She stretched, popping some of the tension out of her back, and flinched as the bite in her shoulder flared. Dorran noticed. He reached for the jacket draped over the nearby chair and pulled the bottles of antibiotics and painkillers out of its pocket. “Here. I’ll get you some water.”
“I’ll get it.” She took the tablets he tipped into her hand and rose, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “It would be nice to have another wash before we get back to the car.”
“Good idea. Take your time.”
Clare made her way across the dining area and into the hallway while Dorran began rolling up their bedding. She shut the bathroom door behind herself and squinted at her reflection. The day was early, and the bulb above her felt insipid. But the sleep had done her good. She looked less haggard.
She cupped water into her hands to swallow the tablets, turned on the hot water, and shook out the still-damp hand towel. At least the ship’s heater kept the rooms at a nice temperature.
Clare swayed as the floor moved under her. She frowned. Held in place by the taut rope fastened to the dock, the riverboat hadn’t shifted at all the previous night. She turned off the taps and opened the bathroom door.
Down the hallway, the kitchen’s light swung from the sudden movement. She turned in the opposite direction, towards the seating area, and felt her heart skip. Beyond the rounded windows and through the blur of rain, the scenery was moving.
“Dorran?”
She jogged towards their bed, where she’d last seen him. The space was abandoned, the blankets left in a pile on the floor. She turned in a circle, hunting for him among the old-fashioned tables and patchily painted walls.
He wouldn’t have left without me. Of course he wouldn’t have. He has to still be on the ship. Right?
She trusted Dorran more than any other person, but panic threatened to choke her. The boat wasn’t moving fast, but it was caught up in the river’s current. Each second carried it further from the dock and their car.
Something slammed against the door closest to the riverbank. The window was blurred by rain, and Clare couldn’t make out the shape on the other side. Her hands felt empty. She needed a weapon. Her fire poker was missing from where she’d left it on the table the previous night. So was Dorran’s axe.
The door screeched as it was forced open faster than the runners wanted. Dorran leapt through the opening then slammed the door shut again. Something hit the other side. A grey hand pressed into the glass. It smeared droplets away as the fingers dragged down towards the handle.
Dorran grappled with the lock, engaged it, then took a step back. He was breathing heavily, and rain flattened his hair and dripped off his jaw. He didn’t take his eyes off the door but held a hand out to Clare as she crossed to him. “We are not alone after all.”
The door handle rattled. Through the window, Clare saw heavy-lidded eyes. They met hers then moved to Dorran, seeming to examine them. Then the hollow stepped back, fading from sight.
“What happened?” She gripped Dorran’s hand. It was cold and wet, but he squeezed back.
“I heard a noise outside. That creature was cutting through the rope. I couldn’t stop it in time.” He shook his head, his eyes thunderous. “I can’t believe I didn’t find it last night. I looked everywhere.”
Clare slowly turned to face the bar. “Oh… oh, no…”
She’d tried to open the freezer chest the night before, only to find it was locked. Except, now, the lid stood open. The supplies she’d placed on top were scattered across the floor. The box was easily large enough for a human to huddle inside. She pictured a body curled into a foetal position, unblinking eyes staring into the darkness as pale hands held the box’s lid down while Clare tried to lift it.
Dorran choked. “No. Surely it couldn’t have been hiding there the entire night.”
“It would have been dark, cold, and damp. Perfect for a hollow. And I put our supplies on its lid. It couldn’t open the seal without knocking them to the floor and waking us. It waited for us to be out of the room.” Clare couldn’t keep still. She turned, looking across the windows, hunting for any motion between the trails of water. “How was it cutting the rope? Was it chewing through it?”
“No. It had a knife. I tried to force it overboard, but it slashed at me.”
Her mouth was too dry, and her voice came out raspy. “It’s one of the smart ones.”
Normal hollows didn’t use weapons. And normal hollows didn’t have the intelligence to hide through the night. It took something special to bide its time and to cut off their only escape before making any move. Their weapons had been taken, probably thrown overboard. Suddenly, the noises during the night felt a lot more ominous. Clare pressed her hand to her throat, her mind buzzing. Metal rattled behind them.
There’s a second door.
The riverboat had two entrances to the lower floor on opposite sides of the ship. Focussed on the place she’d last seen the hollow, Clare hadn’t even thought of the second entry. The hollow must have crouched as it circled the ship to avoid being seen through the windows. Clare dropped Dorran’s hand and raced for the door, knocking chairs out of the way, eyes fixed on the handle as it turned.
The door rattled open before Clare reached it. She had a stark impression of the creature that stood in the entrance. He’d lost his uniform but kept the name badge. It had been pinned to his chest, the needle running through his skin. The little plastic tag bore a bright-green script: Hello, I’m your captain, George.
Strips of skin were missing from his chest and left arm. The shape of the scores told Clare they had come from fingernails, probably
