Horror Sci-Fi Box Set: Three Novels

by Bryan Dunn

  Just before it completely sealed, the tip of a steel wrecking bar was jammed between the hull and the edge of the door, preventing it from locking.

  Chapter 51

  Inside the main salon, Amy, Harry, Captain Chabot, and Dr. Rousseau fell silent when they heard the eerie sound of the creature’s scream.

  “Did you hear that? Oh God, did you hear that?” Amy said, rising to her feet with a terrified look on her face. “It’s here… It’s the creature!”

  “Son of a bitch,” Harry said, rising next to Amy, equally terrified.

  “Nonsense,” the captain replied. “It’s just one of the men –”

  Loud footsteps suddenly echoed toward the main salon. They all looked up as the deck officer arrived in the main entrance.

  The officer’s breathing was coming in great ragged hitches, making it impossible for him to speak. Just as his breathing began to normalize and he was about to tell them what had happened –

  The blunt tip of the wrecking bar slammed into the back of his head and exited out his mouth in a frothy red spray of broken teeth and splintered bone. It struck the officer with such force that his body sailed across the room until it crumpled against a bulkhead in a pile of ruined flesh.

  Amy screamed. “It’s here!”

  “Shit!” Harry said, grabbing Amy’s arm. “Let’s get the hell out!”

  Captain Chabot and Dr. Rousseau just sat there, not moving, staring dumbly at the slain officer.

  “Come on, move!” Harry yelled at the stunned men, reaching out and dragging Dr. Rousseau to his feet.

  Recovering, the captain leapt up and shouted, “This way!” then began moving through the bar.

  They followed Captain Chabot across the main salon, all the while fighting the unnatural pitch of the deck, entered a narrow passageway and suddenly plunged downwards toward the bowels of the ship, forcing them to use the wall and handrails to keep from falling.

  The lights in the stairwell failed, slowing their progress as they continued downward. Amy missed a step and pitched forward, and the only that stopped her from breaking her neck was Harry’s hand catching the back of her parka.

  Coming out of the stairwell, they entered a dimly lit corridor lined with flickering bulbs.

  “Captain – we’ve got to find a secure room,” Harry yelled forward. “Something with a heavy door.”

  “Yes, yes…” the captain replied. “This way,” he said, waving a hand.

  They followed the captain, all of them moving as fast as they could down the narrow passageway toward a heavy door at the far end.

  The captain spun the wheel that released the locking mechanism at the top and bottom of the door, yanked it open, and they all poured into the room – suddenly finding themselves in the middle of the ship’s galley.

  “Seal the doors,” the captain barked, pointing to the far end of the galley.

  Harry and Dr. Rousseau each ran to a door, slamming them shut and locking them, then dogged down the heavy metal levers that lined the sides of each airlock.

  Amy ran to a porthole and slammed it shut, then screwed down the brass locking nuts that circled each side.

  After they were certain that the galley was secure, Harry put a finger to his lips, signaling for everyone to be quiet.

  The room fell silent except for the intermittent patter of water dripping from one of the galley’s faucets. A long anxious beat as they all stared at each other’s expressionless faces, and –

  Something massive slammed into the door!

  They all jumped. Amy screamed and leapt forward, latching onto Harry’s arm.

  There was another horrible bang on the door. The creature screamed in rage and frustration. It was a terrible sound that cut through the metal bulkhead like a plasma torch.

  “Tell me again there is no other way into the galley,” Harry said, looking at the captain and still holding onto Amy.

  The captain had broken into a cold sweat. Mopping his face with the back of his hand, he said, “Only the two airlocks – the room is sealed.”

  “Okay, good,” Harry said easing his grip on Amy. “There’s no way it’s coming through a steel door.”

  Chapter 52

  The chief engineer and a junior officer lurched into the bridge and looked around, astonished to find it empty and seemingly abandoned.

  “Where the hell is the watch?” the chief said, clawing his way up to the helm. “Where the hell is everyone? And where the hell is the captain?”

  The officer had just bunched up his shoulders and was midway through offering the chief a shrug, when the bridge door slammed open and a terrified-looking Italian deckhand stumbled inside.

  “Marko, what is it ?”

  “I-I was out on the ice. Hiding. Everyone is dead. Something horrible… huge… It came aboard.”

  The chief moved over to Marko, grabbed him, then slapped him across the face. “Get hold of yourself, man.”

  The deckhand looked momentarily at the chief’s face, his eyes rolled back in his skull – and he passed out, slumping into the chief’s arms.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  He lowered Marko to the floor, then went to the phone and hit the page button.

  * * * *

  Inside the ship’s galley the group had divided into twos, with Harry and Amy slumped against one wall and Captain Chabot and Dr. Rousseau against another, arguing loudly in bursts of French curse words.

  And then from an overhead speaker, the chief engineer’s voice boomed into the galley. “Attention, Captain Chabot… This is Chief Leblanc. If you can hear this, call the bridge immediately.”

  The captain rose to his feet and moved across the galley to a wall-mounted intercom, punched a button, and leaning into the microphone said, “Chief Leblanc, this is Captain Chabot.”

  “Captain! What is going on? I came onto the bridge and it was abandoned!”

  “Listen to me, chief. Round up everyone you can and get to a secure cabin. Seal yourselves inside. I am in the galley with Dr. Rousseau and the two people we rescued. Come here to the galley if you can.”

  A long, silent beat as the captain waited for the chief to respond.

  “Chief, do you copy? The captain demanded. “Chief –”

  Still no reply.

  * * * *

  Inside the bridge, there was a loud scraping sound. The chief’s nose filled with a keen primal musk. He dropped the phone and turned to see what it was. Something whistled through the air, and –

  The windows of the bridge went crimson with a film of blood.

  “Chief! Chief!” the captain’s voice boomed from the intercom speaker.

  * * * *

  Back in the galley everyone’s attention was riveted to the overhead speaker. The silent room filled with the terrified screams of the junior officer’s as he was disemboweled by the creature. Then the intercom speaker filled with static and went dead.

  Captain Chabot slumped against a wall, cradling his face in his hands.

  “God help us,” Amy said.

  Harry looked at the captain and shook his head, trying to control his anger, and thought, why hadn’t the arrogant bastard listened to them? Then he said, “What’s the matter, captain? Suffering from a little mal de mer?”

  Amy put a hand on Harry’s arm, trying to stop him. She could see the captain was defeated and lost and ruined.

  “This can’t be happening,” Dr. Rousseau whispered. “That thing can’t be real.”

  The captain raised his head, giving Harry and Amy a direct look. “I owe both of you an apology. I should have listened, but…” The captain stopped himself before he could offer an excuse for his inaction. “It is all my fault.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Amy said, her voice filling with resolve. “We’ve got to think…”

  The captain went to the intercom and pressed the microphone button. “This is Captain Chabot. All hands… If anyone is able to get to an intercom – call me in the galley.” The captain
released the button, then turned to the others. “We’ve got to try and get word to the Coast Guard. The radio in the bridge is out, but there is an emergency radio in my stateroom. If someone is left in that section of the ship, I can direct them to the radio and they can call for help.”

  Silence.

  They all just stared at the speaker. Waiting. Praying for some response.

  “Silence is golden, unless everyone is dead,” Harry said flatly, then looked directly at the captain, letting the indictment hang in the air.

  Harry moved along the front of a workbench until he reached a filthy, grease- spattered stove. He began to rifle through a shelf and then pulled open a drawer, looking for anything that he might fashion into a weapon. As the drawer opened, he broke into a smile when a lethal set of Henckel chef knives came into view.

  Harry reached into the drawer and pulled out a twelve-inch carving knife, then ran the tip into a chopping block next to the stove, leaving it to stick out of the block at a menacing angle. Reaching back into the drawer, he pulled out two more knives, one of them a boning knife, and stuck both of them into block as well.

  “Surely you’re not going to attempt to fight that thing?” the doctor asked, looking at the chopping block now bristling with knives.

  “Hey, you guys are the lovers…” Harry said, then held up one of the knives. “I’m an American. Besides, if I have to face that thing, I want to do it with something stronger than your champagne and pate breath.”

  “Harry…” Amy implored, “Let’s just keep it together until dawn.”

  “I’m not planning anything. I just don’t want to get caught with my pants down if that thing gets in here somehow.”

  Harry grabbed a cutting board that had managed to remain on the counter and propped it up against the wall. He grabbed the six-inch boning knife, hefting it to get a sense of the balance, backed up, then holding the knife by its elegantly shaped blade, threw it directly at the cutting board.

  The knife sailed through the air, and after four and a half rotations it thudded into the rectangle of wood handle first, ricocheted off, and dropped to the floor.

  “Perhaps you should go the champagne and pate route, Monsieur McNills,” the doctor suggested, making no attempted to hide the smugness of his tone.

  Amy moved up to the chopping block, removed the 12 inch carving knife and motioned for Harry to stand out of the way. Then she backed up, moving halfway across the room – and holding the knife by the blade – she threw it, snapping her wrist at the last moment. It tumbled through the air, zeroed in on the cutting board, and buried itself in the wood with a sweet “twang” sound.

  The captain’s eyes flashed up, and a look of surprise filled his face.

  “Bravo!” Dr. Rousseau said, clapping his hands together. “Bravo, Mademoiselle Tyler!”

  Harry stared at Amy, and shook his head with amazement. “Maybe you could teach me how to do that.”

  Chapter 53

  In the Seraph’s bowels, the ship’s three remaining deckhands fled for their lives down a passageway towards the crew’s mess. The floor was wet and slippery, awash with water pouring in from overhead pipes that had been twisted and broken when the ship went up on the iceberg.

  “Run!” the sailor bringing up the rear yelled, urging his shipmates on, just as the first two men skidded around a sharp bend, causing them to slam against the far wall, spin along the bulkhead, then regain their footing and continue charging toward an open airlock.

  Gerrard was first through the airlock, followed closely by Robert. Both men lost their footing as they landed in ankle-deep water and went spilling across the mess hall floor.

  Behind them, the remaining deckhand rounded the corner, then sprinted down the corridor towards the safety of the airlock door, his sneakers making a desperate squealing sound as they splashed through the flooded corridor.

  From inside the crew’s mess, Gerrard looked out through the airlock door, then yelled to the approaching deckhand, “Jacques…” And then he saw him try to turn and see what was chasing him. “No! Don’t look back! Move!”

  Jacques let his eyes snap forward and saw his buddy. Then his vision narrowed and his whole world suddenly became Gerrard and the airlock door.

  From somewhere behind him, somewhere in the shadows of the passageway, horrible wet footsteps thundered up. Just as Jacques was about to dive towards the open airlock, a massive clawed hand clamped over his right shoulder. The feeling that Deckhand Lafond had at that moment was like someone had just driven five railroad spikes into the flesh below his collarbone.

  Jacques screamed.

  As his screams filled the corridor and poured into the crew’s mess, Gerrard gripped the airlock door – and using his remaining strength – slammed it shut, sending the four locking bolts home by spinning the wheel at the door’s center.

  “Jesus Christ,” Robert said, climbing to his feet behind Gerrard, his heart still pounding in his chest like it might break loose from its attachments. “What happened? Where’s Jacques?”

  “What do you think happened, idiot? Just like the others… he didn’t make it.”

  “Merde,” Robert said, dropping his head. Then, “Gerrard, look at the water.”

  Then from behind them, at the far end of mess quarters, the welds around the crushed bulkhead failed and ocean water began to flood, then pour into the room, swirling around tables and chairs and up the legs of the two shocked deckhands.

  “Gerrard!” Robert yelled, leaping up onto a countertop. “What are we going to do?”

  Gerrard waded over to the leaking bulkhead, running his finger around one edge, hoping there might be some way to stop or slow the water. But it was hopeless. With each passing moment the fissures and cracks in the overstressed steel yawned open wider and wider. And water lapped up over Gerrard’s belt.

  “Merde,” Gerrard said, and waded back towards the airlock door. “We’re going to have to get out of here.”

  “But how?” Robert asked, looking down at the water as it reached the counter he was standing on, then pooled around his shoes.

  “How do you think?”

  “No, I’m not going back through that door. No, Gerrard, I’m not going out there. Not with that thing…”

  “Shut up. It’s through that door or stay here and drown.”

  Gerrard shivered as the cold water moved across his stomach. He reached out, grabbed the wheel, and right before he spun it open, he placed an ear against the metal door and listened to see if he could hear anything… listened to see if he could hear any signs that the creature was standing right there on the other side of the door… waiting in the dark passageway, waiting for them to come out.

  Gerrard tightened his grip on the wheel, spun it to retract the bolts, and then tugged on the door trying to pull it open. It didn’t budge. Either it was stuck or the pressure of the water kept it sealed.

  “Robert!” Gerrard yelled. “The door is stuck. Come help.”

  “I’m not going out there,” Robert said, seeing that the water was now up to Gerrard’s shoulders.

  “Robert!” Gerrrard screamed, turning and giving him a ferocious look.

  Robert jumped at the tone of Gerrard’s voice. Then, realizing he had no good choice, he stepped off the countertop, crying out in shock as he dropped into the frigid sea water.

  Robert made his way over to the door. Gripping the wheel and pulling together, the two men swung the door open. As the water flooded out of the crew’s mess, the deckhands were swept off their feet, carried out through the door, and deposited in the still mostly dry passageway.

  They spilled across the floor. Then both desperately looked around, trying to catch any signs that the creature might be there waiting.

  Gerrard scrambled to his feet and got Robert out of the flooding water. Then, pulling him by an arm, he led him back up the passageway towards the relative safety of the upper decks. “Follow me. If I say run, don’t think, just do it.”

  The two men
moved in single file along the passageway. The sounds of flooding water filled their ears, making the journey through the dark corridor even more unnerving. If something was coming for them, they’d never hear it in time. They’d have no warning. No chance. Up ahead, just a few more steps, was the blind corner that they had skidded around not ten minutes ago.

  And as the two men approached the bend, the air suddenly filled with a sharp musky smell. Before either of them could react, a huge, shadowy form swept around the corner and rose up and over them. The razor teeth and claws began to bite and tear, and the flooding waters turned crimson with human blood.

  Chapter 54

  Back in the galley, the mood was tense and anxious. Everybody was counting the hours until dawn broke and help arrived – and each one was wondering whether the creature would return, and whether the door would hold if it did.

  After searching and rummaging, Dr. Rousseau had turned up another bottle of champagne and was already a good third of the way through it. Harry found a broom and removed the bristles. Then he bound the handle of the boning knife to one end.

  Captain Chabot was a broken man. He sat on the floor with his head in his hands, moaning softly, rocking back and forth, consumed with self-pity.

  Amy, who was sitting next to Harry watching him fashion the makeshift spear, stood, went to a porthole, looked out – and in a horror-filled voice said, “No…”

  All heads snapped up.

  “What?” Harry said, jumping to his feet.

  “What is it, mademoiselle?” Dr. Rousseau said, his senses now dulled with wine.

  Amy motioned them over to the porthole. Harry got there first with Dr. Rousseau stumbling up behind him and grabbing onto Harry’s shoulder to keep himself from slipping to the floor.

  Through the porthole they stared at the iceberg and watched in horror as the creature dropped onto the ice and rolled in the body of a freshly killed sailor.

  Dr. Rousseau doubled over and proceeded to vomit up the champagne he’d worked so hard to find.