Midway

by Nathan Robinson

  “No, I think I’ll save it for later. I’m tired, and I’ve not eaten for a day.”

  “Okay, sweetie.”

  “How’s everyone else?”

  “They’re fine, though Ollie came off his bike, and Danny broke up with Melissa.”

  “Is the bike all right?”

  “Are you being serious or are you talking about Melissa?” my mother joked, often taking the opinion that no woman was good enough for her darling boys.

  “You’re evil.”

  “You get your humour from me.”

  “And Dad’s looks.”

  “Good thing.”

  “Listen, I’ll call you in a few hours. I need food and a few hours’ kip. I’ll be right as rain then. It’ll sort me out. I’m a little spaced out to be honest. I’ll call you back then, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course it is. You get some sleep. You look like shit son.”

  I couldn’t smirk enough, my mum only swore when it was absolutely appropriate.

  “I love you, Mum.”

  “Love you too. Speak soon and get some sleep.”

  “I will. Don’t worry. I’m safe now.”

  “Bye, sweetie.”

  “Bye, Mum.”

  I swiped the screen, and my mother’s face vanished. I looked over at Tanya, the tears welling up behind my eyes.

  “Breakfast is ready.” Tanya poured the steaming red contents from the pan into a bowl.

  A tear trickled from the corner of my eye, it was over. Everything was going to be okay. Thank fuck.

  “Hey, it’s okay.”

  “I know. I’m just happy and sad at the same time. I can’t describe it. They’re gone, and I’m still here. It could have been any of us, but it was me.”

  “It was you. Now eat. You’ll feel better.”

  I wiped the tears away with the sleeve of my suit. “What we having?”

  “You’re having breakfast in a tin, well, a bag. I can make you more, if you like?” she said, placing the bowl in front of me and passing me a spoon. Then, she passed me a bottle of water.

  I wolfed the beans, egg, and sausage concoction down with barely a chew. Tanya brought two coffees over, handed me one, and sipped the other. I gulped the hot sweet brew down in two steaming gulps.

  “Another?”

  “Please. It’s nice coffee.”

  Tanya brought the pot over and filled my cup up. I sipped this one.

  “Do you think they’re gone?” she asked after a minute’s silence. She’d been thinking about that. So was I.

  I nodded. “I think so.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t want to think about it. I know the boat is gone. And I’d rather they be dead than lost at sea like I was. I wouldn’t wish what I’ve been through upon anyone.”

  “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine.”

  “I don’t. I just want to sleep.”

  “No worries. Let’s get you down.”

  She led me to her bunk, helping me peel off my Fast Skin, shedding its tight bonds as if it was a chrysalis, and I were an emerging insect. The tang of faeces had penetrated the inside of the suit, filling the cabin with a fetid aroma. Tanya didn’t seem bothered, and I couldn’t have given a shit if I tried. I’d be happy if I never wore the damned thing again. The contours of every seam had pushed deep into my flesh, scarring me temporarily with thick red lines, making me look like a cross between a victim of a jellyfish attack and a road map.

  Tanya thumbed the burn marks on the back crus of my Fast Skin. “What’s this from?” she asked, with an arch of her eyebrow as she touched it with a tentative stroke, as if it still might be caustic, but she had to satisfy her curiosity, even if it involved getting burned.

  “I don’t know. Something in the water, I guess,” I answered cagily. I wasn’t sure what I’d seen. Saying anything would probably contradict myself anyway.

  “Jesus! It looks like a burn. What happened out there?” Tanya hung the Fast Skin off the back of a chair.

  “I don’t know. I’m as lost and as confused as you guys. I just want to get back home now. I need to get my feet onto dry land to recuperate.”

  She looked upon me in pity. There wasn’t anything she could say, and there wasn’t anything I could tell her without sounding crazy. I’d started to doubt what I’d seen this past day. I felt as if I mentioned what I thought was really out there, then I’d wake and it would all become real again. I didn’t want that. I wanted it to remain as a possible hallucination. I was happy in this sweet, safe bubble I’d found myself in. Words couldn’t bring any of them back. All words would do was doom me more.

  She passed me a towel, and I dried off. I wrapped the towel around my waist, pulled off my soiled Speedos, and slung them on top of the Fast Skin. In the confines of the cabin, the awkwardness of my stinking nakedness before a stranger should have been magnified tenfold.

  I really didn’t care.

  I climbed into her bed; she placed a fresh bottle of water and a bottle of Green Voodoo Tiger on the floor beside me, a kind smile beaming across her cheeks. I looked at her as if she’d asked if I wanted a tramp to piss in my mouth.

  “It’s an isotonic,” she explained, unaware of my past relationship with that particular fluid. “I suggest drinking that and the water before you head to sleep, you might awake with a migraine in you’re still dehydrated.”

  “Thanks. I’m familiar with it.”

  “You’re not in too bad shape. A little dehydrated, but you’ll live. I’ll check on you in a few hours, and then we’ll talk again. I’ll scavenge you some clothes from the guys. Please, get some sleep, and then we’ll get some more hot food in you.”

  She placed two small white tablets in my hand. I looked at them, still hungry for sustenance despite my stomach being full after shrinking.

  “They’re mild sedatives. You’ve eaten, so they’ll help you drift off. Nothing major.”

  “I don’t think I’ll need them. I’m really fucking tired.”

  “It’s more to turn your brain off, my dear. You’ve been through a lot. Sleep well.”

  I managed a tired nod before Tanya left, closing the cabin door behind her. I took a breath and allowed my tensing muscles to relax. They wanted to kick out at gravity. I put the tablets on my tongue and had a sip of water. I swallowed and waited for whatever oblivion they would bring.

  Lindsey Harris bloomed to being, and I toyed with the notion of getting back with her (Getting back? We never broke up!). She wasn’t a Celeste, but she was something soft and familiar and safe. I needed that right now. I’d had enough adventure. I’d stick to swimming pools in the future. I should have called her, the regret lingered, but sleep beckoned

  I’d settle with Lindsey. I’m sure the fire could be rekindled as we were good together. If we ever had children, the name Odetta sprang to mind. Celeste would’ve have been too weird.

  Back on dry land and back into Lindsey’s arms I’d fall, all the while she’d wonder why I was mourning the passing of a woman who wasn’t her. How could I tell her? How could I move on without grieving? Lindsey was fine, plain, and predictable, but she wasn’t Celeste. But I knew she’d take me, and I hungered for something solid and familiar. My mind continued this push and tug between the now dead and vibrant Celeste, and the still beating, comfortable, reliable, and thoroughly predictable Lindsey. Life had decided. Celeste was gone. I’d settle back down on dry land with an average wife and a story to tell. I’d probably make my living by writing a book and doing the after dinner speaker circuit like that fella that cut off his arm with a penknife. My only decision had been whether or not to scoop the salty shit from my trunks. Would I tell people this part? I’m sure a bit of self-deprecation would be welcome. Folk find that funny.

  I wondered about the creature and if it was real, how had it come to being. Was it natural, undiscovered, and unknown to science? A deep sea dweller somehow roused from the depths and to the surface where it continued its
primeval hunt for prey? I had a what if moment, the idea blooming of me finding a satellite out in the middle of the Atlantic, the Russian lettering burnt off in places from re-entry. The hatch is open, and I climb towards it. I look inside. It’s empty, aside from a broken glass jar. Whatever weaponised experiment was inside has escaped. I’d solved its origins.

  I detoured my thoughts from fantastic speculation and closed my eyes, trying to empty my mind, preparing for the sedative to massage my nerves.

  I struggled for comfort as my body still jerked with the ghost motion of keeping afloat. I’d been wound up that much, it was an effort to put an end to the routine I’d endured.

  My legs felt as stiff as tree trunks, and my shoulders throbbed as if I had been tossing boulders at the sun. My aches and pains didn’t matter. I closed my eyes and concentrated on keeping still. I listened to the chatter of the crew above, the sound of the waves sluicing against the hull in a calming, whispering constant. I should have called Lindsey. I should have waited for my dad.

  Give in, I willed. Everything will be okay. I thought about a wave of anaesthesia washing over me, numbing me to everything and everyone, as I tumbled inward.

  Time passed, and I fell headlong into a peaceful though strangely dreamless sleep, that despite my muscles distrusting protests, my body devoured. . .

  ***

  Until the screams.

  They came through that hazy borderland that sits between slumber and waking, shocking my eyes open and alert. I sat up on my elbows with the sheen of sweat rushing over me, wondering how I brought the screams back from my dreamland.

  Another noise as well, that infernal night orchestra came back to my ears. It seemed to come from beneath me, humming through the fibreglass of the hull.

  I pushed myself up from Tanya’s bed, still naked aside from my towel, and hazy from the hours that had passed. My Fast Skin and Speedos were missing from the back of the chair, replaced by boxer shorts, jogging bottoms, and a t-shirt. I assumed Tanya had taken them, maybe to show the others the burns on the back of the legs and dob me in to the conspiracy I was keeping hidden. I grabbed the clothes and tossed the towel. Sensing that at least some pride came before urgency, I quickly pulled on the boxers, ran through the cabin and up onto the deck, stuffing my legs into the joggers and wrapping the t-shirt up and over my still aching arms, as the cool wind and drizzle touched my bare skin that prickled in an instant to gooseflesh. It wasn’t the cold alone that chilled me.

  The boat lurched into a dangerous list as I broke through into the late afternoon light. I blinked. The sun was a sinking eye that was dying beneath purple clouds on the western horizon. How long had I slept? Not enough, judging from my grogginess. Night was coming.

  On deck, Tanya roared tears. She had a flare gun in her hand and had it pointed just above my head. I turned to see, to discover what caused the horror on her face. It was the big black telephone box that had been piloting the Southern Pride when I’d first been hoisted aboard.

  He screamed, more girlish than I expected. High and terrified. He was raised in mid-air; a near translucent, jelly like arm had him by the ankles, waving him as a child would wave a flag. His whole body whipped back and forth with sheer violence, bending limbs at unnatural angles as the very life was shook out of him. His screams continued until the trunk sized jellied arm slammed him hard against the deck, with a sick, blunt thud that must have cracked more than bones. A wet smack of blood splattered against the deck, blooming like a flower from his flattened face. His thick arms went limp, his bloodied head bowed, and then an insidious slurping sound as the clear viscous liquid rolled up his body. A brilliant pink light exploded above me in the same instant as a shockingly close whoosh blazed past my ears. The red hot flare hit the pilot of the Southern Pride on his left shoulder, burning bright, and then exploding. I blinked and turned in time to avoid being blinded. I felt heat rush up the side of my face as the flare burnt out.

  Wincing, I turned back to see that the flare had charred his skin darker and leaving a barbeque pink open wound on his sizzling neck.

  The thing screamed its blast of Hell’s Trumpet. It shivered in unison with the noise.

  Shocked at the sudden temperature change, the jelly arm didn’t drop the surely dead pilot; instead, it retracted back into the ocean, taking him with it over the transom, with a gruesome slurp as it pulled him beneath the waves. The horrific shriek stopped, the creature apparently sated so much that silence was granted.

  I guessed it wasn’t too bothered about the Shark Shield any more.

  Turning back to Tanya, I saw her face was a portrait of pure fear. Her teeth were clenched, tightening her jaw line so much that tiny veins popped up on her temples. Her bottom lip trembled. Her eyes were wide, ticking back and forth, the survivor lizard brain in her ready to instigate any flight or fight decisions. She reloaded the flare gun with a shell from her top pocket, and fired it into the air, clearly a distress call to any eyes unlucky enough to be close to us.

  I looked over into the water. The pilot was gone. This is how people disappear, I reminded myself. I looked up; the flare painted a pink flower in the bruising sky. What if nobody saw it? I’d soon find out.

  Jerry Everett barged past me from behind and stood on my bare toes with his Converse All Stars. The bones crunched, and I cursed as he hot stepped it to the back of the boat, passing the remainder of the American crew who cowered in fear beneath the main sail. I hadn’t been introduced to any of them yet, nor did I reckon that this was the right time, or place, to shake hands and have a beer.

  I don’t know what made him believe it was a good idea, but Jerry geared himself into a dive and flung himself off the back of the boat, in a bid to escape. My eyes and brain told me from experience that he should have disappeared under, cutting effortless through the waves like any professional swimmer should. Instead, he belly flopped onto the surface with a wet splat, straight onto the jellied creature that now occupied the surface of the ocean that surrounded the boat.

  The creature vibrated, the Atlantic quaked. That familiar shake of sound rose and ground against our ears as the monstrous thing made its anticipation vocal. It had been served, no effort required. It was pleased with the offering, though aware of its unbridled hunger, I doubted it was sated.

  I knew I should have warned them, but I didn’t even believe what I’d seen. In my abandonment, I’d imagined things, blurring the line between starved imagination and reality. I still had a jarring feeling that this wasn’t happening right now.

  Wake up you fool!

  With the rise and fall of the waves, I could make out the edge of the sea beast about twenty feet from the boat. It was beneath us in every direction. We were the eye in its storm, the yolk to its egg white.

  Jerry managed a half turn and tried in vain to fight off the strangeness that now clung to him. He was stuck down the middle by the beast, if it even was a beast. The viscous substance that made up its main body stuck to his face like hot glue. He screamed, pulling and tugging his body away harder, as the monster invaded every orifice of his face, with minute tentacles that emerged like bean sprouts, splitting away from the main body. Jerry kept tugging and rattling his body, pulling the skin on his face so hard it peeled off, and his left eye popped out its socket, the soft ball of flesh had stuck to the beast. The eye fizzed, then popped, as if being cooked, then deliquesced to a pink puddle of gore as salt water and blood flooded over it. With his head free from the clinging tongue, Jerry gave a faceless, gurgling scream as his throat was soaked with blood filled brine, his bare, lipless mouth snatching at the air. He kicked out in a last protest at death, struggling against the blanket of doom. Then he twitched a little, his raw, muscular maw gasping for breath through hot red, grinning teeth.

  I watched as Tanya, screaming like a woman possessed, reloaded the flare gun and marched to the back of the boat, firing the single shot at the back of Jerry’s head, exploding into a bright ball of pink flame. I yelled something at her abou
t saving it, but the flare had already left the barrel and was fizzing away inside Jerry’s skull.

  His body ceased movement. His pain, that I could see (he might’ve still being screaming inside his mind; we’d never know), was over. The monster continued its grim, sucking feast of wet, cindered flesh. Inch by inch, Jerry was sucked into the body of the beast, the tiny tendrils wormed over his still flesh, his skin singeing as he was blanketed and lost to the ocean. I was the last to see him.

  I heard another scream, but I daren’t turn. It was attacking us on all sides. I looked over at Tanya. Her lantern jaw jutted out proud as she gritted her teeth to the point of them crumbling beneath the conflicting pressures. She’d ended the brief misery his life had become with a quick and cool realisation of his sudden torments of agony.

  “What the hell is it?” Tanya half screamed at me accusingly, slipping another thick red cartridge into the flare gun. Her eyes stretched wider with fear; she raised her eyebrows hatefully and glared at me. “Is that what sank your boat? What burnt your wet suit?” she demanded. She was armed; I daren’t lie to her. It would solve nothing.

  “I think so. It kept away while my Shark Shield was on. Somehow it kept it away.”

  Tanya’s expression soured and flushed white. The wind picked up and ruffled her hair across her face, she brushed it back behind her ears, looked left, and then right, as she computed a deadly predicament. “Our Shark Shield failed this afternoon. Looks like condensation formed on the inside of the cover, dripped back down onto the terminals, causing it to short out.” She shook her head. Disbelief reigned. Her more than me. But at least she was doing something about it.

  “Fucking product recall.”

  “Shit. That isn’t good,” I said, feeling the boat tilt aft.

  “Jesus! We know that now!” Bright panic flared across the American’s face, flushing out the blaming stare she bored into me. How could she think this was my fault? I hadn’t conjured the monster! I couldn’t see what I could’ve done to avoid this happening anyway. The beast eats what the beast eats. Soon we’d all be shit.