Infestation

by William Meikle

  “Shoot the antennae,” the Russian woman shouted. “They’re blind without them.”

  “You heard the lady,” Banks called out. “Put these buggers down.”

  *

  The downside of aiming for the larger of the beasts meant the small ones gained more of a foothold and several scurried quickly up the side of the superstructure. One reached the rail and tried to clamber over; Mac sent it back down with a punch to its belly.

  “Don’t touch them if you don’t have to,” Banks shouted. “Remember what happened to Nolan.”

  He pulled Hynd aside.

  “Give the lady a gun; we need more strength on the bloody hatch.”

  Hynd had Nolan’s weapon slung over his back. He removed it and handed it over. The Russian took the weapon without a complaint, checked the mag, then stood at the rail next to Mac. Banks was glad to see she knew how to handle herself; it saved hassle he didn’t need right then.

  He bent beside Hynd and both of them put their weight into trying to turn the hatch wheel. It began to give with a screech, loud even above the noise of the gunfire.

  McCally had to step back to reload; one of the beasts took the opportunity to scurry up and over the railing. Briggs put it down with a burst but he had taken his eye from the main body of them and two more scurried up to the top. The woman, Svetlanova, blew the head off the first and Mac took the second, by which time McCally had reloaded and rejoined the fray. But the beasts were now much nearer the top of the superstructure now and all four of the defenders had to step back as more came up to the rim of the rail.

  “The antennae. Shoot the antennae,” the woman shouted again.

  The sound of gunfire rang and echoed all around as Banks and Hynd strained at the hatch opening.

  “Put your back into it, Cap,” Hynd shouted. “It’s coming.”

  The wheel turned, slowly, too slowly; the beasts were now scurrying and clambering at the top rail and even the combined power of four rifles wouldn’t keep them at bay for long. Parts of the beasts flew as the concentrated fire blew antennae, limbs, and shells to pieces and the roar of gunfire was deafening, even with the earplugs tight in Banks’ ears.

  But the wheel kept turning, even as the rest of the squad had to take another step back from the rail. All four of them stood in a line only a yard from the hatchway. Finally, the wheel gave all the way and Hynd was able to lift the hatch; just in time as the beasts poured over the rail in numbers.

  “Back to me,” Banks shouted. “Ladies first.”

  Hynd helped Svetlanova drop through the hatch, then all five of the men stood in the line, pumping rounds into the beasts, sending them dancing and capering on top of the rail as the bullets strafed them.

  We can’t keep this up for long. Time to go.

  “McCally, you’re up next. Get below.”

  The young Scot backed away, still firing until the last moment before he too dropped down the hatch.

  “Sarge, you next. Make sure it’s all clear below. We’re right behind you.”

  The sergeant fired off a volley until his weapon went dry, then dropped away through the hatch. The three of them remaining were now sorely pressed to keep the beasts at bay.

  “Briggs. You’re up,” Banks said but the man either didn’t hear or was too involved in the battle to pay attention. He stepped, not backward but forward as one of the larger beasts came up to the rail with its antennae waving high above them, front limbs already reaching toward the men. Briggs was shouting now, incoherent cursing as he fired, not at the beast’s head but directly into its belly. A blue shimmer rose up but the bullets did not affect the beast. It fell forward off the rail and its front talons raked across Briggs’ chest, sliced and sliced again. The top half of the man’s body came apart like ripped tissue paper.

  “Get the fuck down the hole, Cap,” Mac shouted. “That’s an order.”

  As he was closer, by a step, Banks knew to hesitate might mean the death of both of them. He went down the hatch as fast as he could manage, falling more than stepping, six short steps down a ladder. Above him, Mac emptied his weapon and lunged into the hatch. Banks saw the Glaswegian reach to pull the hatch shut, saw a long limb cut, slice, across Mac’s left arm, then the hatch slammed closed, the deafening clang echoing for seconds around them.

  - 10 -

  It had all happened so fast Svetlanova had barely had time to think. From the sudden death of the Irishman, meeting the British team outside the engine room, to the battle on the top of the superstructure and now, back in the control room, it had all happened in a blur of movement and a roar of sound and flying bullets. Now her ears rang, like church bells, too close, inside her skull and she wondered if she might not be permanently deaf.

  The thinner man, Hynd the captain had called him, bundled her, first out of the small room below the hatch, then down a spiral staircase to the control room. He took one look at what was left of Nolan in the chair then wheeled the body, chair and all, through to the small scullery and closed the door on it. He couldn’t disguise the mess on the floor; green goop, hardening, almost resinous, the last remains of the man she’d spoken to less than half an hour before.

  Hynd took the hot rifle from her and said something but although she saw his mouth move, she couldn’t hear a word, only the ringing in her ears, accompanied by a dull headache threatening to turn to pounding at any moment. She motioned with her hands at her ears.

  “Deaf,” she said, hearing only the faintest whisper of her own voice in her head but he got the message.

  The rest of the men came down the stairwell into the control room. She saw them reload their weapons with magazines from their webbing belts but didn’t hear the clunk as the new mags were rammed in place. There was only the constant ringing in her ears and no sign it was fading.

  She needed to distract herself from her fear of deafness. She saw out the main window that the beasts had forgotten all about them again and were either milling aimlessly around the forward deck or feasting on the scraps and remains of their fallen.

  What could have set them off?

  She might have an inkling of an answer but the thought was driven away as she looked at the men; there was one missing, the stocky quiet one whose name she hadn’t caught. And the others were ashen-faced and stern; she knew the look only too well.

  They lost another man.

  Then that thought too was dismissed; the last man down held his left arm in his right hand and dripped blood on the steps. The captain was already getting bandages from the wounded man’s backpack. Svetlanova remembered the green slime running in the dead Irishman’s wounds.

  “Wait,” she said and they all turned sharply; she’d spoken too loudly. “Don’t bind the wounds yet,” she said, trying to be quieter and headed for the scullery. She avoided the chair and the mess lying in it and went straight to the sink and the cupboard below it. She found what she wanted almost immediately and hurried back through to the control room.

  “Bleach,” she said, trying to keep her voice low. “Disinfectant.” She heard her words stronger in her head now; her hearing might be coming back. The captain looked at her, then at the bottle in her hand and nodded; he’d got the message this time.

  “This is going to hurt,” she said to the wounded man – Mac, they’d called him – the one who’d called her ‘lass’ earlier. He put out his arm, rolling back the sleeve of his parka. The wound ran across the top of his wrist, white bone showing; he’d been lucky not to be cut any deeper; he’d either have lost the hand or bled out quickly. As it was, the wound gaped badly and bled profusely. They needed to get it bound up fast but she knew the pain the bleach was going to bring and hesitated to pour it.

  “Just do it, lass,” the man said and she heard him this time, as if he was speaking from the next room and behind a door. “Before I bleed all over you.”

  But I heard him.

  She poured the bleach; and she heard his curses, then a long yell of pain clearly enough.


  *

  She took over nursing duties, closing the wound as much as she could with butterfly clips and binding it as tight as she dared with several layers of bandages. The man suffered it in stoic silence and smiled at her when it was done.

  “Fine job, lass,” he said. “Not bad for a Russian spy.”

  The captain took her off to one side.

  “Thanks,” he said. “He sat quieter for you than he would for one of us. Good idea with the bleach too. Will it be enough?”

  Her hearing had got better. She heard the captain’s question, only slightly muffled, although the bells still rang, albeit farther away in the distance now.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “It might be bacterial, or viral, or it might be a toxin. And the Irish boy may just have been unlucky to be caught by a sick beast. All we can do is wait. There’s no way for us to tell without a lab; and mine was out there, on top of the drilling rig.”

  They both looked out; the large creature still sat there on top of the rig among the bent metal, like a resting cat, its stare equally as implacable.

  “I need to know what you know about these beasts,” the captain said. “And I need to know it fast.”

  “The isopods?”

  “Is that what they are? Where did they come from?”

  She still wasn’t hearing quite right and rather than continue the conversation she tapped his pocket where he’d put the Dictaphone when he took it from her

  “It’s all on there. You should listen to it. Do you understand Russian?”

  The captain nodded. The thin man, Hynd, checked Mac’s wrist. So far, there was no blood, or green, seeping through the white. The Glaswegian flexed his hand and winced.

  “Luckily, I wank with the other hand,” he said, then looked up at Svetlanova and smiled. “Pardon my French, darling.”

  She smiled back.

  “Call me darling again and you’ll be scratching your arse with a stump,” she replied, in her best Glaswegian accent.

  Everyone except Mac laughed. He looked too surprised at first, then he too joined in.

  “I like your new girlfriend, Cap. I think she’s a keeper.”

  The captain was busy trying to figure out how to work the Dictaphone. She reached over and pressed the rewind button then, when there was a click, the play. Her own voice echoed back at her.

  “I have decided to tell the tale here of our failure, in the hope that anyone who comes across this will not make the same mistakes we did, mistakes that have got us all killed…or worse.”

  She turned away – she didn’t need to hear it. She looked out the window, only to see the beasts all looking straight at her. They weren’t moving, weren’t coming forward but their stares were unnerving. And yet again, Svetlanova had a feeling there was something she should be seeing, or remembering, something she needed to know. But as the bells continued to ring in her ears, so too did the thought elude her.

  *

  She took a smoke from the injured Mac when he offered one and smoked it down as the captain played back her statement, all the way through to the end.

  “A large patch of the sea beneath the rig glowed, blue and silver and green, a pulsating shimmer like an aurora under the surface, one that was rising fast. And this time it was bigger still; much bigger.

  “The swarm came up and over the gunwales like a giant wave.”

  She heard her last words, then a click as the Dictaphone turned off. She happened to be staring out the window at the time. The creatures had been still, staring at the window of the control room but as soon as the Dictaphone was turned off, they lost interest again and went back to their random milling and feeding.

  The thought that had been eluding her was suddenly there, big in her mind.

  They’re reacting to electrical fields.

  The captain put the Dictaphone down and turned to Hynd.

  “I don’t think we need them now but let’s get these computers fired up anyway. Might as well take everything we can get while we’re here.”

  “That’s a very bad idea,” Svetlanova said in reply.

  Everyone turned to look at her. She quickly outlined her theory, finishing with her conclusions.

  “They reacted violently when you turned on the satellite phone,” she said.

  The captain caught on first.

  “And again to the Dictaphone, only less so?”

  She nodded as he continued.

  “And it would explain their behavior.”

  “It would?” Mac said. “I wish somebody would explain it to me, because I’m fucking lost here.”

  “At the post office, they didn’t really come at us until we switched on the generator. And in the engine room; they’ve torn out all the electrical cabling and fittings completely. And they didn’t come onto deck again until we buggered about with the control panel.”

  “You’re saying we did it? We brought the fuckers back aboard?” Mac said.

  “Afraid so,” the captain replied. “But maybe we can get them to bugger off again by switching off what we switched on.”

  - 11 -

  “Maybe we should stay here, Cap,” Mac said. “We’re safe here, right?”

  Banks looked out the window to where the creatures continued to mill around, almost aimlessly. They hardly looked threatening now in sharp contrast to the frenzy they’d showed minutes earlier.

  Maybe Mac’s right. But twice now these buggers have caught me off guard. There won’t be a third time.

  “The chopper will be coming down on our signal,” he said. “We need to make sure they have a clear pickup area.”

  “Back up on the top deck?”

  “Not good enough; they’ll prefer a bigger, more open space,” he pointed out at the forward deck, “out there. Our best bet is to cut the power and hope the beasties, isopods, or whatever the fuck they are, get bored again and bugger off. McCally, can you cut the power from here?”

  The younger man shook his head.

  “That was Briggs’ specialty. I’d need to get back down to yon control panel and see what’s what. Although I’ll tell you something for nothing, Cap; I’m pishing my breeks here at the thought of meeting one of those big fuckers down there.”

  “At least it’ll keep you warm,” Banks replied. “Come on, lad. You’re with me. The rest of you, keep an eye out the window there. If they look like they’re getting frisky, make plenty of noise and we’ll get back sharpish.”

  Banks led the way out of the control room. It had got dimmer again in the stairwell, cloud obscuring the sun making it gloomy and gray away from the windows. He switched to night vision, turned down to its lowest level and was able to see clearly down the stairwell. There was no sign of any isopods. He gave McCally the all-clear sign and headed down, the younger man following at his back.

  *

  He stopped when they reached the corridor, almost exactly in the spot where he’d met the Russian woman earlier. She was still an enigma he hadn’t cracked yet. He had a feeling there was more to her story he hadn’t heard on the Dictaphone but he needed time to talk to her properly, time he couldn’t spare right now. He had a feeling he’d need to sooner rather than later; she might have exactly the expert knowledge needed to get the squad safely out of the situation. It would all have to wait, for now. His focus had to be on the control panel and getting the infestation of creatures off the boat’s deck.

  One thing at a time, Banksy. One thing at a time.

  At least Svetlanova had already proved her worth with her assessment of the effect of electrical field on the isopods. He was annoyed with himself that he hadn’t seen the pattern in the beast’s behavior for himself; it wasn’t as if there weren’t enough clues. But he’d been focussed on the job, which he’d thought was the boat’s computers. As it turned out, the job, the woman, had come to him.

  And now I’ve got a new job. I’ve got to get her back to the base; I’ve got to get us all back to the base.

  He forced himself into concentrat
ing on the space in front of his rifle barrel. The shock of losing Nolan and then Briggs, was still there, still thrumming at his nerve endings but his training kicked in, forcing the tension into something he could use, coiled and tight, ready to be sprung when needed. Later there would be recriminations, booze, and maybe even tears, certainly sleepless nights. But for now, he had a weapon in his hands, and there was an empty corridor and a waiting control panel on the deck below.

  And if any of those fuckers get in my way, they’ll find the real strength of my determination.

  He moved out, quickly crossing the corridor to the next stairwell, then heading down toward the engine room with McCally right at his back.

  *

  The short stairwell to the control panel room was as empty as the one above had been. Banks stood there for several seconds, listening for any sound from the engine room beyond but there was no splashing, no indication the big beast was still there; for all he knew, it might be the one he’d seen up top of the superstructure.

  The one who killed Briggs.

  He pushed the thought away hard before thoughts of revenge could overtake common sense and motioned for McCally to come forward and get to work on the electrical panel.

  McCally pried the front of the panel off and looked at the wiring.

  “As I said, Cap, this was Brigg’s party. I’m not sure what circuits he wired or shut off.”

  “Just do what you can, lad. And be quick about it. Sooner it’s done, the sooner you get back upstairs for a cuppa and a fag.”

  He left the younger man to it and stepped forward into the doorway looking over the gallery walkway in the engine room. He didn’t walk out onto the walkway itself but peered around the corner, making sure he was alone before announcing his presence.

  There was no sign of the large beast but suddenly it was the least of his concerns; the water level in the flooded engine room was several feet higher than it had been. Judging by eddies and flows visible below him, more water was still coming in through the rent in the hull; flooding in.