Pressure

by Brian Keene

“How close are we to shore, Abhi?”

  “About a half mile. But we’re nowhere near a dock. The port is a good three miles away. All that’s out there right now are rocks. I was just turning us.”

  “Floor it,” she said, “and take us straight ahead to shore.”

  “Carrie, maybe you didn’t hear me correctly. It’s a rocky shoreline.”

  “I heard you. Head straight toward it. We don’t have time to make the port.”

  Abhi blanched. “I think you must be hallucinating. You’ve got the creature’s blood all over you, and—”

  “I know exactly what I’m saying, Abhi.”

  As she watched, the last of the mercenaries in the ship’s forward section was snatched from the deck by a large tentacle and squeezed until his midsection exploded. The man’s intestines slithered through the rupture like steaming snakes.

  “Carrie, even at this speed, we’ll crash into the shore.”

  “If you don’t do it, Abhi, we’re never going to make it to shore.”

  “It’s suicide,” he insisted. “The chances of us surviving are slim. Some of those rocks are bigger than we are.”

  “Good. Aim for them.”

  Abhi shook his head in resignation. Then he grinned.

  “It’s always an adventure with you,” he said. “You never do things the easy way.”

  “That’s why you love me.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  He opened the throttle and grabbed the controls, focused on staring straight ahead. His eyes widened when he saw the beast clinging to the bow. The one remaining engine whined, and a tremor ran through the deck as the vessel shuddered.

  “Faster,” Carrie shouted.

  “It’s weighing us down,” Abhi told her. “And you hear that sound? That’s the sound of our other engine failing. This is as fast as we go.”

  “How close are we?”

  Abhi clenched the controls tightly. “About another three minutes. Maybe less.”

  Carrie turned to one of the crewmen. “Does the intercom still work?”

  “No, ma’am. Are you really going to crash us?”

  “Yes. What about the collision alarm? Does that work, or did the creature short it out, too?”

  “I don’t know,” the mercenary said. “We can try it.”

  “Good idea,” she said. “I think you might want to do that, and quick.”

  She glanced back out the window as the collision alarm began to sound, and saw the creature still clinging to the bow. She still couldn’t get a distinct look at its flowing, ever-shifting mass, but it was clearly trying to clamber onto the deck, and all of its bulk seemed to now be out of the water. She was stunned, amazed that it had fully left the protection of the sea.

  An explosion jolted the ship. The bridge shuddered as if it were about to fall apart.

  “There went the engine.” Abhi fought with the controls. “Got to keep it steady…”

  One of the two mercenaries assisting Abhi glanced out the aft window. “The fire?”

  “Forget about it,” Abhi snapped. “It doesn’t matter at this point.”

  “One minute,” the other mercenary shouted, pointing at the dark shoreline.

  “All hands brace for impact,” Abhi shouted. “And Carrie?”

  She turned to him, and saw that his cheeks were wet with tears.

  “Just in case,” he said with a smile, “it’s been fun, being your sidekick.”

  “Abhi…”

  “And don’t forget,” he yelled, as the ship’s hull groaned, “you still owe me a new Sudoku book!”

  The creature continued to cling to the bow as the shore loomed up out of the darkness. Rocks towered over them, jutting from the shallow water. The ship shuddered and shook as it scraped along the bottom. Explosions rang out, wrenching them back and forth, and the bridge filled with smoke. Coughing, Carrie curled into a ball on the floor, pulling her knees against her chest and tucking her head low. Something crashed behind her, and a crewman yelped in pain.

  Abhi shouted something, but it was unintelligible. Carrie could barely hear him above the noise. There were so many people screaming, it was hard to distinguish one from another. The cries seemed to merge into one long, unending shriek of panic and distress. The cacophony was overwhelming—so loud that Carrie trembled.

  The ship hit the shore bow first, pulping and grinding the creature into the rocks. Then, with an ear-splitting squeal of rending, twisting steel, the hull followed, as the front end of the vessel was dashed to bits.

  Carrie was thrown forward, and slammed into a bulkhead. Her teeth snapped together on her tongue, and she tasted blood. Another explosion rumbled all around her. Smoke blinded her eyes and seemed to fill her throat. Someone was screaming, but once again, she couldn’t tell who it was. It sounded very small and indistinct amidst the other noise.

  Then, Carrie realized it was her.

  PART TWO

  SO ABOVE

  TWELVE

  “How do you feel, Paolo?”

  “I feel like I’ve been run over by a ship.”

  “Trust me,” Carrie replied, giving Paolo’s hand a gentle squeeze, “I know what being run over by a ship feels like. You got off easy.”

  It had been nearly a week since the final confrontation with the creatures and the shipwreck that had followed. In the aftermath, both Carrie and Abhi had been brought back to the clinic—which they learned was privately owned and operated by Alpinus Biofutures—and treated for their injuries. Luckily, despite the violent and tumultuous crash, neither of them had been hurt too badly. The same could not be said for many of the other members of Takenaka’s crew, all of whom had also been transported to the remote facility, rather than the other hospitals on the island. Apparently, officials at Alpinus Biofutures were taking full responsibility for the care and recovery of anyone involved in the expedition. Carrie had to give them credit for that. She was also in awe of how the company had managed to control the media coverage of the crash, relegating it to nothing more than two days’ worth of mentions in the local press, despite the loss of life, the environmental impact from spilled oil and diesel fuel, and the wildfire on the shoreline. Granted, Takenaka’s vessel hadn’t been a giant cruise ship or an oil tanker, but it hadn’t been a tiny schooner, either. Despite the fact that they’d run ashore in a rural, remote part of the island, people had still noticed.

  “I don’t feel like I got off easy,” Paolo rasped. “My stitches itch, I can barely move, and my head hurts all the time.”

  “Well, the doctor says you seem to be recovering since he began administering the makeshift antivenom. We’ll just have to give it more time.”

  “Thank you, Gatito.” His voice was warm with gratitude. “What you did for me … it means a lot.”

  Carrie wanted to respond. She wanted to tell him how much he still meant to her, and how scared she had been when it looked like they might lose him. She wanted to tell him about her feelings for him and how good and simultaneously terrifying they felt. She wanted to voice her desire that they give it another try, even though she was certain any such effort would be doomed. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him any of these things.

  “What are you thinking?” Paolo asked, sounding sleepy. “I can tell you are thinking something. Your eyes—those beautiful eyes—they always give you away.”

  “I’m thinking that I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “And what are you really thinking?”

  Instead of replying, she smiled, and gave his hand another squeeze. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “It’s cold in here,” Paolo said, finally.

  “Still? The heat is turned up all the way. Want me to get you another blanket?”

  If Paolo heard her, he didn’t respond. A second later, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. Then he was asleep again. He’d been sleeping a lot, something Dr. Barbet had said was normal, but it concerned Carrie nevertheless.

  A lot of things abo
ut Paolo’s condition had her concerned.

  Carrie listened to him wheeze, and watched his chest slowly rise and fall as he struggled to breathe, and wondered if the doctor was right. Despite Barbet’s assurances, Paolo did not look like he was recovering. Stabilizing, maybe, but certainly not recovering. He was still bedridden, still too weak to move on his own. He could barely lift a glass of water by himself, let alone get up and walk around. His eyes had a sunken, hollow look, and there were dark circles beneath them. His skin had a sallow, yellow tone, as did his teeth and fingernails. He slept all the time, and when he wasn’t asleep, he lay there battling to stay awake. He shivered constantly, which seemed to exhaust him even more, and insisted that the room was too cold, even with the thermostat cranked up to the point where anyone visiting him was uncomfortably hot.

  Perhaps worst of all was the mental and emotional distress his condition seemed to be causing. Paolo complained of a constant, all-consuming headache, and sometimes he saw things that weren’t there. These incidents were just like the hallucinations all three of them had experienced on the water, but while Carrie and Abhi no longer suffered from them, Paolo’s visions seemed to be getting worse. His hallucinatory spells also seemed to come with olfactory and tactile components now. He didn’t just see and hear things that weren’t really there. He claimed to be able to smell and touch them now, as well.

  If this was Dr. Barbet’s idea of recovering, Carrie hated to think what his definition of a cure might entail.

  She got up quietly, so as not to disturb Paolo, and got another blanket out of the dresser next to his bed. She covered him carefully, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, she leaned over and kissed his forehead. His skin was warm.

  “Get better,” she whispered.

  Paolo didn’t stir.

  Carrie left the room. The air conditioning in the hallway was a relief after sweltering at Paolo’s bedside for the last half hour. After receiving clean bills of health, Carrie and Abhi had both been given permission to come and go freely around the clinic, provided they didn’t leave the grounds, and stayed clear of certain restricted areas. Agent Ochse had explained that this was done for their protection and privacy, as well as the protection and privacy of the mercenary crewmembers who were still recovering, and of Alpinus Biofutures itself. Carrie had bristled at these restrictions at first, but she soon admitted that it was nice not having the media poking around. Plus, she understood the company’s plight. They were ultimately responsible for what had happened to Takenaka’s ship and crew, and their response to the aftermath required a degree of caution. She didn’t like it, but she understood it. Even though she knew they would have been out there to kill the creature—creatures—even if Paolo didn’t need the poison gland, she still felt responsible for their deaths and felt deeply the accompanying guilt. Why had she let him convince her? She’d chided herself since then, examining her motivations, and discovering only that—when it came to her ex-boyfriend—she didn’t understand herself very well. Where Paolo was concerned, Carrie’s emotions and thoughts seemed to betray her at every step, like they belonged to someone else.

  The remains of both creatures had been recovered and brought back to the clinic in two dump trucks. Both were now on ice in one of the sub-basement levels. For the past few days, Carrie had been assisting Dr. Barbet in studying and analyzing numerous specimen samples. While it wasn’t exactly her field of expertise, it was close enough that she’d been helpful. Barbet seemed genuinely pleased to be working with her. More importantly, she welcomed the distraction, and was eager to learn more.

  Abhi, meanwhile, had spent his days watching television and playing checkers with the nurses and some of the mercenaries. He had also, much to his delight, obtained a new book full of Sudoku problems.

  Neither Carrie nor Abhi nor the mercenaries had been allowed to leave the facility or to contact the outside world. The clinic’s phones and Internet service were password protected, but Ochse had assured them all that Alpinus had informed their loved ones of their status.

  Carrie turned down another hallway and stopped at a small alcove lined with a row of vending machines. Because neither she nor Abhi had any money after the creature’s first attack, Ochse had arranged through Alpinus to get both of them some cash. Since they were confined to the clinic, there wasn’t much to spend it on other than items from the vending machines and meals in the cafeteria. She knew Abhi was using at least some of his money to gamble with the nurses and the sailors late at night, but she hadn’t asked him for confirmation. She had been invited to join the games once, but had instead been spending most of her free time watching over Paolo.

  She ignored the two machines filled with candy and junk food, and the coffee dispenser which usually just took her money and gave nothing in return, and settled in front of the soft-drink machine. Carrie put her money in the slot, made her selection, and retrieved a bottle of water. She placed the cool plastic against her forehead and sighed, enjoying the sensation. Then she continued down the hall, heading for the elevators. She passed by an empty nurses’ station. A Creole-dubbed British soap opera played on a small black-and-white portable television, but no one was there to watch it.

  She noticed offhand that the two hospital rooms she passed before reaching the elevator were both empty. Yesterday, they’d been occupied by two injured mercenaries. Now, they sat vacant, the beds made up with crisp, clean linens, and the blinds open to let in the sun. Maybe the patients had been discharged? But why would they be allowed to leave the facility while she and Abhi still had to remain behind? More likely, they’d been given partial rein of the facility, as well, and were just occupied somewhere else right now.

  It occurred to Carrie that she still didn’t have a clear idea of how big or small the Alpinus Biofutures clinic really was. She knew from riding the elevator that there were three stories above ground, plus a basement level and several sub-levels below it. There was a helicopter pad on the roof, which was how she and Abhi had been transported back to the facility after the shipwreck. The outside grounds appeared to be expansive but very secluded. She’d seen more razor-tipped security fencing in the distance, and security guards on patrol. Still, despite all that, she didn’t feel like a prisoner. True to their word, the company had done their best to accommodate their patients, and make them feel comfortable. But even with all the amenities, Carrie was anxious to go home. She hoped Paolo would get better soon.

  She was determined not to leave without him.

  She took the elevator to the basement, shaking her head in disbelief at a Muzak rendition of Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence.” Was she really old enough that one of her favorite bands was now eligible for elevator music covers? What was next? Morrissey over the speakers at the grocery store? Yes, Carrie realized. She really was old enough for that to happen now.

  If Mom were still alive, I bet she’d point that out, and then wonder aloud why I’m not yet married.

  Carrie grimaced.

  The doors hissed open, and she nodded at the guard—a man named Legerski.

  “Miss Anderson.”

  “Mr. Legerski. Is Dr. Barbet back from lunch?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Go on in.”

  Like Ochse, Mariotte, and the ever-laconic Maberry, Legerski worked for Alpinus’s security division. She’d seen others like him over the past week—perhaps two dozen total. All of them were men. Though there were plenty of female nurses. The agents were all polite enough, but other than Ochse, she’d had no real interaction with any of them other than perfunctory conversations. Ochse had actually been trying to make an effort with her, engaging Carrie in conversation and trying to meet her requests, provided they were in his power to grant. That was how she’d gotten permission to assist Barbet with his work.

  He still insisted that she was mistaken about the egg—that she’d misheard the conversation. Barbet had backed him up on this, telling Carrie that it was probably a mild hallucination, an aftereffect of the neurotoxins that h
ad still been in her system. Carrie thought the doctor was being naïve, or perhaps even willingly misleading, but she didn’t press the issue, even though it was in her nature to do so. Her hope was to establish a deeper rapport with the doctor first. Whatever the real truth was regarding the egg and its whereabouts, Paolo was now receiving treatment. That was what was important. And the men who had died during the last expedition?

  Well, she was sure that Ochse had a conscience, too.

  She walked through a set of automatic double doors and entered the lab. The first room was a foyer of sorts, complete with lockers. Carrie drained her water and tossed the bottle in a recycling bin. Then she stripped out of her clothes, placed them in a locker, and donned the necessary sterile protective gear that was required for dealing with these still unidentified specimens. Dr. Barbet had insisted that one of the conditions for her assisting him was that she adhere to these guidelines. Their superiors at Alpinus had dictated that all personnel who had contact with the specimens were to use these cautionary measures. As far as Carrie knew, Barbet, Ochse, and herself were the only ones who had actually been exposed to the corpses since their arrival.

  She first put on a pair of purple scrubs, and then an ill-fitting white lab coat. She slipped a rubber vest and apron over the coat, cloth coverings over her shoes, and then snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Finally, from a dispenser next to the box of gloves, she pulled out a surgical mask and fitted it over her nose and mouth. Then, finished with her preparations, she moved stiffly toward another door. She pressed a button on the wall and the door hissed open. Carrie entered the lab itself, and saw an identically attired Dr. Barbet already waiting for her.

  “How was your lunch?” His voice was slightly muffled by the surgical mask.

  “Good,” she replied. “Yours?”

  “Okay. Although the shrimp were a little rubbery. I didn’t see you in the cafeteria, though.”

  “I spent my lunch break visiting with Paolo. He said his head still hurts, but his leg is healing.”

  It was hard to read Barbet’s expression, given that she could only see his eyes, but Carrie sensed something in his reaction, or rather, his lack of a reaction.