Osker. Another grunt. Given the job of opening the hatch, while the rest of the crew sat inside in comfort.
Brice staggered, and Osker called out, something about hurrying up. But his voice was lost in the roar of the Proteus, and the deep boom of thunder that erupted suddenly, almost at the same moment the sky burst open.
Something caught under Brice’s foot, and Cathal’s weight lunged forwards. Brice held him tight, his body twisting. He hit the ground hard and rolled over, away from the bundle of blankets.
A voice yelled out a name.
The light was too bright, and Brice squinted again, shielding his eyes with an arm. He saw the blanket, and there was a hand protruding. As Brice watched, the skin started to bubble and blister.
He reached over, grabbing a corner of the blanket and throwing it over the hand, covering Cathal’s exposed flesh.
An animal shriek ripped through his head. Brice spun, pushing his feet under his body, and brought his torch round. A shape flew from the trees and landed on the landing pad. It crouched, then straightened up, arms outstretched.
Brice stood and yelled, taking a step forward. He aimed his beam at the beast’s head, and the orbs were lost in the brilliance. The creature writhed, arms flailing. It took a step back, and fell from the landing pad.
But others were jumping now. He saw them leave the trees and throw themselves onto the landing pad.
It was suicide, but only for the first to be struck by the light. The others used the smoldering bodies as shields, as they had done at the bottom of the ramp.
And the trees writhed.
A voice yelled warm breath into Brice’s ear. He turned. Keelin. She grabbed his arm and pulled, yelling again for him to get inside.
Her eyes darted behind him, and he instinctively swung his torch round, ducking at the same time. The claw sliced the air in front of his face, and the creature’s fangs shone in the torch-light. It staggered, and Brice kicked out, as hard as he could. The thing fell, Keelin’s torchlight joining his as the creature writhed under a growing mist.
The cloying stink of burning flesh had never tasted so good.
“Come on!” Keelin yelled once more, and she pulled him away.
“Cathal!” he yelled, eyes darting around, trying to find the man.
“Osker’s got him.” Keelin pulled once more, then set off at a run. Brice looked up, and through the light he saw Oskar, out of the hatch, dragging a body. He had his hands under Cathal’s armpits, and he looked like he was about to throw up.
But he was the grunt. He did what was needed.
Brice ran after Keelin. He trod on cloth, and realised Cathal was unprotected.
“Get him covered!” he yelled, knowing nobody would hear. The growl from the Proteus’ engines increased as it prepared to pull away. Brice looked above the hatch, to the four arc-lights.
And there were shadows in the spaces between the arcs.
Through the pounding of the rain he heard creatures landing on metal.
“Get inside!” he yelled to Keelin. Ryann, already in the doorway, dragged Cathal in as Osker turned, waving his torches around.
And then one of the shadows dropped.
The creature grabbed Osker tightly, covering him like a shroud. It dipped its head, and Brice knew he saw fangs. Then Osker cried out, and something erupted from his neck.
The creature lifted its head, its skin bubbling, and red drool dripped from its mouth. It pulled Osker’s head to one side, opening the wound to an obscene angle. It lowered its mouth once more, Osker’s blood spraying into its throat.
Then it uttered a high-pitched scream as it threw its arms up and staggered back. Osker collapsed to the floor of the hatch, and Brice saw Keelin behind him, two torches held straight in front of her. She stepped towards the creature, and it jerked back. Its legs buckled and it fell, the scream fading.
Keelin took a step and kicked, sending the smoldering remains flying to the mud, and then she staggered, grabbing the Proteus. Brice bounded forward, arms open. He grabbed her, and his momentum carried them both into the craft.
They crashed to the ground, and Brice felt the Proteus shudder. The hatch door whined, high-pitched against the boom of the engines, and started to seal.
There was a thud from above. He looked up to see an arm reaching down, between the arc lights. Claws flexed, and the arm extended. But it was already too late. The hatch locked into place with a clunk. The limb hung for a while before falling to the floor.
There was no blood.
Keelin looked away, and Brice only now realised he held her tight, and she had her arms around him too. He couldn’t tell which of them was shaking. And on the floor beside them, in a slowly spreading dark pool, was a bloody mess that had once been Osker.
Off to one side lay Cathal, with Ryann by his side. She had a hand under the single blanket that covered his body. Her head was down and her eyes closed. She looked ready to collapse.
But it was over. They were safe.
Keelin pulled away from him, and stood. He watched her chest rise and fall as she took in deep breaths, and her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. She didn’t meet his eyes. Then she looked through the door and into the bridge.
“Nyle, get us the hell out of here,” she choked.
Brice just wanted to close his eyes and sleep.
But Brice didn’t close his eyes. He watched Keelin leave the cabin. She didn’t look back.
“Brice, do something with this mess.”
He turned to Ryann, but her attention was on Cathal, one hand under the blanket and the other on his forehead. Brice looked to the floor, from Cathal to Osker to the severed arm to the general untidiness of the whole place.
“Specifics?” he asked. He didn’t have the energy to use any more words.
“Cover Osker. Remove the arm.
