by Michael Bray
Ethan nodded and swung the harpoon out over the stern of the boat. It was heavy, and his arms were already burning. He could feel Mannering’s gaze on him just waiting for him to make a mistake. He concentrated on the water, waiting for the creature to break the surface. Although he couldn’t see it, he could sense it there, out in the deep.
For a moment, there was quiet. The steady lap of waves on the hull, the creak of tired wood as the boat drifted with the tide. Even Mannering was silent, all three of them watching the water.
“There it is,” Mannering said. He pointed, but there was little need. They could all see it. The wake was coming towards the rear of the boat, this time there was no indecision. It was heading straight for the carcass.
“You be ready now. Don’t you miss the son of a bitch,” Mannering muttered.
Ethan heard him, but he was distant. Nothing outside of the wake existed. He watched it, frozen and unable to move. He was aware of everything going on around him in minute detail. The warmth of the diffused sun on his neck, the unsteady sway of the boat, the slightly musty, boozy sweat smell of Mannering who was now standing close. He closed one eye, focussing on his aim.
“Not yet,” Mannering said from somewhere close by.
Ethan forced himself to relax and let out the breath he had been unknowingly holding. The absolute idiocy of the situation almost made him giggle, but he knew that wouldn’t be the right thing to do, so swallowed it down.
“Wait until it takes the bait and tries to run with it. When you get a clear shot, take your shot. Remember to aim low,” Barnes said, his own voice also a near whisper.
The creature breached the surface, a disfigured, mottled abomination from hell. Ethan couldn’t imagine how such a thing could have survived. It opened its mouth and clamped down on the putrid carcass, the boat dipping towards the creature tugging on the winch cable. Ethan moved his finger over the trigger.
“Wait, damn you,” Mannering hissed.
The creature had clamped on to the carcass and had now flicked out a disfigured tentacle, which it coiled around its meal. It started to thrash and pull, the stern of the vessel dipping closer to the water.
“We need to let out a little of that winch line,” Barnes said. Although Mannering was standing by the release handle, he didn’t move. His eyes were alternating between Ethan and the creature. Barnes skirted around Ethan and released the tension on the cable, glaring at Mannering.
“Don’t let too much of that out, you hear?” the old fisherman said.
Barnes clamped the release valve closed, slamming it into place. He ignored Mannering and returned to his original position, both men now at either side of Ethan. With the cable slack, the creature was able to thrash and pull at the carcass without putting the boat in danger.
“Get ready. Don’t miss this,” Mannering said, leaning on the transom, his muscular forearms rippling. Of all of them, he seemed to be least afraid. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying the show.
“Now, do it now,” Barnes said.
Ethan refocused on the creature. It had half turned as it rolled with the bait, tangling itself in the winch cable at the same time. Ethan aimed for the spot he wanted, the fleshy area above the flipper, then moved his aim down a half foot and depressed the trigger.
Mannering was right about the kick. The barrel of the harpoon jerked up as he fired, the barbed harpoon hitting home almost exactly where he had intended. The creature lurched and thrashed, covering the three men with spray as it wrapped itself tighter in the winch cable.
“Let out some more cable,” Barnes said as the creature rolled closer to the boat, again causing the stern to dip dangerously close to the water level.
Mannering grabbed the release lever and pulled it, expecting the hiss of the winch releasing and feeding out more line; however, there was no change. The handle didn’t move. For the first time, Mannering looked afraid.
“Damn things jammed,” he grunted. He grabbed it with both hands, desperately trying to release the tension. Ethan was still holding the harpoon, unable to take his eyes off the power of the creature as it thrashed against its restraints and threatened to sink them too.
Barnes ran to help, the two men yanking at the handle to try and free the mechanism. Ethan was too terrified to move. The creature had rolled itself into the winch cable in a way that would be impossible to free itself from. Now that it was so close to the rear of the boat, its size and power could be fully appreciated. It could easily destroy the vessel. The realisation that they could all die kicked Ethan into action. He dropped the harpoon and climbed onto the transom of the boat, his feet just inches from the churning ocean and the thrashing creature beyond. He could see where the cable had slipped off the spool and become tangled. He pulled at it, desperately trying to free it, but it was too tight with the creature hanging off the end of it. The steel frame of the winch was starting to groan under the pressure, and the filthy floorboards were starting to splinter.
“We’ll get pulled under if we don’t free the cable,” Mannering grunted.
Barnes looked over his shoulder and saw Ethan standing on the transom. “Down, get down from there,” he screamed and left Mannering with the release lever.
“It’s come off the spool,” Ethan replied.
“Get down, let me take a look.”
Ethan turned to comply, when the creature lurched, pulling the boat dangerously low in the water. He reached out for the frame of the winch, but couldn’t stop himself from slipping. His heart lurched into his throat as he went overboard hitting the water just a few feet from the thrashing creature. He didn’t know how to swim and took an involuntary deep breath, taking on water and starting to choke as he thrashed around.
I’m going to die.
He was surprised how calm the thought came to him. He supposed it was a side effect of the world he lived in. He was about to give up all hope, when he was pulled out of the water by Barnes.
“Grab on,” he bellowed as Ethan gripped the inner edge of the transom and pulled himself up and over, falling onto the deck, too afraid to do anything but watch. He saw it all in slow motion framed against the dull grey sky. Mannering trying to free the winch handle, Barnes leaning over the edge, hacking away at the cable itself, teeth gritted as the boat shrieked and groaned as it was pulled closer and closer to the edge of the water, and with it, death. Then, something else. Something blotting the day from view, something huge and greenish, a spinal ridge covered in scars and barnacles moving across his field of view. In the back of his mind, he knew what it was, but he couldn’t comprehend it. The sheer size, the sheer scale. It was at least five times larger than the one currently attached to the winch. It breached the water, mouth opening, teeth glistening and needle sharp as it closed on the rear of the struggling creature. It severed it in two, blood and water exploding and showering those on the boat, which lurched up, the winch freed from the decimated half of the creature that remained as the giant took its meal back into the darkness of the ocean. For a brief second, there was absolute silence, then there was screaming. Barnes was staggering around the deck, his arm cleanly severed when the larger creature attacked. Blood in impossible quantities covered the deck, a river of it. All Ethan could see were the whites of Barnes’s eyes.
“Help me with him,” Mannering said, shouting above the screams.
Ethan couldn’t move, he replayed it in his mind, the size if the creature. He knew now why Mannering was so against his love of the sea. He knew what was out there, and now Ethan did too.
“Fucking get up and help me,” Mannering screamed again.
Ethan scrambled to his feet, shivering from a combination of cold and shock. “What do I do?”
“Take your belt off, tighten it around the arm above the wound,” Mannering shouted. He guided Barnes towards the interior of the boat, the deck now covered in spilled blood.
“That thing, did you see it? It was huge, we need to get out of here.” Ethan knew he was rambling, but knew
of no other way to handle what was happening.
“You take off that belt and make him a tourniquet, or I swear to God, I’ll dump you over the side,” Mannering growled, glaring at Ethan.
Ethan nodded and took off his frayed canvas belt.
“Good, now tie it round the top of the arm. Make sure it’s tight.”
Barnes’ skin had taken on a colour similar to that of the overcast sky, and he had stopped screaming. Ethan did as Mannering said, tying the belt around the wound and just above the elbow.
“Make sure it’s tight,” Mannering grunted as they led him towards the small dining table. Mannering swept the plates and dishes off it, and together, the two of them put Barnes on the table, the blood still freely pouring from him. Ethan finished tying the belt and pulled it tight. Barnes screamed and tried to sit up, but together Mannering and Ethan kept him in place.
“We need to get him back and get some help,” Ethan said, double typing the makeshift tourniquet.
Mannering pointed to a cupboard across the room. “Towels are in there, see what you can do to keep him alive.”
“Are we heading in?”
“Yeah, you stay here with him,” Mannering grunted as he went to the controls and fired up the engines.
Ethan found the towels; they were grubby, but that was something he couldn’t afford to worry about right now. He went back to Barnes and put some under the wound, the blood immediately soaking through. The others he tried to use to dress the injury. Barnes was pale, his eyes heavy as he lay on the table.
“It’s alright, we’re heading in,” Ethan said, watching as one by one the towels turned red.
Barnes looked at him. “Did you see it? Did you…?”
“I saw it,” Ethan said quietly.
“I’ve never seen one that big. Nobody has…” Barnes muttered. He stared at Ethan as the boat rocked and lurched over the waves. “I’m going to die out here.”
“You won’t, we’ll get you back in time,” Ethan said, wishing he could sound more positive and assured.
“He won’t be heading back,” Barnes mumbled.
“He is, we’re going back.”
Barnes shook his head. “He’ll be going after it. I know him.”
Ethan glanced at Mannering’s back. It was impossible to tell which direction they were going through the grimy windows. He turned back to Barnes, who was staring at him. Ethan stood and walked to the controls, standing behind Mannering and looking for the first smudge of shore.
“How far out are we? He’s in bad shape.”
“Mind your business. I’ll mind mine,” Mannering said, without taking his eyes off the ocean.
“He needs help.”
“Then go look after him. Make yourself useful.”
“Mannering, I –”
Ahead of them, the water broke and a marbled, arched back appeared, a plume of spray ejected from the giant creatures blowhole before it descended again beneath the surface.
“What are you doing?” Ethan said, staring at Mannering.
“I told you to mind your business.”
“I am minding my business. We need to get back, not give chase to this…thing. It’s too big. We can’t handle it.”
Mannering turned and glared at him. Ethan could see he was scared, even though it was projecting itself as anger. “And what do you know? You’ve been here five minutes trying to tell me my business. I’ve been doing this a long time, way before you showed up.”
“Barnes needs our help.”
“And those people back at the village don’t?” Mannering snapped. “What are they supposed to eat when we come back empty handed?”
“Mannering, think about this. You saw how big that thing was. We can’t possibly catch it. It would crush us. Barnes needs medical attention.”
“Did you apply the tourniquet?”
“Yes.”
“And use the towels to bandage the injury?”
“Yes.”
“Then there’s nothing else we can do. He wouldn’t want us to go back.”
“You’re crazy, this is crazy.”
Mannering glanced at him and grinned. “You read that book I gave you, you know how it is out here.”
“And you know how it ended. Mannering, please…”
Mannering moved quickly. He turned and grabbed Ethan around the throat, pushing him back against the wall, their faces inches apart. “I told you that you didn’t belong out here. I tried to tell Barnes you had no business out here but he didn’t listen. Now he’s hurt and that’s on him. I’m a fisherman, goddamnit, and I’m going to fish.”
Mannering let go of Ethan and turned back to the controls of the boat. “Now you do whatever you have to in order to keep him alive, but we’re going after this fish. You know how much food there is on it? How long it will keep us going?”
“With one less mouth to feed when Barnes is dead.”
“That’s on you,” Mannering said.
“No, it’s on you, and I’ll make sure to tell them all you did this.”
Mannering glanced over his shoulder, the wild look still there in his eyes. “You think they’ll believe you? A stranger they are already wary of? A man who, if we look at it like it is, was responsible for what happened to Barnes?”
“How was it my fault?”
“You had no business being out here; you fell in the water, and he had to save you. If that hadn’t happened, then his arm wouldn’t have been in the way, and that thing wouldn’t have got him.”
“And what about you? When they find out you ignored his injuries and came out here chasing after that thing.”
Mannering spun around and pointed at Ethan. “They will understand when I drag that big son of a bitch in. When they know our future is secure, when they know I’ve just put food on the table enough for everyone, they’ll understand well enough.”
“That won’t happen,” Ethan said, walking back towards Barnes.
“Why not?”
“Because we’ll die before then. If you try to take that thing on, you’ll lose.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
For the next twelve hours, Mannering gave chase to the creature, taking them further and further away from safety. Ethan stayed with Barnes, tending to his injuries as best he could, but the water bottles they had brought with them were almost empty and the towels were all soaked through with blood. Ethan listened to Barnes mumble as he drifted in and out of consciousness, taking to people who weren’t there and reliving old memories from a different lifetime. Death was close, and both Ethan and Barnes could feel it. Mannering was oblivious, and saw nothing but the creature as it came up for air, ensuring he stayed close enough not to lose sight of it. Ethan had checked the supplies and there was precious little. He sat by Barnes and put his head in his hands.
“You have to stop him.”
Ethan looked at Barnes, who was staring at him.
“How can I stop him?”
“You have to. We’ll die out here otherwise. We don’t have enough supplies to survive. If you don’t stop him, we’re all dead.”
“He’s stronger than me, I can’t do it.”
Barnes tried to speak, then started to cough, fresh blood spilling down his chin. “There’s a baseball bat in the galley,” he grunted. “Use that. He’ll back down if you threaten him.”
Ethan was afraid, his eyes shifted to the steps leading down the galley, then at Mannering, who was still preoccupied with his pursuit. The light was fading from the sky, and the idea of being out there at night with such a giant in the ocean terrified him more than Mannering.
“Alright,” he said, “I’ll do it.”
“Go now, do it now. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”
The thought of being alone with Mannering on the boat if Barnes died spurred him into action. He stood, Mannering glancing over his shoulder.
“Going somewhere?” Mannering said.
“We need more towels for the bleeding. I’m going to see if there�
��s anything below.”
“Some sheets in the bunks maybe,” Mannering said as he turned back to the controls. “Try there.”
Ethan said nothing, surprised at how relaxed Mannering seemed under the circumstances. Ethan went below deck and found what he was looking for, the bat pitted with age and dirt. He held it in his right hand, hoping it would make him feel strong and confident, but instead it was fear he felt. It battled him, trying to sway him from what he knew he had to do in order to survive. Mannering wasn’t thinking rationally, that much was obvious, but Ethan still didn’t know if they would understand when he got back why he had taken over the boat, especially if Barnes didn’t make it. If that happened, it would be Mannering’s word against his, a stranger who was new to their group and hadn’t earned their respect or trust.
He pushed those thoughts aside. He couldn’t let them influence his decision. Barnes was right. He had to act now before it was too late. He went back to the upper deck, his heart thumping, the engines humming as Mannering drove them further and further out to sea. He was sure his approach was masked by the sounds of the engine, but even so, every creak of tired floorboard felt incredibly loud to him. He crept forward, glancing towards Barnes, who had lifted his head up to watch. Mannering was still staring out to sea, watching for the creature breaching. Ethan stopped six feet away.
“Mannering, stop the boat.”
He paid no attention.
“I said stop the boat.”
Mannering glanced over his shoulder, saw the bat, and then turned back to the controls. “If you’re planning on using that, boy, you better make sure you do it right.”
“I’ll do it if I have to. Stop the boat.”
“You won’t do it. People like you aren’t cut out for this world.”
“I’ll do it. Stop the boat.”
“Not now, boy. We’re close to him now. He’s getting tired. All that meat, all that sweet meat to feed everyone.”
Ethan took another step closer, holding the bat ready to swing. “Stop the boat.”
Mannering sighed and shook his head. “You don’t understand, do you, boy? You’re not a survivor. You are alive by some kind of miracle. People like you, the weak, most of them died off years ago, yet somehow you survived. Somehow you lived long enough to get here, to this point. The odds of that are pretty high, don’t you think?”