Thor would be the first to admit he wasn’t the most imaginative guy, but he understood exactly what she was getting at. In the last couple days—ever since the drill string had been destroyed—the air had acquired a strange weight. It was heavy, as if the universe was holding its breath, waiting for something. A chill ran over his spine, making his skin feel like spiders were crawling on it. He laughed again to hide his nerves. “Now you’re giving me the creeps. Let’s go see Liam’s monster, shall we?”
He linked arms with Flora, and they were almost at the stairs when he turned to face the ocean again. He didn’t know what made him do it—it was some kind of compulsion, he guessed—but he waved at the ocean like an idiot. “Bye, monster. See you tomorrow.”
“Don’t do that.” Flora hissed the words at him through clenched teeth, yanking his sleeve. The fabric cut into his arm, pinching his wrist.
“Aw, relax, will ya? I was just joking around.” He already regretted what he’d said. If the atmosphere on the ship had been heavy before, now it threatened to crush them.
“How can you joke about it? Liam’s nearly dead from blood loss and shock, and you’re about to subject yourself to the same thing. How can you possibly find this funny?”
The disappointment in her voice shamed him. He didn’t want her to think he was as big a jerk as the rest of the guys.
“Sorry, I was trying to lighten the mood. It’s a bad habit with me. I do it whenever I’m nervous.”
“Try not to do it again. Whatever’s down there didn’t like it.”
“Are you serious about this, Flora? Do you really think they’re sentient beings who are listening to every word we say?”
She glanced over her shoulder, and he could see sweat beading her forehead, though the evening was cool. “Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but I do. I feel like everything I say here is heard—and not only heard, but evaluated, as if I’m constantly being judged. Do you know what I mean?”
Thor didn’t like where the discussion was going. The more she talked, the more sense she made, and he didn’t want to think of the creature that way. It wasn’t capable of intelligent thought. It was only a dumb animal, no matter how extraordinary its existence may be. He had to think of it like that. If he began to believe Flora’s point of view, there would be no way in hell he’d have the guts to get in the water tomorrow morning.
* * *
When they got to the cabin, Liam was asleep. Or perhaps he’d passed out. It was difficult to tell.
They tiptoed past the messdeck, where the Neanderthals were laughing louder than ever. It pissed him off. For one, they’d no doubt finished Thor’s share of the beer by now. For another, it would have been considerate for at least one of them to stay sober, seeing as he was putting his ass on the line for them in the morning. He’d be surprised if anyone was able to stand upright tomorrow, let alone shoot straight.
He couldn’t keep pretending Liam was going to be fine. The man’s face was covered in ugly red splotches and his breathing was ragged. “What’s wrong with him?” Thor asked, before realizing what a dumb question that was.
Flora rushed to Liam’s side and touched his forehead.
“His skin is on fire. I think infection is setting in. Can you find me some painkillers?”
“I’ve got some aspirin in my bag.”
“No, it has to be ibuprofen or Tylenol. Would anyone else have something like that?”
“I could ask, but I doubt I’d get a coherent answer,” he said, as another burst of raucous laughter shook the walls. Making up his mind, he walked to Frank’s bunk and pulled down the sailor’s duffel bag.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He unbuttoned the outside pockets and undid the straps. “I’m finding you some painkillers.”
“But shouldn’t you ask first? Won’t the guys be mad if they find out you went through their stuff?”
“Hey, if I thought they were capable of rational thought right now, I’d ask. Do you want the pills or not?”
Flora stopped protesting, and he was glad. The last thing he needed was another conscience. Pawing through another guy’s things was against the sailors’ code. Technically, most of the men weren’t sailors, but since they lived on a ship, following the code was the best way to make it home in one piece.
Not that this crew had much to hide. A flask of whiskey in Archie’s bag (rotgut by the smell of it), a bit of weed and some girly mags in Frank’s (Thor was glad he wasn’t the one cleaning the sheets), and photographs of a woman with a sweet, lovely face in George’s. George, a softy? Who knew? It was in George’s bag Thor found the Tylenol, which he tossed to Flora. She whipped out a Swiss Army knife and crushed four of the tablets with the flat of the blade before mixing the powder with some water.
“Can you help me?” she whispered. “Someone needs to hold his head.”
He had no idea why she was whispering, since Liam was dead to the world and the other guys certainly couldn’t hear them, but there wasn’t time to ask. She was already tilting the foul concoction toward Liam’s mouth.
Lifting the engineer’s head as gently as he could, Thor was shocked by the heat of his skin. Liam’s hair was damp with sweat.
“Liam?” Flora took hold of his arm, shaking it gently. “Liam, you have to drink this. Please open your mouth.”
The poor bastard was clearly not happy about being awake, and Thor couldn’t blame him. Sleeping was probably Liam’s only escape from the pain, going by the way he thrashed and moaned.
As Flora forced the cup to his mouth, Thor noticed his lips were chapped and blistered. Half of the drugged water ran down his chin and soaked his shirt, but she seemed satisfied with how much Liam had managed to drink. Thor settled his head on the pillow again.
“Something isn’t right. He’s really sick,” he said. He couldn’t understand how Liam’s condition had deteriorated this much in the few minutes they’d been on deck. Had he done something desperate to hasten the demise he was so fond of talking about?
“We should get some ice. For his head. Cool him down a little. He must be uncomfortable.”
They both looked at the ceiling, toward the messdeck. Thor figured he could read her mind—she didn’t want to go there and deal with the rest of the crew, and no wonder. Most of them got along fine with him, and he didn’t want to go there either.
He was surprised to see Flora unwind the blanket from Liam’s body, exposing his bare legs. “What are you doing?”
“Shh…I have to check his wound.”
As soon as the blanket was pulled aside, she clapped a hand over her mouth and nose, stifling a retch. The room was filled with a sweet, sickening stench that made Thor’s gorge rise.
“Jesus Christ—what’s that smell?”
Still holding her nose, Flora pointed at Liam’s wound. Between the stitches, the skin looked even angrier and redder than before. But even worse was the pus. Every wound was weeping a sickly yellow fluid.
“Fuck.”
“Go get Frank,” she said, giving him a little shove. “And please hurry.”
Fuck fuck fuck. He didn’t need a medic to give him the bad news, and he knew from Flora’s expression that she didn’t, either.
Liam’s dire prediction was coming true.
* * *
The men’s voices stopped the second Thor appeared in the messdeck, which made him suspicious. Had they been talking about him? And if so, what could they possibly have to say that they wouldn’t feel comfortable saying to his face? It wasn’t like they were a crew of meek gentlemen.
He cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak over the lump that was wedged in the middle of it. “Frank, we need you below.”
Frank’s nose was bright red, with ugly purple veins Thor had never noticed before. The sailor blinked at him. “What do you want? I’m taking a break. It’s not my shift yet.”
“There’s something wrong with Liam.”
The sailor laughed. It was a hideo
us sound, as ugly as the veins on his nose. “Of course there’s something wrong with him. That boy is lucky to still have a leg.”
Thor had to yell to be heard over the chorus of responding roars. “This is something else. He’s got a fever, and some gross stuff coming out of his wounds. And he reeks. He’s stinking up the room.”
Frank grumbled in response, but Thor was relieved when he pushed his chair away from the table and stood, however unsteadily. “Probably shit himself. Surely you can change a diaper without my help.”
“It isn’t that, Frank. This is something with his leg. I’m not a doctor, but it looks pretty bad to me.”
“No, you’re not a doctor. If you were, you’d know not to disturb one when he’s on a break.”
The other men roared with laughter again, but Thor noticed Apostolos didn’t join in this time. Frowning, the big Greek followed them down the stairs. “I have some first-aid training. Maybe I can help.”
The smell had gotten worse in the few minutes Thor’d been away. By the time they’d made it halfway down the stairs, the stench hit them.
Frank staggered, pulling his arm across his face. He glowered at Thor. “Jesus Christ, man. What took you so long to come get me?”
“It wasn’t that bad before. Hell, it wasn’t this bad a minute ago.”
The men rushed down the stairs so fast Thor worried one of them would fall and break something. Frank hurried to the door and stopped short, coughing. When he looked at Thor, his eyes were watery. “Jesus Christ, man,” he repeated. “This isn’t right.”
If possible, the smell was even more powerful than before. Flora crouched in the corner of the room, clutching a small metal trashcan. “I-I’m sorry,” she said. “I puked. I couldn’t help it.”
“No one’s gonna blame you for that.” Frank straightened his shoulders and marched over to the bed. The stink rolled off Liam in noxious waves. Thankfully, the man was unconscious. He thrashed his head from side to side, muttering. Someone—most likely Flora, as Thor didn’t think Liam was in any state to do it himself—had re-covered his leg with the blanket.
Now that Thor was closer, he could hear an ominous sizzling noise coming from Liam, like bacon on a grill.
“What in the blue blazes of hell…?” Frank whipped the blanket off Liam’s body.
Thor cried out. Actually, if he were to be honest, he screamed like a bloody girl, but he couldn’t help it.
The men stared at Liam’s femur. All of the flesh, the healthy muscle and skin, was gone. Even Frank’s threadwork had disappeared. It was clear where the sizzling noise was coming from. As they watched, horrified, an oozing liquid fizzled around the base of Liam’s knee. The skin around his kneecap was dissolving.
“Quick, help me lift him. We have to get him to the shower, wash this stuff off,” Frank said.
Thor held Liam’s shoulders while Frank took his legs, extra careful to keep his hands away from that strangely fizzing liquid. When they touched his leg, Liam shrieked and promptly passed out again. Thor’s eyes filled with tears.
“Wait,” Flora said as they muscled what was left of their friend’s leg into the shower. Liam face was a sickly shade of gray, and Thor feared they didn’t have long. “Do you really want to wash that stuff down the drain? What if it corrodes the plumbing?”
“Then we’ll do without some showers, you selfish bitch,” Frank replied, turning the water on full blast. As it hit his bones, Liam’s eyes flew open. Thor tried to keep him from seeing his leg, but he was too slow. Liam started screaming and didn’t stop.
Thor had never heard a man in so much anguish. He wanted nothing more than to run to the deck, or grab a few beers in the messdeck and get himself properly pissed. Frank caught his gaze and shook his head. So Thor tried his best to hold Liam still, leaning on the man’s chest as he thrashed and hollered.
The screaming brought the other men downstairs fast. They sounded like they were tripping over each other as they pounded down the stairs. Clustering around the tiny bathroom, they were held at bay by the terrible smell and Liam’s shrieking, which was ear shattering in the enclosed space.
Thor’s stomach churned, and he took deep breaths from his mouth, hoping he could avoid throwing up.
“Holy fuck. What the hell happened?” George cried. Thor couldn’t risk turning to look at him, but recognized the man’s voice, which was thick with emotion and alcohol.
“We don’t know,” Frank said, and Thor saw the sailor’s hands were shaking where he held what was left of Liam’s leg.
A heavy clunk plunged them into silence. Blood—great crimson swirls of it—began to run down the drain. Liam’s leg had detached at the knee.
When Frank realized he was holding a sizzling calf no longer attached to Liam, he jumped, tossing the bone on the floor. Apostolos shoved past him, ripping off his own shirt, which he wrapped around Liam’s upper thigh and hip to staunch the blood. Sweat and water poured down his face as he applied pressure to Liam’s lower body. Frank slumped against the toilet seat, panting.
Thor focused on Liam’s face rather than watch whatever was consuming him from the inside out. The younger man was quiet now. His skin had lost that terrible gray color and appeared normal again. Thor put his hand to Liam’s mouth but felt nothing. Refusing to believe it, he pressed two fingers to his neck. The result was the same.
“He’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone? He can’t be gone. He just had a few cuts on his leg.” Apostolos’s tone was accusatory, but Thor tried not to take it personally.
“I think it was more than a few cuts, boss,” Archie said from the doorway. He pointed to Liam’s thigh, which was now nearly bone as well.
Thor wasn’t sure how long he sat with the water splashing his face and Liam’s head in his lap, but eventually George lifted him to his feet. The men slept on deck that night. No one could stand the smell in the cabin.
Chapter Fourteen
There are no glossy photos of proud fishermen standing beside our kin with triumphant grins on their faces. Even if one did manage to catch us, his fate would be sealed the moment he touched us.
There are fish that can feed on our blood, or our carcasses, if they’re fortunate enough to come across one before it dissolves, but most marine creatures keep their distance. Which is fine with us.
I felt guilty about killing the young man. It had never been my intention. He’d zigged when I zagged, that was all. If he hadn’t been set on taking those ridiculous photographs, he’d most likely still be alive. He would have scaled that rope and been on board before my tail whipped around and caught him.
Heaving a sigh, I forced the incident out of my mind. What’s done is done, and it wasn’t like the man’s death would cause a population shortage. I could devour entire continents of people, most of the planet even, before they’d need to get concerned about their species’ survival.
However, I’d seen how personally humans took everything, and I did not doubt I would be blamed for the man’s death, even though technically it wasn’t my fault. Pretty soon, they’d be hauling out the pitchforks and torches, or the harpoon guns, as it were. There was no reasoning with them. They didn’t appear to possess a wit of logic. Stubborn fools.
“I don’t understand why you care what they think of you,” my wife said when she noticed my glum mood. “We were here long before them, and we’ll be here after them. Their little whims and notions are nothing to us.”
“Did you hear what they called us? Monsters. A monster is an imaginary creature that’s large, ugly, and frightening. It’s insulting.”
Draugen laughed. “You’re proving my point. See what little they know? If we were imaginary, we wouldn’t be here, would we? I resent the inference that we’re something the human mind conjured up.” She shuddered theatrically. “And we’re far from ugly. If you ask me, humans are the ugly ones, with their tiny yellow teeth and their beady eyes. That pink, raw flesh and runny red blood—ick. They’re disgusting.”
/> “I think they may have a different standard of beauty than us,” I said, although as much as I’d observed the humans, I hadn’t been able to figure out what it was. I’d always thought my wife was beautiful, even when she was threatening to kill me—she was lovely in her rage, to be sure—but I could see why humans might think otherwise. They would probably find the sight of her terrifying.
“Pah. A fish has more sense.” She glided around the room at a speed that warned of her rising temper. So I didn’t bother to argue, although privately I disagreed. I didn’t think fish had any sense, period. These are the same creatures that swim directly into nets, or see a shiny metal hook and think it’s something good to eat.
“Can I bring the little boat down here today, so we can be done with this? Our son needs a new toy for his collection, and you know he’s never had a drillship. He’ll be thrilled.”
I thought of the humans, who were in the process of wrapping their friend’s body—or what was left of it—in blankets. They planned to store him in the cargo hold until they could get home and present the corpse to the man’s mother. Strange practice, that. The sailors of old simply dumped the bodies into the sea, where they could be food for other organisms.
I wish I could have told them it was useless.
It had been easier to keep track of the humans when the engineer was still alive. As long as some of my essence flowed through his brain, I had been privy to his thoughts, as well as everything that was said and done around him. With him gone, all I had was my link to the female geologist, and I wasn’t sure how strong that was or how long it would last. I’d have to risk going near the surface again to keep a proper eye on what they were doing.
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