by Michael Bray
#
We are under attack.
It keeps circling the boat.
#
Stan is quite mad. I’m sure of that now.
After he finished with Toby, Stan picked him up and tossed him over the side. He should have known how stupid that was. The fresh blood in the water must have been like a dinner bell, and that big thing we had been following turned its attention towards us.
We started to panic, but Stan just laughed.
If I live through this, I will never, ever forget how that thing looked as it came towards us.
What the hell do we do now?
#
Hahaha! You have to laugh. Not as dumb as they look these fish!!
#
Stan threw Benson over the side. He keeps looking at me and I think I might be next. Creature still circling. I feel like I should do something but I’m too afraid to move. I can feel his eyes on me, and when I glance up at them, I can see the crazy. I don’t know if I’m more scared of him or this horrible thing that keeps circling us. Stan said as long as we keep feeding it, it should leave us alone, which is all well and good, but there is only me left. I get the feeling it’s going to come down to him or me, and I don’t think I can take him in a fair fight. Even if I could, what then?
This is all such a mess.
#
For all the worrying, I didn’t even have to make the choice. Stan is gone, and now I’m alone. At least I am if you don’t count our friend out there who is circling the boat. Some fishing trip hahahahaha!!! I feel like Captain Ahab, only I’m way out of my depth. This has to end soon, so I suppose I should explain what happened to Stan. I was trying to get him to return to land. There is no food or water on the boat, and it was this that I was trying to draw attention to, rather than the fact that he had killed two people since we came out here. He sat and listened, keeping those crazy eyes locked on me the entire time.
He heard me out, then told me that I knew what had to happen. That they had to be fed to make sure they are kept strong. He said it was so they could breed and make sure there was enough food to go around for everyone. He stood up then, and I was sure it was my time.
That’s not what happened though. Stan had a knife, and he stabbed himself in the belly before he ran straight at the transom, screaming and cackling as he cut deeper and deeper. His knees hit the edge, and he tumbled over into the water, his screams cut off. I didn’t watch the creature take him, but I heard it. Somehow, that was worse. I panicked then, because I was alone out there. I ran to the controls, not really knowing what I was doing. I managed to start the boat and had angled back to shore when I felt another nudge from underneath, then a shudder as the boat stopped moving. The engines were on, but my forward momentum had stopped. I had no drive, and I think I know what happened. It seems these animals aren’t so dumb after all. It had destroyed the props and rudder, leaving me helpless. The perpetual grey dusk seems to be mocking me as my skeletal shadow stretches out across the deck. Out there on the water, it still circles. Every now and again, it will breach the surface, and I can see its milky eye as it watches me. Well, let it watch. I’ve decided to hunker down in here and wait for it to go away. I can be stubborn and patient if I want to, and this is one of those times where it will help me. Let it waste its energy out there if that’s what it wants to do. I’m going to stay in here and keep you all entertained.
#
July 11??
Night came and went, and it’s still out there. I didn’t sleep much. Not because I didn’t want to, believe me I’m exhausted, but that thing out there keeps nudging the boat. Not hard enough to damage it, but just enough to keep me afraid and on edge. The bastard is toying with me. I think it’s the fear that is making me so tired. The night was a never-ending cycle of paranoia as I stared out of the window at the black waves. Even when it was too dark to see it, I could still hear it out there, breaching the surface and making its presence known.
Thoughts have turned to my own survival, and I really don’t know what to do. As I may have already mentioned, there is no food on board. Worse than that though, there is no WATER.
How ironic that the stuff surrounds me but it’s way too polluted to drink. Even if I could keep it down, it would kill me within hours. If I had some way to boil it, then maybe I would stand a chance, but I have nothing on me but this pad and pen I’m writing with. I suppose if things get desperate I can try to drink the ink haha!
In all seriousness though, I really am stuck here. It’s not like I can just call the coastguard and wait for help to arrive. It just nudged the boat again. I think it’s waiting for me, but I won’t give up just yet. I shall just have to try and ignore the hunger and keep my thoughts on writing. I’m going to go and search the boat again and see if there is anything I might have missed.
#
Spent the last two hours going over every inch of the fishing boat. The creature has gone for now, but just when I start to relax and think I’m safe, it nudges the boat. I’m so tired. I really think I would feel better if it would just let me sleep. Either way, here is a list of exactly what I have on board here with me.
1 harpoon gun.
1 cigarette tin (Empty)
10 feet of fishing net
1 broken shard of mirror (I think it belonged to Toby)
1 putrid female corpse torso (for bait)
1 pad (on which I’m writing)
1 pen (with which I am writing this!!)
That’s all. I don’t see anything there that can help me out of this situation, and I’m starting to get scared. It’s bad enough trying to get through the day as is, but stranded out here in such a confined space is hell. It’s almost a form of sensory deprivation. The only sound is the creaking of the boat as it drifts in the tide and my guts grumbling for some kind of sustenance. Back at our camp, the others should have realised we are late back, not that they can do anything about it. I’m so tired. I might try to get my head down for a while.
#
Please, just let me sleep for a while. Just an hour is all I need.
#
July 12
Still no food or sleep. That fucking thing still keeps hitting the boat. I don’t think I can take it anymore. I NEED food. What I wouldn’t give for a nice cold glass of water. I don’t want to write anymore. I need to think. Every hour that passes saps my energy.
#
13th
I think I heard my wife call to me in the night. I staggered out on deck, but I couldn’t see her. And why would I? She’s dead. Ha!
The thing is still circling the boat. Why won’t it just leave me alone?
I’m so hungry.
14th
Couldn’t help myself. It was meant for the fish, but it has eaten recently and I haven’t ha!
The smell made me gag, but I forced myself to keep it down. The trick was to pretend it wasn’t human.
What have I become?
15th July
Need to act now before it’s too late. I never expected things to end this way. My wife is calling to me from somewhere down in the water, and I just want to be with her. I’m so thirsty, and at least that soon will be at an end. I hope I can bring myself to swallow enough water before that thing out there gets me. The thought of feeling those teeth puncture my skin while I’m still alive is one that frightens me almost to the point of backing out. But if I’m going to do this, then I intend to do it my own way. I intend to tie the harpoon to my leg with the fishing line. It should be heavy enough to make sure I sink.
This journal I shall leave here. I shall leave it by the controls. If by some miracle this boat remains afloat and you are reading this by the light of the sun, then I know at least that you are in a situation better than the world I am about to leave.
The creature is nudging the boat again. I only hope that if you are reading this that those creatures died with us who remained on this planet, and the world you inhabit is a safer, happier place.
It’s time t
o go now. It’s getting late, and I want to do this before I lose my nerve.
I hope this book finds you in good health. For me, it is time to go.
Tell them, if they ask where I am, that I have gone fishing.
James
CHAPTER SIX
There was little to differentiate light and day. When Ethan woke, he had no idea what time it was. Betty was standing by the door, a silhouette framed by the candlelight at her back.
“It’s time to wake up. Big day today.”
He grunted some form of response, then swung his legs out of the bed as she gently closed the door.
Since his arrival at the village he had been unable to think of anything but the journal. He had read it a dozen times; however, if Mannering’s intention had been to frighten him off, it hadn’t worked. He was curious, a fear-fuelled adrenaline surging through him. His integration with the village was going well, and he knew this was the next logical step in being accepted. This was a big day, his first day at work, his chance to contribute something and prove he was of some value. When he was dressed, he went downstairs. Betty had made him some food. He sat in front of the bowl of stew and began to eat as she sat opposite him. It was impossible to ignore the tension in her face.
They sat silent. He ate, she sat and watched him.
“Will you be careful out there?”
He looked up at her over his bowl. “I’ll be fine. Nothing at all to worry about. I’m excited.”
“It’s dangerous out there on the water. I hoped they might give you work here on the land.”
“I wanted to go out on the water. The idea of catching our food makes me happy. I’ll have a purpose.”
“I’ve heard terrible stories about the ocean. About creatures that live in it.”
He stopped eating, steaming spoonful of soup hovering near his mouth. “What kind of stories?” He thought of the journal Mannering had given him.
She averted her gaze. “It’s not really for me to tell. I know it’s dangerous out there though.”
Ethan continued to eat, unable to tell her that her efforts to protect him were of no use. He already knew more than enough. “I’ll be fine. I want to do this. I want to prove myself,” he muttered.
“There are other ways to do that.”
“I want to repay you for everything you’ve done. I want people to look at me like I’m worthy of being here.”
“I know, I understand, I just…I want you to be careful. People here, for the most part, are already accepting of you. John Mannering isn’t one of them, sure enough, but you don’t need him to accept you. He’s a bitter old drunk.”
Unsure how to respond, he turned his attention back to his food. The stew was good and warmed him from within. He suspected he would be grateful for it when he stepped outside into the bitter cold morning that awaited him.
“I tried to stop them assigning you to the fishing boat, you know,” she said quietly.
He looked up at her, but she wouldn’t make eye contact with him. She stared at the floor as she wrung her hands.
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted to have you assigned here to help me, but Mannering is hell bent on taking you out onto the water. For some reason, he thinks you have no respect for him and wants to prove a point. It’s a complete turnaround from his stance when you got here. I don’t like it.”
“I have no issue with him. If he thinks otherwise that’s his problem not mine.” Ethan said.
“He’s a stubborn man. Just be careful out there, that’s all.”
“It’s fishing. How dangerous can it be?” he said, the comment almost making him laugh. They both knew the answer but were unwilling to speak about it.
She didn’t offer a response, and so he finished his food in silence. When he was done, he stood. He expected she might at least say something then, but she wouldn’t look at him.
“It will be alright, I’ll be fine out there,” he said.
“No, that’s what they all say. All the ones who don’t come back,” she replied, still staring at the wall.
“I promise, I’ll be fine. I’m not afraid of John Mannering.”
She looked at him then, her one good eye wet with tears. “It’s not John Mannering you need to worry about, and we both know it.”
He stood for a few seconds, unsure of the next move, then realising there with nothing else to do or say, he left her alone and headed towards the dock.
TWO
It was a cold, grey morning, and a foggy rain hung in the air. Mannering and Barnes were waiting for him at the dock, loading supplies onto the ninety-foot vessel, the paint on its hull flaking and lined with rust. It bobbed gently against the jetty with the swells of the ocean. At its rear, a huge rusted winch and roll of chain hung out over the ocean. Barnes nodded as he approached. Mannering said nothing, his greeting reduced to a glare. Ethan stared at the boat. The fact that it was the same one from the journal Mannering had given him made it all the more real to him, and for the first time, fear overtook excitement.
“You made it,” Barnes said, his breath fogging in the cold air.
“I said I would,” Ethan replied.
He looked again at the boat, the fear growing and spreading.
“Don’t worry,” Barnes said, reading his expression. “You’ll be fine. We’re not going out too far today. Just a few miles to ease you in. How’s the head?”
“It’s fine,” Ethan muttered. He looked out over the fog-shrouded ocean and felt a chill in his spine which had nothing to do with the temperature.
“You wanna give me a hand with this?” Barnes said, nodding to the crate at his feet. Ethan grabbed the handle at the other end. Any idea of psyching himself up to get on board the boat was gone. Barnes went first, stepping over the edge onto the deck. He followed, unable to help glancing down at the gap between dock and ocean as he stepped across it.
“Thanks, you can just set this down here,” Barnes said, lowering his end of the crate.
“Alright, here’s how this will work. This is just a two-day trip. We will be heading out now and should be back by tomorrow night. We have supplies in the galley enough to last an extra day or two if we happen to get delayed, but I doubt that will happen. We’re heading to a known spot where we should be able to catch something fairly easily. Shallow waters are pretty safe, so I don’t want you stressing.”
“What’s in the box?” Ethan asked, nodding to the crate they just carried on board.
“Bait.”
“What kind of bait?” he asked, as the journal he had read sprang back to mind.
“Fish bait. What else?” Barnes asked.
“That box was heavy. That’s a lot of bait for a two-day trip.”
“Need to catch a lot of fish, what with all the extra mouths we have to feed now,” Mannering grunted as he walked past them and into the boat.
“Don’t mind him,” Barnes said. “He gets a bit intense at times.”
“And drunk. I can smell it on him now.”
“Yah, well, everyone deals with the world in different ways. He finds peace in the bottle. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him. He knows I won’t let him go too far.”
“I don’t know what his problem is with me.”
“It’s not you. He gets stressed when we go out on these trips. It’s a lot of responsibility on his head. A lot of things can go wrong out there. Actually, that reminds me.”
“What?”
“Mannering is the only one of us with experience of fishing. He knows what to do. More importantly, he knows how to do it. On land, I run the show. I’m the go-to guy who makes the decisions. Out there, he’s the boss, and we do as he says when he says it. Now, I’ll give you fair warning. He might give you a little grief, a little hassle. Just ignore it. It’s his way of testing you.”
“Why would he want to test me? I haven’t done anything to him.”
“It’s just his way, that’s all. Try to ignore it. I’ll keep him in line. Some kind
of fisherman’s code. Old school stuff mostly. Give the new guy a hard time to make him earn his stripes.”
“Alright, thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t worry, this will be a straightforward trip.” Barnes slapped Ethan on the shoulder then followed Mannering inside the boat, leaving Ethan out alone on deck. He stood at the stern, looking into the murky water. Something inside was nagging at him, that instinct he had so far survived by paying attention to was now telling him that he was about to make a huge mistake.
Mannering appeared at the interior door, the sound of his heavy boots heralding his arrival. “When you’ve finished standing there doing nothing, you can cast off those lines.”
He was gone again before Ethan could respond, disappearing into the vessel.
Ethan looked at the village and its building scattered up the hillside. Although he hadn’t been there for long, it was the closest thing to a home he had ever had, and the urge to get off the boat and stay there was strong. He couldn’t do it though. He knew it was impossible. He had a job to do. And do it he would. The boat’s engines spluttered to life, chimney by the wheelhouse spewing acrid diesel into the air. Ethan untied the lines, stern first, then the bow. He returned to the stern, watching the village shrink away as they moved to open waters. As the village was taken by the heavy fog, Ethan wondered just what he was getting himself into.
