by JE Gurley
Satiated and afraid to sleep for fear of nightmares, he decided to go for a stroll on deck to see if the fresh air would help keep him awake. The infirmary was on the main deck in the bow of the ship. The corridors were mostly deserted but a party was going on in the lounge. He avoided it and chose a side door onto the outside deck. The water was calm, reflecting the moon’s rays like a dark mirror. From the deck of the ship, the ocean appeared serene and peaceful, but Josh wondered what creatures lurked beneath the surface.
Sixteen-thousand feet below his feet, deep in the Cayman Trench, the Beebe Vent Field spewed black copper-rich fluids into the water at over seven-hundred degrees. Only the extreme pressure at that depth prevented the water from instantly exploding into steam. Entire ecosystems of bacteria, algae, crustaceans, tube worms, and other deep sea creatures fed on the nutrient-rich water pouring from the fumaroles, living in a pitch black void that sunlight had never touched. This deep realm was the source of the giant isopods. In turn, larger creatures, such as the Ogrefish, preyed on them. Nine-thousand feet below that, in the bottom of the Trench, his fertile imagination had no trouble conjuring horrid monsters that made the isopods pale in comparison. The firm decking of the ship beneath his feet ship was more comforting than had the fragile wooden raft that had saved his life.
He attributed his gloom to survivor’s guilt. Hawthorne, the Watkins, possibly everyone he knew or met on Little Cayman, might be dead from the isopod attack or the tidal wave. He debated informing the captain of what he had witnessed, but even with the photos in his cell phone, he doubted he would be believed. He wasn’t sure he believed it himself. It now all seemed like a dream; one of the horrible nightmares he had been experiencing.
In the distance, the water sparkled, a scintillating reflection of the October moon. He was admiring its beauty, and then noticed that the moon was behind a cloud. What was causing the strange, pulsating light? The sea was alive with fireflies. As he watched, he detected a pattern. It wasn’t single points, but lines of flashing lights, like strings of Christmas lights. The tightness in his chest eased as the lights moved farther away out of sight.
“Oh, there you are, Mister Peterman,” Doctor Chase said.
Josh wanted to ask the doctor if he had seen the lights, but restrained himself. Hallucinations might get him confined to a hospital bed. “I needed some air.”
“I trust your meal was adequate.”
Josh rubbed his belly and smiled. “Excellent food. I needed to stretch my legs a bit after being confined on my raft for so long.”
“You were quite lucky on that account. If the roof hadn’t caved in beneath you, you might have found yourself floundering.”
Or eaten. “Luck there and luck in your finding me.”
Chase smiled. “Good luck all around.” He gazed at the horizon. “We just got a report that Grand Cayman got hit hard.” Josh shivered. The doctor saw him and frowned. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Did many die?”
“Over a hundred. The storm surge inundated George Town.”
“Storm surge?” Josh asked, afraid to bring up the subject of isopods. “Is that all?”
Chase stared at him queerly. “The storm surge and high winds. Why?”
“Nothing. Just wondering.”
“They were asking for assistance earlier, but they’re off the air now.”
Josh’s face paled and his heart skipped a beat. “Off the air?”
“It’s not uncommon. Shortage of petrol for the generator and all that. We’re detouring to lend assistance. We have several doctors as passengers on board. I guess I’ll soon be busy.” He paused, and then said with a stern voice, “I think you need a bit of a lie down. You look terrible.”
Josh nodded. He was tired. “Maybe so.”
“I’ll help you back to bed.”
His knees were weak. He allowed the doctor to escort him back to the infirmary. He swallowed the sedative the doctor offered, stripped, and crawled into bed, troubled by the news of George Town. Had the isopods struck there too? Should he warn the captain?
While he was trying to decide, the sedative began working. Exhausted by his ordeal, he gave up the fight and fell asleep, hoping his dreams didn’t become nightmares.
* * * *
Crabtree’s mind was in turmoil. A whirlwind of thoughts and memories swirled around, refusing to let him focus. For three months, he had planned for the final moments of his life, convincing himself that fate had decreed he met his end where his nightmares had begun. Spotting the survivor had placed doubts in his mind. He was going to die. The Big C would see to that. Giving himself to the sea had seemed the perfect solution – no body, no funeral, not even a grieving family, or at least one that would grieve for long. Now, he had doubts. Was saving the Peterman kid a last chance at redemption or a sign that he was being stupid? Peterman had fought to stay alive. He could see it in the kid’s blue eyes. They were almost as haunted as his. Yet, he didn’t give up.
The party in the lounge below him was still blasting full volume. People were spilling out onto the main deck and infringing on his space on the sun deck. He relinquished his spot on the fantail rail and went forward to the bow where fewer people gathered. The salt spray tingled on his face, reminding him of that October night in 1962 in pursuit of the Russian freighter. He never learned the captain’s name. No record of the ship existed in the Russian archives. His own log was purged, and he and his crew sworn to secrecy. He had told no one, not even his wife. Maybe if he had, the ghosts wouldn’t rise up from the depths to haunt him.
To the west, the ocean glittered as if on fire. Flashing lights blinked rapidly, like a traffic light, except in blues, yellows, and reds. Whatever was causing the strange lights, they looked like ghosts in the water, the spirits of the dead rising from their watery graves. He stared at the phenomenon with a growing sense of dread. Was it the Russian freighter beckoning him to join it? The incorporeal lights began flashing in unison, hypnotizing him. When the lights abruptly disappeared, releasing him, rather than being relieved, a deep foreboding descended on him. The air smelled of gloom and death.
The ship shuddered beneath him, rattling the empty glasses on a table beside a deck chair. The sea was calm. The Neptune was slicing through the waves cleanly and effortlessly. He had heard that they were headed for the Cayman Islands to offer assistance. He was unconcerned since he hadn’t planned on living past midnight. Perhaps the shudder was just the ship as it changed course. He fixed a star above the horizon. After a few minutes, it hadn’t moved.
No course change.
The shudder happened again, this time shaking the entire ship. The glasses crashed to the deck and shattered. Deck chairs bounced across the deck. He grabbed the rail with both hands to prevent being thrown forward. This time, a loud screeching sound, like ripping metal, accompanied the shudder. The ship began to slow.
Sheared propeller? Warped shaft? Whatever the cause, it had damaged the ship. He glanced toward the bridge and noticed men running from it toward the engine room. It seemed their rescue voyage to the Caymans would be delayed. The lights remained on. The music and noise from the lounge continued unabated. The passengers weren’t even aware of the problem. Just as well. They’d probably panic. He fought his curiosity. As a former captain, he wanted to help, but he knew as a seventy-one-year-old man, he would be useless. He leaned his back against the rail, lit a cigarette, and watched.
Ten minutes later, the ship came to a complete stop. If it was a minor problem, the mechanics could deal with it. The ship had a well-equipped workshop. If not, they were adrift. It seemed fitting that this spot should attempt to hold him captive. It had imprisoned his mind for over forty years. Perhaps it had trapped his soul as well. He smiled. Maybe he wouldn’t have to take his own life. That the ship might sink with him aboard seemed somehow appropriate.
The bow lifted so suddenly that he flew through the air, landing hard on the deck ten feet away, knocking the breath from him. H
is right shoulder and hip sang out in agony from the impact. The bow slammed back into the sea, sending a wave of water cascading over the deck. He rolled over and fought to breathe until the water receded. A shadow passed over him, something large, like a crane’s boom, but the Neptune carried no crane.
The silence after the impact faded, filling with the screams of frightened and injured passengers. The ship’s klaxon began to wail. Battle stations, he thought, and then giggled. “Maybe the Russian freighter’s ghost rammed us.”
The shadow came again. He focused on its dark form. At first, he thought of sea monsters – kraken, giant cuddle fish, and monstrous squid – but this creature resembled a segmented worm. Appendages sprouted from the ventral and dorsal sides of each segment. The upper appendages were frilly, waving in the air. The lower appendages ended in small claws. The creature had attached itself to the railing by several sets of rear legs, rearing over the deck with its forward section. It was well over fifteen feet long and iridescent like opal. The head, when it turned toward him, had four spots that might have been eyes. A circle of fleshy protuberances surrounded a short snout that bristled with sharp teeth, or rather serrated extensions of the mouth material. A foul-smelling secretion dripped from the creature’s body onto the deck.
More of the creatures appeared over the sides of the ship, crawling onto the deck. Crabtree climbed to his feet and hobbled to the door to the main deck. He had spotted a fire axe on the wall earlier. He grabbed the axe and swung with all his strength at the creature’s head. The blow was feeble, but the blade embedded in the flesh beside the mouth. The creature reared, yanking the axe from his hands. It shook its head side-to-side in an effort to dislodge the axe. Mucous splashed onto Crabtree’s arm. The liquid burned his skin. As he wiped it off, he noticed tiny creatures swimming in the mucous. His arm erupted in fire as the creatures burrowed into his flesh.
The giant sea worm fell back over the side into the ocean, but an army of its brethren took its place. Dozens crawled up the side of the ship and along the deck. Their multiple, clawed legs dug into the metal hull as if it were cardboard. The Neptune was under siege. Other passengers began to notice the creatures. He turned toward a scream in time to witness one of the creatures smash a man to the deck and begin devouring him, ripping chunks of flesh from his torso in a mad frenzy of gluttony.
The worms were dangerous, but not large enough to lift the bow of the ship. Something else, something much larger, had done that. His arm was growing numb, but his skin was writhing as the tiny parasites bore through his flesh. He laughed. “Looks like cancer won’t be the one eating me after all.” He forced himself to the rail. Directly below him, one of the worms was crawling up the ship. He watched its tail disappear onto the main deck. That ought to liven up the party, he thought. He couldn’t lift his arm to read his watch, but he knew it wasn’t quite midnight, the witching hour. If a ghost could direct living creatures, he knew the Russian captain was reaching out to him.
“I’m here, Captain!” he yelled as he fell over the rail. In his plummet, he dislodged one of the creatures. They landed in the sea together. The water was colder than he had imagined as he sank below the surface. He made no effort to swim to the surface. He caught a brief glimpse of something almost as large as the ship, something dark and sinister slicing through the water. The sea worm beside him disappeared into a maw the size of a subway tunnel. An eye, deep ebony in color with a vertical red pupil stared at him for a moment, the eye of the devil. The pressure of the creature’s passage pushed him aside.
Far below him, flashing lights beckoned him downward. He closed his eyes and allowed his body to sink. It was a long way to the bottom. He was certain the clock would strike midnight somewhere along the way.
8
Oct. 26, Neptune, Cayman Trench –
The nightmare became reality. Josh awoke on the floor drenched in sweat, his heart jackhammering against his sore ribcage. The silent scream from his nightmare became real and echoed through the door and down the corridor, but it wasn’t his. He rubbed his bruised hip.
“What the hell happened?”
He knew he hadn’t rolled out of bed in his sleep. His bed had catapulted him onto the floor five feet away. Someone screamed again. He scrambled to his feet and dressed so quickly that he put his shirt on backwards. He slipped on the Adidas without lacing them and spilled out the door into the infirmary. Medical supplies and equipment lay scattered over the floor. He stepped over a broken flask of foul-smelling liquid, yanked open the door to the corridor, and entered pandemonium.
Several people lay on the floor of the corridor stunned. More raced down the corridor screaming. A second massive shudder as the bow lifted sent them reeling. Josh braced himself in the doorway and avoided another spill. The ship settled back into the water with a screech of metal. Had they hit something? The ship’s klaxon began wailing, a high-pitched whistle that caused even more panic.
“We’re sinking!” someone shouted, racing from his cabin with a life jacket half on.
Josh went inside the room and looked out the porthole, but could see nothing, no ship, no island, in the darkness. He could see that the ship wasn’t moving. Fear of being cast adrift once more propelled him outside to the lifeboat station. He raced up the stairs to the main deck, reaching the door just in time to see a giant worm snap off a man’s head. The headless corpse fell to the deck spurting blood from severed arteries.
After his previous encounters with two giant sea creatures, Josh took the advent of a third such monster in stride. His analytical mind dismissed the horrible death of a fellow passenger and noted the features of the creature. It closely resembled one of the polychaete worms inhabiting deep thermal vents. By the segmented body, tubercle gills, and tentacles surrounding the mouth, it was a member of Alvinella pompejana, or Pompeii worm, better known as Bristle worm for the bristle-like gills sprouting from its dorsal side. They were extreme thermophiles, able to survive temperatures around volcanic vents that would cook other creatures. Most grew to lengths of only five inches, though a few reached several feet, but the creature facing him was fifteen-feet long.
After consuming the man’s head, the Bristle worm began eating the body. The sharp, raspy teeth literally raked the flesh from the body. The grisly scene snapped Josh from his marine biologist mode into one of survival. From the screams and sounds of panic outside, more of the Bristle worms stalked the main deck. He reversed directions and found the stairwell to the sun deck. The drunken revelers, some injured by the bucking of the bow, but unaware of the real danger, were spilling out of the lounge into the corridors and outside deck to determine what was happening. They walked right into the mass of attacking Bristle worms. It was a massacre. Bristle worms pounced from the roof or the railings, snatching hapless passengers in their jaws. The press of bodies from behind forced many directly into the bloody melee. One of the lounge’s large glass doors shattered under the weight of several of the creatures. They crawled onto the dance floor, where Doctor Chase and several crewmen were busy attending injured passengers.
Without thinking of the danger, Josh snatched a fire axe from the wall and pushed his way through the crowd. Many of them, seeing an axe-wielding man panicked, thinking he was the cause of the turmoil. A crewman held one creature at bay with a table until the worm splintered the table and crashed its body on top of the unfortunate man. Another worm loomed over Doctor Chase. Josh attacked the creature in its only vulnerable spot, the colorful gills sprouting from its back. He hacked at them, severing several before the Bristle worm turned its attention to him. He swung with all his might, planting the axe in the center of the creature’s head. It squealed in pain and fell at his feet.
He had no time to consider his victory. More of the creatures now forced their way inside the lounge. He grabbed Doctor Chase and pulled him away just as one of the Bristle worms lunged at him.
“My patient,” the doctor protested as he fought Josh’s hold on his arm.
; “Your patient is gone,” Josh replied.
The Bristle worm settled on the doctor’s patient for its meal. There were far too many of them to attack with one axe. He needed a more powerful weapon, a gun.
“Come on,” he said, tugging on the doctor’s arm.
“Where are we going?”
“The bridge. If there are any weapons aboard ship, they’ll be in the weapons locker on the bridge.”
“This is a cruise ship, not a Navy vessel. We don’t have a weapons locker.”
Josh stopped mid-stride. “No guns?”
“Security might have a pistol or two for emergencies.”
Josh glared at the doctor. “You don’t think this is an emergency?”
“Do you think a pistol will stop that?” Chase waved his arm behind him to indicate the creatures.”
Chase was right. A pistol would be less effective than an axe. Josh’s eyes fell on a bulletin board in the corridor. A glossy poster with a photo of a woman in a short skirt shooting clay pigeons from the deck of the ship sent his mind into high gear.
“What about shotguns?” He pointed to the poster.
“They would be in the supply room in the lower level.” He stared at Josh in disbelief. “But they’re loaded with birdshot. You’re not seriously considering facing one of those creatures with birdshot?”
“It’s better than an axe.”
Chase nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
Josh considered his options. Doctor Chase knew the ship and he didn’t, but he was an old man and they might have to move quickly. He decided now was no time for diplomacy. “Are you up to it?”
Chase shot Josh a weak smile. “I can’t do these people much good as a doctor. Maybe I can help save a few.”
The stairs to the lower levels were crammed with people trying to escape in both directions. Josh fought to be heard over the turmoil.