The Surface Read online

  The Surface

  Black Carbon #2

  A.J. Scudiere

  The Surface - Black Carbon #2

  Copyright © 2020 by AJ Scudiere

  Griffyn Ink. All rights reserved. No part of this document may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  * * *

  FIRST EDITION

  Contents

  Books by A.J.

  A.J.’s Renegades

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  About the Author

  Want a free story?

  Go to www.ReadAJS.com/join-now to get free short stories.

  * * *

  Look for other novels by A.J. Scudiere.

  Available in bookstores, online, and at ReadAJS.com.

  * * *

  The NightShade Forensic Files

  Book 1 - Under Dark Skies

  Book 2 - Fracture Five

  Book 3 - The Atlas Defect

  Book 4 - Echo and Ember

  Book 5 - Salvage (A Shadow Files Novel)

  Book 6 - Garden of Bone

  Book 7 - The Camelot Gambit

  Book 8 - Dead Tide

  Book 9 - Sabotage (A Shadow Files Novel) (available 2020)

  * * *

  Black Carbon

  Book 1 - The Hunted

  Book 2 - The Surface (available 2020)

  Book 3 - The Tempest

  Book 4 - The Swarm

  * * *

  Legends

  The Landa Landa & The Aellai

  * * *

  FORTUNE (red)

  FORTUNE (gray)

  FORTUNE (Red & Gray)

  * * *

  The Vendetta Trifecta

  Vengeance

  Retribution

  Justice

  The Complete Vendetta Trifecta

  * * *

  Stand Alone Stories - Available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited

  * * *

  Resonance

  * * *

  Dissonance - a companion novella to Resonance

  * * *

  God's Eye

  * * *

  Phoenix

  * * *

  The Shadow Constant

  * * *

  Stand Alone Novels by A.J. Scudiere: Resonance, God’s Eye, Phoenix, The Shadow Constant

  * * *

  A Collection of Blogs

  Smart Chickens - Deliver Us From Email

  Smart Chickens - We’re Not Like Other Families

  Smart Chickens - Tele Me More

  Smart Chickens - Omega Dog

  Join A.J.’s Renegades here: www.ReadAJS.com

  Praise for A.J. Scudiere

  "There are really just 2 types of readers—those who are fans of AJ Scudiere, and those who will be."

  -Bill Salina, Reviewer, Amazon

  * * *

  For The Shadow Constant:

  * * *

  "The Shadow Constant by A.J. Scudiere was one of those novels I got wrapped up in quickly and had a hard time putting down."

  -Thomas Duff, Reviewer, Amazon

  * * *

  For Phoenix:

  * * *

  "It's not a book you read and forget; this is a book you read and think about, again and again . . . everything that has happened in this book could be true. That's why it sticks in your mind and keeps coming back for rethought."

  -Jo Ann Hakola, The Book Faerie

  This book is for all the Renegades out there. The ones who joined my newsletter at DragonCon when we met. The ones in the Facebook group, who post the most wonderful, ridiculous, scientific, and fun things for me! The ones who write back to me when you get an email.

  When I started writing as a kid, I wanted to be a published author. When I was published just over a decade ago, I wanted to sell books and make a splash. Now, I realize that awards and movie options are great, but what I really love is knowing that you’re out there, whether we’ve met in person or not. I love that you’re waiting on the next book. I love knowing that you’re there each time I sit down to write. And I love that you take the time to reach out to me and tell me.

  THANK YOU.

  Acknowledgments

  As always, this book—by the time you hold it in your hands—is more than just my brainchild.

  It has been through first round edits (and all the publishing!) Thank you Eli. (Seriously, y’all should thank Eli, too. There are no A.J. books without her.)

  It has been through beta readers. Thank you, Dana, Victoria, and Julie.

  It has been through the editor. Thank you, Kimberley!

  Then it goes back through me… there’s usually drinking at this point. Then it goes to the advanced copy readers who often send comments and find any typos trying to weasel their way through into the final copy. These guys are warriors! Thank you to my ARC team!

  Lastly, this book in particular deserves a shout out to Wade de Gottardi. (Yes, if you read the NightShade books, that Wade.) He’s a Stanford grad himself and he put up with several months of me randomly asking him questions ranging from the perfectly reasonable to the bizarre. Yes, I took some liberties with the campus and the water, but that’s what stories are for. Wade kept me in line and directed me to all the “Stanford speak” and things I should know about being a student there. Thank you, Wade.

  1

  Joule looked down into the dark water that puddled at her feet. It seemed shallow here, but she didn’t step in. That was the problem with dark puddles: Sometimes, they were deep.

  A movement flicked at the surface of the otherwise still water. Maybe it was a bug. She was no fisherman, but there was something about the ripple that told her it had come from under the water, not on top. It was definitely bigger than a bug.

  Gingerly, she stepped one foot into the saturated grass at her feet. This was why she’d worn her rain boots: They covered her almost to her knees. I’ll be okay, she told herself and took another step.

  The water slid across the smooth rubber of her boot—navy with small white polkadots. It was still shallow enough that she could see her feet. Taking another step, she lost sight of the toe of her boot. The water only reached to her ankle now and there was plenty further to go, if it didn’t get too deep too fast.

  Glancing outward, the vast pool of water reflected upside down campus buildings to her. It would have been just a puddle, if not for the size. The rains had come hard all last week, with very few gaps in the showers. Sometimes, they’d come heavy and dark, with thunder shaking the buildings. And other times, they’d come light and misty, seeming almost enchanted. But the clouds and their water hadn’t stopped.

  The average rainfall in the Bay Area was just over twenty-four inches annually; this storm had dumped almost ten. Sliding in from the ocean, the storm had seemed to skid to a stop over the famed university. Now Stanford squished in all the places it wasn’t fully underwater.

  Today, the showers had lightened to a mist and the rain was predicted to—finally!—stop, but it hadn’t yet. Joule could feel the unruly waves of her wet hair tightening to ringlets, but she had a curiosity to satisfy.

  In front of her, the surface rippled again and she stepped forward slowly, letting her boot sink into the loose ground. Behind her, she carefully lifted her other foot, holding her ankle rigid and making sure the mushy earth didn’t steal her rain boot.

  Once she had her feet planted again, Joule breathed easier. From her back pocket, she pulled blue nitrile gloves she’d inadver
tently stolen from chem lab and snapped them on. She’d likely get water inside them, but if she touched anything… well, she didn’t want to actually touch it.

  “Are you okay? Did you lose something?” a voice called out behind her.

  Not wanting to move her feet, Joule twisted slightly, catching sight of a professor behind her. She didn’t know him. But it figured. A few other students had walked by, but no one had spoken to the young woman wading out into the crap.

  “No,” she called back. Then she turned her head again and looked him up and down. Wool pants, jacket with patches on the elbows. He couldn’t look more like a young associate professor if he tried. Maybe he was just a TA. But this puddle was in the middle of the science buildings, so she took a chance. “I thought I saw something in the water and I wanted to see if I could figure out what it was.”

  “Oh. That doesn’t necessarily sound safe.”

  It wasn’t. But he didn’t know what she’d done last year. Her smile was wry. “I’ll be fine.”

  “What if it’s a water moccasin?”

  Oh, good try, she thought, but kept it to herself. She called back over her shoulder as she took another tentative step forward. “Water moccasins are common to southern California, not up here.”

  “Yes, they were. But I have two in my lab that were locally caught. They’re moving northward.”

  So he wasn’t a student. He’d said “my lab.” Most likely he was probably a professor. She moved another foot forward and saw the ripple again. It didn’t have the “S” shape of a snake in water. “What are my chances this is a fat water moccasin?”

  The water was now halfway up her boots, deep enough for whatever was swimming around. She pushed forward, watching as each step took the water line higher on her boots. If it got within three inches of the top, she’d call it a wash and turn back.

  She took another step forward but frowned when she heard the water moving behind her. When her foot was planted firmly, Joule turned to see the man high-stepping his way through until he was even with her. Her mouth fell open.

  “You don’t have boots. You just ruined your shoes.” What was he doing? “And your pants.”

  “Well, whatever you pull out of here, I want to see it. And if you get bit by a water moccasin, someone will have to carry you out and call for help.”

  “I’m wearing boots. You’re the one who’s going to get bitten.”

  “Ah. Yes. Supremely bad choice on my part, then.” He only shrugged and she thought, He was probabaly already wet from this never-ending drizzle.

  He looked her up and down and she was about to frown at him again when he asked, “Are you stronger than you look?”

  A harsh burst of laughter exploded from her lungs, and she was glad she could at least say, “Yes. I am.”

  “Alright then.” He turned his gaze to the surface of the water and didn’t move his eyes as he spoke. “I’m Dr. Dean Kimura. Marine sciences.”

  “Well, that’s lucky of me. Joule Mazur. Freshman. Undeclared.”

  She, too, was watching the water intently. Neither of them had moved. She had four inches of clearance to the top of her boots, but Kimura was standing in his loafers… or maybe his socks?

  Perhaps his hasty arrival had scared away whatever it was. Now she waited, with a stillness and patience she’d learned the hard way. She was relieved he was here. What if it was a water moccasin? That was a threat she hadn’t considered.

  She had pushed the sleeves of her hoodie up until they stayed put around her elbows, as she fully intended to plunge her hand into the water. But she watched as the professor slowly unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. He’d lost the jacket. Probably tossed it away somewhere back at the edge of the puddle/pond.

  The water had been here for enough days now that she’d begun to think of the edge as “the shore.” His books and his bag must be back there, too, soaking up all the water they can. She refused to feel guilty.

  Producing his own blue lab gloves, he registered her raised eyebrow and only shrugged. He probably really was a marine sciences professor. She looked back to the surface and waited. Smooth and reflective, it showed her more of the endless gray sky, the tops of a few trees, and the sharp rooflines of the nearby buildings.

  At the edge of her vision, his now-blue finger flicked and she followed the point fast enough to catch the ripple at the surface about ten feet away.

  It was still here.

  But, even as she thought that, his finger flicked again and her head snapped the other way catching another telltale mark on the otherwise placid surface. “There are two of them,” she said, hoping she didn’t whisper like an idiot.

  “At least.”

  She didn’t like the tone in his voice.

  2

  Joule’s eyes flicked to the right, her normally steady heartbeats stuttering.

  Was that a shadow just under the tree? She’d been seeing them everywhere after yesterday’s foray into the water.

  Figuring she could prove to herself there was nothing there, she leaned in closer. She didn't see anything. Then again, what could she see? The water was dark and, in places, so muddy that something might be just below the surface and no one would know.

  “Joule!” The voice called from further down the street. Startled at getting caught staring into the giant puddle again, Joule cautiously moved a few inches further away from the water that hugged the sidewalk she stood on.

  In the distance, she saw a figure waving wildly at her. Though she was too far away to discern the facial features, it was easy to tell the young woman wore her tightly curled hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, shooting like a fountain above a perfectly symmetrical face. That alone made Joule certain it was Gabby approaching.

  She waved back, hand high over her head, the movement large enough to be seen as she kept walking forward. Maybe it wasn't Gabby, but it would be more embarrassing not to wave back. Again, though, Joule’s eyes darted to the side as a ripple formed in the standing water at the ditch.

  The water’s color was deep, somewhere between the darkest evergreen and black. She reminded herself that any number of things can be alive in the water—things that should be alive in the water.

  It might be something as simple as a current carrying a stick. After all, the ditches and gutters had been made for drainage. The water had simply gotten high enough that no current flowed now and they all stood still, backed up and waiting for something further down on the line to let them drain again.

  Focusing again on the figures down the street—definitely Gabby—she recognized the other person then. Tall and reed thin, Marcus would always stand out in a crowd, even though he most certainly didn't want to. The deep red Stanford sweatshirt didn't help. His parents, so proud of their son’s achievement, had spent their money on a bag full of school merchandise for him.