The Ocean Dark

56

Night had fallen.

Miguel stood on the deck of the Antoinette, Heckler & Koch assault rifle slung over his shoulder and the Sig Sauer holstered at his hip. He’d handed over the controls of the crane to Dwyer for the last half containers or so and now he waited at the railing, watching the lifeboat ascend toward the deck with Gabe, Tori, and Pang on board. He held his breath, a sick twisting in his gut as he prayed for them to reach the deck. The ship had lightened considerably — he’d dumped half their cargo over the side — so they’d be out of here at speed, if the fuckers would get down to the engine room and do their jobs.

“Tupper!” he shouted, turning to the assistant engineer. “Get below, goddammit! We need to be under way, now!”

The thuggish Tupper looked at him with idiot eyes. “Jimenez is down there now. We’re ready to go!”

Other members of the crew were arrayed along the railing as well, watching the lifeboat’s ascent, but Miguel paid no attention to them. He leaned over the edge, glimpsed his brother crouched in the boat, and then turned to seek out Dwyer. The young Irishman, face pale in the moonlight in spite of his seemingly eternal sunburn, hustled toward him from the direction of the crane.

“What’s going on?” Dwyer asked.

“Kevonne’s dead. The others are coming up. Get your ass up to the wheelhouse and find out what Suarez is waiting for. Set course anywhere but fucking here, and full ahead.”

Dwyer nodded and started for the stairs before he faltered, head jerking back in confusion as he stared up at the accommodations block. Miguel spun to see what had so astonished him, and saw Angie Tyree helping the FBI man down the stairs toward the deck. Josh leaned heavily on her, the bloodstains on his shirt a potent black in the moonlight.

Angie and Josh. Which begged the question, what had happened to Suarez? Something glinted in Josh’s hand, and Miguel didn’t need to look any closer to know it had to be the gun he’d left with Suarez. That didn’t bode well for the old Cuban, or for any of them. But Miguel didn’t much care anymore. Maybe Gabe would have a plan that would sort all this out, a story to tell Viscaya about rough seas, losing half their cargo, and dead crew members, but whatever Gabe had planned, Miguel had decided it would have to include an explanation that covered the death of an FBI agent. As soon as they were safely away, he would put a bullet in the guy’s skull himself.

“What do you want me to—” Dwyer started to ask.

A question interrupted by screams from below, shouts from the lifeboat. Tori and Pang cried out for them to bring the lifeboat up faster. Gabe’s deep voice provided a counterpoint, but at first Miguel couldn’t make out the words, so intertwined were they with the screams of the others. He thought Gabe was saying, “We’re coming up.” He blinked a couple of times, processing, and sorted out where he’d gone wrong.

Not we’re. “They’re.” They were coming up.

Even as this information clicked in, Tupper let out a shriek that tore the air, just a dozen feet along the deck to Miguel’s right. He swung the barrel of the H&K in that direction and saw Tupper go down. Miguel hadn’t seen one of the things up close before and for a second could only stare at its sickeningly white skin, oily and slightly jaundiced by the moonlight, and its puckered, serpentine lower body. Its long fingers dragged Tupper down and wrapped around his head, stifling his screams. Its jaws went so wide they seemed almost to unhinge and then it thrust its face at Tupper’s chest.

People cursed and screamed and got the hell away from the thing and their dead crewmate, but there were more. One of them flopped onto the deck and slithered toward Valente with hideous speed. It knocked him down and sprawled on top of him, too fast for any of them to do anything.

Miguel opened fire on the one that had killed Tupper, the bullets ripping it apart, then swung the gun toward Valente. But there were people running, too much chaos, and he hesitated in fear of killing one of his crew.

Then there were more — too many — slithering onto the deck, and he turned to Dwyer. “Get up top! Get us out of here!”

He heard the whine of the winch cables as they brought the lifeboat to the top and spun around to see Gabe, Tori, and Pang climbing onto the deck. Pang supported Gabe, whose left leg was torn and bloody. Miguel started to run toward his brother, but then Gabe turned to look at him, eyes full of anguish that had nothing to do with his wounded leg, and Miguel faltered. Even in the midst of blood and death and inhuman horrors, Gabe saw him as the monster.