by London Shah
Stifled sounds emerge. Groaning and snarling. Struggling. I creep toward them. The brolly won’t hold still; I’ll never take accurate aim if I can’t stop the shaking. There’s somebody ahead. Ari.
My eyes widen. He’s locked in battle with an Anthropoid. His T-shirt’s ripped, and blood and deep scratches cover his chest and shoulders. Groans fill the air as their blows land. Each thump makes my insides lurch. Something on the floor to my right catches my eye. I freeze.
It’s one of them.
It lies spluttering as it tries to move. It’s a he, and it has Ari’s knife plunged into its neck. Oh God. My hand flies to my mouth; I can’t scream. I cower, breathing hard and fast. Think. Except I can’t stop staring at it.
An actual Anthropoid, not several feet from me.
It looks so human. Except it isn’t. I really am this close to one of the most vicious creations to have ever existed on Earth, and still it seems so human.
The beast is unbelievably strong. It refuses to die, despite the knife lodged in its neck. Jojo whines, her ears cocked. Does the puppy know? Does she suspect this is an impostor?
Focus. I turn to pick Jojo up. She isn’t there. Oh please no. A loud clanging and heaving fills the space. Where’s Jojo?
I peek around the corner, my brolly pointed. The struggle continues as punches fly in every direction. They move too fast for me to get a fixed aim on the monster, and even if I did manage it, I can’t use the tase device—it’ll also take out Ari.
He’s on top of the beast when the thing flings him off, sending him sprawling backward.
Jojo barks from somewhere behind.
Ari swings his gaze in our direction and spots me. “No! Get back to the saloon, Leyla!”
It’s too late.
The Anthropoid cranes its neck and sees me. Its sharp blue eyes shine when they catch sight of me. I back away.
It strides in my direction. Oh my God.
I scream.
An exhausted-looking Ari moves toward it once more. But as he passes by the spluttering form on the floor, it reaches out, its bloody hand taking a firm hold of Ari’s ankle. Ari shouts for me to run just as the monstrous figure yanks him down, its eyes enlarged and nostrils flared. They both get up and launch themselves at each other, tumbling together out of the engine room and into the passageway.
I run, cowering behind a huge copper tank, Ari’s bruised and bloodied state seared into my mind.
Where’s the other beast hiding? Where’s Jojo? Should I make a run for it? My whole body trembles now, my hands, arms, legs, everything fails me all at once. I wipe my sweaty palms on my robe; I’ll need a firm grip on the brolly. Movement to my left catches my eye.
The Anthropoid. It walks toward me.
Jojo makes a desperate dash for the other side of the engine room.
“No! Come back, Jojo! Get behind me!” I point my brolly at the thing.
It ducks behind a tank and sprints toward a terrified Jojo. It’s impossibly fast and grabs her, breathing hard and heavy. I scream. The woman is around thirty. A thin, gaunt face with sandy hair. She—it has high, narrow cheekbones and long arms and hands. It’s dripping wet. Its eyes . . . Frosty and bright, they seem familiar now as they bore into mine with such ferocious intensity. Where have I seen those eyes before? It’s such an icy look and yet I feel as if I’m burning alive. So much hatred.
It wraps its hand around Jojo, and I notice the missing fingers. It’s the same Anthropoid that took part in the attack on Brighton Pier—the one caught on camera.
Jojo. She’s visibly trembling in its arms. I swallow to combat the dry throat. It makes it worse. And the dread . . . the dread threatens to rise up and drag me somewhere deep down.
I clutch my abdomen; am I going to be sick? “L-let go of her. Please. Don’t hurt Jojo.”
It shrieks, a long and raging sound, turns to me, and says, “Why isn’t our pain as important to you? Why should we suffer—watch our loved ones blasted to pieces—and not you? WHY?” It’s screaming now.
Freezing nausea sweeps through me. And I can’t look away.
I can’t look away because along with the beast’s brutality, its loathing and raging, the bloodthirst and all the frenzy, there’s something else there, too.
I think it’s pain.
I don’t understand it, but it’s there. And I can’t stop shaking my head at the horror of it all. I scream as it glances at Jojo in its hand, swings its arm back, and hurls her through the air.
No. She flies across the room and hits a round silver valve attached to one of the tanks. A barely audible yelp echoes as she lands. She lies quivering. The white fur on her head reddens at once. No, no, no.
I scream and scream and stumble back as I call out to her. The brolly falls. Jojo just lies there. Before I can regain my balance, the thing closes the distance between us and grabs me. The room spins. And then all I know is pain.
Hands pummel me, agony radiating from my chest, shoulders, back. I gasp, fighting to breathe. My lungs are failing. Nerves explode everywhere. My limbs aren’t mine anymore, refusing to obey me. I crouch into a ball on the floor, begging it to stop.
For a second I think it might.
For just a second, as its face hovers above mine, something unexpected flickers across it. . . . Something like sympathy.
But then rage rides in, sweeping away any hint of compassion, and it grabs my head and hits it against the floor.
A tsunami of pain. Everywhere. Dull pain pulsing inside my skull, a sharp cutting pain speeding down my spine, and hot, burning pain radiating throughout my body. I take short, quick breaths. Don’t black out.
My pulse scares me; my heart will burst out of my chest if it gets any louder, faster. My sweat soaks the robe. The Anthropoid stomps on my hand, and several cricks fill the air. A strange sound leaves my lips, muffled as I bury my face in my arm. It’s too much. My face burns with sweat. I can’t escape its loathsome eyes, no matter where I look. The heady smell of hot metal is suffocating; the room has shrunk.
My fingers hang limp. “I—I’m begging you, please s-stop.”
It shakes its head. “Never,” it says, baring its teeth. “From now on we avenge each and every one of our dead.”
“Y-you can’t—you can’t go around attacking us, and not expect us t-to retaliate. You hurt us. You t-terrorize us. We can’t live like that!” I break into more sobs.
“LIES!” it screams.
Blood trickles down my forehead and cheek. Rust in my mouth; bitter and warm. The brolly . . . I can’t reach it. I gulp for air.
“Oscar.” I whisper it into my armpit as I lie crouched in a ball. I’m not sure what I expect to happen, but I’m desperate. “Oscar.” It’s probably not loud or clear enough.
“You summoned me, my lady?”
I bloody did. A sob rises in my chest, his voice a beam of light in the darkest depths.
The Anthropoid’s eyes bulge, and its face scrunches up at the sudden sound of the Navigator behind it. It turns around to face Oscar.
It’s hard to crawl when every muscle in your body has betrayed you. And I’m finding it near impossible to focus. I can’t take my eyes off the beast’s back as I shuffle the few feet and grab the brolly.
My hand shakes violently as I lean back to aim. The two limp fingers aren’t helping. I recall Theo’s instructions. Now. I press the tase button.
Nothing.
The beast tries to grab Oscar, its hands falling through the air.
I try again. The button’s jammed. No. I inhale sharply. Huge mistake. It turns to me again and moves toward me.
I clench my mouth and repeatedly jab the button. Come on! It finally depresses. Now. I aim the brolly at it and press again on the tiny green button with everything I have.
A buzzing, zapping noise reverberates around the room. The thing shudders. Its whole body convulses as it stares at me, eyes wide and mouth open.
Using both hands to combat the trembling, I aim and fire again. Once
more the room fills with the dull droning sound. I keep my finger pressed down. Finally, only several feet from me, the Anthropoid staggers back. It falls, hitting its head on a pipe before meeting the floor. It twitches.
I sit up, crying out and holding my head. Shuffling closer to it, I aim and zap it again. Somewhere, at the back of my mind, there’s this feeling too much will kill it. I don’t even care. The trembling is alarming now; I just can’t stop shaking. It finally stops moving.
I aim for its heart and zap it once more.
I force my voice out. “Jojo?”
The puppy utters a sound in reply but stays where she is. Her once gleaming white coat is blotched a bright and baleful red.
“Oh, Jojo . . .”
I shuffle toward her, cradling her, stifling a scream as my limp fingers brush against her and radiate agony. I grab a pipe and haul myself up. The room spins. There’s a hammering in my head and my neck aches. The spinning eases and I force my feet to move. The Anthropoid lies there. Focus. It’s impossible; everything’s fuzzy. Every muscle in my body seems to have gone rigid. I turn to the Navigator. It’s an effort to raise my voice above a whisper.
“Heartbeats, Oscar . . . Is there an uninvited guest in the engine room?”
“There is not, my dear. There are only the heartbeats of my lady and Jojo.”
A sob escapes my lips and my shoulders slump. I stare at the dead Anthropoid. I’m glad.
Holding Jojo, I open the door; the passageway spins before becoming clear. And I see them both. The monster—panting and dripping in blood—looms over Ari, who’s up against the wall, its hands wrapped around his neck. Oh God. I freeze.
It’s as if I’m watching it on-screen. Ari starts to slump down against the wall, the beast hunching over him as he does. And then Ari slowly reaches up and wrenches the knife out of the Anthropoid’s neck.
I lose count of how many times Ari stabs it.
I don’t even look away.
It’s as if none of it is real. The knife goes in—blood comes out. Again and again.
The ferocious being finally staggers back. It jerks. The eyes bulge. All the muscles in its face tighten. It claws the air, choking, clinging to its artificial breaths for everything it’s worth. Which is less than nothing.
Its mouth twists and blood splutters and seeps from everywhere. It reminds me of orcas in battle. Except orcas might have more compassion.
At long last, its hands stop scratching the empty space, and it slumps facedown onto the floor. The body twitches, then stills.
I can’t stop shaking my head, and my body won’t stop trembling. My breathing is too fast and raspy. A pool of blood spreads around the monster. I cling to Jojo.
Ari stands there looking at it, a stunned expression on his face. Cuts and blood mar his gold-coppery skin, his body already swelling. His chest rises and falls, exhaustion in every breath.
As he notices me, his mouth falls open, his eyes flitting between Jojo and me.
I killed the other beast, I want to say. But the words are stuck. And my ribs hurt from breathing alone, never mind speaking.
I swallow and point at the engine room behind me. His eyes narrow.
“Go,” he urges, his voice barely audible. “Back upstairs. Lock yourself in the saloon and see to you and Jojo. Please, Leyla,” he says, when I haven’t moved.
I blink rapidly before dragging my feet toward the stairs, taking care to step around the expanding channel of blood.
I make my way up to the saloon, secure the door behind me, and lean against it.
An incessant drumming beats inside my skull, a dull, pulsing agony. I squeeze my eyes shut in the hope things will be clearer when they open. But no. A void rises inside. I push it back down. Right, the Medi-bot for Jojo.
I make my way to the cupboard, hugging the whimpering puppy close. Oscar speaks. What’s he saying? My head is going to explode, surely. An unbeatable vacuum rises up, sucking me inside.
I catch my breath and slump down, hitting the floor.
“Steady . . . and increase the thrust,” Papa instructs me. “Trust those instincts, Pickle. I’m right beside you.”
I’m eight, driving a sub for the very first time. I’m hesitant but also desperately want to try it. I increase the speed, dip low, and zoom over the rust-and-coral-covered steel wall of the Thames Barrier. I’m free. “Look, Papa, I’m flying!”
Papa laughs, his heart in his eyes. “Yes, you are!” He beams.
“Papa? You’re my wingman.” I giggle.
His eyes fill with emotion. “Pickle, you’re my entire world.”
Everything falters just a fraction. I try to hold on. I can’t. I’m pulled back, rudely plucked from such a perfect moment in time.
My eyes flutter open. The corners of my mouth curl up. Papa. And this time he wasn’t suffering. This time it was a real memory. I blink rapidly. I’m on the floor in the saloon. My hand is wet. Red. My eyes travel down. Jojo’s nuzzled close to me. Blood seeps from her ear, her eyes barely registering me. Oh God. I gasp as I remember.
I sit up and wince. Hurried footsteps sound from somewhere. The door opens and Ari rushes over. His expression is the heaviest I’ve seen, his eyes dark and troubled as he takes in the scene, his gaze darting from my face to Jojo, and back to me again.
“Slowly,” he says. “You must have blacked out.” He picks the puppy up and checks her wound. “Jojo needs stitches. I will see to her. How do you feel?”
I push my hair out of my face and yelp, jerking my hand away. I bite down hard on my lip. Ari’s gaze travels to my misshapen fingers. Rage and concern take their turns, but it’s the consideration that reaches his eyes.
I check the time. I’ve been out for over an hour. I grimace. How could I cave in at a time like this? Jojo gives a faint whine.
I take deep breaths. My head feels like it will implode. Everything hurts too much, and I can’t think straight. I clear my throat. “Yes,” I whisper. “Please see to Jojo.”
He hands Jojo to me and I cradle her in my arms as he gets to work following the Medi-bot’s precise instructions. He grabs the medical supplies from the cabinet. “There’s only one Medi-bot?”
“I think so. Jojo first.”
He cleans and prepares the puppy’s ear. “What—what did you do?” I ask, keeping my eyes on Jojo.
“They’re gone. I used the waste disposal unit.”
“They’re no longer on board?”
He shakes his head. I slump in relief.
The muscles in his face flex. “I’ve ordered Oscar to keep going. And to crush anything that gets in our way.” Her stitching done, he gently scoops Jojo out of my arms and lays the bandaged and medicated puppy inside her Bliss-Pod to rest and heal.
He returns to me and picks the Medi-bot up again. I can’t tear my eyes away from his wounds; my breath hitches. That thing really beat him.
He sighs as he looks at me. “You need a full scan, Leyla,” he says softly, his expression tender. “Everyone must be checked after an attack for injuries.”
My heart falters as I absorb his words. As I watch him, conflict clouds his gaze, shadowing his expression, and there’s a telltale grim set to his lips. And I realize . . .
He’s been in this situation more than once.
He offers his hand and I take it, so grateful for it as I rise to my feet; I squeeze it as the room spins a little but let go once it stops. He holds the Medi-bot in front of me, and a beam runs over my body. Within seconds, my diagnosis hovers in the air:
Concussion, two broken fingers in the left hand, a fractured rib, surface wounds. Treatment: Fingers to be protected with a splint—no realignment required; cleaning, sterilizing, and treatment of surface wounds; ice pack on affected rib; painkillers; rest.
My shoulders slump with relief. The concussion could’ve been so much worse.
The bot secures my fingers, binding them together. A quick jab from its needle and a painkiller is immediately coursing through my body.
Ari looks in on Jojo before walking over to the viewport, his bearing stiff as he sits. Bloodstains smear his shoulders, arms, and chest. I look down at the Medi-bot, walk over to him, and place it on the floor beside him.
I clear my throat. “You should use it, too. The Kabul . . . Is she secure?”
“Oscar carried out a full security sweep—twice. She’s secure.” He stares into space.
He’s far away somewhere. There’s something different about him, but there are so many other things I have to try and focus on right now.
I nod. “I need to check, see it for myself.”
Grabbing my brolly, I hold it out in front and open the door. Silence. Only the submarine’s usual thrum. I take a deep breath and edge into every room upstairs. Nothing. Nobody. I gasp and shudder as I catch sight of my reflection.
The robe fell open at some point, and my white nightdress is torn, crimson blotches everywhere. Even my face has scarlet smears across the cheek. Nausea sweeps over me. I avert my eyes.
I stumble away and creep down the staircase. My knuckles turn white as I grasp the brolly. The giant that Ari knifed is missing from the passageway, the corpse no longer where it fell. Though blood is still strewn about, there’s far less than before. Something moves on the edge of my vision. I gasp and swing around, pointing my brolly.
It’s just two Maid-bots working away. I didn’t even know the sub had them. The bots spray something on the walls and floor and continue cleaning the place up.
I peer into the moon pool room through the window. Nothing. I have Oscar confirm the number of heartbeats on board. Three. He could be mistaken, though. I move from room to room. No sign of anybody.
There’s only the engine room left to check. My finger hovers above the brolly’s tase button as I step inside.
The Anthropoid really is gone.
I tremble. The dread swells and rises, gathering force until it crashes into me, plunging me back into that deep chasm of terror and pain. The frenzy of the beast. The hatred. And Jojo . . . It’s too much. If only I’d been able to tase that thing before it hurt Jojo.
If only I’d locked the moon pool door.
I return upstairs. Ari remains in the viewport, gazing out. Clasping my hands tight, I swallow, fighting the tears that threaten to leak.
