Offshore

by Lucy Pepperdine

  Suddenly he made a grab for her wrist and held it tight. His chin dropped to his chest and his shoulders began to heave and he let out the most pitiful moan.

  “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry …” he wailed. “I am a coward. I am. I tried to run away, to get away. I… I thought if I could get up the derrick, to the crow’s nest, he wouldn’t find me. I just wanted to get away… I was scared… I…”

  He could speak no more, his voice choked by a series of thick wet sobs, and washed away by the uncontrollable scalding tears streaming down his face, cutting clear wet trails through the scarlet stain on his cheek.

  Lydia climbed onto the bed with him, took his bloodstained head against her shoulder and cradled it while he cried, stroking his hair and kissing his head, cooing words of comfort to him.

  “Shhhh. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

  Eddie, upset, embarrassed and cowed by both Cameron’s display of terrified misery and Lydia’s show of affection for the broken man, stamped from the room and down the corridor to the lounge as best the agony in his ankle would allow.

  Ten minutes later Lydia came to join him, and almost caught him wiping his own wet face with the sleeve of his overalls.

  She put her arms round his waist and laid her head against his chest, hugging him hard, the pressure causing a deep burning pain in his bruised ribs.

  “So what’s his story?’ Eddie said. “Did he give a good account of himself?’

  She released the hug. “That’s unfair Eddie. He’s in a bad way.’

  “Did he tell you Matt’s dead?’

  “Yes.” Pause. “You can’t really blame him for running away. He couldn’t help himself. What happened to Matt, it tipped him over the edge. He was petrified out of his wits; he still is. We all are.”

  “I know.’ Eddie pulled her into the hug again and kissed her still damp hair. “So, about Cam, what’s the damage?”

  Lydia sighed heavily against him. “He’s a mess. Brewer shot him, you know; three times, with a nail gun. I had no idea they could be so powerful. The wound in his hand is nothing more than a superficial gouge. It might not even leave a scar. The nail in his arm didn’t go too far in and I managed to pull it out without too much trouble. It should be okay. The one I’m worried about is stuck in his thigh. It’s deep in. I think it’s touching the bone, maybe a nerve. I might be able to get it out, but it would mean extra cutting and no guarantee I won’t do more damage along the way. I’m not qualified for that sort of thing. In one way though he was lucky.”

  “How so?”

  “When he fell off the tower, the derrick, he landed on the roof of the little huttie thing underneath. It’s falling to bits and he went straight through it.”

  Eddie let out a small, nervous laugh.

  “It’s not funny, Eddie. He could have been killed.”

  “I wasn’t laughing at Cam, I was laughing at what you said. The ‘little huttie thing’ as you called it is what is affectionately known as the doghouse. Apt don’t you think?”

  “Whatever it’s called, it saved his life. It broke his fall. If he’d been a few feet out he would have hit the deck full on, and he would have been killed outright. As it is he picked up a serious head wound. There’s a deep laceration, that’s where all the blood was coming from, and he might have a hairline skull fracture too; I can’t tell without an x-ray.”

  “Can you stitch him up here?”

  “I could, but he won’t let me. All I can do is keep a close eye on him in case he develops a concussion.”

  “What about his eye? It looks nasty.”

  She dropped her voice to the smallest whisper. “It is.”

  The look on her face told him all he needed to know - in her professional opinion Cameron would be lucky if he didn’t lose the sight in that eye. If he was really unlucky, he could lose the entire eye.

  “Is he in a lot of pain?” said Eddie.

  “He has to be, but he’s trying not to let it show.”

  Eddie felt an unpleasant lurch in his stomach, a gripe of deep, unyielding guilt and shame. “Holy shit.”

  Lydia pressed herself closer against him. “It’s not your fault, Eddie.”

  “No - it’s Brewer’s.”

  She felt a shudder run through him. He was just about holding himself together, acting the tough guy for her benefit, but she knew full well he could break down without a second’s notice. She knew this because she was about to do the same.

  “He is dead, isn’t he? Brewer? It’s really over?” she said, seeking strength in confirmation.

  “Yeah, it’s over. He’s gone.”

  “What do you think happened to him to make him go psycho like that? Was it this place? Something we did?”

  Would she ever believe there had been some kind of malevolent, flesh eating, shape shifting otherworldly creature lurking behind the benevolent mask of good old Larry Brewer? He didn’t, and he’d seen it for himself.

  Eddie shook his head and lied to her again. “I have no idea, and I really don’t give a damn as long as he’s dead.” He cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her face. “How about you, you okay?”

  “Better now you and Duncan are here. Did you get through to shore?”

  “No. There was no radio in the control room and I didn’t get as far as the lifeboats.”

  “So there’ll be no chopper?”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve decided we’ll be taking one of the lifeboats instead. Even if I called the chopper now they wouldn’t come straight away, not with the bad weather. Even the lifeboat would struggle, and how would we get down to it. No, we’re not staying here a minute longer than we have to, so we’ll take our chances in a duck.” Feeling suddenly very tired, he rubbed his hands over his face, and a bolt from his ankle made him wince.

  “You’re in pain,” she said. “Your ankle?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Sit down and let me see.”

  “Not now. It’s just a sprain. It’s not too bad. If I can use you as a crutch, I’ll come back with you and apologise to Cam.”

  “Thanks. I think he’d appreciate it.”

  Using Lydia for support Eddie hobbled his way back to his cabin, to fall into the chair with a deep sigh. His swollen ankle burned like a bugger inside a boot which now felt uncomfortably tight.

  Cameron had stopped crying and managed to wipe most of the blood from his face, turning the once white towel a dull red. His uninjured eye, burned by tears, was now also red and puffy.

  Slumped on the bed with his back against the wall he looked small and vulnerable, more like a balloon with a slow leak than a rough, tough, mechanic with oil in his veins.

  When Lydia took the stained towel from Cameron, Eddie couldn’t help but notice how she gently touched the man’s cheek, or the flicker of a smile Cameron gave her in return, and he wondered about the true nature of their relationship.

  Lydia absented herself into the bathroom again, and the two men sat in silence until Cameron spoke up.

  “I’m sorry,” he said simply, the sentiment with so little strength behind it, it hardly carried to Eddie’s ears.

  “No it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that,” said Eddie.

  “I couldn’t help it,” said Cameron. “After Matt… I, I couldn’t take it. I felt something snap inside. I had to get away. I didn’t want Brewer to find me. I didn’t want him to… to…”

  Chop your head off!

  Silence.

  “What’s going to happen now?” said Cameron.

  “Now we take one of the lifeboats and we get the hell off here,” said Eddie.

  “I mean after … when we get back. If we get back. There’ll be an enquiry won’t there? When they come here and find the bodies … what’s left of them, what can we possibly say, to explain, that’s going to sound right this side of sanity?”

  “We tell them the truth, it’s all we’ve got,” said Eddie. “If they want anything more, they
can whistle for it. I’ll file a report and give them the photos; I’ll tell them everything I know to the best of my knowledge, as fantastic and outlandish as it is, and then let them sort it all out for themselves. They can do what they want. They can blow the place to atoms for all I care, as long as I never have to set foot here again. As far as I’m concerned, once I leave here, this place doesn’t exist, and if I hear the words Falcon and Bravo spoken together in the same sentence someone’s going to lose their tongue.”

  Lydia returned with a fresh damp towel and wiped Cameron’s face gently, removing the last residue of blood. Using the bright beam of Eddie’s torch she examined his eye more carefully.

  No trace of white showed, only a narrow grey ring of iris adrift in an unwholesome mess of black and red, but the cornea looked intact, with no scratches, no punctures and nothing oozing out from the inside.

  “It might not be as bad as I first thought,” she said reassuringly and snapped off the torch. “How’s your leg?”

  “Bloody painful –” He moved it and grimaced. “But bearable.”

  She laid a hand against his cheek, smiling softly. “Don’t be a martyr, Duncan. We can get you to sickbay and I can try and dig the nail out. It’s in deeper than the one in your arm, so it’ll be a tougher job. Probably hurt a hell of a lot more too. It’s up to you.”

  “No offence Lydia, but if you don’t mind I’d rather wait and get to a proper hospital,” he said.

  “None taken. I just don’t want you to be in pain.”

  He fidgeted, grimaced again and forced a smile. “It’s not so bad. Just give me a couple of aspirins and I’ll be fine.”

  “You want to get yourself a shot of that morphine stuff,” said Eddie, rubbing at his sore ankle. “Tell you, it makes the world all nice and warm and fuzzy. Had me walking on clouds without a care in the world.”

  Lydia gave him a hard look. “And how did you get hold of morphine, mister, because I certainly didn’t–”

  Shrugging innocently, Eddie said, “Cupboard just fell open, faulty catch probably.”

  “In a pig’s eye.” She shuffled to the edge of the bed. “But you’re right. I should go and get some.”

  Cameron seized her by the arm. “No! Don’t go. I’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  He nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

  “We should get moving,” said Eddie. “Time and tide … they wait for no man.”

  “What about our survival gear?” Lydia said. “If we’re going to be spending some time at sea, shouldn’t we get into it?”

  Cameron and Eddie exchanged glances over her head, an action which did not go unnoticed.

  “What’s the matter?” she said.

  “We can’t,” said Eddie. “The locker room is–” Where Brewer gutted Craig McDougal and tried to eat his liver. “–not safe. Sensors picked up a gas pocket so it’s been sealed. We take our chances with what we’ve got. Layer on as much clothing as you can and pack only survival essentials.”

  “What about food and water? Fuel?”

  “Normally there are rations stashed on the boat, but my betting’s on them being long gone or well out of date,” Cameron chipped in.

  “You’re probably right,” said Eddie. “I’ll see if I can raid extra sleeping bags from the other cabins. Lydia, you pack whatever clothing you can find. Cam, you stay here and rest.”

  “I can help,” Cameron insisted, making to get up. “Many hands make–” He fell back against the wall, crying out in pain as the nail scraped against the bone.

  “You stay where you are,” said Lydia. “We’ll manage.”

  “When we’ve stashed the clothing, we’ll raid the kitchen and pantry for food and drink,” said Eddie. “We won’t need much. Enough for a couple of days should do.”

  Recollection made Lydia’s voice small. “Do we have to? I’d rather eat rat droppings and drink my own pee than go in that kitchen again.”

  Cameron shifted on the bed. “What’s wrong with the kitchen?”

  “Brewer’s in there,” said Eddie. “Or rather Brewer’s body is - what’s left of it.”

  Cameron shuddered and his hand went to his throat. “Is he - is he like Matt?”

  Before Eddie could draw breath to begin his long and lurid description of Brewer’s demise, Lydia made a hissing sound and glared at him hard, sending out the unmistakable silent message, say one word out of place and I’m going to smack you in the mouth!

  “What…what happened to him?” insisted Cameron. “What could be worse than having your flaming head lopped off for God’s sake? Tell me?”

  Lydia put a finger to Cameron’s lips and hushed him. “Let it go, Duncan. Trust me on this, you really don’t want to know.”

  And then she kissed his cheek.

  Eddie averted his eyes, not wanting to witness the show of affection. Brewer had got it wrong. Her feelings weren’t for him, they were all for Duncan Cameron.

  Lucky bastard.

  Chapter 54

  Between them, Lydia and Eddie gathered up all the clothing and sleeping bags they could find and transported them to the lifeboat, before returning to the cabin to find Cameron asleep on the bunk.

  “Leave him,” said Lydia. “He’s not in pain if he’s asleep.”

  They left him and made their way to the mess. Eddie pushed the door partly open; Lydia held back.

  “You okay?” he said.

  She nodded uncertainly.

  “You sure? Because you don’t have to do this. I can manage on my own.”

  She swallowed hard and straightened her shoulders, as if it would make her appear taller and more confident. “I’m fine.”

  They crossed the floor of the mess toward the kitchen area, Lydia so close to Eddie she could have climbed into his pocket.

  At the entryway they paused, the doorway presenting itself as a portal between two worlds; theirs, normal and safe in a warped kind of way, the other holding unspeakable vileness.

  The blue light reflecting off steel surfaces merely enhanced the effect as it bathed them both in an ethereal glow, shifting anything white toward blinding violet and deepening shadows into hostile purple hollows.

  Eddie stepped through, found the light switches and mashed them on. One by one fluorescent tubes flickered and sprang into life, flooding the room with clear fresh light that overwhelmed the blue, bringing back colour and banishing the shadows to a harmless grey.

  Not so bad.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’ll get what we need and get out. What?”

  Lydia’s eyes were darting around the room, her breathing ragged.

  “I can’t see him!” She turned herself in frantic circles. “Where is he Eddie? I can’t see him. He’s gone. He’s not dead. He’s going to get us–”

  Eddie put his hands on her shoulders. “Shhhh, it’s okay. He’s still there. There’s just… less of him. Look.”

  “I don’t want to!” She thrust herself against him, hiding her face in his chest.

  He hugged her to him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.” But I do, to be sure. Keeping himself between Lydia and his objective, he edged his way towards where Euterich’s remains lay.

  ‘Remains’ was an overstatement. Defined in any dictionary as cadaver, carcass, corpse, dead body, none of these applied. What lay on the floor had no discernible structure.

  The ruins of the being Euterich now amounted to no more than a set of dark blue overalls and a pair of boots, surrounded by a lake of what appeared to be half set aspic streaked with scarlet and black, its surface wrinkled like cooling jam. No bones to speak of.

  They too had melted away, apart from the ribs which gave little shape to the cotton covering, and the skull which lay misshapen and distorted, like a melted candle. Not enough solid material remained to fill a two gallon bucket.

  Nothing here to be scared of. That still lay ahead, a far bigger menace standing between them and safety. One with much less pity.

  While Eddie fill
ed bottles and flasks with drinking water, Lydia collected together cans, bottles, jars, and packets from the pantry.

  She then, bravely Eddie thought, went by herself to fetch supplies from the medical room, returning with a small canvas bag and a black plastic container with a lid.

  “What’s that for?” Eddie asked, pointing to it.

  “What goes in has to come out sometime,” she said, and lifted the lid to show him the roll of white toilet paper within.

  When they were ready to leave, they stopped by Eddie’s cabin to get Cameron.

  Lydia trailed behind the two men as they supported each other, their wounded legs moving in unison as if bound in a grotesque three-legged race as they eased their way along the walkways to the lifeboat station and their escape.

  “You two get inside number one,” Eddie instructed. “I’m going to set the EPIRBS and remotely launch two and three.”

  When he returned, having sent the other lifeboats on their way, Lydia and Cameron were already secured in their seats by their five point canvas harnesses, heads nestled in padded head protectors, the bands across their foreheads holding them steady.

  Eddie sealed the hatch, climbed into the pilot’s seat, and fastened his own restraints.

  “We’ll give the other boats a few minutes to get out of the way,” he said. “We don’t want to hit one of them when we land.”

  They sat in silence for over five minutes as Eddie went through the start up procedure, firing up the engine and pumping the lever to prime the hydraulic plunger that would release them from the davit.

  Lydia clutched Mr Brown, rubbing his fine fur against her cheek. Cameron sat statue like, as pale as death, eyes closed, lips moving in silent prayer.

  Time dragged mercilessly on.

  “Ready?” Eddie said finally, swivelling in his chair to face them.

  Lydia took hold of Cameron’s hand. “Ready.”

  One last check.

  Motor, deluge pumps, pressurisation, launch handle primed. All go. It’s now or never.

  “Hang on!”

  Summoning all his courage and issuing up a prayer of his own, Eddie shifted the lever, like releasing the hand-brake on a car; a simple action which either saved all their lives, or condemned them to death.