Shadow Cast: A Brock Finlander Novel (Coastal Adventure Series Book 3)

by E. J. Foster

  I was just out of reach.

  “Slowly now, Finn... East,” I said, and the crane inched toward Jessa. “Stop.” I was finally here.

  “We’ll have a talk about that later,” I said to Jessa, raising an eyebrow toward the stun gun. “Drop it and grab hold of me with both arms.”

  Jessa let go of the weapon and it fell impotently, pulling out the wires as it descended, and continuing its descent to the floor before shattering into pieces.

  Jessa clung to me with both arms, and she placed one foot on top of my boot, in the hook. Her shoulders and hips were stuck to webbing.

  “We’re gonna have to pull her off, Finn,” I shouted. “West, slow.”

  The crane moved back away from the sticky web, which was fighting me for control of the girl. The web began to stretch as I pulled Jessa farther from it. The crane continued moving west, but the steel cable started to bend and bow toward the web that was holding us, as the web was stretching outward to meet it. Something had to give.

  The more Finn pulled, the tighter the tension built between the crane and the web.

  “Stop,” I said.

  I had one arm around Jessa, and my other hand locked around the cable, but I was losing grip on both. I could feel Jessa’s arms tighten around my neck, trying to gain purchase, but she was weakening, too.

  The last thing that the web had complete control of was Jessa’s backpack, which was stretched at the straps around her shoulders.

  “One arm at a time,” I said to Jessa. “Slip out of your backpack.”

  Disappointment fell on her face.

  “This is my backpack,” she explained. “My hello kitty.”

  “It served you well, kiddo. Now it’s time to say goodbye.”

  Jessa thought for a moment, then nodded. She slipped an arm out of the backpack, changing the tension of the cable, upsetting the balance. The web started to quiver, and the hook was unsteady under my boot, but then settled again after a few thick heartbeats.

  She grabbed hold of me tightly with the free arm and then slipped her other arm out. At that moment, we were in free fall. My stomach dropped out.

  Jessa screamed as we swung across the room, away from the web, like a pendulum. I watched as the entire web quivered and quaked as it snapped back into place after releasing Jessa.

  At the far end of the pendulum swing, we became weightless. That’s when it hit me. Gravity.

  We were heading back to the web.

  42

  Katie sank into her plush chair in the comfort of her living room. She had tried to focus on Jeopardy, occasionally shouting answers at the TV, in between checking her phone for messages from her father. Or Jules. Or Finn. Or anyone at all, if the universe was merciful.

  She had already left Brock three messages. It wasn’t like him to not call back. Not anymore.

  She clicked off the television, so she could hear the thoughts in her head more clearly.

  Katie had spent most of her life waiting for her dad to call. He hadn’t been there for many years. But since he’d come back into her life, things had been different. He had changed. And she had, too. Finally letting go of the anger, and the resentment. She had learned to love him. She had learned to understand forgiveness. She had changed.

  But the broken promises of her past started to taunt her again. The ghosted feeling of a phone call unanswered crept back in. She pushed the thoughts back, but the scars were deep, and the memories were powerful, no matter how much forgiveness had passed.

  Katie stood up from her chair, trying to break out of her hypnotic state.

  “No,” she spoke out loud, pushing the thoughts away, and instead making new ones. He wouldn’t do this. Something must be wrong.

  Katie wandered the first floor of the house and ended up pacing the kitchen as she thought. She was struggling with the dueling notions in her head. The thought that her father might be in danger, or worse––that he had abandoned her again.

  Katie wiped the moisture from her cheeks and dialed a different phone number this time.

  43

  Jessa and I were high above the hard steel floor, swinging helplessly back in the direction of the web from which we had just escaped.

  Maybe we wouldn’t collide with it. I knew we would lose some energy, and that the pendulum couldn’t reach its initial starting point. But I felt the hook lowering as well. Finn still had his thumb on the down button, which was bringing us closer to the lower slant of the web. Each swing put us in danger of getting stuck again.

  On the next swing, we came just inches from the web. Strands of Jessa’s hair extended out, on momentum, and stuck to the web. Jessa yelped as the hairs were pulled out of her head on the back swing. Lower we went.

  On the next swing, we were even lower now and headed directly for the dripping corpse. In a flash we were right up on it, just inches away. Jessa yelped again, and her eyes welded shut. I could see the tearing and cutting wounds where the giant arachnid mandibles had torn meat from the bone. Randall.

  We swung back away from the web, and the girls below me started screaming.

  I looked down to see one of the spiders trying to make its way into the room, one black leg at a time. The beast was too big to walk through the door with ease.

  “We’ve got a visitor,” I said.

  “Uh oh,” Finn said. “I hope it’s not double trouble.”

  Katiana held the ax above her head.

  “Finn, does this thing go any faster?” I shouted down, feeling helpless.

  “I’m trying.” Finn's voice was all panic. He ran with the radio, slipping through a hole in the web and hiding behind the giant safety net in the space created between the web and the wall to which it was attached. Jules climbed through the whole right behind him.

  Katiana held her ground with the ax, in a fighting stance. Who was this woman? She swung the weapon and it whistled through the air, keeping the spider at bay. The spider tap danced, threatening her.

  Jessa and I finally touched down. It was good to be back on solid ground. I sat Jessa down and she immediately ran behind the web to join the others. What was once a sticky trap was now the very same thing that protected them.

  I heaved the giant steel crane hook in my hands and pulled it backwards, away from the spider. This hunk of metal felt heavier than a car engine, dangling at the end of a rope.

  A flash of a memory overcame me. A playground swing set. Pulling my daughter Katie back in the swing and holding her there for a moment, before launching her into a swing, letting gravity do most of the work.

  The only thing standing between me and the spider was a beautiful woman, holding an ax high above her head like an Amazonian warrior princess.

  “Step aside, Katiana,” I warned her with a calm voice, but she was a statue, and didn’t look away from the beast. “Trust me,” I tried again.

  “Proceed slowly,” Jessa shouted from behind the protective netting of the web. “They respond to movement.”

  I glanced back to see Jessa lowering a mask back down over her mouth.

  Katiana put one foot behind her other one and planted it there, inching sideways slowly and smoothly without moving her head or torso.

  I had a straight line of sight at the beast.

  “Finn, be ready on the controls,” I said and heard a parade of noise behind me as Finn fumbled for the device.

  “Ready,” he said.

  I heaved the hulking crane-hook a few inches higher, straining. My muscles spasmed under the effort, and my face winced with struggle. Beads of sweat rolled from my hairline and dripped into my eyes. Did the beast move? Through the blur I could still make out the giant black mass for which I was aiming.

  I forced the hook down, pushing with all I had, and grunted a rebel yell.

  The spider didn’t move. The giant hook swung, gaining speed with gravity, and pierced the thorax of the giant black spider with a disturbing crunch.

  An ungodly deafening screech echoed in the giant hall and rul
ed the world for a moment.

  “Up, Finn! Up!” I commanded.

  The weight of the pendulum began to drag the giant creature back toward me. It was hooked like a fish on a line, and it was coming right at me.

  I turned and dove through a hole in the web, joining the kids.

  When I looked back, the alien creature slowly began to rise; all eight legs fluttered and kicked frantically as the thing swung helplessly, rising higher and higher. The panicked motion of its legs threw shadows around the room, like a deadly disco ball.

  “We gotta move,” I said.

  44

  Jules plopped down into the extra bunk like it was her own, completely exhausted. She kicked back and crossed her feet, hands behind her head, and closed her eyes.

  “Whose bed is this?” Jules asked out into the room.

  Katiana had led us here to her living quarters. It was a safe place to make a plan and had only one entrance to worry about. Katiana locked the door behind us.

  The sparse room had two beds, two nightstands, a small mini fridge and a shared bathroom.

  “This is Martin’s bed,” Katiana answered.

  Jules' eyes popped open, but she did not move.

  “Did you say, Martin?” Jules asked.

  “Oui.”

  Jules sat up in the bed, placed her feet back on the floor, head down.

  “He...” Jules started. “Won’t be coming back.” She got out of the bed and stood, looking back at it, appearing solemn.

  I understood what Jules meant. From the silence in the room, I gathered that everyone else did, too.

  Katiana dipped her head, finding the floor. A small moment of tribute for a lost comrade.

  I could sense the nerves bundling up in Finn and Jessa. They looked like scared kittens.

  “We’re safe here now,” I assured them. “All the way from hold number three to up here, we didn’t see one spider.”

  “We didn’t see one human, either,” Jules piped up, her voice laced with the usual amount of sarcasm.

  I thought about that for a moment. Humans. These things needed humans. They’re not new living creatures. They are only transformations of existing living creatures. Their numbers are limited.

  “I do not understand how this is happening,” Katiana said.

  “I had some time to consider that while I was ensnared,” Jessa said and pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. “Just after my camera flashed, that’s when the rock cracked open.”

  “The meteorite,” I clarified.

  “Yes. The meteorite cracked open, and the green gas came out,” Jessa said.

  “Something similar happened at Katie’s lab,” I said, thinking out loud. “Maybe it was after she used her phone to lock the door.”

  “It could be possible for certain high-power frequencies to crack the crystalline structure of the rock. I mean, um, the meteorite, and release the gas inside,” Jessa suggested.

  “Katie thought the green gas might be flammable. And from the number it did on her lab, I think she’s right,” I added. “That gas is dangerous in more ways than one.”

  I thought about how many spiders we’d have to face, and exactly how we’d face them. It seemed to hinge on the human population of this ship.

  I turned to Katiana for answers.

  “How many people are—” I stopped myself, adjusting the phrase to account for the reality of our situation. “How many people were on this ship?”

  “Twenty-one for the Atlantic crossing, one more when we arrive,” Katiana said. “The bay pilot. Twenty-two?”

  The question in her voice sounded a little like she was guessing on that final number. Or she wasn’t sure. Neither was I. What were we dealing with?

  “Is there a way to find out?”

  “Find out?

  “How many humans—” I stopped myself again, this time softening the phrase. “How many people are on board?”

  Katiana thought about that, chewing on it for a moment. She pursed her lips as she pondered, then spoke again.

  “A call for all hands,” she offered.

  “Can you do it from here?”

  “No, I do not have rank. They would not… uh, accept, honor an all hands call from me.”

  She was right, and I knew that. It would have to come from the Captain to be absolutely sure everyone was counted.

  “Take me to your captain.”

  45

  The aging captain stood over Jules' phone, dumbfounded, his mouth a cavern. I sensed that in his many years on the water, he’d never seen anything like this. Not even close.

  The wheelhouse was a large room, with endless banks of equipment, sensors and controls in multiple workstations around the space, surrounded on three sides by an unbroken chain of picture windows.

  I imagine you could see the entirety of the Chesapeake Bay through those windows on a clear day, but at the moment, they were nothing but blackness in the storm.

  The deck rolled under my feet as the ship relented to the waves.

  The captain fell back into his chair, eyes a thousand miles away, muttering to himself. “Est-ce vrai?”

  “Oui,” Katiana answered.

  I let a few heartbeats pass before getting to the business at hand.

  “We need to find out who else is still on this ship,” I said, picking up the mic and handing it to the captain. “Call the crew.”

  The captain stared at the handset, like it was a foreign object. Slowly, he took it in his hands and keyed the mic.

  “Calling all hands.” The captain’s voice was unsteady. “All hands to the bridge deck in five minutes.”

  The announcement echoed electronically from all around us. The last of the echoes faded outside in the storm, having just arrived from the farthest parts of the ship.

  A new silence fell again. The captain spoke again, cutting through it.

  “Now, we wait.”

  46

  The deputy stood in Katie’s kitchen, dripping rainwater on the floor, creating a puddle around his shoes on the tile.

  “It’s too rough out there, ma’am,” the deputy said. “Even if there was a distress call, and there isn’t, but, even if there was, we wouldn’t execute a rescue attempt for at least a few hours, until that storm out there,” the deputy pointed toward the bay, “passes through. It’s too dangerous, ma’am.”

  “Stop calling me ma'am. You know me, Scotty. You know us. Isn’t there anything you can do?” Katie’s voice wavered and her eyes were glossy; she was near tears, more from frustration than fright.

  “I’m sorry, ma—” The deputy stopped. “Katie,” he corrected himself. “My hands are tied. Here’s my card. Call me if you hear anything.”

  The deputy opened the front door and stepped out into the downpour, letting in the applause of a thousand raindrops. He closed the door and silence washed over the empty house again.

  Katie stood alone, feeling helplessness crowd in around her. She paced again, back and forth, thinking through her options, and kept coming back to the same conclusion. She had no options.

  Chum entered the foyer and barked once at her, then sat at the front door, facing it. He turned his head back and whimpered a plea. Ever since Finn was little, Chum couldn’t stand to be without him, and was always ready to mount a search when Finn was gone.

  Katie paced again, wandering aimlessly until it led her into the office, staring out the window and into the black of night. Nothingness stared back at her through the window, threatening to never reveal its secrets.

  The blackness of the window was nearly complete and unbroken, except for a small rectangle of white light. A reflection.

  Katie turned to see the monitor on the desk behind her. Jules had left it on in her rush out the door. Katie moved closer to it, examining the screen. It was a map.

  On the screen was a map of Claw Island and the Chesapeake Bay. A red dot pulsed in the center of the map, in an expanse of blue water. The dot was labeled Finn’s Phone. Katie recogniz
ed the location.

  She took in a deep breath and set her jaw. She had a decision to make. She closed her eyes, and after a few breaths, began to nod her head.

  When she opened her eyes again, she and Chum were already running to the dock.

  47

  We’d spent the past fifteen minutes arguing over the plan.

  “I’m not leaving. Not until I’m sure every last person on this ship is safe,” I said. My words had sounded convincing, but inside, I wasn’t sure anymore, and was starting to lose faith. It had been twenty minutes since the captain made his first call out, and not a soul had showed up in the wheelhouse. He had made three more callouts since.

  Jules scanned the video feeds. She was shaking her head.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I’ve been through every feed four times and haven’t seen anyone. We gotta get off this ship, Brock.”

  “We have to do more than that,” I said. “We have to sink this ship.” I had everyone’s attention now, except the captain. He was far off in a distant land. “It’s the only way,” I said, finally.

  “That might not destroy the spiders,” Jules said. “What if they can swim?”

  “And what will we do about the green gas?” Jessa chimed in. “It’s spreading. Will it not continue to mutate other creatures in the bay? Birds? Sharks? Crabs?”

  A memory flashed and sent chills down my spine. Crabs. I had tried to forget about that day.

  I nodded understanding.

  “You’re right, Jessa,” I said. “We have to contain this, and we have to do it now. From what Katie said, that green gas—”

  “Spore vapor,” Jessa interrupted to correct me.

  “Green spore vapor,” I eyed Jessa and continued, “is highly flammable.”

  “How flammable?” Finn asked.

  “Explosive,” I said, raising an eyebrow at Finn. “We have to ignite this ship... Blow it up.”

  Katiana inhaled sharply. “We cannot do—”