Infestation

by William Meikle

  It was almost full dark now, only the last glimmer of sunlight far to the west. A crescent moon rose in the east and the sky had cleared from the north, with a blanket of stars slowly taking form overhead. She’d always loved nights like this in the past and had stood on the deck for long hours, marveling at the sky until the cold forced her inside for bonhomie and chatter with the kitchen crew, then vodka and chess with the captain.

  All gone now, never to return.

  Now the boat felt as dead as the empty place in her heart. She pulled her jacket closed and put up her hood against the cold. She had thick, fur-lined gloves in her pockets but kept her hands uncovered for now; the metal of the weapon already felt icy cold in her hands but she wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger if gloved.

  And I’ve got a feeling the shooting is going to start soon.

  She looked ahead; the boat was pointed, straight as an arrow, at the island ahead and the wind was still at their back, although nowhere near as strong as it had been an hour before. But they didn’t seem to be getting any closer to land and the boat felt heavy and sluggish, without its usual slow yaw; now it was more of a floundering, like a dog paddling frantically trying to keep afloat rather than the smooth stroke of a seasoned swimmer.

  *

  Captain Banks and McCally climbed up through the hatchway a few minutes later.

  “Make sure you’ve got a full mag to start with,” Banks said. “This is going to go fast and hot. And if you have to reload, step back behind the others, let them cover you.”

  He was speaking for her benefit and she nodded to show she understood. She had to ask for a spare magazine from McCally.

  “How are we doing for ammo, Sarge?” Banks asked.

  They did a check. Both the sarge and Banks had three mags each. McCally had two and Svetlanova had the fresh one she’d been given and six rounds left in the one she replaced.

  “So there’s that,” the sarge said when they were done, “these flares I got from the lifeboat, and these bottles of oil here. Not a lot.”

  “But it’ll have to be enough. It’s all we’ve got. When I say run, you run, all of you, no heroes. Either down the stairs or down the hatch; take the quickest route for you and meet at the port side lifeboat; the shackles are loosened so we can get it in the water fast. Remember, nobody else dies here.”

  Banks took out the satellite phone and switched it on.

  Down in the cargo bay, the blue luminescence shifted.

  - 23 -

  The small isopods emerged first, scuttling over the rim of the hold, scores of them, all moving with a single purpose, heading for the superstructure.

  “Don’t shoot,” Banks said. He dropped the phone, still switched on, into his inside pocket. “We want as many of the buggers up here where we can see them as possible.”

  The dog-sized isopods kept pouring out of the hold and across the forward deck. Hynd and McCally moved to join Banks on his left and Svetlanova stepped up on his right so all four were in a line looking down over the length of the boat. Banks realized they hadn’t given Svetlanova a pair of night glasses but it hardly mattered; the blue luminescence coming off the isopods lent the whole scene an eerie glow more than bright enough to see by.

  The only sound was the clickity-clack of talons on deck as the isopods came forward toward them. Banks shoved his earplugs deep in both ears and saw Svetlanova had torn up a bandage and was stuffing them in as makeshift plugs of her own. She finished and gave him an ‘OK’ sign. He realized he knew nothing of the woman’s past before her time on the boat but he wouldn’t be surprised to find she had military training; she handled herself as confidently as most men he’d served with and a damn sight better than some. He knew he wouldn’t have to watch out for her in the imminent firefight.

  Which is just as well. I think we’re going to be busy.

  *

  The first of the smaller isopods reached the bottom of the superstructure and started to climb. Banks hefted one of the canisters of oil.

  “One each, pour it down over them, quickly now.”

  Everybody moved to comply and they send a wash of oil down the side and over the approaching swarm. It didn’t slow them any, although the blue shimmer took on a rainbow aurora at the foot of the superstructure that might have been almost beautiful in different circumstances.

  “Sarge, give me two of those flares. Hold onto yours until I say otherwise.”

  Hynd moved quickly to comply, then all four of them lined up, rifles poised, watching the swarming beasts scuttle up the side toward them. They weren’t finding it easy; the gasoline had made the surface slippery and they went backward almost as much as they came forward but they were piling up, force of numbers and pressure from below allowing them to gain height. The nearest of them was now almost halfway up.

  “Cap?” McCally said.

  “Not yet,” Banks replied.

  The head of the swarm was almost two-thirds of the way up when Banks saw what he’d been waiting for; two of the larger, pickup truck-sized isopods scuttled up out of the dark hold, heading for the superstructure. He waited to see if more were going to appear but they were the last things to come up out of the dark.

  I can only hope that’s all of them.

  “Fire at will,” he shouted and the night air filled with the roar of gunfire.

  *

  At first, they targeted their fire on the swarm of smaller isopods on the superstructure, sending the front rows of them down and back into the others, where a feeding frenzy commenced, making more of them easy targets. But there were others who were still concerned with climbing and they came on fast.

  And they ate bullets; if the aim wasn’t accurate enough, a shot into the body rather than the face did little to slow them. Despite their volley fire, the beasts kept getting higher.

  Banks’ first magazine was running low. Instead of stepping back to reload, he shouted.

  “Fire in the hold,” he said and pulled the string of a flare, dropping it over the side before it blazed in his face.

  An orange glow lit up the whole forward deck, then the flare hit the isopods and the swarm around the superstructure went up with a whoosh and a searing wall of flame that almost reached the four defenders on the top deck, forcing them to step back and turn away from the heat.

  Banks slammed in a fresh mag, counted to ten, and watched the orange glow subside slightly then turned again to the rail. The other three joined him and once again they poured round after round down into what was now a much-reduced swarm, some of which burned even as they kept trying to climb.

  The two large isopods had kept back from the fray so far but they now moved forward toward the base of the superstructure, drawn, as Banks had hoped, by the easy scavenging to be had on the dead.

  He stopped firing and poured the last two canisters of oil down over the side. It hit the isopods and immediately started to burn, catching both the larger ones and sending them scurrying back. He lit the second flare and threw it over the top of all the isopods, to the oil-soaked deck behind them.

  “Time to go,” he shouted, as the flare blazed like a miniature sun and the whole forward deck went up in a sheet of flame. The isopods danced in fire.

  - 24 -

  Svetlanova reached the top of the stairs first and led others down. A hellish orange glow lit the steps and the cold of the night air was punctuated with washes of heat, almost burning hot. She swept the light of the rifle ahead of her, checking the darker shadows at the corners, ready to shoot at the slightest provocation.

  None came and she reached the rear deck without anything coming at her. McCally came down next beside her and together they made their way quickly to the port side lifeboat. Svetlanova started to step up to the lowering mechanism.

  “I’ve got this,” McCally said. “You check the body of the boat. Get in if it’s all clear. We’re going to be leaving in a hurry.”

  Hynd arrived next and Svetlanova, with the sarge’s help, pulled off the canva
s sheet from the boat while McCally covered them; the bottom of the lifeboat was empty of isopods but the holed hull was clearly visible. Hynd balled up the canvas sheet and held it over the hole but it obviously wasn’t big enough to use as a plug.

  “Jackets,” he shouted and all three of them shucked off their outer garment. Hynd bundled them, along with the canvas sheet, into a firm ball he kicked, hard, into the hole.

  “It won’t last long,” he said.

  Banks arrived and joined McCally at the side of the boat.

  “It won’t have to. Get the outboard going, Sarge, if you can. If not, McCally, you and I are on the oars. Svetlanova, you get to watch the plug. See if you can find something to use to bail with; I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need it.”

  *

  Svetlanova rummaged in the small compartment at the prow of the boat and found a mop and a small bucket but nothing else of use. The bucket would have to do. She heard the thrum and felt a vibration as the outboard kicked in.

  “Drop it,” Banks shouted.

  At the same time, one of the large isopods barreled down the superstructure stairs, trailing fire. McCally and Banks didn’t hesitate; they emptied their mags into it, then had to jump as the lifeboat tumbled out into empty air. The isopod reached for them, with limbs that looked like arms of fire.

  The men landed hard but now both Svetlanova and Hynd had stood, taken aim, and aimed another volley at the beast. It hung on the edge of the deck for a long second then fell forward, hitting the water a second after the boat did. It sank with the hiss of extinguishing flame, then was gone behind them as the motor bit in the water and they surged forward.

  The bung Hynd had shoved into the hole started to come loose almost immediately, water pouring in at the edges of the hole. Svetlanova had time for one look toward the dark shadow marking the harbor, far too far away, then had to deploy the bucket.

  Hynd came beside her and used the mop to try to keep the bung in place. It helped but not much. She noticed as she bailed there was a sheen, oily and thick, on the water she was bailing and she smelled it as she threw a bucketful overboard; diesel.

  The bottom of the lifeboat filled faster, much faster, than she could bail.

  - 25 -

  Banks struggled with the tiller, trying to keep the lifeboat in a straight line and heading for the harbor. The vessel wallowed heavy in the water and every so often the outboard propeller would hit a chunk of thicker slush or ice and the whole frame would lurch and shudder, the prow splashing hard in seas high in a swell from the previous storm. McCally stood beside him, looking back at the boat they’d abandoned.

  “The fires are out, Cap. And I can’t see any beasties.”

  “Well, there’s that to be thankful for anyway.”

  In front of him in the lifeboat, Svetlanova and Hynd tried to keep the influx of water to a minimum but Banks knew it was a losing battle; cold water already pooled at his feet and he felt the ice bite through his boots. He pulled down his night vision glasses and looked over the bailers’ heads to the shore beyond. They were definitely closing, even as the abandoned cargo boat behind them kept coming at their rear, a slow, painfully slow race to the small dock at the settlement’s harbor.

  The water grew even choppier as they got closer to shore. White-topped waves crashed against the pebbles ahead; he heard the rattle of them, even above the outboard. The tiller bucked in his hand, threatening to tear out of his grasp. The fight against the influx of water wasn’t going well either and icy slush lapped almost up to Bank’s ankles. The weight of water in the bottom of the lifeboat helped to stabilize it somewhat but it was cancelled out by the fact they were now definitely sinking. Banks turned the engine to full throttle, aimed it straight at the rocky shore and prayed.

  *

  They hit the bottom five yards from shore with a shudder, tearing the outboard off the back and threatening to tip them all over completely. A wave caught them and moved them a yard closer, then threatened to suck them back out again as it receded.

  “All ashore who are going ashore,” Banks shouted and then was out of the boat and wading thigh deep in freezing cold sea, making his balls shrink and his legs turn to stone that had to be forced into movement for every inch to be made toward dry land. Another wave hit, almost knocking him over, then the backwash tugged hard at him. By the time he hauled himself up the small slope, fighting the surge and wash of pebbles underfoot, he felt like he’d run five miles in full gear.

  The other three hauled themselves out to join him. They all looked to be as soaked and exhausted as he felt but he knew they couldn’t afford to stand still; they’d be dead in minutes.

  “Keep moving,” he said. “We need to get to shelter and try to get some heat into us. Double time, head up to yon house with the big garage.”

  He turned to start running but McCally shouted as his back.

  “We’ve got problems, Cap.”

  He turned to look. The huge black keel of the cargo boat loomed offshore, the tear at the water line clearly visible, made prominent by the fact blue luminescence shimmered all around it, a blue quickly spreading into the surrounding waters. Far from killing all the beasts, it looked like all they’d succeeded in doing was stirring more into action.

  *

  “Get off the shore,” Banks shouted. “Maybe they won’t be interested in us.”

  They retreated, fighting the loose pebbles, climbing up the short incline to the shore track, then back farther, quickly past the burned-out remains at the harbor.

  Banks risked a look back as they reached the driveway of the large house; the beasts were already swarming again, pouring out of the keel and into the water. Up on the deck of the cargo boat that now dominated the small harbor, a new blue aurora swelled and grew. Something came up and out of the hold; something bigger than anything they’d seen so far; an isopod so tall its head reached the top deck of the superstructure. It shimmered blue along its whole length and smaller pieces of blue fell off it in droves; pieces scurrying and skittering all over the deck where they landed.

  It’s giving birth.

  “They’re still coming, Cap,” McCally said.

  A horde of isopods washed off the deck and into the water, filling the harbor area, a blue carpet clambering over each other on their haste to get at them.

  “Shit,” Banks muttered. “The phone. I forgot to switch off the bloody phone.”

  - 26 -

  Svetlanova heard the captain mutter and saw him fumble, hands too cold for the task, at his jacket, trying to get at the inside pocket.

  She remembered the burnings; the ship’s captain pouring kerosene down the rig, the other captain lighting the oil on the deck, and the red glare of the blazing flare.

  She turned to Hynd and, before the sarge had time to complain, pulled one of the flares from his webbing belt.

  “The water. It’s full of diesel,” she said, already turning away and pulling the string on the flare.

  She ran forward three steps and threw it, a high and handsome arc toward the harbor. Hynd had seen her plan immediately and a second flare blazed only two seconds after hers, both of them falling into the harbor, right among the shimmering blue.

  “Everybody down,” Hynd shouted and pushed Svetlanova to the ground, lying almost on top of her. She was only able to turn her head but it was enough to see the result.

  The harbor went up first, a wall of orange flame flash-frying the isopods and eating them away even as it sped across the open sea and took hold around the rent in the cargo ship’s hull. The huge isopod on the deck screamed as the small ones burned and popped, then it too took hold, fire washing up and around the superstructure.

  The whole boat went up with a muffled crump. A wave of heat blew across the harbor as the boat collapsed in on itself and the isopods burned.

  *

  It was some time before Hynd moved to let her stand.

  The cargo boat still burned outside the harbor but the seas around were now
dark, with no sign of any blue shimmer.

  Banks stood above them as they got up, with the phone in his hand.

  “It’s still on. If there’s any of them left, we’ll know soon enough.”

  They waited for minutes but there was only the burning boat.

  “Good enough,” Banks said. “Let’s get some shelter before we freeze our bollocks off.”

  *

  They were inside the large house, with a propane heater going full blast, when they heard the sound of approaching aircraft. They watched from the porch as two bomb runs passed over where the rig had been and the water rose each time in a huge bubble of foaming water. There was no sign of any blue.

  “Will it be enough?” Banks asked.

  Svetlanova replied how she thought Mac might have wanted her to, in her best Glaswegian accent.

  “Fucked if I know, Cap,” she said.

  Read on for a free sample of Titanoboa

  1

  As he once again boarded the Lucky Lucy, Dr. Hank Newstead reflected again on the smell permeating all around him. There were lots of rivers throughout the world, lots of pristine places that were resisting the encroachment of man, but the Amazon somehow managed to smell unique among them all. Sure, there was the lush greenery and smell of exotic growing things, the sharp scent of fish and murky water and things growing and living beneath the sometimes calm and sometimes roiling surface. But there were also other things, things that could be found nowhere else in the world. There were the pungent odors of flowers and plants that could only be found here, and a deep, almost incomprehensible odor wafting out of the flood waters flowing among the roots of the trees.