12
BANDIT
“Exactly how far down does this thing go?” Rivulets of sweat ran down Fan’s forehead and the thin fabric of his donated grey shirt clung to his chest as the lift made its way down the inside of one of the Raft’s massive support legs.
“It actually goes down to around three hundred and fifty metres,” answered Gwen, clearly revelling in Fan’s discomfort. “It’s perfectly safe, but it is an old rig remember, down there it can get pretty cold and there’s strange noises that ring through the hull like something is out there trying to fight its way in.” She adopted a hushed tone and leant in close to Fan’s face. “You can almost feel the weight of the ocean waiting to pulverise you at any moment. You should hear the sounds it makes, the whole structure shifting and moaning as it fights
