, there was nothing, just a lump of unrecognizable metal. The entire shaft seemed slightly misshapen, as if the entire shaft had gotten soft, and some force had pressed against it as it moved past.

  “That’s what I thought,” Lazlo said. “The temperatures were so hot, it melted the goddamn thing.”

  “Have you ever seen anything like this?” Joe asked.

  Lazlo shook his head. “As far as I know no one has. You’d have to punch through into a fucking volcano or the molten center of the earth for something like that to happen.”

  “Could there be some kind of volcano down there?” J.D. asked. “Maybe one that would release some kind of gas that would wipe everyone out?”

  Lazlo looked at J.D. as if he was an idiot. “You tell me what kind of gas would destroy every trace of the crew, including all of that blood that should be all over the consoles in the control room.”

  J.D. nodded, and then looked back towards the building. The rain and spray made it almost impossible to see clearly into the doorway, but he could make out a shape and determined it was Karmen, still standing there. He thought of the others sitting inside.

  “There any chance we could call into shore to get us out of here?” J.D. shouted.

  “The antennae is out,” Lazlo said, “besides, no way in hell they’d send a boat or helicopter in weather like this.”

  “What about those escape pods?” J.D. asked.

  “It would be a rough ride,” Lazlo said, “but they are built to survive weather like this. The difference is, that we would then be tossed around at sea, in a capsule, like being in a clothes dryer, until the storm died. Again, I doubt they would send anyone out in weather like this. Believe it or not, we’re safer on the rig right now.”

  J.D. looked at the melted lump of metal. “I’m having my doubts about that right now.”

  * * *

  Rhonnie sat in a chair, holding the icepack to her face and staring at the medical equipment she had laid out on the conference room table. Her lip felt as if it took up half of her face, easily. She pushed against the spot with her tongue and winced. She could feel small pieces of skin where her lip had collided with her teeth and she could still taste blood in her mouth.

  “Goddamn him,” she whispered under her breath.

  She couldn’t believe he had hit her like that. All she had done was go downstairs to check out the medical facilities. It didn’t make any goddamn sense to her to have their medical center in a conference room when there was a perfectly usable and equipped room downstairs. The fact that he wanted everyone close together made little or no sense to Rhonnie. Then, to hit her like that, and hit her so hard. What kind of animal was he?

  She held her head in her hands, fighting back the tears. She was mad, and she didn’t want to cry. She looked at the table, her eyes lingering on the scalpel at the end. He wanted to take that and jam it hard into J.D.’s neck, twisting it, letting the blood spurt as the jugular severed. She could picture it, taste the blood, feel the warm spray on her face and hands. She pushed the thought away. Reluctantly, she had to admit this group needed him.

  She stood up, pacing, walking over to the window, watching the huge waves as they washed across the rig. She was not afraid. She had no fear that something terrible would happen to them, or that the storm was dangerous. She felt secure. No one was shooting at them, things were just a little strange.

  There was a sound, just for a few seconds, the sound of screaming, of pain and torture. It was the sound of pain, screaming, men and women, and beneath that, a horrible, chilling growling, inhuman noise. It filled the room, burrowed into her head, for just a moment, like standing up too fast and getting momentarily dizzy. Then it was gone. She whirled, expecting someone to be standing at the door, she was sure of it, that there was something behind her, but there was only the room.

  “He’s making me jumpy,” she whispered.

  “He hit you,” said a voice.

  Rhonnie whirled again, turning back to the window. The voice seemed to be coming from behind her. She would have sworn someone had been standing directly over her shoulder, whispering into her ear. There was only the wall and the window, beyond that, the rig and the ocean.

  “Hello?” She said.

  “You let him hit you,” the voice said, quiet, and she couldn’t tell if it were male or female.

  “I did not,” she said, “he just came right over and hit me. Hard.”

  “Your face looks funny,” the voice said and then there was another sound, something growling, animalistic, and Rhonnie figured it was a laugh.
There was another blast of screaming, pain, torture, moaning, again as well. “He’ll do it again. Guys like him, they always do that again. You should know that by now, Rhonnie.”

  She gasped. “Who are you? Where are you?”

  “Right here,” said the voice and this time it was definitely behind her.

  Rhonnie turned, and gasped again. It was like gazing into a mirror, but this time, the reflection moved and talked on its own. She was looking at herself, standing near the head of the conference room table. She was younger, prettier, her hair blonde and long, her body firm and trim.

  “Hi,” she said from the head of the table.

  “What’s happening?” Rhonnie asked herself.

  “Does it really matter?” it said.

  “Am I going crazy?” She asked herself.

  “Again, does even that really matter?” It said to her, smiling her own smile back to her.

  “I need sleep,” Rhonnie said. “Maybe he hit me harder than I thought.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me,” her reflection said, suddenly walking around the table, moving slowly towards her, “but you should do that after you take care of J.D.”

  “Take care of him?”

  “You aren’t just going to let him get away with hitting you, are you? Like David did? Like Steve did? Like all those guys you were with that liked you use you as their punching bag? I thought you got past that, Rhonnie. I thought we did.”

  “I did – er- we did – “

  “I guess not, because there he was smacking you to the ground like the piece of white trash shit you always though you were. Knocking you to the ground and making you bleed. Why? Because he’s a man and he has muscles and he knows about guns and he knows everything.”

  Her reflection reached her, was only inches from her own face. The eyes weren’t right, didn’t seem to stay focused, or to one color. First they were blue, the hazel, then they were just an endless black. It was her, but it wasn’t her and this close, it was like looking at someone or something wearing a Rhonnie mask and costume. She could see it, whatever it was, just beneath the skin and clothing and hair, shimmering, like scales on a fish.