Read The Atlantic Abomination for Free Online Page A

flagstones Peter found. They gave a real shout on the sonar because they were almost clear of ooze. We’d better beacon the place, though, next time—I’m sorry.
    “You were quite right about what you thought were walls, Peter. We were afraid of starting an avalanche if we weren’t careful, so we thought we’d forestall it, and we set off a couple of four-ounce charges in the water near the site. Nothing happened, except that some of the ooze was cleared by the shock wave, so we judged it was safe and started following the line of the walls.
    “They outline a gigantic square; a sort of piazza, which may well be a hundred yards on a side. What’s more, it continues
downwards
. There’s a sort of enormous step higher than I am, on the downhill side. Since you left, presumably the loose ooze which slipped has settled or washed away a bit. Anyway, when we got there the edge of this ‘step’ was showing above the pile of mud.
    “Well, that’s as far as we got. Dick was outside clearing the base of a wall, when something that gave a sonar pulse came towards us. From the
deep
side, more or less on our level. I called Dick back. It was big, and if it was big it was probably also hungry, because down there the fish population eat each other more often than not. Anyway, it came into view. It was Luke.”
    Dick picked up the story in response to a cue from Gordon. “Well, I went out to him, not believing my eyes, and triedto talk, but he showed me that his sonar was full of mud and not working. I brought him inboard, and changed his oxygen cylinders right away, and we tried to get sense out of him by giving him the spare sonar set, but that didn’t help either, so we judged his mike must be out, as well.
    “We decided this whole thing was so incredible that we must head back at once. So we did. On the way, we managed to exchange messages with Luke by writing, but he was rather weak, and couldn’t write very clearly. All we got was that he had been trapped under the mud fall and lost all track of time. He seems to have been unconscious. When he finally recovered and managed to work free, there was no sign of the ’nef. He waited, hoping it would come back, but just before our arrival, he’d got lightheaded and decided to swim off. Catching sight of the beacon brought him back to sanity.”
    “And he is sane,” said Gordon. “We’ve examined him with all the facilities we have. He’s not only sane, but he’s in good health aside from bruises and weakness due to hunger. By the time he’s rested up—he’s asleep, so I haven’t asked him to speak for himself at this conference—he’ll likely be in perfect shape again.”
    Peter leaned forward. “Chief, something important. Can I ask Fred Platt a question?”
    Annoyed at being interrupted, Gordon grunted consent.
    “Fred, did you check Luke’s discarded oxygen tanks? How much reserve did he have left when Dick changed them?”
    “The meters said two hours,” Platt answered, and there was a murmur of incredulity. “So I checked them on the master gauge. Same result. Pressure was worth two hours.”
    “In which case,” said Peter as calmly as he could, “either he found a means of recharging them six thousand feet under the Atlantic—or we have a resurrected corpse aboard.”
    “Good, Peter! Good!” burst out Gordon, slamming his hand delightedly on the table. “It’s fine to hear you reasoning sensibly like that.”
    Peter blinked. “It’s inescapable,” he began, but the Chief cut him short.
    “Yes, of
course
it’s inescapable. I said it was even before this happened. Luke is back, and well, from a situation that ought to have killed him. It’s not accidental. Can’t be. And he himself says he doesn’t remember finding what I suppose is just conceivable; an oxygen generator left behind by the builders of the city and still in working order. Yes, I agree that is ridiculous, but it’s just not out of the question. Dismissing that, though, we