“I’ve never had to do anything like that. I’ve never cut a man, ever.”
“You weren’t cutting him; you were helping him. You tried to save his life. If he doesn’t make it, it’s the creature’s fault, not yours.”
He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “There was so much blood, Duchovney.”
It had taken them over an hour to dispose of the bloody towels and sheets and wash away the evidence of their handiwork. So much blood. Not only Archie’s, but Liam’s. And George’s. And Frank’s. And poor Thor’s. Every time they believed they’d seen the last of the violence, there had been more.
“He’ll be okay,” she said, and they fell silent again, watching the rise and fall of Archie’s chest as he slept through the night.
Neither of them looked at his leg.
Chapter Thirty-One
The darkness closed in on him. I should have asked them to leave a light on. Ordinarily, he would never have admitted being uncomfortable in the dark, but things had progressed far past ordinary.
At least the screaming had stopped—both from the radio and the tortured man. And the wail of the saw—he couldn’t bear to consider what that particular sound meant. While it was happening, the shrieking combined with the music to create an unbearable cacophony, but the ship was silent now. Almost too quiet. The more Thor thought about the man and the way he had screamed, the more scared he got. What if the creatures return? What if I’m the only one left?
Flora.
He maneuvered himself into a sitting position, remembering all too well the penalty for moving fast. The collar of his shirt was caked with blood, but when he gingerly felt his head, he didn’t find anything fresh. The pounding behind his temples had receded too, but whether from the aspirin or the sleep he didn’t know.
The darkness of the cabin was disorienting. Had he slept for hours or days? He had no idea, but as he touched his feet to the floor, his stomach growled. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d thought of food. The lunch he’d shared with Flora had taken place a lifetime ago.
As he crept down the passageway, he was relieved to see light spilling onto the floor from Frank’s cabin. At least the electricity was working. The possibility of being trapped on this barge in perpetual darkness was more than he could bear.
The floorboards creaked under Thor’s feet, and the planks moved in tandem with the ocean, swaying side to side. Leaning against the wall for balance, he shuffled the last few steps to Frank’s room.
Someone was in the sailor’s bed, a great mass huddled under a blanket, and for a moment, Thor was confused. Had they brought Frank’s body inside? The thought disgusted him, but as he ventured closer, he realized the man was Archie. Or at least, it had been Archie.
The man’s breath came in choking gasps, and Thor knew something wasn’t right. He laid a hand on Archie’s clammy forehead like a mother would. The man’s skin was damp with sweat, but his temperature was normal. His color was horrible, though, as if he were dead already.
Guilt settled on Thor’s shoulders like a lead blanket. He’d resented Archie for leaving him to deal with Frank alone, but now it was obvious he really had been ill. Thor wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but it wasn’t as simple as the flu. He’d seen healthier-looking people in a morgue.
As he turned to go, Archie seized his hand, startling him. Thor’s head pounded as he clung to the bunk to steady himself.
“They took my leg, Thor.” Archie’s voice was a wheeze. Tears spilled down his cheeks.
Thor was tempted to dismiss it as the ravings of a sick man, but Archie didn’t seem delusional. “Who took your leg?”
“The Greek and Flora. They talked me into it.” Archie panted between each word, growing more and more agitated as he fought to catch his breath. “But now I’ve changed my mind.”
Thor couldn’t believe it. This voyage was a nightmare that would never end. Why would Apostolos and Flora remove Archie’s leg? The man’s lower body was hidden by a blanket, but the shape created by his right leg did appear suspiciously short. Thor noticed rubber sheeting draped over the lower half of the bed. “What was wrong with you? Why were you sick?”
Archie tried to sit up but didn’t quite make it, falling against the pillow with a series of raspy coughs. “It was the creature. Some of its—stuff—got on me. It was eating away my foot. But just my foot. Not this much. They took too much. Now I’m crippled. No one’s ever going to hire me.” He sobbed, hiding his face in his calloused hands.
Patting his shoulder awkwardly, Thor wondered how to comfort him. He’d been unconscious when the decision was made to amputate Archie’s leg, and he couldn’t say he was sorry about that. The screaming made sense now. He wondered how Flora had dealt with something so gory. Hopefully Apostolos had done most of the dirty work. “Someone will always hire you. You’re a good man.”
“But a man with one leg is not a man. Who’s going to want me? How will I ever face Marie again, or the kids?”
He wept harder as Thor fumbled for the right words.
“Your wife and kids won’t care, Archie. It’s you they love, not your ugly leg.”
Archie smiled a little at that, and wiped his tears on his sleeve. “Fuck you, Anderssen.”
“I’ll leave that to Marie.” Thor was relieved Archie’s despair had lightened somewhat, although he was sure it would return. Archie was accustomed to oilrig work, where being able bodied was a prerequisite. But there was not a doubt in Thor’s mind that as long as Apostolos captained a ship, Archie would have a job.
“It hurts.”
“I’m sure it does. Do you want some more aspirin?”
Archie managed a weak grin. “I think this calls for something a little stronger. Does the Greek have any more of that rum around? My head feels like it’s going to split in two, but at least it’ll help me get a few more hours sleep.”
“I’ll check.”
Like the rest of the crew, Thor knew where their boss kept his stash, but none of them had ever dared touch it, no matter how sick they were of lukewarm beer. If Apostolos had shared his rum with Archie, he must have felt the situation was dire. Thor nudged a couple of empty bottles out of the way as he left the room. Frank’s cabin looked like it had seen one hell of a party.
If only that were true.
* * *
The control room where Apostolos kept his rum was eerily quiet. Of course, the engine hadn’t magically returned to life since Thor had been unconscious, but he wished it had.
He was grateful to find the cabinet under the window unlocked. There were two bottles of spiced rye standing sentry against the side, as if they were hiding, but the rum was gone. Thor grabbed a single bottle and then returned to get the other. It was going to take Archie a while to get over the worst of the pain.
“Beer isn’t strong enough for you?”
Whirling around, his heart pounding, Thor saw a hulking shape in a chair in the corner. He exhaled in a rush. “Sorry, Captain. I assumed you were in bed.”
“Apparently.”
Apostolos was sarcastic but he didn’t sound angry, or at least nowhere near as angry as Thor would have expected. “It’s for Archie. He’s awake, and he’s in a lot of pain.”
“We had to take his leg.”
It was unnerving, talking to Apostolos without being able to see his face. For the second time that evening, Thor wished for light. “He told me. Was it the same thing Liam had?”
The captain sighed. “Looked like. I hope we got it in time.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help.”
“I’m sorry I was. Be happy you weren’t. Trust me, it wasn’t anything you would have wanted to see.”
“Is everything all right, Captain?” It wasn’t like Apostolos to mope around in the dark.
“Do you believe in an honorable death, Anderssen?”
His question gave Thor chills. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, Tomkins was babbling about it earlier, but I d
idn’t pay much attention. Now I understand what he meant. Wouldn’t you rather have a death of your own choosing than wait and be a victim of circumstance?”
Thor pulled a chair over to his boss, setting the rye on the floor. He still couldn’t see much of him, but every now and then, the clouds would part and a glint of moonlight would catch Apostolos’s eyes. “I’m well enough to fix the ship now, Captain. I just needed to rest for a bit. I can get us going in the morning.”
“I always said you had a hard head, Anderssen. Who knew that would turn out to be such a blessing?”
Before Thor could think of a comeback, gravity returned to the captain’s voice.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for me. You’ll have to run this barge yourself. I have no doubt you can do it. You always were the smartest guy on this ship. If you run into trouble, get Duchovney to help you. There’s no moss growing on that brain of hers either.”
“I don’t understand. What are you saying?” Thor gripped the arms of his chair. There was a resignation in the Greek’s voice he’d never heard before.
“Watch your eyes.” There was a click, and light from the battery-powered lantern on the captain’s desk shone in Thor’s face. Once his eyes had adjusted, he longed for blindness.
Tiny blisters covered Apostolos’s features. Or at least Thor thought they were blisters at first. But even before the heartbreaking truth dawned on him, he could tell it wasn’t that simple. The sores were alive, growing and opening and oozing as he watched. He dropped his gaze and heard another click as the Greek shut off the light.
“You can see why I’m sitting in the dark.”
“But how—?”
“When I removed Tomkins’s leg, I must have gotten splashed. I tried to be careful, but it was…messy.”
Seeing Apostolos’s face had been horrible, but sitting in the dark with him, knowing what was happening, was worse. Thor could hear the faint sizzling of the captain’s skin being consumed, and remembered Liam screaming in the shower.
Thor cleared his throat. “Does Flora know?”
“No. She went to bed before it started. The first one was on my hand.” Apostolos’s voice cracked. “I told myself it was just a boil, but then my face began to burn. It’s good she doesn’t see this. The fewer people who have contact with me, the better. It’s too easy for whatever this is to spread.”
“We’re not going to desert you, Captain. There has to be a way.”
Apostolos laughed. “Are you crazy? Did that knock on the head take away your sense? Would you like another look? I’m not going to sit here while all my skin dissolves. That’s not an honorable death.” He shifted in his seat, his open wounds squelching. “To be honest with you, I’m fucking terrified.”
The idea of the Greek leaving them without a rudder made Thor feel helpless and desperate, but he couldn’t argue. There was no point. At the rate the sores were growing, whatever was left of his face would be a bloody mess by morning.
“What are you going to do?”
Apostolos shifted again. Thor could tell he was toying with something, but he couldn’t see what it was. He didn’t need to.
“That’s been taken care of. If all goes well, I’ll fall over the bow, but if not, you’re going to have to push me over afterward. Don’t let Duchovney see. And don’t get anywhere near me with bare skin. Make sure you’re covered.”
Thor nodded, forgetting the captain couldn’t see him. “When?”
“At first light, I reckon. I want to see the sun rise.”
“We have time then.” He pushed himself from the chair, ignoring the pain that shot through his head.
“Time for what?”
“For you to show me everything there is to know about running this ship. And once you’ve shown me, I’m going to teach Flora.”
Thor expected him to argue, but the captain got to his feet, leading the way to the controls. “Just don’t get too close. And for the love of God, don’t touch me. You’re going to make it out of here, Anderssen.”
How he wished he could believe that.
Chapter Thirty-Two
When Flora shuffled into the messdeck at seven in the morning, Thor was slumped over a cup of coffee like he’d already been there for hours.
“Good morning.”
He lifted his head, squinting at her. “Morning.”
“How are you feeling?” Any optimism she’d had when she’d first woken had vanished when she’d seen him. He’d managed to clean himself up, but he still looked terrible, even though he was wearing a new shirt, and his skin and hair were no longer caked with dried blood.
“I’m okay.” He curved his lips in a weak smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “How are you? I gather I missed some excitement yesterday.”
Flora grimaced, shaking her head. “If I learned anything yesterday, it’s that I have nothing to complain about. He’s improving, though—don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I think so. You guys did the right thing.”
She poked around in the cooler.
“There’s bread left if you want toast,” Thor said. “But no eggs. I think we still have canned milk, and there’s plenty of cereal.”
She settled for dry toast. The thought of the canned milk, warm and sweet smelling, made her stomach churn. “If I get home, one of the first things I’m going to do—after I hug my son nearly to death—is go out for breakfast.”
“You will get home, Flora. I’m going to fix the ship today, but before I do, I’m going to teach you how to run it.”
Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. Why was every man on this ship determined to commit suicide? “You can’t try it again yet. You’re not ready.”
“Yes I am. In any case, we have no choice. We’re running out of time. We have a deadline, remember?”
He looked worn out and sad, the dark circles under his eyes adding at least ten years to his age. Flora reached out with her mind. “They’re not around. Or at least, they’re not close. I think they’ve decided to give us some room to do what we need.”
“How long do you think that will last?” Thor ran a hand over his stubble and rubbed his temples, wincing.
“They’re unpredictable. We can’t count on them, so we have to count on ourselves. Have you talked to Apostolos about this?” Flora assumed the Greek would agree with her. Thor was in no shape to go in the water again.
“Yeah. He thinks we should get the hell out of here as soon as possible, so let’s hope you’re a quick study.”
Flora had seen him twitch when she said the Greek’s name. “Where is he? I’d like to talk to him myself.”
“He’s gone, Flora.”
His voice dropped so low she had to strain to hear it. She could feel every muscle in her body tense. No. Please no. Not Apostolos. “What do you mean, he’s gone?”
“When he was—helping Archie, his face got splashed. He wouldn’t want you to mourn him. He chose to die with honor. At least he got to see the sun rise one last time.”
Tears ran down her cheeks. “Were you there?”
“No, he asked me not to be. I left him alone, and when I came on deck later, he was gone.” He leaned over and touched her shoulder. “It was the right thing to do, Flora. It was what he wanted. I saw his wounds, and he wouldn’t have survived the day.”
She drew deep breaths through clenched teeth, fighting to keep from sobbing. “What are we going to do? He was the only one who knew how to run this thing.”
“Not anymore. He taught me, and I’m going to teach you. Just in case.”
As Thor walked past her, she caught his hand in hers. It was soft as a boy’s. He wasn’t old enough to have developed any calluses, and the thought made her want to weep. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to stand in front of his mother, breaking the news that her son would never be coming home.
“There can’t be any ‘in case,’ Thor. I don’t want you to take the risk. You’re not well enough.”
His hand
tightened around hers, helping her to her feet. “I’m fine. Like Apostolos says, I have a hard head. He had a lot of respect for you, Flora, and so do I. Archie and me, we need your help.”
During her marine biology days, she’d been at the helm of many boats, but never a ship of this magnitude. Still, the mechanics of it were the least of her worries. All their preparations would be for nothing if Thor couldn’t get the boat fixed.
* * *
“Thank you.”
She was startled to see Archie sitting in bed, grinning at her. “You’re thanking me?”
“Sure, and why not? You saved my life, you and the captain. I’m not sure I would have had the guts to do what you did if the shoe was on the other foot.”
Her mind still reeled with the news of Apostolos’s death, but she forced herself to laugh at Archie’s bad pun. She decided not to tell him about the Greek, unless he painted her into a corner. “How’s the leg?”
“Itchy as hell.” He hooked his fingers into claws, pawing the air. “I’m tempted to tear it off myself.”
“That’s good, though. It means it’s healing,” she said with more confidence than she felt. She was sure she’d read that somewhere. She hoped it was true. “Can I take a look?”
“Better you than me.”
Peeling off the blankets, she was relieved when she saw the bandage she’d applied that morning was white and clean. Above the stump, there were no blisters or other sores. She covered the leg again, overwhelmed with gratitude.
“What’s the verdict, Doc? Will I live?”
She smiled. “For now. Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?”
“Thor brought me a sandwich a little while ago, but I’d love some more aspirin. And some water.”
Flora dropped the white pills into his cupped palm and handed him a bottle of water. She’d never suspected Frank would bring her anything but grief, but he was the only one who had thought to bring so many painkillers.
“Thanks,” he said. “I can’t see them helping much, but I figure it beats nothing.”
Monsters In Our Wake Page 16
