and the vessel pulled away, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as the motor throttled higher.
“Morgan…”
Thunder boomed overhead. Sputtering, Riffle treaded water and tried to get his bearings. He glanced around, searching frantically for the mysterious island, but it was gone. Mist and rain swirled around him, hampering his vision. He pushed his wet bangs from his eyes and squinted, searching for the lifeboat, or some other sign of Novak and the others, but all he saw was a grayish-white haze.
“Oh, hell.”
Riffle began to tremble. Whimpering, he kicked harder, struggling to stay above the waves. His breath came in short, labored gasps. Another wave slammed into him from behind, plunging him beneath the water. When he surfaced again, he was not alone.
A black stalk-like object was sticking out of the water about ten feet away from him. It was as thick as his forearm and covered in sleek, fine hair. Muscles rippled beneath the flesh. The tendril bent in the middle and leaned toward him. The tip held a single hooded eye. It stared at him without blinking.
Four more tentacles thrust up from below, surrounding him. Each was like the first—just an eyeball and an appendage. They had no mouths or nostrils. Not even a discernable head. One by one, they bent in his direction and studied him. Panicked, Riffle swam to the right, hoping to dart between two of the tentacles. They swayed quickly, matching his movements. He darted to the left and the creatures did the same.
Fuck it, he thought. Whatever these things are, they don’t have mouths or arms. What are they going to do? Stare me to death?
He slapped the water. “Go on. Get out of here.”
The tentacles straightened up again, stretching to their full height. Riffle stared up at them, blinking as raindrops splattered against his face. The sea churned around him and suddenly, he was no longer treading water —he was standing on something solid. He looked down and saw a huge oval shadow beneath him. The five tentacles were attached to it. As he watched, the black object opened beneath his feet, revealing a wide, crescent-shaped mouth full of teeth. He slipped inside, up to his waist and the mouth slammed shut. Impassive, the eyestalks watched his death-throes as the water turned red.
CHAPTER 39
Gail plunged into the ocean. She had a momentary sensation of striking something with her feet. Then the waves closed over her head. She opened her eyes and glanced around. The water was dark and murky and she could only see a few feet in any direction. Warren thrashed beneath her, his arms and legs flailing weakly. She reached down, grabbed a handful of his hair, and tugged him upward. He extended his arm and she grasped his hand. Together, they kicked for the surface, and emerged, gasping and choking. They clung to each other and treaded water.
There was no sign of the others.
Gail spat seawater. “Are you okay?”
Warren nodded. “You kicked my head when you came down.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay. Where are the others? Where’s the…?”
She noticed that he couldn’t bring himself to call it an island. Not now. Islands didn’t have eyeballs. They didn’t move when you stabbed them.
The surf was stronger than it had been. The sea churned around them, almost tearing them apart. They clung tighter to each other, legs kicking together.
“Hope I don’t need a breath mint,” Warren said.
Gail laughed, but then it turned into a sob.
“It’ll be okay, Gail. All we need to do is find the lifeboat. If we can’t find that, we’ll swim back to the ship.”
“How? We can’t see anything out here? The ship could be gone and we wouldn’t even know it.”
“They wouldn’t leave us. Riffle would make sure… oh shit.”
Warren’s mouth hung open. He stared up over her shoulder. Gail noticed that it had gotten darker outside, as if a great shadow had fallen over them. Slowly, she turned her head and looked. Then her sobs turned to screams.
Later, when they talked about it, Gail would have trouble accurately describing what she’d seen. Despite the creature’s massive bulk, much of its body was concealed by the fog, rain and surf. She had a sense of a cross between a dinosaur and a whale, but the anatomy was all wrong, as were its colors and markings. Its hide looked like earth, rather than flesh. The thing’s lower half was beneath the water but its upper bulk towered far above the waves, looming over them like a skyscraper. Mist swirled around it and raindrops bounced of its body. When it roared, the fog momentarily parted before congealing again.
Warren began muttering the Lord’s Prayer. Gail simply stared, too terrified to speak or even breathe.
Then the shadow deepened as the monster loomed closer.
“Hang on,” Warren shouted. “It’s getting ready to dive. Hang on to me and don’t let go! We’ve got to—”
The rest of his words were lost as the beast slammed into the water and sank beneath the surface, kicking up huge waves in its thunderous wake. A twenty-foot swell slammed into them, tossing them about like corks. For one moment, they rode the crest together. Then, the surge forced both of them below and pried them apart. Gail opened her mouth to scream. Water rushed down her throat. She turned and spun, not knowing which way was up or down. All she could see were bubbles and foam. She reached for Warren, but he was gone.
CHAPTER 40
When Gail’s head broke the surface a second time, Warren was nowhere to be seen. She tried to shout for him, but she couldn’t. She’d swallowed too much water, and her throat felt raw. Her lungs ached, desperate for air. She inhaled and then choked. A spasm rocked through her. Barely staying afloat, she clutched her stomach and vomited seawater. She squeezed her eyes shut and gasped. When she opened them again, it was just in time to see a massive wave bearing down on her. Before Gail could move, the wall of water slammed into her, forcing her beneath the surface again.
She opened her eyes underwater, glancing around frantically, but all she saw was churning foam and bubbles. She kicked upward, emerged, and gasped for more air. Her stomach cramped again, but thankfully, she did not puke. The rain hammered her scalp. Each drop felt like a hailstone.
“Warren? Oh, God… WAAAAARRREEENNNN!”
Thunder answered her. Gail raised her head and stared into the sky. The gray haze flickered momentarily blue, lit by unseen lightening. The mist grew thicker, seeming to cling to her. Shivering, Gail rubbed her arms and bobbed on the surf.
“Warren? Lynn? Anyone?”
“Gail!”
The voice was faint, almost obscured by the roar of the waves and the driving rain. Gail cocked her head and listened closely. The call came again.
“Gail! Gail, over here!”
“Novak? Where are you? I can’t see you.”
“Keep shouting. I’ll find you.”
She did. The mist had a strange, dampening effect on sound. Novak still sounded far away when the bow of the lifeboat suddenly emerged from the fog less than eight feet from where she floated. Sobbing and shivering, Gail swam toward it. Her arms and legs felt heavy, and for one panicked moment, she didn’t think she’d reach him, and that Novak would drift right on by. Then she was clawing at the sides of the craft. His powerful hands closed around her wrists. His skin was cold. He pulled her up into the boat and deposited her on one of the benches.
