Adrift (Book 1) Page 16

  "Barricade the doors," Vega roared, and Mark's blood ran cold.

  23

  The moment stretched out, until it felt to Dan like the air around him was ready to snap. When the helicopter had roared over the ship, Katie grabbed his hand once more, and dragged him back through the security suite and out onto the balcony that overlooked the park two levels below their current position.

  It all seemed to happen so quickly. At one moment, Dan's mind had been equally divided between apprehension and confusion, but when the chopper dropped the huge box directly onto the people gathered below it, and the screaming and the gunshots started, he realised that the confusion part no longer mattered.

  All that mattered was that the worst had happened. Hell, worse than the worst. Dan had been preoccupied with the thought of hijackers, but what unfolded in the park below them, lit sporadically by bolts of lightning, was far beyond anything his mind had been able to conjure up.

  The Oceanus wasn't the target of hijackers, or even terrorists, but something else. Something that he caught glimpses of in the fractured light, but which his mind refused to accept.

  If he had been pushed, the best word Dan could have come up with to describe the creatures that fanned out through the park was monsters.

  They looked like nothing he had ever seen before: bigger than the average person, and vaguely humanoid in shape, but also somehow insectile in their movements. They were fast, but there was also order in the way they moved, an unmistakable intelligence. The creatures were operating like a well-drilled team, spreading out from the epicentre that was the shipping container uniformly.

  A rampaging wave of teeth and death.

  Dan saw only three, but they killed with extraordinary, machine-like efficiency. Every movement seemed calculated to cause maximum damage; each swing of the gangly arms tearing flesh apart like wet paper.

  Dan and Katie stood, rooted to the spot, for what felt like an eternity, watching the massacre unfold in brilliantly-lit snapshots like a grisly slideshow. Every few seconds, lightning split the sky, and the pile of bodies in the park seemed to grow exponentially.

  Dan's mind raced to understand. The creatures were killing at will, but the sheer number of bodies just didn't tally. It seemed like the creatures moved through a space and left insanity in their wake.

  Many of the people down there, Dan realised, weren't being torn apart by the monsters.

  They were killing themselves.

  Lightning forked across the sky, and Dan saw a woman standing in front of one of the park's perfectly manicured trees.

  Smashing her head against the trunk until she collapsed to the floor, unmoving.

  He saw a man smash a wine bottle and savagely drive the broken neck into his own throat, ripping his life away with a single, terrible swipe.

  Other passengers leapt for the railings at the edge of the deck, hurling themselves into the sea, and the screams of relief that emanated from them as they plunged toward the freezing waves made Dan think that they hadn't jumped because they wanted to escape.

  They wanted to die.

  The air was ripe with fear. It reached out invisible fingers and clutched at Dan's muscles, paralysing him.

  Forcing him to watch.

  The park became a killing field, and it happened so fast. Already the three creatures had disappeared from his sight. Those left alive in the park tried to bludgeon themselves to death with whatever was close to hand.

  Dan saw a woman upend a chair and fall upon it, driving the leg through her eye and into her skull like a spear, and he dropped his gaze, unable to look on the insanity anymore, trying to focus only on not letting the terror he felt cause him to black out.

  And he saw something below him that drove all other considerations from his mind in an instant.

  One of the hideous creatures barrelled into the ship's interior, two floors directly below his position.

  Run, Dan thought, but his limbs would not comply. He stared, transfixed, at the darkness below, waiting for the next flash of lightning to illuminate the ruined corpses that decorated the park.

  Hoping to see that the creature had turned back; that it wasn’t at that very moment heading straight toward him.

  You have to run.

  Dan almost shrieked when Katie grabbed his arm firmly, and dragged him toward the nearest doorway.

  The fear caught in his throat.

  Someone else was screaming, and they sounded terrifyingly close. The scream became a gurgle, and Dan heard wet smacking sounds as Katie closed the door gently. A half-second later, he felt her breath in his ear. The words hissed from her lips, hot and trembling.

  "It's on the stairs."

  If Dan had yelped in surprise when Katie grabbed him, he would almost certainly have drawn the creature straight to them. The realisation made his bladder loosen with terror. He tried to breathe evenly, but he wasn't sure he could manage even that without crying out, and so he settled for holding his breath.

  The darkness in the room was absolute, but Dan didn't think Katie had pulled him back into the security suite. Even without visual cues to aid him, he sensed that they were standing in a much smaller space. Some office, perhaps, or...

  Dan reached out a hand carefully, and brushed his hand against a wooden pole. He realised it was the handle of a broom, and that Katie had pulled him into a storage closet, even as the broom fell in the darkness, clattering into other cleaning supplies. The noise sounded impossibly loud.

  Dan froze.

  No way out.

  For several seconds, he and Katie stood unmoving in the silence, and Dan desperately prayed that the noise he had made had gone unheard.

  Silence prevailed for what felt to Dan like a lifetime.

  Click.

  Click, click, click.

  Outside the door, the thunderous silence gave way to heavy footfalls, each one allied to the strange clicking noise. It took Dan a moment to understand that what he heard must be the sound of claws on the polished floor.

  Or talons.

  Katie's hand found Dan's face in the dark, and clamped firmly over his mouth.

  She didn't whisper in his ear this time; no need to tell him to be quiet. Even if Dan had wanted to speak, he doubted he could have formed the words. He had a feeling that at that moment, his mouth was only good for screaming.

  Through the thin wooden door, the footsteps approached fast, and Dan heard heavy, ragged panting. Up close, the thing sounded huge: each breath an explosive grunt that made Dan think there was a bear in the hallway beyond the door.

  It's right outside.

  Time slowed to a desperate crawl, and for a moment, Dan was back there on that innocuous London street, clutching his wallet dumbly and wondering how the handle of a knife came to be growing from his forehead. Tumbling helplessly on a black current of terror that soon became as familiar to him as breathing.

  The sound of something falling to the floor right outside the supply closet snapped him back to the present. Whatever had fallen, it had landed with a wet slap that reminded Dan of owning a dog as a kid, and his mother tossing the fat she had trimmed from steaks onto the kitchen floor for the happy mutt to devour.

  Meat.

  Flesh.

  Food.

  Dan's fingernails buried themselves into his palms painfully, and Katie's iron grip on his jaw tightened until his cheeks ached, but he could not move, and the pain seemed terribly unimportant. Nothing mattered except the door, and Dan's certainty that at any moment it would burst open to reveal the snapping jaws of the monstrous creature that had decimated the passengers gathered in the park.

  Dan's pulse hammered in his veins, and he wanted desperately to kick open the door and flee blindly. This was a nightmare; it had to be. He was still asleep next to his wife, warm and safe. The events of the hours since he had awoken were all so twisted, so unreal. Dan almost felt like laughing. Of course it was a dream. Dan should have known, from the moment he left the cabin and ventured out alone
into an ocean of strangers.

  That wasn't just out of character: it was impossible.

  Dan felt his muscles relax a little.

  He hadn't taken his medication after all, and the resulting chemical imbalance in his brain was making him crazy.

  Time to wake up, now, he thought to himself, and squeezed his eyes shut, praying that when he reopened them he would see the walls of the cabin, and Elaine snoring softly next to him.

  But there was only darkness and terror and a strange young woman's hand clamped over his mouth. The trembling of her body next to his; the sour stench of sweat and fear.

  Something thumped against the door, and Dan knew that he had just moments left to live, and suddenly the fear of the world; the crippling anxiety and the isolation he had imposed upon himself for two years made him furious.

  Such a waste, he thought. It's a wonder Elaine even stayed, let alone agreed to marry me.

  He offered a silent prayer, despite not having a religious bone in his body; a promise to God that if He would allow Dan to live through the madness unfurling aboard the Oceanus, Dan wouldn't let anxiety dominate another moment of his life. He would take Elaine dancing; Christ, he'd dance right along the streets with her, oblivious to the stares of strangers that had crippled him for so long and—

  Outside the door, someone screamed.

  Footsteps, fleeing.

  And that terrible clacking of talons, following them.

  Moving away.

  Dan let out a breath that had become a raging inferno in his lungs, and became aware that somewhere during those terrifying few moments he had pissed himself. Ordinarily, such an occurrence in public would have resulted in all-consuming humiliation, and would most likely have meant another year of Dan refusing to leave the house.

  Yet at that precise moment, as he felt the warm wetness at his crotch, he didn't give a damn. Fear of humiliation was suddenly outranked by something far worse.

  Somewhere outside, he heard a door opening with a crash, and more screaming,

  "I think it's in the security suite," Katie breathed into his ear, making him jump. She took her hand away from his mouth, and Dan worked his jaw, feeling it click into place.

  "I'm so sorry," Katie whispered, and there was an odd note of embarrassment in her voice that suddenly made her sound very young. "I think I peed myself."

  She sounded mortified.

  Dan blinked into the darkness, and forced himself to swallow back the hysterical laughter that threatened to consume him.

  24

  Steven Vega's terror was infectious. Mark felt it coiling around his nerves and squeezing, and the combination of darkness and Vega's fear made him tremble.

  That, and the screams that followed Vega into the dark conference room.

  Outside the room, the clamour that Mark had already become used to hearing—the murmurs of confusion from the passengers, the occasional yelp of surprise; all the sounds made by people stumbling around an unfamiliar place in the dark—had given way to screams of a very different sort.

  Mark tried not to hear it; did everything he could to ignore the noise that floated to his ears, but it was impossible. Again and again, he heard howls of terror, some of which dissolved into cries of pain and disbelief, others which cut off abruptly.

  Mixed in with the human noises, another sound; a shrill shriek that sounded almost like an animal call. Answered by similar shrieks in the distance. Whatever was out there, there was more than one, and they communicated in voices that made Mark’s courage wither.

  The terrible wall of noise beyond the conference room doors wasn't close, but it was headed that way.

  Our time is fucking short.

  Mark tried not to think about what Herb's words meant, but his mind ran to dark destinations of its own accord.

  Hearing the screams, no one in the conference room questioned Vega's desperate command. Instead, the four stunned members of the security team searched for anything they could use to help him barricade the door.

  The tables and chairs in the conference room were lightweight, and so they piled them high and wide in a silent blur of furious activity. Vega threaded the wooden legs of a chair through the door handles, apparently unwilling to sacrifice his gun to the task once more. In the dark it was impossible to tell just how secure the barricade was; most likely, Mark thought, anything that broke the makeshift deadbolt and came through the door would simply brush the flimsy furniture aside. Still, the act of creating the barricade seemed to calm Vega a little, and Mark thought that was vital.

  Hearing the big man's whimpering fear was almost worse than the screams outside. Vega wasn't the type of guy to panic about anything, and Mark was sure that he would have done his level best to avoid showing any weakness or fear in front of his troops. The fact that Vega clearly didn't care about appearing terrified and weak made dry panic surge in Mark's throat.

  And made him wonder again about Herb's story.

  Surely it couldn't be true?

  "What's out there, Steve?" Mark said finally, when there was no more furniture left to move. "What did you see?"

  Vega's response was a trembling sigh that made Mark's nerves dance.

  "I've got no fucking idea," Vega said at last. His voice sounded weak and distant; preoccupied somehow. "The chopper we heard dropped a shipping container right onto the middle of the park. Time-locked doors. The things that came out...they're killing everyone. It was a bomb, after all. Just not the type that explodes. A living bomb."

  Vega sounded like he was carrying on parts of a conversation that Mark had not been privy to, and so Mark picked out the word that seemed most important and focused on it.

  "Things?" Mark said sharply. Judging by Vega's voice, the ex-marine's confidence had been punctured, and it seemed like a fatal wound. He didn't sound pissed off at Mark addressing him by his first name; didn't even sound like he realised he was speaking to Mark at all. Mark thought the big man sounded like he was deflating inexorably.

  Like he was beyond terrified and had no idea how to deal with it.

  "Killing themselves," Vega mumbled absently. "Because they got into their heads. Making them kill themselves. I wanted to—"

  "Vega," Mark snapped. "Steve. Steve. Focus."

  Vega whimpered into silence.

  "You said there were things out there," Mark said. "What things?"

  "Things," Vega repeated in a faraway tone. "I don't know. Creatures. Monsters."

  "Vampires," Herb said in the darkness. "And you bastards promised you'd shoot me."

  "Will you shut the fuck up about vampires?" Mark hissed.

  "Didn't look like any vampires I've ever heard of," Vega said softly. "Looked like...I don't know. Insects? Like someone mixed up humans and insects and added a fuckload of teeth to the result. The things I saw...they're not out there sucking blood. They're tearing people to fucking pieces."

  "Yeah, that's right. Vampires," Herb spat sullenly. "Just like I said."

  Mark rubbed his temples, and tried to keep a grip on reality, but it felt evasive, like oil slipping through his fingers. Vega's words made about as much sense as Herb's.

  Maybe they're both telling the truth.

  Whatever the case, Steven Vega sounded like he had just about checked out. The hard-nosed marine bark was gone, replaced by a feeble, jittery whine that set Mark's teeth on edge. What good was the man, if the one time you needed his macho-bullshit army-man persona, he went to pieces?

  "You were shooting," Mark said finally. "At these creatures? Did you kill any?"

  "No," Vega said quietly. "I emptied the gun before I saw 'em. Shot the guys who set this up, the ones who set off the EMP. Trying to board the chopper. Got two, at least."

  Mark heard a sharp intake of breath. Herb.

  "One got away?" Herb asked cautiously.

  Vega didn't respond, but the silence apparently told Herb everything he needed to know.

  "I know which fucking one that will be," Herb said to no one in
particular.

  For several long moments, awkward silence descended on the group. The members of the security team were, Mark realised, waiting for Vega to tell them what to do next. Himself included.

  Yet it didn't sound like Vega had the slightest idea what to do next. Didn't sound, in fact, like he wanted to do anything other than hide. Mark suddenly had the notion that if Vega had been alone, the big man would have quite happily dissolved into hysterical sobbing.

  Not helpful.

  Mark searched his mind, irritated that he had no idea which questions to ask, and no concept of what should be done next.

  The stories that Herb and Vega were telling were incredible; too farfetched to believe, and yet both men clearly did believe what they were saying. Herb could well be a liar or a lunatic or both, but Steven Vega had been singularly unimaginative and bullish when he left the room, and a broken shell when he returned. He’d seen something out there. Something terrible. He wasn’t lying about that.

  Mark felt paralysed by doubt, and each attempt he made to decide what to do next foundered on the rocks in his mind.

  One step at a time, he thought.

  "Are you three armed?" he asked finally, and got grunts of acknowledgement from Phillips, Ferguson and Saunders.

  Herb chuckled.

  "Guns won't help," he said.

  Mark felt a fire of anger erupt in his gut, and gave serious consideration to locating Herb's face and punching it again.

  "Fine," he snapped. "Vampires. How the fuck do we fight them, then?"

  "You don't," Herb said. "Don't you get it? You, me, everybody on this boat; we've been sacrificed. We aren't supposed to survive. We can't. Even if you could kill them, in doing so you'd be breaking a truce that has existed for thousands of years. Starting a war with an enemy that cannot be defeated. We're all going to die, right here. Tonight."

  Mark clenched a fist.

  "Bullshit," he growled. "I'm not going down without a fight, you hear?"

  Herb laughed bitterly.