by Jase Kovacs
Unknowns. The Captain. Or First Officer or whatever he is. Where is he now? Did he flee down the back stairs? For some reason, I wonder. The Captain's quarters were undisturbed. Blong adamant that the area was off limits. The creature not even the real captain.
"Blong, where did the Captain go after he dropped you?"
"What." His answer is not even a question, just a flat I don't understand you.
"When I came up here. You were being held out the windows."
"Yes." He nods very quickly. He's not even afraid now, not of what is to come or what happened to him. He smiles, happy to oblige. "Yes. You caught me! Rescued Blong, best lady!"
"Yeah, I get it, thanks. But the Captain - where did he go after?"
"What."
I take a deep breath to push back the annoyance boiling up within. "The Captain, when he dropped you. Where did he go?"
"Nowhere."
"No, I mean, he dropped you, right?"
"No."
"What do you mean?"
"No captain. Just one of them."
I lower my rifle and run my hand over my jaw. The bandages peeking out from under my gloves comes away smudged with soot. "No captain?"
"No captain."
"I heard the captain up here."
He snorts at me. Guess his hero worship isn't total. "He can make them talk." Like, so obvious, haven't you worked it out yet. Gives me a 'come on' look and flaps his thumb against his fingers, a puppet talking.
Christ. So he was never even up here. "Do you know where he is then?"
Blong looks away, his eyes dimming as he avoids my gaze. I squeeze his hand to bring him back to me. The little kid looks very sad and small as he says, "With the Dark Star."
"With the dark star?" I stop, force myself to think, the implications. "Wait, is he down there? In the hold?"
Blong leans back, his chin rising high. His voice deepens and I'm reminded of the serious tone some people get when we hold church services on Madau. "Communing with our lord, he who walks by night, the pale king supplicates, the children gather and worship, the crimson fire rewards. Coming for us, Black Harvest, his growing flock."
A shiver runs down my spine. He's still Blong, I can tell there is still the boy in there, but he is giving vent, not to the Captain's dominion, but to words and sermons he has heard. I can't let myself get distracted though. A rough excitement fills me and I want to take Blong by the shoulders and shake the full details out of him. "So he's still down in the hold? Where I found him last night? With all the others."
Blong nods, the reverence gone, its dark gloom driven away by his natural radiance. I shake my head slowly as I consider the implications.
I've got the bastard trapped.
***
I move quickly down to the deck. Blong following behind me, trotting to keep up. He's copying my movements, exaggerating them as if it was a game. Moving quickly, feet low, hips low, keeping myself in a stable stance for firing. His hands held up, miming holding a rifle. It would be adorable if we weren't shooting for real.
I go down the stairs leading to Hold Four. My barricade is undisturbed. This should be reassuring but it isn't. Why hasn't he tried to disable it? Send some of the surviving creatures down here to rip it to pieces?
Because he has something else in mind.
Again, I catch myself. I'm wasting time. None of this is relevant. I want to find out what he's up to. I want to defeat the son of a bitch. But that isn't what I'm here for. I'm pushing the parameters of my mission which was: Get the boy and get out. That's why I came back. Instead, I'm still troubleshooting the son of a bitch.
"Come on, kid."
See ya later Capt, we'll tango another day.
We cross over the deck. Blong looks over the side of the ship, excited, down the ladder. If the sight of the other sunken vessels - one of which must have brought him here, assuming that the original story of him surviving the wreck is a lie - unnerve him, he gives no sign.
"We're going on that?" he asks, pointing to Voodoo bobbing sedately at her anchor, rubbing up against Black Harvest like a hungry cat against its owners knee.
"That's it. Your new home. I'm going to take you far away from here."
He nods but doesn't move. Stays looking down the side, at the long ladder stretching away down to the rotten deck.
"Hey. Kid. Just go. Don't be afraid." I crouch to look at him again. Give him a little smile that he returns. "Don't look down, just put your hands on the ladder rungs, let your feet lead the way and we'll be away before you know it. I've got biscuits and good tins and we'll catch some nice fresh fish and in two days you'll get to meet my friends."
"You have friends?!"
"You don't need to sound so surprised. Now go on, get going." He nods, gives me that serious I'm doing a big man job look he gets that makes me laugh, and goes over the side. I glance down at him, making sure he's okay and sure, he's fine, scampering down the side like a greased monkey.
I stand at the ladder, covering him, scanning the deck. The air thick with fumes. Making my eyes water and my sinuses burn. Not long now. Sweeping the deck, the superstructure, the bow, the forepeak, the holes in the deck. The scene unnaturally silent. Even the seabirds have ceased their constant squabbling. The air is heavy with portent.
Where are you, you bastard? Why so quiet? What are you planning?
Because, of course he is, he's up to something, but what is it? We're at our most vulnerable right at this moment. There's a rip in the deck not ten metres away. Why aren't they pouring out of there, I shoot down the first ten but then they could take me while I reload. Surely he has thought of that, down there in the hold, where he has been orchestrating the whole thing this morning.
Down in the hold.
Wait. What did Blong say?
The children gather and worship.
His children. The marys. Down in the hold. Where I've got them secured.
Holy shit.
The bastard.
The bloody stupid arrogant bastard.
He shot his bolt. He's fired every round he's got and, weapon fires weapon stops, he can't throw any more marys at me because doesn't have them! They're all down in the hold, where I've locked them off. They haven't destroyed my barricade because they can't. Because I've locked them all away. The last ones roaming the ship were used to destroy crane number three.
That's what he's afraid of. That I would get the cranes working, open the holds and burn them up down there. Because of that, he used his last ones up taking the crane out. Knowing that without the cranes I would be powerless to harm him as he's locked away in his throne room, secure behind iron doors.
But the stupid arrogant fool has run out of marys on deck. Suicided them all to be certain of the cranes destruction. But now, his hubris means I control the ship above decks. He can't get to me, not until night when they can come out of the holes and move freely.
This changes things.
How exactly?
I'm not sure.
But it changes things.
***
It's all I can think about as I go down the side of Black Harvest. The rungs want to slip under my hands and my feet want to go faster than I can keep up with. I'm so excited I can barely think. I've got the rest of the afternoon to exploit this situation. Sure, the cranes don't work, I can't open the hatches and destroy him, but I've got five or six hours of freedom. How many stores could I get out of the storage lockers? The crew quarters and the bridge. Five hours free play.
Down on the boat, Blong is sitting in the cockpit, looking around wonderingly, touching the compass, the smooth shiny wheel, the white fibreglass deck. "Lady, nice boat. When we go?"
I grin. "We're not."
He does not grin in return.
***
I get my salvaging kit together. Tools and multimeter and more rope. Not that I'm going down into the holds, I'm greedy not suicidal! But I'll need to lower the stores down to the boat, so I take a plastic shopping basket and t
ie it to the rope so I can lower them down to Blong.
The kid sits in the cockpit as I bustle around. I've siphoned five litres of diesel out of my tanks into a small jerry, in case I discover another generator I can get going. I'm making hay while the sun shines. No time for small talk. He says nothing until suddenly he bursts and says it all at once. "Lady! What you doing? Fucking crazy! We can go! We run away. We run, right now! Why you want to go back? Fucking crazy!" He's grabbed my hand, shaking it back and forth as he yells and rants.
Shit.
I sit down hard on the aft rail. Shit. Lean back against the davits. Press my forehead against the smooth plywood side of the dinghy.
What the hell am I doing?
The kid is right. I'm lingering. Going back for some spares? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? After all I've been through? After all my narrow escapes. I should have my head examined. Why on earth would I go back? It's exactly what he wants me to do.
And just then, like a clock chiming midnight in a silent house, the thought stills me.
His thought.
YES.
No. Not again, no not here. I am on Voodoo, I am beyond his power.
YES, MATAI. COME BACK TO ME.
Blong, I say, no I don't say it, I think it, looking at the boy who is still holding onto my hand, but now he's pulling it, saying something, his mouth moving but no words, I can't hear, nothing, I can hear nothing apart from an enormous heart beating in the belly of the ship.
As if a great whale slumbers there. An ocean monster, a leviathan, a kraken.
YOU AND I TOGETHER WILL RULE THE NEW WORLD. UNDER OUR DARK STAR'S GUIDANCE. COME TO ME AND REIGN.
"NO!" A denial of great violence bursts forth from my lips, so harsh and strong that Blong falls back, shocked at my vehemence. I still myself, calm before I say again. "No, Blong, we're going now."
"Yes! Yes!" He runs to the cockpit, gets behind the wheel and bounces happily. Then he pauses, looks around and then back at me. "Okay. So what Blong do now?"
"Just chill out kid. I've got this." And you, you bastard, I think. You can rot in this grave.
MATAI. LOOK UP.
I move forward, no, I will not do what you say but Blong is raising his eyes and his finger comes up, pointing, and no, I will not play his games but Blong's face is writ with panic and I can't help myself. I turn and look back up the ladder.
A star is coming down on us. A blazing white radiance, Christ, he's shot a flare down at us but no, a flare doesn't have a dark heart, a black centre of charcoaling flesh and burning hair, arms and legs flailing, coming down on us so fast.
I dive for my rifle, knowing that it's a futile gesture. If I shoot the mary falling on us, so what? It won't stop it, gravity is its master and it brings the blazing creature down. I can see what happened, the creature ran at the rail and tumbled over, already ablaze, its speed carrying it too far, it was running too fast, it arcs out and plunges into the sea in a column of rising water and steam. It sinks, bubbling and boiling still, its fire unquenchable.
It missed. Thank god, it missed.
Is that all you've got?
NO.
More come. Tumbling over the railing one by one. Falling, burning, coming down on me like a meteor shower, a rain of shooting stars. As soon as I see the first, I lunge to release the stern anchor. The wind still blows steady and true, pinning us against the side, but maybe they'll miss, maybe their mad rush will carry them beyond, like the first.
There is an catastrophic crash as a smoking tumbling wreck of a man strikes the fishing boat's pilothouse, punches through the rotten timber, splinters striking me, and sinks in a hiss of furious steam. Incredible heat in its passing. I turn to run to the bow, thinking how fast can I ratchet?
Not as fast as stars fall.
I turn just in time to see one plunge through the forward hatch. It smashes straight through the Perspex cover and disappears into the forepeak - where I grew up, my room, the girl's room. A great blaze of fire roars up in a jet, shoots up two, three meters in the air and torches the furled jib. The tight canvas singed, that won't burn but the multibraid sheets do, igniting into long strands of flame.
I'm barely aware of the others striking. One smashes into the solar panels, crashes into the dinghy and punches straight through. Another hits the mast, bounces off the spreaders and somersaults away to splash off the side. A heavy thud overhead as one comes down the mast and lands on the mainsail, cradled by the lazyjacks. The folded canvas resisting its incandescence for a moment before succumbing.
Smoke billowing up the companionway. Blong crawling out from the cockpit, coughing, christ, no. There is a fire extinguisher below the companionway stairs and I go for it but the heat is too great, sheets of flame rising forward, pearls of fire dripping from the boom. I can't fathom what I am doing, my home is smoke and fire, I run to the stern, the boy held at my waist. Slinging the drybag, heavy with tools and stores, my rifle, we leap onto the shattered fishing boat.
A huge roaring comes from Voodoo. My hair hurts, my skin flares with pain. Blong is patting my shoulder, slapping it hard and I feel warmth there. My home alight from bow to stern. Everything on fire. The boy shouting "Matty Matty Matty" a mindless cry of panic but I can't bring myself to step away.
Then a whoosh as something below goes up. Acetate or resin or something. Portholes crack and fire spouts from within.
So hot here. The boy squirming, can't he see my home is dying? I should go down with her, leave him here, step back on board Voodoo. Go down with my ship. Our family complete.
Instead, I begin to climb. The air thick with the smoke of my everything burning. Coughing and crying I climb.
YES.
Chapter 30
YES.
That's what he says to me as I climb. As if I was walking into his open arms, craving his embrace. As if I was lifting the sheet to welcome him into my bed. YES, you are coming back to me, he says, you finally realise I'm what you always wanted and now we will be one together. Like every creep who ever lived, he thinks he can push me into his arms.
He's so stupid. He's got no idea what he's done.
I don't remember most of the climb. Blong, above me, pauses once or twice and calls when I stop. My eyes are streaming, my nose running with snot, my mouth wet. Am I mourning the loss of my home? Or am I just choking on the smoke in the air? Honestly, its neither. I'm just so damn tired. All my feelings are dead right now. All but one.
A fire burns. He has destroyed everything I have loved. And so, he will find, all I have left is hate.
He wants me? He can have me. He's going to get more Matai than he can stand. He's going to take me until he chokes.
WHY DO YOU RAGE SO? His thoughts are unctuous and condescending. YOU CANT DENY WHAT WE SHARED YESTERDAY. WHAT WAS BETWEEN US. I HAVE CHOSEN YOU, MATAI. ABOVE ALL OTHERS.
You're a disgusting grub. I'm going to squash you like I've squashed all others of your kind.
MY KIND? I AM UNIQUE, MATAI. I AM ASCENDED. AN EVOLUTION, THE FIRST. BUT NOT THE ONLY. COME TO ME AND YOU WILL BE MY PROPHET. TAKE MY SCRIPTURE TO YOUR FRIENDS SO THEY CAN SHARE IN OUR LOVE.
And what love is that? The love of rotten meat? You're nothing but a maggot, mucking up a corpse.
THE WORLD HAS CHANGED. YOUR SPECIES IS DYING. HUMANITY, THE GREAT EXTINCTOR, FINALLY FALLING AT ITS OWN HAND. I AM FULL OF SECRETS MATAI. OPEN THE DOOR AND I WILL SHARE THEM WITH YOU.
You destroyed my home. You killed all these people. I will not let that go unanswered.
I FREED YOU MATAI. CUT YOUR BONDS TO THIS EARTHLY PLANE. THAT SHIP WAS LADEN WITH YOUR GUILT AND LOSS. ALL GONE NOW. YOU ARE FREE.
Free. What a word. He's right though, I am free. He has reduced me to battered girl who struggles onto the deck of the ship, utterly exhausted. Below, the lifework of my father and mother burning to the waterline. For thirteen years I spent every day keeping that boat going and now it is gone. He's right. I am free. Utterly, inalienably free.
I think, if left to my own
devices, I might have collapsed when I reached the rail. Slumped on the deck, too exhausted to move, no escaping this hell ship now. Sorry, Blong, I failed you. We're trapped. Four hours until sunset and then it's all over. Sure, I'll fight until the last, until weapon fires weapon stops for the final time. But there is only one ending to this story.
But he's so damn stupid, so fucking arrogant, that he doesn't know when to let things lie. Instead, he comes, gloating, reminding me of my weakness, as if that was something he could leverage, something that would break me open.
I don't think, I say, you understand how levers work.
A long pause and then a flat WHAT.
A crash makes both Blong and I jump. For a moment I think a hatch has burst open, the metal door smashing back against its frame and I struggle to get my feet under me, to raise my rifle and shoot the oncoming horde.
But. Nothing. Nothing different on deck. The cranes are not burning so much, Crane Four mostly smouldering, smoke spilling from up its operators cabin where the cable – and then I see what made the noise. The crane's winch released and the cable, with its heavy hook and counterweight, deployed. It plunged down and clanged onto the deck. The winch's clutch must have failed; I expect that they're meant to lock in the event of a failure but I guess that mechanism is rusted up or otherwise not working. The cable is unreeling and spooling on the deck, like an infinitely long snake descending from a tree.
Then I'm laughing. Hunched on the deck, laughing like a mad thing. Blong backing away, alarmed, his face an unasked question. I slap the deck hard enough to make him jump. When I look up, he gasps and tenses to run. I don't blame him. My eyes are red from the smoke, my face a blackened smudge. I must look like a monster and I'm laughing like an madwoman. But he doesn't get it. He doesn't see the joke.
"Come on, kid. We've got work to do."
***
Before we start, I open my dry bag and drink a litre of water. I eat a couple of biscuits. I'm not hungry or thirsty but I know I need it. It's so hard, bizarre even, to make myself eat in such unreal circumstances, but, like a recalcitrant engine, I know my body needs maintenance. I give a litre of water to Blong and he guzzles it with no such reservations. I take the time to clean my face and hands, as best I can. As Dad would say when facing an engineering problem that has stumped him, reorg, take a break and come at it again from a fresh angle. Can't quite sleep on the problem, I've only got four hours before they can come up and open the door themselves, but ten minutes to get my head straight won't hurt either way. Because I'm going to need it. I'm about to undertake the biggest troubleshooting job of my life. And the clock is ticking.