Chapter 9 - The Man in the Fog
Sarah rushed to the workbench, her fingers grazing the salt-crusted leather boots. They were damp, coated in fresh ocean mud. Someone had walked in them this very morning.
""Don't move, and keep your hands where I can see them,"" a raspy, aged voice commanded from the shadows of the boathouse rafters.
Sarah froze, shielding Lily behind her shoulder. ""I'm Sarah Miller. David's wife. Marcus sent me.""
The silence hung thick for three agonized heartbeats. Then, the creak of wooden ladder rungs broke the quiet. An old man stepped down into the gloom. He had weathered skin, a white stubbled beard, and a blind left eye clouded with milky cataract. In his right hand, he carried a 12-gauge shotgun pointed toward the floorboards.
""Sarah?"" Elias Vance whispered, lowering the gun. His single good eye softened as he looked at Lily. ""God in heaven. David swore you'd never find this place.""
""Where is he, Elias?"" Sarah demanded, her voice cracking. ""Is he alive?""
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Elias walked over to the shortwave radio, turning the dial until a faint, crackling audio beacon pinged every four seconds.
""He's alive, but barely,"" Elias said quietly. ""He's trapped six miles offshore in an old underwater inspection habitat. The company cut the surface umbilical when they blew the rig. He's surviving on emergency oxygen reserves, and those reserves run out at midnight tonight.""
