Deadlock

11

Charlie came to himself some time later crawling up the corridor back to the captain’s cabin through a weave of blackness that was so unbelievably dark that it seemed to hurt his eyes. He still had the flashlight, but it would not work. Gradually, he pulled himself to his feet and stood there, tottering from side to side. He didn’t even try to think because that seemed to hurt his head as much as the bite hurt his hand.

It was still throbbing and he could feel the crusted, dried blood over his fingers and down his wrist. The knowledge of this and the very real fear of the thing that had bitten him, mired him in terror. It was like being immersed in ice water.

With a cry, he ran up the companionway stairs and down the corridor above, around the bend, and to the captain’s door which was still standing wide open, the lantern burning in there, guiding him in.

The door was wet. It was glistening with beads of liquid that slowly ran down its face. Urine. Yes, she had marked her territory. She had sprayed piss against the door.

He locked it and cleaned up his bloody hand.

There were deep, ragged bite marks in his palm and on the top of his hand as if he had been gripped in the jaws of a wolf. He cleaned it up the best he could and tore strips of material from the bed sheet and wrapped it securely.

A love bite, just a love bite.

He sat on the bed, but he did not think.

He did not do anything but stare at the wall.

There was nothing else he could do.

But wait.