* * *
70
Below deck was dark and there was an inch of water on the floor. That meant there was a leak somewhere or someone had damaged one of the water tanks. The lights were off but the red lighting spawned by the emergency generator had lit up the mid deck in a soft, crimson glow.
Ignacio shouted to see if anyone would respond but it stayed quiet. Patrick made his way to the mess hall and looked in but it was empty. He walked to Jane’s room and the door was open. They went inside and checked the small closet and underneath the bed but nothing was there.
They continued searching the rest of the mid deck. At the end of the corridor was Hamilton’s room. The doors were locked and Patrick tried to open it but it was jammed shut.
“Let me.”
Ignacio stepped back and fired at the lock on the door. The round ricocheted off the lock and hit the ceiling before lodging into the wall. Ignacio shrugged.
“I have a better idea,” Patrick said.
He took the rifle and began to bash the lock with the butt. The first and second and third hits did nothing but mark up the steel. But the fourth bent the lock and the fifth and sixth bent it further. The final blow broke the lock at the weakest point and Patrick pushed the door open and they entered.
Ignacio looked around and said, “There’s nothing he—”
Patrick suddenly went deaf; a ringing in his ears as he saw Ignacio fly through the air and land on his back.
Hamilton sat in the corner of the room with the shotgun; white and trembling. His face was contorted in terror and he pointed the shotgun at Patrick.
Patrick jumped behind an overturned table and the blast filled the wall behind him with small holes from the pellets.
Another blast ripped through the table and Patrick crawled away, against the wall, as splinters of wood rained over him.
“I know about Iraq,” Hamilton bellowed, madness in his voice. “You think I would bring you to my ship without knowing everything about you?”
He fired again, nearer this time, and several pellets hit Patrick’s arm and he gritted his teeth from the pain.
“You’re a killer, just like me. You and I are the same.”
Another shot boomed through the space and tore away a giant chunk of the table. Patrick dove from behind the table and grabbed Ignacio under the arm. He dragged him out of the room as another blast hit the inside of the door, jarring it shut.
Patrick turned to Ignacio, prepared to see the cold hand of death gently brush past his eyes, leaving the blank stare that he had seen so much in his life. The stare that occasionally the living seemed to absorb if exposed to death too much too quickly.
Ignacio coughed. Veins stuck out of his neck as he sat up, his shirt torn and black with powder residue. He ripped it open, exposing a thick Kevlar vest underneath. He tore off the vest and let it fall to the floor as he tried to get his breath back.
Patrick collapsed against the wall, exhaustion and pain infecting every muscle. He held tightly to his abdomen that was throbbing as if cut all over again.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I have had better men than him try and kill me.” Ignacio sat up and took a deep breath, caressing the purple bruises over his chest.
“He’s still in there.”
“I doubt there is much damage he could do now.”
They heard muffled voices nearby. They were coming from underneath the metal grating of the floor.
Patrick helped Ignacio to his feet and they ran out the corridor and saw Jane climbing the ladder, Christopher behind her, a pistol held in his hand.
“Jane!”
Christopher turned, and their eyes locked. Before he could react Patrick had the rifle up into firing position and pulled the trigger.
“No!” Jane screamed.
The round entered into his flesh like a sharp knife into warm bread and exited just as smoothly. Christopher was flung into a wall and slid down, the pistol falling limply by his side. Patrick ran over.
“No,” Jane said again, “what are you doing?”
“Move, Jane.”
“No. He helped me. He’s the only reason I’m still alive. He helped you too. He called in where you were when they threw you overboard.”
Patrick looked down to his friend. Blood was beginning to seep from the wound in his shoulder. Without thinking, Patrick bent down and took off his shirt and pressed it to the wound.
“I thought—”
“Not in a million years,” Christopher said. “I had to get you dumped overboard. The fucker just would’a shot you if I hadn’t.”
“I aimed for the acromion. It’s painful as hell but not fatal. You’ll be fine. We need to get you to a hospital though.”
Patrick placed his arms underneath Christopher’s body and lifted him, a groan escaping both their lips.
Suddenly Patrick was off his feet and Christopher dropped to the floor with a thud as the ship was rocked sideways. Jane grabbed a railing and held on until the motion stopped as suddenly as it had began.
A thunderous roar shook the ship, followed by a screeching that sounded much like an injured cat.
They looked to each other but didn’t say anything. Patrick went to Christopher and had Jane apply pressure to the wound. Ignacio came over and took a quick look.
“He’ll be fine for now.”
“Wait for me here,” Patrick said.
He bolted up the ladders to the main deck and ran to where the boat was. The space was empty except for barren sea and he ran around the deck, staring at the water, but didn’t see any sign of the boat or the captain.
They were trapped.
* * *
71
As Patrick ran to the entrance leading to the deck below, the sea erupted.
Foam sprayed over the ship in a massive wave and Patrick could hear the sound of something rising to the surface. Water flooded the deck and soaked his feet. He turned, and saw two massive white legs flash red as they wrapped around the ship and pulled something up.
The creature was easily twice as large as the whale he had nearly died on. The mouth could swallow a car and the two beaks rimming it like lips appeared sharp as knives. Its eyes were yellow with a black globe in the middle and they appeared dead, until they saw Patrick. Then a covering came down halfway over the eye as the creature roared and pulled itself up farther onto the ship.
Patrick bolted below deck. He sprinted back to where he had left everyone as he heard thumping behind him, legs and tentacles grasping for him in every direction. He could hear metal folding above him; the creature was trying rip into the belly of the ship.
He found Jane tightening Ignacio’s shirt around the wound in Christopher’s shoulder. Chris was sitting up but sweat was pouring down his forehead and Patrick could tell he was in pain.
“Where are the weapons, Chris?”
Christopher reached into his pocket and came out with a set of keys, handing them over. “One level down. Farthest on the right. I don’t think shooting it is gonna do anything.”
Patrick ran to the ladder, Ignacio rising and following him. They tried several doors but they were all open. He came to the last one on the right and it was locked. He tried several keys before finding the right one and they stepped inside. He was taken aback for a moment but the feeling quickly passed and they began going through the room.
Ignacio ran his hands along a few of the rifles and looked over the mines. “He has better weapons than my country’s army.”
Patrick didn’t respond as he was busy going through a chest in the corner filled with rifles. He stopped near the bottom and stared at the largest one.
He had found an Accuracy International L115A3 sniper rifle. He had never seen one before as the army rarely used them because of cost. For how big it was, it was incredibly light in his hands and he held it up in front of him and looked down the scope. There was ammunition next to it and he loaded it up.
He rummaged the room further and fou
nd what he was looking for: depth charges stacked against the wall. They were large and he could only carry two of them. Ignacio picked up another two and they found the remote detonation device on a shelf.
They ran back and Jane stood as they neared.
“The bleeding’s not stopping, Patrick. I need to get him to a hospital.”
“There’s police on their way. Can you hold on?”
Christopher stood up, his shoulder screaming in pain. “Don’t worry about me. How we getting the fuck outta here?”
Patrick looked up the ladder leading above and could hear the ship being ripped apart. “We got these depth charges. Are they enough?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know how to use them.”
Patrick looked to Ignacio. “We know who does.”
*****
The door opened with one kick and Patrick swung to the side as Ignacio was on the other. They each held a rifle and waited a moment to see if any blast would come, but nothing did.
“Taylor,” Patrick yelled, “you in there?”
There was silence before a meek voice replied, “Yes.”
“We want to talk to you. That thing is gonna tear this ship apart. We need your help to get outta here. Do you understand?”
“What do you need?”
“The depth charges. How do you work them?”
“Come in and I’ll show you.”
He looked to Ignacio. “I’d like to take you at your word but you already tried to kill me twice. Don’t think a third time’s gonna happen.”
“I’m out of ammunition.”
Patrick quickly glanced into the room and saw the old man in his chair, the shotgun across his lap. “Put the shotgun down on the floor. Let me know when it’s there.”
“It’s there.”
He looked in again and saw the gun leaned against his wheelchair. He stepped into the room, the sniper rifle held low and walked to Hamilton, picking up the shotgun and throwing it across the room.
Ignacio lifted the rifle and put it to Hamilton’s head.
“No,” Patrick said. “We still need him.”
“We’re going to die here. I think I would like to see him die first.”
“Ignacio, put the gun down.”
He lowered the rifle, and swung out with the back of his hand across Hamilton’s face. A small dribble of blood came down his lip.
“How do you work the depth charges?” Patrick said.
Hamilton wiped at the blood with the back of his hand. “You join them in the middle and twist clockwise. The detonation device turns on automatically when one is armed. You just press the button in the middle. A monkey could do it.”
Patrick looked to Ignacio and nodded. They began to leave the room when Hamilton yelled for them to stay.
“There’s one more thing,” he said, “they have a radius of one hundred and fifty feet. You blow one any closer than that and you’ll blow a hole in the ship.”
“That thing’s on the deck right now.”
“Doesn’t matter. You can’t blow them that close. You have to get it away from the ship.”
“How?”
“How the fuck would I know?”
Patrick turned to leave and then stopped. “Where’s the little girl?”
“I don’t know.”
He lifted the rifle. “Where’s the girl?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. She must still be on the ship somewhere or left on one of the lifeboats.”
“Where’s all the workers?”
“They jumped in lifeboats. I don’t know what happened to them after that. I went to get on one too and they threw me off the cocksuckers.”
They turned to leave.
“Wait,” Hamilton shouted, “what about me?”
“You can rot here.”
They found Jane and Christopher near the ladder. Blood was soaking through Ignacio’s shirt but Christopher was acting as if he didn’t notice.
“He says we can’t blow them near the ship. It’s gotta be at least a hundred and fifty feet away.”
The ship suddenly lurched to the side, throwing them against the wall. It twisted the other way and then went still. They got to their feet and Patrick looked up the ladder.
“We have to lure it away.”
“How?” Ignacio asked.
“The submersible. One of us could take that and lure that thing away from the ship.”
“And light the depth charges?” Christopher said. “There’s better ways to kill myself.”
“I’d be the one going.”
“What do you know about piloting a submersible?” Jane said.
“No,” Christopher said, “it’s actually easy. Taylor was going to pilot it himself so it’s made for amateurs. You’ve piloted choppers, I bet it wouldn’t be that much different.”
“That’s ridiculous. Patrick, you’re not doing this.”
“If anyone else has a better idea, I’m all ears.” He waited for a response but none came. “Okay, I’m gonna go check out the submersible. Stay here.”
He slowly climbed up the ladder. He looked down both directions on the upper level but saw nothing. He went down the corridor to the other ladder leading to the main deck and climbed to the top. In front of him, a tentacle was tearing off pieces of metal grating from the floor.
It convulsed and changed size and shape. It could be as thick as a car and then it would seemingly suck inward and become as thin as a pipe.
Patrick went to the far wall, his back pressed against it, making his way toward the main deck. The room was no bigger than fifteen feet and the tentacle was ripping apart the stairs leading up to the control center.
Patrick got to the door and looked outside. He saw the creature, legs digging into steel as if it were soft dirt. It was trying to get inside the ship, the legs whirling around it, grasping anything near with crushing strength.
He leaned back inside and turned to see the tentacle rising in front of his face. He held his breath as the slick flesh went up his leg, over his abdomen and up to his face. The tip went over his face, leaving a trail of transparent slime, sticking over his eyelids. It continued up the wall and over the door and then began coming back down.
Patrick exhaled, dropped the rifle that was around his shoulder, and sprinted.
The tentacle lashed out and hit his legs, causing him to fall down the ladder. The metal grates of the floor rushed toward his face and he brought his hands up to protect himself but stopped a few inches above the floor and hovered.
Wrapped around his ankle, the tentacle convulsed and the suckers imbedded into his flesh. It began to pull and he slowly rose, dragging against the ladder.
He grabbed one of the rungs and wrapped his arm around it, interlocking his fingers. The tentacle felt the resistance and pulled harder. His arm pressed against the metal and turned white and the blood rushed to his face. He began to grunt and shout as the tentacle began to tear the flesh off his legs.
The pain shot through his shoulder and back and he was ripped off the ladder and brought up to the main deck. It began to drag him through the door and he clawed the floor, trying to grab anything. The tentacle bashed him into the wall and hauled him toward the door.
Patrick saw the sniper rifle on the ground where he’d dropped it and he grabbed it and put the strap around himself as he was taken out the door into the sunlight.
The creature pulled and Patrick was flung thirty feet in the air before hitting the deck with a loud thud. The wind was knocked out of him and he felt the sting of a broken or sprained ankle. The tentacle swung back toward him and it had him by the midsection, lifting him into the air.
Patrick placed the rifle against his shoulder, feeling his lungs about to burst from the pressure of the creature around his waist. He looked down the scope and fired. The shot caught the side of the ship. He fired again and hit the creature in the mantle.
The tentacle rose high in the air, bringing Patrick upright. He aimed, and fired two rounds in s
uccession.
Each round hit the black of the eye.
The creature groaned in pain and roared. Patrick dropped back to the deck, the rifle flying out of his hands and over the side of the ship into the water. He got up to run and then collapsed; his ankle twisted and useless.
The creature was squealing and whipping its legs at anything nearby. Its eye was closed shut, a thin film of blood seeping out of it. Patrick began to crawl.
He made it to the door and then inside before the creature could react. Ignacio was there.
“No time for the submersible,” he said, “we’ll have to sink the ship too.”
He was holding two of the depth charges. Patrick took them.
“What are you doing?”
“Go back below deck and wait for me.”
“Are you crazy? You’re injured.”
Ignacio grabbed the depth charges and stepped outside, Patrick yelling at him to stop. He ran about ten feet before seeing the full girth of the monster before him.
It had pulled itself out of the water and onto the ship, the massive steel frame bending under its weight and tilting to the side. Its legs seemed to work independently of where it was looking or focusing its attention and he was reminded of medusa; a mind and body with independent serpents.
The creature’s massive eye turned only slightly, and a leg thrust out and knocked Ignacio to the deck. He stood and was running back when another leg swept underneath him and lifted him high into the air.
He screamed as he was brought over the creature, fifty feet above the water, looking down into the black maw as the beak spread open, and bit him in half.
Patrick looked away; there was nothing he could do.
He took both depth charges and tucked the detonator into his waistband. He crawled back out through the door and began shouting.
“Hey! Hey! Over here. Over here!”
The creature thrashed out, the tentacle missing Patrick by inches. It wrapped around the structure, the metal bending under its gargantuan strength. Patrick crawled halfway into the structure, leaving only his legs outside, and then shouted again. The creature released the structure and came down over his legs and coiled like a snake.
Sea Creature Page 19
