Deluge: The Conqueror Worms II

CHAPTER 60

The one hundred and twenty five foot long multi-hulled Catamaran drifted silently as the tide swept their small craft closer to it. Through the rain, it was impossible for them to see if there were any figures above decks.

McCann cupped his ear and listened. “I don’t hear the engines. I had them running good when we left. The intakes were free of debris, and we had four or five days worth of fuel left. They shouldn’t be having trouble.”

“Yeah,” Novak said, “but they don’t have you onboard to tend to them, either.”

“So that’s your former vessel?” Simon asked.

“It was,” Novak replied. “But the fuckers abandoned us.”

While Novak told Simon about the living island and what had happened to them since, Gail stared at the ship. She felt a surprising sense of homesickness. She’d hated living on the boat, hated the cramped conditions and the complete lack of privacy and having to make nice with people like Morgan, but now, it was something familiar in a literal sea of regret and heartache and terror. It felt like coming home.

“Do you think they mutinied?” Simon asked.

“They had to,” Novak said. “Maybe not all of them, but Morgan certainly would have. And I’m betting he convinced some of the others. If they had enough numbers, it would have been easy for him to do it.”

“Do they have weapons?”

“Yeah.” Novak counted them off on his fingers. “Several rifles and handguns with plenty of ammunition. A couple of shotguns. Plus, there’s machetes and spears and other weapons we fabricated with stuff we found along the way. Hell, they’ve even got a flamethrower.”

“So do we,” Gail said, nodding at Simon.

Novak’s eyes widened with the realization. “That’s true! Can you do that, Simon? Can you, like, shoot fire out of your hands?”

“Not quite.” Simon smiled. “Pyrokinesis doesn’t work that way. But I can use it as a defensive measure in close quarters.”

“Great,” McCann muttered. “So, we’ve got Simon giving them hot flashes, along with a bunch of letter openers and box-cutters and my dull-ass sword, against their guns. Sounds like a fair fight.”

“We’ll see,” Simon said. “Perhaps there won’t be a fight at all.”

“That another one of your tricks? Can you tell the future?”

“No. It’s merely wishful thinking on my part. It should be on your part, as well. None of us are in any shape for a protracted struggle of any kind.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” McCann replied, “and they’ll just pick us off with the rifles before we get any closer.”

Gail opened her mouth to respond, intent on telling McCann that she’d had enough of his surly attitude. Before she could, however, a gunshot echoed across the water. All four of them ducked down as low as they could, the makeshift oars forgotten.

Gail grasped Novak’s hand and squeezed. “They’re shooting at us!”

“I told you so,” McCann moaned.

Another shot rang out, then a third. The falling rain muffled the blasts, but they were still loud enough that Gail twitched at the sound.

Novak gave her hand another squeeze. Then he let go and slowly peered over the side. After a moment, he glanced back down at the others.

“They’re not shooting at us. They’re shooting at each other!”