'Then we're fucked! No way!'
'She's right, man,' Julian told him, disgusted to have been left with this poorest of options. 'If we just sit tight in here, they might lose us in the dark. It's a big place. Everybody come in from the doorway! Line up against the wall.'
I didn't care that Julian was giving orders. 'Hurry, do what he says,' I whispered.
'This is nuts,' Hector muttered, brushing past me.
'Shhh. Quiet.'
There was no sound outside. Without even the toy flashlights, it was a total abyss.
'Listen,' Hector whispered. 'If they come through that door, two of us rush them with the rope stretched between us and drive them back to the railing. Then we all dump them over.'
'Why the hell not?' said Julian.
'I've wrestled before,' offered Lemuel. 'I'll take one end.'
'Aw, shit. Gimme the other,' said Cole.
Touched by their futile machismo, I said, 'Good idea. Now hush up.'
Silence settled in our bones like the cold, freezing time itself. I would have given anything to be able to run in place and get my blood going. My hood was cinched to a tiny peephole, and my face still ached. Gradually, I became aware that I was looking out the peephole. It wasn't light exactly, more like shades of black, but I could see it: a snow-strained gloom filtering through the atrium skylights. Moonrise.
My concentration was broken by shuffling footsteps on the landing, coming our way.
'How much time left?' Hector whispered, startling me.
The time! I had forgotten. Checking my watch, I said, 'We're due back in less than twenty minutes.' My voice shivered apart. 'I'm sorry, you guys.' The glowing watch face was like a beacon-Julian hissed at me to kill it.
All of a sudden, Hector blurted, 'I love you, Lulu.'
The words just dangled there for what seemed like ages. I was glad he couldn't see how they hurt me, how I couldn't bear to hear that just then. There was enough to mourn without that.
Then I heard Lemuel say, 'So do I.'
Shawn protested, 'Since when, dude? I've loved her from day one.'
'Oh, great,' said Jake. 'Take a number. While we're at it, she might as well know I love her, too.'
Cole started to speak, and Julian cut him off, snarling, 'Will you assholes shut up?'
The steps neared, loud as hoofbeats in the silence. As they reached a crescendo, I wanted to scream… then they stopped. We could hear snuffling breaths right outside the door. What were they? Their clothes rustled stiffly as they shifted in place, peering in, and I realized I could smell them: an oily, burnt odor like smoked mackerel. I found Hector's hand in the dark and gripped it.
The bird-men came in.
The silence blew up.
The boys rushed the invaders, sobbing and screaming their lungs out as they attacked. At most I could see a dim scuffle, but I could tell that Hector's plan to drive the creatures over the balcony had failed-the fight remained in the bank lobby. Staying well clear, I backed into a corner and waited for death to find me. I wasn't frightened anymore; what I felt was a great sense of pity for my poor boys.
Something happened-I was blind again. Not because of darkness, but because of too-bright light. I jerked back as if I'd been punched, squinting in pain. The ceiling lights were on! Shielding my eyes, I said, 'Hey!'
Cries of surprise were coming from the stalled combatants as well. My teammates found themselves entwined with four of the filthiest, most unkempt men I had ever seen. They were black with grease and soot, bearded like Rasputin, and dressed in heaping layers of mismatched leisurewear. Strapped to their faces were cones they had improvised from some insulating material, and goggles. They looked medieval, pagan, but not exactly dangerous. In fact they looked terrified.
'What the fuck, man,' said Julian, getting to his feet. 'Where did you guys come from?'
One of the men said, 'I might ask you the same question.' He had an English accent.
We all went stock-still as Mr. Noteiro's voice boomed over the ship's PA system: 'RETURN TO THE LOWER PROMENADE, LADIES AND GENTS. DON'T MAKE US COME LOOKING FOR YA.'
Shaky with gratitude, I happened to glance behind me and only then cried out.
On the other side of the bank's frosty security glass was a mass of bodies, perhaps a hundred or more, slumped together under a mantle of crystal fur like the ash-smothered victims of Pompeii. Their curdled eyeballs seemed to stare right through me.
'Well, Phil,' said one of the bird-men, his voice a muffled squawk behind the mask. 'I told you they was bloomin' kids.'
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
'Why didn't you guys tell us who you were?' I asked. 'You scared us to death!'
The one named Wally said, 'We tried to, but you just ran away.'
'You lads had us half believing in ghosts,' said another, Reggie. 'The mind plays tricks in a place like this.'
'We didn't know what to think,' said Wally.
'We felt the same way!' I said.
A third man, Dick, spoke up. 'But we'd have more cause to be suspicious, wouldn't we? You might expect to find poor sods like ourselves on a derelict ship, but who, I ask you, would ever dream of findin' a group of choirboys on bleedin' holiday, much less a wee moppet like yourself?'
'We thought we'd gone mad,' said Reggie.
'Didn't you hear us hail you?' asked Julian a little belligerently.
Dick replied, 'We live in a right fortress of mattresses up there, so we wouldn't, would we?'
'I guess not.'
'Warmth has been a rather abiding concern, I'm afraid.'
Hector asked, 'How do you get around in the dark like that?'
The one named Phil said, 'We've come to know this bloody scow like the backs of our hands, son. In the beginning, we used torches, same as you. Still and all, you took us by surprise with that ambush.' He swiveled his sore neck. 'Nice scrimmage, that.'
'What a way to break the ice,' said Wally.
As they showed us their shortcut to the promenade, we briefly explained our situation (which must have seemed nonsensical to them-they offered no comment), and they told us what had happened to them.
They were a singing group-The Blackpudlians-a Beatles tribute band from England that had been booked to play twelve days of Christmas gigs as the ship steamed from the British Isles to New Brunswick and back again, skirting the arctic ice cap. The onboard festivities were to have culminated in a New Year's Eve party the last night of the voyage. But it turned out to be a different kind of carnival.
'Blue meanies,' said Wally, laughing unsteadily-it was almost a sob.
'Blue meanies,' agreed Dick. 'While we were having tea with Mr. Coffey in the Lido Lounge.'
'I remember I was in the middle of spreading clotted cream on a perfectly toasted currant scone, when there was an alarm, and Mr. Coffey had to excuse himself. 'What's this, then?' says I. 'We've not hit an iceberg, I hope.' And he laughs back, 'I'll remember that when I'm handin' out lifejackets.'' Wally shook his head.
'Weren't no iceberg,' said Reggie gravely.
'Course it weren't no iceberg, you sod,' Wally said. 'After a few minutes we hear crockery breaking and see a brawl at another table-'
'This madwoman's attacking her 'usband-'
'Now, we don't know it was her 'usband, Dick.'
'-and she's got the poor bloke in a clutch like a bleedin' boa constrictor-'
'Looks like she's off her bloody nut.'
'-Kisses the man-'
