Deluge: The Conqueror Worms II

CHAPTER 38

Riffle came up screaming. He sucked air as a wave smashed into his face, filling his mouth and nose with seawater. He choked, tasting chemicals and salt. The foul mixture felt slick on his skin. His nostrils and eyes burned. A second wave forced him below the surface again. He kept his eyes closed, too terrified to risk glimpsing what might be swimming around beneath him. When he came up again, the ship’s motor thrummed.

“Morgan,” he shouted. “Get back here, you son of a bitch!”

There was no response from the ship. The deck remained deserted. He spotted two silhouettes on the bridge—probably Ben and Morgan. Bobbing on the waves, he could only watch helplessly as the engine grew louder and the vessel pulled away, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as the motor throttled higher.

“Morgan…”

Thunder boomed overhead. Sputtering, Riffle treaded water and tried to get his bearings. He glanced around, searching frantically for the mysterious island, but it was gone. Mist and rain swirled around him, hampering his vision. He pushed his wet bangs from his eyes and squinted, searching for the lifeboat, or some other sign of Novak and the others, but all he saw was a grayish-white haze.

“Oh, hell.”

Riffle began to tremble. Whimpering, he kicked harder, struggling to stay above the waves. His breath came in short, labored gasps. Another wave slammed into him from behind, plunging him beneath the water. When he surfaced again, he was not alone.

A black stalk-like object was sticking out of the water about ten feet away from him. It was as thick as his forearm and covered in sleek, fine hair. Muscles rippled beneath the flesh. The tendril bent in the middle and leaned toward him. The tip held a single hooded eye. It stared at him without blinking.

Four more tentacles thrust up from below, surrounding him. Each was like the first—just an eyeball and an appendage. They had no mouths or nostrils. Not even a discernable head. One by one, they bent in his direction and studied him. Panicked, Riffle swam to the right, hoping to dart between two of the tentacles. They swayed quickly, matching his movements. He darted to the left and the creatures did the same.

Fuck it, he thought. Whatever these things are, they don’t have mouths or arms. What are they going to do? Stare me to death?

He slapped the water. “Go on. Get out of here.”

The tentacles straightened up again, stretching to their full height. Riffle stared up at them, blinking as raindrops splattered against his face. The sea churned around him and suddenly, he was no longer treading water—he was standing on something solid. He looked down and saw a huge oval shadow beneath him. The five tentacles were attached to it. As he watched, the black object opened beneath his feet, revealing a wide, crescent-shaped mouth full of teeth. He slipped inside, up to his waist and the mouth slammed shut. Impassive, the eyestalks watched his death-throes as the water turned red.