The outer decks were deserted. Rain pounded against them in a steady drumbeat. The ship rocked slowly back and forth. Two more shots rang out from somewhere beneath their feet., followed by a woman’s scream.
“Come on,” Novak said, brandishing one of the knives they’d taken from the flooded office building. “Let’s do this.”
They crept forward in single file, moving slowly and making sure they kept a few feet of distance between one another. Gail had to reach out several times and steady herself against the bulkhead as the ship rolled and pitched from side to side. The shotgun grew slippery in her hands. When they reached a forward hatch, Novak paused. The hatch hung partially open, blocked by a body lying halfway through it.
“Is that…?” McCann covered his mouth with his hand.
“Yeah,” Novak knelt beside the body. “It’s Paris. At least, I think it’s her.”
Gail nudged her way forward and glanced down at the body. Immediately, she saw why Novak was having trouble identifying it. The corpse was partially headless. Something had sliced or bitten the top of the victim’s head off, just above the bridge of the nose. The victim’s brains, and everything else, were gone—not splashed onto the deck and bulkheads.
Gone.
Something slithered across the deck behind them, and a shadow fell over them all.
CHAPTER 62
Gail, Novak, McCann and Simon all turned at the same time. Gail swept the shotgun up, ready to blast the attacker at point blank range. Her finger twitched on the trigger. She barely had time to stop herself from squeezing it as Caterina stumbled out of the rain. The woman was clearly distressed. Her wet clothes were torn and covered with blood, but she had no visible wounds. Her eyes were wide, her hair flattened and streaming water. She reached for them, hands flailing wildly. Novak stepped forward and took her hand. Caterina collapsed against him, sobbing. Great shudders racked her thin frame.
“It’s okay,” Novak soothed. “It’s okay, darlin’. What happened? Are you hurt?”
“Th… they… heads like… oh God…”
Gail and McCann pressed closer, crowding around the hysterical woman. Gail noticed that Simon held back, carefully watching the perimeter.
“Caterina,” Novak lowered his voice. “What happened? Where are the others?”
“M-morgan… and then… he killed Riffle. He… and then they… came, and… Paris… their heads are wrong!
“Calm down,” Novak began, but got no further. Caterina pushed him away and glared at them all. When she spoke again, Gail had to struggle to hear her whispered warning above the sound of the storm.
“They’re coming. They’ll be back. The others went below but Paris and I stayed up here. That’s how they… they’re coming. You guys have got to hide!”
“Who’s coming?” Novak reached for her, but Caterina flitted out of reach. “Who did this?”
“They did. The men with no heads.”
Another volley of gunshot erupted beneath their feet, followed by a long and agonized scream.
“Fuck this shit.” McCann turned back to the open hatch. “I’m heading below decks. Anybody coming with me?”
“I would recommend that we all stick together,” Simon said.
More shots echoed from below. The boat rolled hard to the right as a wave crashed against the hull.
“We’ve got to hide,” Caterina sobbed. “Please!”
Gail held up a hand and took a step forward. “Caterina. It’s me. Gail. Who did this, honey? Who are these men with no heads?”
Caterina started to answer, but then her eyes grew wide. Her mouth hung open. Gail realized that the frightened woman was not staring at her, but at something over her shoulder. Before she could turn to see what had terrified Caterina so much, McCann screamed.
“I think,” Simon shouted, “that we just found out.”
Gail spun around, shotgun at the ready. A moment later, she forgot all about the weapon. The thing that stepped out of the open hatch door startled her so badly that she could barely breathe, let alone act.
The creature emerged onto the wet deck and rose to its full height. It towered over them all. Gail judged it to be at least eight feet tall. Its naked body was that of a well-developed human—two legs and arms, slightly longer than normal, all attached to a powerful torso. The skin was pale, and the muscular chest sported what looked like gills. Still, the overall effect was that of a human male except for two differences. Where its penis should have been, there was a tentacle, and in place of a head, the monster had a giant starfish. Its short, stumpy neck merged with the starfish, right between two of the creature’s five upper stalk-like appendages. At the tip of each stalk was an eye. In the center of the creature’s face (although Gail supposed it wasn’t a face—it was just where she’d expected a human face to be) there was a circular, lipless mouth lined with razor sharp teeth.
The beast lunged forward, thrusting at McCann with a weapon. Gail blinked, trying to determine what it was exactly. It looked like a piece of coral fashioned into a trident. McCann parried the blow with his sword, but the force of the creature’s attack knocked him backward. He slipped on the wet, rolling deck and landed on his back, sprawled at the monster’s feet. McCann shrieked. The sword fell from his grasp. The thing raised the trident over its head and thrust at him again.
CHAPTER 63
Gail squeezed the trigger. The shotgun roared, drowning out the thunder overhead. Gail staggered backward across the wet deck. The blast hit the monster in the chest, punching through the pale skin and spraying reddish- pink pulp all over the bulkhead behind it. The creature dropped the trident and stumbled forward, squealing in pain. The sound reminded Gail of a boiling tea kettle.
“Hit it again,” Novak shouted. “McCann, get the hell out of the way!”
McCann skittered away from the staggering beast. Gail braced her feet shoulder-width apart and fired again. The monster toppled over, convulsing on the deck. Blood and rainwater swirled around it. The stalks on its head waved weakly, and then went still. All five eyes stared sightlessly.
“Well, we know a chest shot works on them,” Novak said.
While he helped McCann to his feet, Gail inched forward. Keeping the monster covered with the shotgun, she prodded the corpse with her toe. The beast didn’t move.
“Nicely done,” Simon said.
Gail nodded, unable to speak. Her chest hurt. The shotgun’s kick had been worse than she’d imagined. She was certain that if she lifted up her shirt, she’d find a bruise.
“Caterina,” Novak asked, “how many more of these things are there?”
The frightened woman shrugged. Gail noticed that her color was returning and her eyes no longer seemed dazed. Perhaps the shock was passing. When she spoke, she no longer stammered and her tone seemed more confident.
“At least seven. Maybe more. I’m not sure. It all happened so fast and things got confusing.”
“How many of us are left? We’ve found Paris. Is there anybody else alive?”
Caterina nodded. “Morgan, Ben, Mylon and Tatiana.”
“What about Riffle?” McCann asked.
“Morgan tossed him overboard when you guys left.”
“Fuck these starfish men,” Novak growled. “I want Morgan.”
Caterina looked at each of them. “Where are Warren and Lynn?”
“They didn’t make it,” Novak said. “But this is Simon. We picked him up along the way. Simon, meet Caterina.”
