by Bryan Dunn
Shaking with cold, he drew in a lungful of air, slipped back beneath the water, and returned to the half-flooded machine shop.
As he broke the surface and hurried out of the freezing water, Amy raced up to him with a somewhat clean towel and wrapped it around his shoulders.
“Harry, what the hell are you doing?”
He mopped his face with the towel and blinked away some water. “Listen, I’ve got an idea… We’re going to set a trap for that thing.”
“That is preposterous, monsieur,” the doctor snapped, with his typical can-do spirit.
Chapter 57
Amy watched in horror as Harry knelt next to the deckhand who had spilled out of the ship’s laundry and began to smear blood across his arms and face.
“Is that necessary?” Amy asked with a grimace.
“Human blood is like Chanel No. 5 to that thing.”
“Are you entirely sure about this plan, monsieur?” Dr. Rousseau asked.
Harry stood up and gave the doctor a direct look. “Why, do you have a better idea?”
“Ah, no…” the doctor said, shrinking back.
Harry grabbed a towel, wiped the blood off his fingers, and then said, “Let’s go over this one more time.” He moved to the center of the room, and pointing with his hand, ran through the plan. “I come back down the stairs, pass through the laundry room, enter the machine shop, dive down through the airlock at the other end – and as soon as that ugly son of a bitch follows me inside – you two slam the door, and lock it in the machine shop.”
After a silent beat, Harry asked, “Any questions?”
“What if it doesn’t follow you through the door?” Amy asked.
“Then God help us,” Harry said flatly. “But I don’t think it will be able to resist the smell of human blood.”
* * * *
Topsides on the boat deck, the creature moved along in the shadows. It suddenly stopped, sniffing the air. Then, with astonishing speed, it swept into the main salon and disappeared into a dark stairwell.
One deck below the creature, Harry moved down a grimy passageway lit only by a wedge of light spilling out from a partly open cabin door. He took a breath, pulled a knife out of his belt and crept up to the cabin door. Then he reached out with one hand, and pushed the door wide open. The small room was empty.
Harry exhaled and continued down the hallway. Up ahead, he approached a blind corner where the passageway made a sharp right turn.
He slid along the hallway, keeping his right shoulder pinned to the wall. Two feet from the corner, he heard something move on the other side of the wall. He froze, gripped the knife a silent, terror-filled beat, and –
A large rat shot around the corner, brushing past Harry’s legs and scurring down the passageway. He let his breath out and slumped against the wall. Jesus.
Straightening again, he gripped the knife, stepped around the corner, and immediately froze when he heard something move directly above him. Harry glanced up and saw that he was standing beneath a large glass and teak skylight, the kind that can be lifted free to accommodate bulky items.
One deck up, the creature stopped moving, raised its head, sniffed the air, and caught a whiff of Harry’s perfume.
Harry held his breath, straining his ears for some sign of the creature. He looked up, then took a silent step backwards, not wanting to remain beneath the skylight, and –
Without warning, the creature suddenly leapt onto the skylight and came crashing down in a shower of glass and teak.
Before it had a chance to hit the floor, Harry fled for his life.
* * * *
Three decks below, Amy and Dr. Rousseau heard the creature as it crashed through the skylight.
“Mon Dieu!” the doctor yelled.
“Quick, Dr. Rousseau, behind the washers.”
He and Amy scrambled over and as they ducked down behind one of the washers, they heard Harry’s pounding footsteps as he raced through the ship directly towards them.
“He’s coming!” Amy said, gripping the doctor’s arm.
Harry hit the last set of steps. As he entered the companionway, he glanced back, and there, filling the hallway, was the creature rushing toward him at a horrible speed.
Harry’s desperate footsteps got louder and louder…
Amy gripped the washer and peeked over the top just as Harry shot out of the stairwell, flew across the laundry room, passed through the machine shop airlock.
A terrifying roar filled the stairwell, followed by a bone-chilling scream – and the creature crashed into the laundry room, slammed into the dryer, ripping it off its mounts, and swept into the machine shop, hot on Harry’s scent.
Inside the machine shop Harry splashed into the water, dove down, and swam for his life towards the airlock on the other side.
The creature entered the machine shop, screamed when it saw the water – and then shot forward, diving down after Harry.
Harry swam through the submerged airlock, pushed the door shut – and working as fast as his arms would allow, spun the wheel to set the locks, then knocked the dogs into place around the edge of the door.
Back in the laundry room, Amy and Dr. Rousseau leapt up, bolted over to the machine shop door and swung it shut. The doctor leaned forward, throwing his body against the airlock.
And just before the bolts slid into place…
The creature’s arm shot out of the door, and its hand closed around Dr. Rousseau’s shoulder like a metal vise. He screamed in pain as he was lifted off the ground by the creature’s powerful arm.
“Dr. Rousseau!” Amy grabbed onto his belt, trying to stop him from being dragged through the door.
Dr. Rousseau turned and looked directly at Amy. A deep calm passed across his face. He smiled, then pushed her away, let go of the door – and was instantly gone, sucked into the machine shop by the creature’s retracting arm.
Amy yelled, threw herself against the door, slammed it shut, and spun the wheel, driving the bolts into place and locking it from her side.
From behind the door she heard Dr. Rousseau scream out… and then there was a low crunching sound of tearing cartilage and snapping bones.
Amy sobbed and backed away from the door.
The creature attacked the airlock, pounding it with a fist, enraged that it was suddenly trapped.
Amy jumped, staggering back into the laundry room – and then she heard Harry’s voice as he hammered down the stairs.
“Amy –”
“Harry!”
Harry stepped out of the stairwell, soaked and freezing. Water pooled around his feet.
Amy rushed up, threw her arms around him, and hugging him tightly said, “Thank God you’re all right.”
“Where’s Dr. Rousseau?” Harry said, looping his arms around Amy and giving her a squeeze.
“Oh, Harry…” Amy pointed towards the machine shop. “Harry, it was horrible. It got him before we could get the door locked.”
Bang! The creature suddenly hammered on the door again.
They both jumped. “Jesus…” Harry said, looking at the sealed door. “It worked.” And then his whole body was suddenly convulsing with cold.
“Let’s find you some dry clothes, Harry, before you freeze to death.”
“Y-You mean, freeze to death again.”
Harry dug through a laundry sack and found a work shirt and a pair of khakis that were close to his size, stripped, and put them on.
Amy retrieved his parka and held it open for him. Harry slipped into the dry coat, pulling it tight around his chest, desperate for the warmth.
“God, that feels good,” he said, running the zipper up to his neck. “Now what do you say to us getting the hell outta here.”
Chapter 58
Amy and Harry stood on the observation deck and watched as dawn broke over the Arctic. Red streaks of light would soon give way to the rising sun.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful to see the sunrise,” Amy said, keep
ing her eyes locked onto the brightening horizon.
Harry looked over at Amy, staring at her hopeful face and watching as the morning light picked up the highlights in her hair. “Everything looks better in the morning.”
“I’m not so sure about that. You haven’t seen me before my morning shower,” Amy said with a laugh, then moved up and snuggled into Harry’s side.
“It’s on my to-do list,” Harry said, then leaned down and gave her a kiss. Amy gave him a squeeze and Harry said, “Amy… Thanks. Thanks for the way you’ve handled this… for your help – for keeping it together.”
Amy gave him another little squeeze. “Hey, we’re not out of this yet, Mr. McNills.”
“Good point. Maybe…”
Before Harry could finish his thought, a terrible moan issued up through the steel infrastructure – and the Seraph began to shift on the ice again.
“Harry –!” Amy called out. Their hands shot forward and gripped the rail to keep from falling.
“Shit!” Harry said, cutting his eyes toward the bow. The chain hadn’t parted, and the anchor was holding fast. So the ship wasn’t slipping, Harry thought. Something else was happening.
Then the entire superstructure above the decks shuddered and collapsed, dropping Harry and Amy straight down ten feet. The spine of the Seraph snapped and the keel buckled, sending rivets shooting through the air and ripping open hull plates.
The Seraph teetered and twisted and rolled onto her starboard side settling into a thirty degree list.
Harry and Amy went skidding down the observation deck – and as Amy’s leg swept past Harry, he reached out, grabbing onto it. They tumbled toward the stern, just missing a jagged bit of railing, and mercifully made a soft landing, coming to rest on top of a canvas awning that had fallen across the deck.
After another minute of creaking and groaning, the ship settled onto the ice and all became silent again.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, his hand still clamped tightly around Amy’s ankle.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said, pushing up into a sitting position. “I can’t believe we didn’t slip off the ice. I thought we were going into the water for sure.”
“The anchor is holding. It’s the ship. She’s breaking up under her own weight.”
“Oh, great, now I feel better,” Amy said with a smile. “For a moment there I thought we might be in real trouble.”
Three decks below, one of the machine shop bulkheads parted from the hull, leaving the airlock door warped and sprung on its hinges.
A scraping sound escaped from the machine shop, then a powerful hand reached out, gripped the damaged door, tore it loose from its mounts, and let it bounce off the floor with a loud metallic clang.
Amy’s head flashed up. “Did you hear that?” she said, giving Harry an anxious look.
“It’s probably nothing – just the ship’s hull settling on the ice.”
Amy looked unconvinced, not buying. “Harry… I think –”
“We should get the hell off the ship,” Harry said, reading her mind, then he jumped to his feet, lifted Amy off the deck, and leading her towards the bow added, “Let’s move…”
Climbing as fast as they could over the battered and twisted decking, they worked their way forward to the bow and then suddenly had to stop – a gaping tear ran across the beam from gunnel to gunnel.
Harry let go of Amy’s hand, and placing his foot on the edge of the tear, leapt forward across the hole. He landed on the sloping deck and stopped himself from slipping backwards by wedging his hand into a scupper at the bottom section of the port rail.
He got to his feet, and keeping one hand locked onto the ship, turned back to Amy, reached out his other hand and said, “Okay, jump and grab my hand. I won’t let you fall.”
“You better not,” Amy said. Planting a foot on the edge of the deck, she sprang forward – and grabbing Harry’s arm, landed safely beside him.
At the very top of the observation deck, Harry saw an empty set of davits that still swung out over the rail with their lines trailing down the side of the ship.
He picked his way across a section of splintered teak decking, then reached out and grabbed one of the lines hanging off the end of the davits and gave it a tug, making sure it was secure. “I think this will work,” he said, looking at Amy.
“Are you going down that?” Amy asked, looking a little skeptical.
“No, we’re going down that,” Harry replied, leaning over the rail to see where the rope ended. “Looks like it’ll take us right down to the ice.”
“Is it safe?”
“Compared to what,” Harry said flatly. “Staying on the ship with that thing?”
“Right…” Amy said. “Let’s do it.”
Harry climbed over the rail, gripped the rope, then stepped off the ship, scissoring his legs around the thick line. “Watch how I do it.” Then Harry let the rope slip through his hands, controlling his downward speed by clamping his shoes on the line as it passed between his legs.
Twenty seconds later he dropped onto the iceberg, landing perfectly on his feet.
“Nothing to it,” Harry said, yelling up to Amy. “C’mon, I’ll hold the line steady.”
Amy climbed over the rail – and just like Harry, she gripped the line, locked her legs around the rope and smoothly descended to the ice below.
Three decks down, the creature flashed across the laundry room and leapt into the stairwell leading up to the main deck.
The sun had cleared the horizon and was high enough in the sky to cast a golden glow across the top of the iceberg. Some light was just beginning to strike the Seraph’s twisted hull.
Harry and Amy hiked up the iceberg, pausing for a moment as they passed the massive anchor – now buried in the ice only by the tip of a rusted fluke. They made their way over to the area where the sailors had been instructed to stockpile supplies. Next to the stacks of crates and boxes was a double-ended, eight-man life boat, its canvas cover still stretched tightly across the gunwales.
Patches of bloodstained ice swept in and around crates and equipment – and off in the distance, a flock of arctic gulls fought over chunks of flesh and picked at human bones.
Amy stared down at a blood-spattered crate, then turned away and thought to herself what a nightmare this had all turned out to be.
Harry busted open one of the crates, removed a case of water, humped it over to the lifeboat, then turned and called to Amy. “See if you can find any food in those crates. I think we should load up the lifeboat just in case.” Harry pulled back the canvas cover and placed the water inside.
“Over here, Harry,” Amy said, lifting the lid off a box. “There’s a bunch of canned food.”
Working together, they sorted through the supplies, stacking what they planned to take on the ice next to the crates. “Keep your eyes open for a radio,” Harry said. “They may have left a portable two-way out here.”
After they were satisfied that the lifeboat was well provisioned, Amy began to stamp her feet and rub her arms, then looked up at the rising sun, willing it to hurry up.
“Do you think they’ll find us, Harry? Will they come?”
“Oh, yeah. No question. Absolutely. Now that the weather’s lifted they’ll be up and flying grids with everything they’ve got.”
Amy nodded and smiled and Harry, feeling a little better now. Then she stamped her feet again and said, “I’m freezing, Harry.”
“Yeah, me too,” Harry said, sympathetically, then moved up and looped an arm around her shoulders. Harry looked up at the sun, then let his eyes drift back down to the supplies stacked on the ice. As he stared at the boxes, a little smile suddenly spread across his face.
Harry slipped his arm off Amy’s shoulders, went over to the stack of supplies and began to break up two of the empty crates.
“Harry, what are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing… I just thought I’d whip us up a little campfire – unless of course you don’t want
me to?”
“Oh, God, yes… Let me help.”
They arranged the salvaged wood into a pile on top of wadded balls of paper and bits of plastic packing material. Harry pulled a butane lighter out of his parka, lit the paper – and a couple of minutes later they were warming themselves in front of a crackling fire.
Amy turned to warm her back, while Harry remained facing the flames with his hands stretched out to warm his fingers. He pulled his hands back and slid them into his pockets, then let his eyes wander back to the stack of boxes.
“I wonder if they left any champagne out here… I could sure go for that drink about now. How about you, Dr. Tyler? Could I interest you in a little French champagne?”
Silence. Amy made no attempt to respond. It was like she hadn’t heard him.
Harry turned, looked at Amy, and noticed that she was suddenly standing stiff as a board staring at the Seraph with a look of terror frozen onto her face.
“Amy –” Harry said, still looking at her. “What… What is it?”
She still couldn’t speak, and instead, raised an arm and pointed in the direction of the ship.
Harry flipped around, stared out across the ice – and suddenly understood.
There, standing on the Seraph’s bow, bathed in morning light, was the creature. It looked huge, grotesque. Its arms hung loosely at its side and two yellow predatory eyes zeroed in on Harry and Amy. It raised its head, and then it shrieked…
“No –!” Amy yelled, and then she began backing away as a wave of cold fear knifed through her body.
They watched as the creature swung off the bow, grabbed onto the anchor chain and, moving hand over hand, worked its way down to the ice below.
Running on pure adrenaline, Harry bolted forward, grabbed an empty crate, dragged it over to the fire, and using one of the broken crate slats, began filling the box with coals and as much of the burning wood as possible.
When he’d half-filled the crate, he turned and yelled for Amy to grab some wood and follow him. Then he lifted the crate, leapt forward, and ran down the iceberg towards the buried anchor.