Eight

by WW Mortensen

  As Kriedemann backpedalled into the room, Chad bolted the door. Almost instantly, water trickled beneath it.

  “This ain’t good,” McGinley whined, spinning fitfully. “There’s no way out—we’re trapped!”

  He was right. The door Kriedemann had slammed shut—steel-framed but otherwise timber and now shuddering with the weight and intent of dozens of enraged, clawing spiders—was the only exit to the outside. Next to Ed were the stairs that led both below deck and up to the wheelhouse, but neither destination bore an option for escape.

  More scratching and thumping, louder than before. The door buckled. A loud crack reverberated through the saloon.

  The timber won’t hold.

  The water level continued to rise, faster now.

  Again, a lightning-stab of pain flared through Ed’s abdomen, and he clutched at it, the involuntary whimper that escaped his lips masked by the horrendous noise outside. He was glad: now wasn’t the time to compound Jessy’s worries.

  Another sharp crack rent the air, and once more, the door bulged inwards.

  “What’s the goddamned plan?” McGinley cried.

  Fearing the door would implode at any moment, Ed shepherded Jessy to the stairs. Underfoot, water sloshed, now ankle-deep. Outside, the stern would be fully submerged.

  The scratching stopped.

  “What the hell?” Jessy said.

  An eerie stillness descended.

  “You think they’ve gone?” McGinley said, stock-still and suddenly hopeful.

  Bull’s gaze darted. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  The Tempestade groaned.

  “You know, we’ve slipped anchor,” Tag said, his head cocked. “Current’s got us. We’re on the move.”

  McGinley looked at him. “Who gives a shit? We need to find a way out of here!”

  “I’m just saying!”

  Scanning for options, Chad turned to them both. “Quiet!”

  Ed could tell by the tone in his friend’s voice that Chad was barely holding it together. It was perfectly understandable—hell, on top of everything, all this horror, he’d lost his beloved boat. But as skipper, getting them out of this alive seemed his buddy’s priority, and Chad started passing out lifejackets. As he did, he turned to Ed and Kriedemann. “Our best bet is to head up to the wheelhouse. It’ll buy us some time, if nothing else.”

  Ed nodded. The silence from the rear deck reeked of a trap, and he was certain the creatures were capable of such cunning. What’s more, there’d be nothing but water on the other side of the door. Kriedemann was obviously of the same opinion; the sergeant was already pointing his men to the stairs.

  With an arm around Jessy’s waist and one of hers draped across his shoulders, Ed made to move, but hesitated. “Hey—where the hell is Bec?”

  “She’s not below?” Chad asked.

  “No,” Ed said. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  Chad frowned. “She went outside earlier, to close the hatch up front.”

  “Oh my God…” Jessy said. “Outside? You think they… got her?”

  “We don’t know that,” Kriedemann said. “Come on.”

  They headed up to the wheelhouse.

  111

  In terror, Rebecca turned and swam hard from the approaching Zodiac.

  She never stood a chance.

  Rain pelted her as the boat zoomed in. Reaching over the side, De Sousa caught her hair and yanked her violently upwards. Rebecca screamed in agony, fearing her scalp was tearing free of her skull, powerless to resist as De Sousa hoisted her into the boat. Standing, he pulled her to her feet—still by the hair—and struck her across the face with his spare hand. Pain shot through her jaw like a bolt, and she sprayed blood, her teeth loosening with the impact.

  Abandoning the throttle and allowing the motor to idle, De Sousa hit her again, chasing her as she flew backwards. She fell hard, and as she landed, something sharp cut her cheek. Groggily, she observed several oars lying against the side of the boat—she’d fallen on one of the blades. Seizing one, she scrambled to her knees and swung the paddle in a wild arc. She got lucky. The blow struck De Sousa square on the temple with a wet-sounding slap, slicing him open.

  He staggered, stunned… but kept coming.

  Rebecca strove to maintain her balance in the pitching boat, unable to prevent her wild-eyed attacker from snatching the paddle and tearing it from her grip. Blood as black as night streamed down De Sousa’s face, emphasising his rage; he was insane with it. Rebecca stumbled backwards, out of his reach, and fell again as the boat lurched underfoot. Dazed and disoriented, she scrambled for the bow on her hands and knees, her mouth awash with the coppery taste of blood, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Focus! Don’t panic! She was no match for De Sousa and knew she couldn’t fight him. She had to escape.

  Staggering to her feet, she turned as footsteps thumped behind her.

  Through the wet and bloodied hair matting her face, Rebecca saw a crazed De Sousa charging at her with outstretched arms.

  112

  Ed’s group had just hit the top of the stairs when—with a sudden, terrifying roar—the Tempestade veered vertically and water rushed up from below to half-flood the wheelhouse. Thrown backwards into the churning torrent, the group was sucked beneath the surface. Ed reached for Jessy and pulled her into a tight hug, and as the boat reached equilibrium, they resurfaced courtesy of their lifejackets, spluttering and treading water in the newly formed pool. Somehow, Jessy had managed to keep hold of Priscilla, the two of them clearly terrified.

  “You okay?” Ed asked Jessy.

  “I… I think so,” Jessy said, coughing. “Please get me out of here.”

  Ed glanced up. The Tempestade’s windshield lay a few feet above his head—effectively now the vessel’s ceiling—and through the glass he could see the bow pointing skyward into the rain-lashed night. Most of the boat was now directly beneath them, underwater, and he figured that shortly, the remainder would follow.

  “We can smash the glass and head out that way,” Kriedemann said, reading his mind and scanning the walls in the hope of a way up.

  McGinley said, “Are you kidding? They’re still out there!”

  Chad swam from person to person, passing out chemlights. “Got a better idea? Besides, when did you last hear them? The scratching stopped when the stern went under.”

  “They’ve taken off, left us for dead,” Jessy said.

  Tag looked about. “We’re still drifting in the current,” he said, but as the words left his mouth, a shattering boom shook the walls and the Tempestade pitched fiercely, as though it had crashed into something huge and unyielding. Metal screamed, and so did Jessy, and timber splintered and exploded inwards, showering into the pool. Something hit Ed’s shoulder, hard, and he cried out. Overhead, sparks flew as the control panel was crunched and obliterated, and lights flickered and died, and it seemed the wheelhouse was about to shear in two as the hull twisted in opposing directions. But then suddenly everything slowed and settled, and—momentarily, at least—quieted.

  Holy shit…

  The Tempestade had come to a swift and violent stop.

  • • •

  Not knowing what else to do, Rebecca ducked as the Zodiac—still motoring downstream—collided hard with something behind her and lurched to a halt.

  De Sousa, still charging, didn’t have time to pull up—and flew straight over her head… out of the boat and into the pitch-black river.

  • • •

  Ed shielded Jessy as a jet of water burst through the side of the Tempestade, spraying into the pool. The boat must have rammed against a submerged rock, or maybe the riverbank, and was now pressed hard against it: he could hear the water outside rushing against the vessel and holding it in place. They must have been moving fast, because the impact had been colossal—the Tempestade was barely holding together.

  As the hull moaned and more leaks sprung around them, Ed held out his chemlight and glan
ced desperately about. The wheelhouse was now almost fully submerged, the water rising as the boat continued its inexorable slide to the riverbed. If running out of time and options hadn’t been enough, they were now running out of room, too.

  “We’ve gotta get out before she busts apart!” Ed called to Chad above the din.

  A muffled banging from below interrupted them, and Ed peered into the inky depths.

  Something was thudding against the boat, under the water…

  Kriedemann turned to Chad. “It’s back.”

  “What’s back?” Jessy asked.

  Kriedemann made no reply. Listening, Ed thought the blows sounded deliberate, as though something was bashing its way in, through the saloon door—

  A massive snap reverberated upwards, like wood blown asunder. Even deadened by the water, it was frighteningly loud.

  “It’s through,” Tag breathed.

  Unsure as to what the hell was going on, Ed looked down and saw something surfacing beneath them, rising through the dark water. He perceived no detail—only a bright glow, a white luminescence—but panic ensued, and the group scrambled for the edges of the wheelhouse, trying to get away.

  Whatever it was, it was quick. With a jerk, McGinley was pulled soundlessly into the depths.

  • • •

  Rebecca was still inside the Zodiac, which—she realised with surprise as she looked around—was pressed up against the bow of the Tempestade. The nose of the rapidly sinking vessel was all that remained above the waterline, and the Zodiac had motored directly into it. Obviously, the larger boat had come free of its anchor, drifting in the current to smash into some submerged rocks. Rebecca could see that here the river had tapered, causing a mountain of water to squeeze through a narrow bottleneck. Like a giant plug, the Tempestade had further blocked it, forcing the river to rage around either side.

  She had a flash of worry for Ed and the rest of the group. Had they gotten free? Had they escaped to the riverbank? She had the Zodiac, and could look for them, but right now, her thoughts jumped back to De Sousa, and she cast her gaze about, searching. To her considerable relief she saw that he was gone, lost in the rain and rushing water. She made unsteadily for the dinghy’s stern. The motor droned heartily—ensuring the Zodiac remained jammed in place—but the boat’s position was precarious, and she had to move it.

  She reached for the throttle just as the water beneath it exploded upwards, and something massive emerged from the depths below.

  113

  Ed’s hands spread desperately at the water, but he could see nothing beneath the pitch-coloured surface.

  “I think it’s gone!” someone yelled frantically.

  “MAC!” Bull cried. He too was searching the water, but McGinley had vanished along with the strange luminescence. Except for the chemlights, it was again dark inside the wheelhouse.

  Tag sounded on the verge of panic. “What in God’s name was that thing? Did anyone see what it was?”

  “No, just the goddamned light…” Bull said. “MAC!”

  “For Christ’s sake—he’s gone!” Jessy screamed at Bull. She was bawling. “Ed, we’ve got to get out of here! It took him… God, it took him! We’ve got to go… before it comes back for the rest of us!”

  “We’re not leaving him behind!” Bull shouted.

  Kriedemann grabbed Bull, spun him round. “Hey! She’s right! He’s gone! I need you to focus, Bull—and you too, Tag! We gotta pull together, and we gotta get moving!”

  Bull whimpered and slapped the water. “Shit!”

  Ed looked up. The Tempestade was sinking fast, the windshield now less than two feet above them.

  Chad was ahead of him. “Cover your eyes!” In his hand was a steel thermos he’d plucked from the floating debris, and he thrust it upwards. The laminated safety glass shivered, fragments sprinkling into the water. Rain streamed through the newly formed hole. Chad cleared the remnants as Bull’s voice came again.

  “Hey! There’s something coming up!”

  Ed turned his gaze back to the water and once more saw a glow rising beneath them, although not as bright as before and not the strange luminescence of moments ago. It wasn’t white, either—it was amber.

  A chemlight.

  “It’s Mac!” Bull said, reaching down as the light bobbed to the surface.

  It was Mac, all right. His lifejacket had brought him back up. Bull grabbed him and spun him around. Moaning, McGinley’s eyes fluttered in recognition.

  He was alive!

  Gurgling, McGinley stared vacantly at his pal. “Bull… I don’t feel so good…” he stuttered, spitting a mouthful of blood.

  The colour drained from Bull’s face, and Ed’s stomach lurched.

  McGinley’s lower half was missing, gone from the waist down. Bull held no more than a ragged torso.

  “Oh no…” Jessy whimpered.

  McGinley said nothing more. He was gone. Bull released his friend, his face etched in horror.

  “Christ,” Kriedemann said.

  Jessy burst into a hysterical flood of tears. Ed held her close, turning her from the torso as it bobbed amongst them, entrails afloat. He redirected his gaze to Chad, who had already climbed through the window and was now outside the wheelhouse, reaching down.

  “Come on,” Ed said, turning to the rest of them. “We have to move.”

  • • •

  Just seconds before the wheelhouse glass was smashed—and muffled by the stinging downpour—Rebecca cried out in terror as the monster broke the surface.

  It was enormous.

  The creature reared up from below, seemingly attracted to the droning motor, which it silenced with a pair of huge, horrible fangs that came bursting from the dark. In that same instant, long legs erupted from the river, flailing and dripping. Before Rebecca could properly register it, the creature was rising fast into the air, leaping straight up—

  —oh God—

  —and into the Zodiac.

  The weight was too much.

  The boat flipped up like a seesaw, but as it did, Rebecca got a good look at the creature. There was no doubt as to what it was.

  Another spider.

  Another massive megarachnid…

  Rebecca was hurled from the Zodiac, into the river.

  • • •

  As she was expelled from the boat, Rebecca’s subconscious, working fast, tied the threads together.

  Like the Alpha Female, this creature was hairless and pale. Luminous, in fact. It literally glowed in the dark, which was why she’d seen it so clearly.

  It was, however, with those two features that any similarity with the Female ended. This specimen had a vastly different body shape.

  Slightly smaller than the Female, this creature was much sleeker, with a lower centre of gravity and a segmented, cigar-shaped abdomen completely unlike the round and bloated rear of the huge egg-layer. Its exoskeleton, too, appeared more heavily armoured, the ‘head’ enlarged and more powerfully built. Its weaponry was also more fearsome—a huge pair of downward-striking, paraxial fangs extended from immense, jaw-like chelicerae. Above the mouthparts sat three rows of huge, intelligent but malicious eyes. All up, this creature was a much stronger, far more aggressive-looking specimen, its lines sleeker. Built for speed.

  Built for killing.

  You know what it is, and why it’s here.

  Earlier, Rebecca had concluded that the specialised caste system of this species was like that of certain insects. For most communal insects, the Queen was the only member of the royal caste. This species, however, had multiple egg-layers, and therefore multiple members in its royal caste. The strongest royal had been the Alpha Female that had attacked them up in the temple. And with certain insects, like termites, the Queen had a royal partner.

  A mate.

  A King.

  And this creature here was, for all intents and purposes, he.

  The Alpha Male.

  • • •

  In Rebecca’s mind, these ele
ments came together in a nanosecond, with little, if any, conscious thought and no more than a lightning-fast flash of awareness.

  She knew that a royal termite couple could survive for years as a partnership. The Queen laid the eggs, the King fertilised her.

  For this spider species, the partnership between the Alpha Female and the Alpha Male, as the biggest and strongest individuals of each gender, was probably the same.

  Rebecca knew also that with many social insects, the Queen’s offspring were typically female, and to ensure her daughters couldn’t lay eggs of their own, the Queen would actively suppress ovarian development through the secretion of a special pheromone known as the ‘Queen Substance’. For as long as she was alive, the substance would permeate the nest, and the females would remain sterile. When the Queen died, the ovaries of the females would develop, and the females would lay eggs of their own.

  It was, therefore, the Queen Substance that confirmed her presence in the nest. The pheromone was designed to be picked up and transported through the nest by the colony members as they went about their daily routine. Specifically, it was meant to attach itself to things.

  How and why the Male had tracked them here was obvious.

  Not only had both Ed and Rebecca been inside the nest, inside the nuptial chamber, but they’d been close to the Female. They would have been exposed firsthand to her signature smell. More than that, Ed—who’d been inside the nest for the longest—had been covered in her saliva and spattered with her blood.

  Her smell had been on them.

  God only knew what they’d touched since, what they’d passed the pheromone onto. It had probably been all over the Zodiac, all over the Tempestade. That they’d been protected from the rain by their ponchos had only kept it from washing away.

  As such—and through powerful chemoreceptors at the tips of his legs that were designed to respond to airborne chemical stimuli—the Alpha Male had been able to track them here by scent, and he’d done so for one simple reason.

  He was here for his mate.

  He was searching for the Female.