His ankle was a bubbling, foaming mess. The flesh was coming away from the bone in shreds. Blood and a horrible greenish liquid oozed from the wound.
Overcome with dizziness, her head spinning, Flora felt her legs go out from under her but was powerless to stop it. There was nothing to grab. She hit the deck with a thump. Behind her, she could hear Apostolos’s boots thudding on the planks as he rushed to close the distance between them.
Archie, who had been defiant, even angry, seconds before, now burst into tears. He dropped his pant leg and turned to the water, his shoulders shaking.
“My God, man. When did this happen to you?”
Flora went weak with relief. Apostolos had seen it too—he would figure it out. Her stomach roiled, and she crawled to the side of the ship to vomit.
“A couple days ago. At first it was only a tiny spot. I thought it was a blister.” Archie’s voice cracked. “But it got worse and worse.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Apostolos gave Archie a little shake.
“What would have been the point? I know what this means. And you had your hands full with Frank and getting the ship and the generator going again. You didn’t need to waste your time on a dying man.”
“You are not going to die, Tomkins.”
Flora returned to the men on shaky legs, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. For a moment, she thought she must have heard Apostolos wrong.
“That ankle is going to need to come off, though. Maybe if you’d told us sooner, we could have saved it. But if we get moving now, we might be able to save most of the leg.”
Archie flattened himself against the bow, looking as horrified as Flora felt. “You can’t cut off my ankle.”
“Your ankle or your life, Tomkins. That’s the choice, and I am not letting another man die on this ship. There’s been too much death already.”
“Captain?”
She thought Apostolos might snap at her, but instead he only sighed. “Yes, Duchovney? What is it?”
“I don’t want Archie to die, either. But this isn’t a sterile environment. We don’t have the proper equipment, and we don’t have anything to prevent infection. If you try to amputate his ankle, he’s only going to get gangrene…or worse.” She touched Archie gently on the shoulder, and when the man didn’t pull away, rubbed his arm in the hopes of soothing him. His trembling made her want to weep, but she fought to keep her emotions in check.
“And there’s nothing to knock me out with. I don’t think I could stand that. As it is now, the pain isn’t so bad,” Archie said, greasy beads of sweat running down his face. “I’d rather wait here until it gets to a point where I can’t stand it, then let one of those buggers take me. Let them finish what they started.”
“Oh, I’ll knock you out, Tomkins. You don’t have to worry about that.” Apostolos squinted at Flora. “We must have some rubbing alcohol in one of those first-aid kits.”
She shook her head. “We used almost everything we had on Liam. We have a little bit of aspirin left, but between Archie and Thor, it’s not going to stretch very far.”
“She’s right, Captain. I appreciate the thought, but I’ve already accepted my fate, and this is the way I’d rather go.”
“You’re not going anywhere, goddammit. That ankle is coming off now, and you’ll be fine. We’ll bring this barge home in a couple of days, and rush you to a hospital.” He clapped Archie on the shoulder again, harder this time. “You’re going to be fine.” The Greek focused his attention on Flora. “And you will help me. You aren’t squeamish, are you? I mean, you’re a scientist, right? You must have done dissections and such.”
She wanted to tell him that dissecting the remains of a poor, pickled little creature in the lab was a far cry from butchering a man she knew—a man who was still alive. But her mouth had gone dry. Instead, she nodded, and her heart fell as she saw a new emotion creep into Archie’s eyes.
Hope.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
In spite of her ferocious appetite, my wife was what humans would call a “homebody.” As the male, I did the hunting, and usually the only time she ventured out was when I hadn’t fed her enough. When that happened, I had to be on my guard; she was bound to be nippy when she returned.
So when my wife prepared to leave the lair in the early morning with a pleased expression on her face, I was wary. I liked the smirk on my son’s pointy face even less. Clearly they had something planned.
“Where are you off to, dearheart?” I strived to sound casual.
She smiled, displaying her impressive teeth. “The Boy and I are going to visit the surface.”
My son ran his long tongue over his own teeth while he grinned at me. How I longed to wipe that look off his face.
“The surface? Draugen, you haven’t given them enough time. Their mechanic is still hurt—you know that. He can’t possibly fix the ship until he’s able to move around again.”
Truthfully, I had little hope he would ever be able to repair it. From what the geologist’s jumbled thoughts indicated, the young man had received a good crack on the head—hard enough to injure his brain, and probably enough to have killed a lesser human. Still, to destroy them now, without giving them a chance to fix their little craft, would be dishonorable.
“I warned them, Nøkken. I gave them a deadline. They have failed.” Her tone was light, even jovial, but I could hear the unspoken warning behind it.
“Your deadline means nothing if they are not physically able to meet it.” Her smile faded, which gave me a little hope. “Please let them be. They are no longer drilling. They are not making noise or harming our territory in any way. They’re just drifting.”
My wife flared her nostrils in a huff. “I don’t like the smell of them.”
“I don’t much either, but surely we can stay downwind for a few more days. Then they can fix their ship, go home, and warn the others to stay away. In exchange for this inconvenience, we could have centuries of peace.”
“That would be lovely. Do you really believe that?”
“I do.” Privately, though, I had my doubts. Humans weren’t much for heeding warnings, especially from other humans.
“You know I promised him that ship. He’s getting antsy.” Draugen indicated our son with a tilt of her head, and I glanced down to find him glaring at me. It was a fair imitation of his mother, and enough to make me cringe. I’d definitely have to get more involved in his upbringing.
“He has more than enough ships, Draugen. He’s getting spoiled as it is.”
At my words, our son bared his teeth in a growl. I pulled away, astonished. He’d pushed his boundaries before, but had never been so openly disrespectful. Even my wife gaped at him in shock.
“Boy, that’s your father. Show some respect.”
“Why do I have to show him any respect? He has none for me.” The Boy’s whiny voice set my teeth on edge, my irritation crossing over to fury. Was this what Draugen had been teaching him? Where did he think his dinner came from? I’d never seen such an ungrateful child, and I regretted protecting him from the great whites when he was little.
“Because he’s your father. You’re only a child,” Draugen said, warning me with her eyes.
“I still count.” Our son thrashed around the lair’s entrance. Thankfully, he was too small to cause the same damage as his mother. “And you’ve been promising me that ship for weeks. It’s only fair that I get it. You have no right to spoil this.”
Before Draugen could speak, I stared down my angry child. “Well then, this is a perfect opportunity for you to learn a valuable life lesson, son.”
His eyes narrowed into slits as he paused before me, puffing with exertion. “What lesson is that?”
“Life isn’t fair.”
He shrieked with rage, but by now I was enjoying this. Let him have his little temper tantrum, so long as I retained the upper hand.
“That’s stupid,” he said.
I turned to his mother. “You see? Spoiled. I d
on’t think he should ever get that ship, even if it’s abandoned on the sea floor. He can’t control himself in the face of disappointment.”
Draugen hung her head. “Perhaps you’re right.”
The Boy regarded her with horror, his eyes wide and pleading. “But, Mom, you promised.”
“I know I did, son, and that was my mistake. I’m very sorry, but we’ll have to find you another toy. Your father is correct—I have not honored my agreement with the humans. It would be wrong to kill them and destroy their ship. They need it to return home.”
If she thought her words would have any calming effect on our child, she soon discovered otherwise. He gnashed his fangs in exasperation, giving her a look of such disgust that I was astounded. He was only ten thousand years old. Why was he acting like a teenager already?
“They’re just humans. No one will miss them.”
Before I could think twice, my tail whipped forward and lashed my son across the face, sending him crashing into one of the coral walls, where an anemone promptly stung him.
Even though the acid in our veins doesn’t dissolve our skin on contact, it still burns. I saw with some embarrassment that I’d cut my boy. Blood trickled down one cheek under his left eye. His mouth hung open in a comical expression of amazement, but he didn’t challenge me further.
I turned to face Draugen, expecting her to tear me apart, but she didn’t appear to be angry. Just sad.
“You shouldn’t hit him for my mistakes, Nøkken. I’m the one who made him the way he is.”
“Nonsense. You’ve been a good mother. But we need to teach him some respect now, while we still can. You know as well as I do that he’s probably going to be bigger than both of us, and his cruelty frightens me.”
She frowned. “I don’t agree with corporal punishment.”
“I don’t either—as you know, dearheart. I can’t explain my actions, I’m afraid. It was as if my tail had a mind of its own.”
Draugen’s face brightened, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like we were on the same team. “I suppose it’s fine, this one time. But in the future, tell your tail to mind its own business.”
“Of course. Excellent suggestion.”
Seeing us laughing together, our son must have known he was beat. His greatest strength, I realized with a sudden chill, was turning my wife and me against each other, driving a wedge between us. He slunk off to his room, trailing a cloud of blood.
“Should I go after him?” I asked, not wanting to, but feeling guilty. We were the enlightened ones. If we started tearing each other apart, we’d be no better than humans.
“No, I’ll check on him later. He needs to cool down first. I know you feel bad for striking him, but he never should have shown you such disrespect. Besides, it’s only a scrape.”
At her words, I felt the last bit of tension leave my body. After the emotional stress of the day, I wanted nothing more than to head to my den and sleep. Violence and conflict were not my forte, and there had been too much of both lately.
“In any case, he’s learned his lesson,” my wife continued.
“Really?” I asked, optimistic but doubtful.
“Most definitely. I’ve never seen him end an argument that quickly before. He usually needs to have the last word. This time, the last word was yours.”
If only we’d known how wrong we were.
Chapter Thirty
The Greek poured another liter of his good rum into the bucket, wincing at the sizzling that resulted.
Archie had passed out some time before, his mouth open as he snored. His leg was in a bucket filled with ice-cold water and alcohol. Apostolos hoped the freezing temperature would numb the area and slow down whatever was consuming the man’s flesh. Flora wasn’t sure how well it was working, mostly because she couldn’t bear to look at Archie’s foot.
It had taken some doing, but they’d finally convinced Archie that the best course of action was to remove his calf, leaving the kneecap intact. That way, they’d be sawing through tendons and soft tissue rather than bone, and there would be a bit of a barrier in case the sea creature’s acid had spread.
“Are you ready for this?” the Greek asked, his eyes rimmed with red.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but best to do it when he’s passed out.”
Apostolos handed her the bottle of rum. She almost refused, but the thought of oblivion was tempting. The alcohol took her breath away, and she gasped as it ignited a path down her throat to her stomach.
The Greek waited for her, his hands under Archie’s arms, ready to lift him from the chair. Flora tugged on a pair of thick rubber fisherman’s gloves. She’d be carrying Archie’s legs, which were lighter than his upper body, but also more dangerous. She couldn’t let the poison touch her own skin, not even for a second. The very thought made her queasy.
She grasped Archie under the knees, turning her head so she didn’t have to see his bloody stump. Then Apostolos lifted the unconscious man with a grunt, and all she could think about was keeping her balance as she struggled to follow him without knocking over the bucket or getting tangled in a chair. After a few long seconds, they reached Frank’s old bunk and settled Archie upon it, trying their best not to disturb him.
Flora’s hands shook as she helped Apostolos tie Archie to the bed with strips of old sheets and hang a shower curtain for her protection. Thor moaned in the other room. She was worried about the engineer, who spent most of his time asleep now, but at least that meant he didn’t know what they were about to do to Archie. She envied his ignorance.
Apostolos slipped a plank under Archie’s leg, and Flora grimaced upon seeing that the man’s ankle was little more than bone with some shreds of flesh. Now that it was out of the bucket, the smell was unbearable. She felt her gorge rise.
“You sure you can handle this?” Apostolos asked, eying her with concern. He looked like a cross between a butcher and a doctor, which she guessed was appropriate. One of his shirts had been folded into a mask and tied around his face so only his eyes and brows were showing.
Unable to speak, she nodded.
“Remember, as soon as I tell you it’s done, you have to apply the tourniquet to his leg and stop the bleeding. I’ll cauterize the arteries. If we don’t do everything right, we’ll lose him.” He leaned forward and gripped her shoulder with a powerful hand. “I need you with me, Duchovney. I can’t do this alone.”
She nodded again, swallowing the panic that fluttered in her stomach. She didn’t have time for panic. “I was thinking…maybe some music?”
To her surprise, he appeared relieved. “That’s a great idea. Choose something loud—something upbeat.”
And that’s how they came to amputate their friend’s leg with the raucous sounds of Poison reverberating through the ship. She sent a silent apology to Thor, and a prayer to the creatures to leave them alone that night.
The last thing Flora saw before Apostolos drew the rubber curtain between them was the Greek pouring the last of his precious spiced rye over his crewmember’s leg. His eyes were set and grim and completely sober.
At his signal, Flora stretched her body across the unconscious man’s chest and held on with all her strength.
* * *
The saw sprang to life with a roar, and she wedged her face against the wall, willing herself not to look. She knew when Apostolos began to cut because the entire bed shuddered and Archie started to scream.
Flora tried her best to hold him, but it was like trying to calm a raging river. As Archie thrashed from side to side, shrieking in agony, she could hear Apostolos bellowing at her to keep him down. The saw made an awful clatter that was still much too audible over Bret Michaels’s wails. She pressed her arms against her ears to block the sound and gritted her teeth, trying to think of something—anything—else. She pictured her son’s face, and clung to the memory of his easy smile, his bright blue eyes. How she longed to be at home with him instead of in this living nightmare.
>
“Don’t need nothin’ but a good time—how can I resist?”
She retched at the smell that assaulted her from the other end of the bed, and cried out when Archie grabbed her foot, but managed to stay in control. Soon the roaring stopped and Flora knew Apostolos was using the chef’s knife. The realization made her green. She clenched her teeth, drawing on some inner strength she hadn’t known she possessed.
Archie went limp underneath her. The song ended, and she realized the Greek was talking to her. “Hurry, I need you now.”
She slid off Archie’s unconscious body and rushed to the other side of the curtain. Apostolos held a wad of clean towels to Archie’s leg—or what was left of it. When he saw her, he seized her gloved hands and put them where his had been.
“Use as much pressure as you can. Don’t ease up, even for a second. I have to get rid of the leg. I’ll be right back.”
Flora pushed down on Archie’s stump as if her life depended on it. It was less than a minute before Apostolos returned, but it felt like hours. What if Archie had regained consciousness and thrashed around again?
“I need you to hold him. I still have to cauterize the wound. Go.”
He shoved her, and she hurried to get into position on the other side of the curtain again, clambering over Archie’s body like he was a lump in the mattress. She heard the hiss of Apostolos’s torch and then the stench of burning flesh. Their reluctant patient didn’t wake this time.
For better or worse, it was done.
* * *
It was midnight, but neither could sleep. They’d pulled kitchen chairs over to Archie’s bed and sat watching him while they sipped warm beer. Apostolos puffed on an acrid cigarette, but she didn’t have the heart to ask him to put it out. She’d seen how his hands were trembling.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?”
Flora barely recognized the voice as the captain’s. She’d never heard him sound vulnerable before. She stared at Archie, who was so pale and silent it was as if he were already gone, and lied. “Yes, of course he will.”
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