The Black Lodge agent smiled. “A pleasure.”
“Simon’s a wizard,” McCann said, “but so far, the only thing we’ve seen him do is start a fire.”
“I have other talents,” Simon said.
“Then why didn’t you do something just now?” McCann bent over and retrieved his sword. “Why didn’t you wave a hand and turn this thing into a crab or something?”
Simon sighed. “It doesn’t work like that—at least, not with me. This creature is natural, rather than supernatural. It comes from the Great Deep, but it is not supernaturally produced. An exorcism wouldn’t work on it. There are spells that would have aided us, but by the time I would have finished preparing them, you’d have all been dead. And besides—the last thing you’d want me to turn that creature into is a crab. Obviously, you’ve never seen a Clicker.”
McCann frowned. “A what?”
“Never mind,” Simon replied. “Wrong level.”
“Let’s go,” Novak said. “We’ve got people to help, a ship to regain, and Morgan to kill.”
Simon picked up the fallen trident and tested its weight. “Lead on, Mr. Novak.”
Novak turned to Gail, and held up his knife. “Want to trade weapons?”
“No.”
“Then you’ve got point.”
“Shit.” Swallowing hard, Gail stepped through the hatch. Novak followed her, then Simon, McCann and Caterina.
“Morgan,” Novak whispered. “You’d better hope these things kill you before I do.
CHAPTER 64
As they crept down the passageway, Gail tried to remember if she’d racked another shotgun shell. She’d shot the starfish man twice, but had she readied the weapon after the second shot? It wouldn’t do to come across another of those creatures and not be ready. That split second could make all the difference between life and death. She was reluctant to pump the shotgun now, because the noise could give away their location if one of the beasts was lurking around the next corner.
Indeed, that was the problem. The multi-hulled, one-hundred and twenty five foot long Catamaran was a labyrinth of passageways, hatches and ladders. Most of them had only the red emergency lights for illumination. Some didn’t even have that. She moved as quietly as possible, but that meant going slowly. Occasionally, when she slowed her pace too much, Novak bumped into her from behind.
They reached a ladder leading down to the lower level. Pausing, Gail glanced back at the others.
“What now?” she whispered.
“We go down,” Novak said.
Gail glanced at the others for confirmation, and noticed that Simon was admiring the trident he’d taken from the dead creature. “Everything okay?”
He didn’t answer. The others turned to look at him, as well. McCann tapped him on the shoulder and Simon finally stirred.
“Hmm? Oh, my apologies. I was transfixed by this relic. If I’m not mistaken, it dates back to before the Great Flood. These markings are distinctly Atlantean.”
“That’s impossible,” Novak said. “It looks brand new!”
“Craftsmen in Atlantis knew how to make things last. That’s why the city itself is still mostly intact, albeit at the bottom of the ocean.” Simon smiled sadly, and then added, “How ironic is that, given our current situation?”
“Atlantis,” Caterina said. “Are you serious?”
“Oh, he’s full of surprises like that,” Novak said, and then nodded at Gail and the open hatch. “Let’s go.”
Gail descended the ladder to the lower deck, followed by Novak, Simon, McCann and then Caterina. When they reached the bottom, Novak pointed aft. Holding her weapon at the ready, Gail led them forward. They’d gone through two compartments when they found what was left of Ben. Like Paris, the top of his head was missing, and his gray matter had been sucked out. The corpse of a starfish creature lay across him, and lumps of Ben’s half- devoured brain leaked from its gaping mouth. A fire ax jutted from the monster’s back. The head of the weapon had been buried so deeply into the beast’s flesh, that the only part visible was the axe handle.
“Somebody took this one out,” McCann said.
“Yeah,” Novak whispered. “Too bad they didn’t kill it in time to save Ben.”
“Don’t feel too bad for him” Caterina said. “He was in on the mutiny with Morgan.”
“Fuck him, then. Good riddance.”
“My thought exactly,” said a voice from behind them. It was punctuated by the sound of a shotgun being racked.
“Shit,” Gail said.
“Didn’t expect to see you guys again,” Morgan said. “Now drop your weapons… nice and slow.”
CHAPTER 65
“You must be Mr. Morgan,” Simon said.
Ignoring him, Morgan motioned with the shotgun. “Go on. You heard me. Drop your weapons now. I don’t have time to fuck around. There’s still one more of those things loose on the ship.”
“If there are more of those things,” Gail said, “then maybe we should put aside our differences and work together.”
“Teamwork?” Morgan snorted. “You mean like Novak’s talk of a suicide pact? Yeah, that would have been a group effort alright.”
Novak winced. “Morgan, I—”
“Shut up! I’m in charge here, and no, I won’t be working with you guys. You didn’t want to work with me, Novak. Oh, no. You threatened to toss me over the side! Or have you forgotten that already?”
“You left us to fucking die,” Novak countered. “Or have
“Maybe so,” Morgan said, “but you started this shit.”
None of them responded. The only sound was a small whimper from Caterina. Gail cursed herself once more for not knowing if her weapon was readied or not, and weighed the possibility of taking a chance. But if she was wrong, and a shell wasn’t chambered, she doubted that Morgan would give her time to try again.
“Now,” Morgan continued. “I don’t know how in the hell you survived, or how you got back on board the ship, but I won’t ask again. Drop your fucking weapons.”
“As you wish.” Simon knelt slowly, keeping his gaze focused on Morgan, and laid the trident on the deck.
Novak and Gail glanced at each other. Sighing, Novak dropped his knife. It clanged against the bulkhead. Gail was about to put down her shotgun when McCann shouted. He charged toward Morgan, bellowing with rage, the sword raised over his head with both hands.
Gail yelled, “McCann—”
The blast from Morgan’s shotgun drowned her out. McCann stumbled backward as his skull parted. His brains splattered against the bulkhead with a wet smack. His blood painted Gail, Simon and Caterina’s faces. McCann tumbled forward at Morgan’s feet, leaking onto the gunman’s shoes.
Gail swung her shotgun up and squeezed the trigger. The sound of the hammer was very loud, audible despite the echoing kill shot, but it was the only sound. The weapon didn’t kick. She’d been right all along. She had forgotten to rack it. Morgan had no such problem. He’d already done so after shooting McCann. She watched the barrel of his weapon swing toward her, and time seemed to slow. She closed her eyes…
