A jet of freezing black seawater hissed through the rubber gasket of the ceiling hatch.
The water didn’t drip down. It sprayed with savage hydraulic force under one hundred and eighty pounds per square inch of overhead abyssal pressure.
“The ceiling wheel!” Mac yelled, ducking as saltwater splattered across his safety helmet. “It’s spinning open!”
Julian looked up through his peripheral vision.
High on the ceiling, the central cast-iron wheel of the escape scuttle was rotating by itself. Slowly, jerkily, the bronze locking dogs were slipping out of their steel wedges.
Outside in the inverted sea, someone was unscrewing the hatch from the roof.
“Keep your eyes on the deck plates!” Julian barked, his voice echoing off the steel bulkheads. “Rule 12-02! Do not look at the skylight!”
“My ears are buzzing!” Lin Mei cried, pressing her hands against the sides of her head. “I taste salt water in the back of my throat!”
