Adrift (Book 1) (18 page)

Steven Vega's terror was infectious. Mark felt it coiling around his nerves and squeezing, and the combination of darkness and Vega's fear made him tremble.

That, and the screams that followed Vega into the dark conference room.

Outside the room, the clamour that Mark had already become used to hearing—the murmurs of confusion from the passengers, the occasional yelp of surprise; all the sounds made by people stumbling around an unfamiliar place in the dark—had given way to screams of a very different sort.

Mark tried not to hear it; did everything he could to ignore the noise that floated to his ears, but it was impossible. Again and again, he heard howls of terror, some of which dissolved into cries of pain and disbelief, others which cut off abruptly.

Mixed in with the human noises, another sound; a shrill shriek that sounded almost like an animal call. Answered by similar shrieks in the distance. Whatever was out there, there was more than one, and they communicated in voices that made Mark’s courage wither.

The terrible wall of noise beyond the conference room doors wasn't close, but it was headed that way.

Our time is fucking short.

Mark tried not to think about what Herb's words meant, but his mind ran to dark destinations of its own accord.

Hearing the screams, no one in the conference room questioned Vega's desperate command. Instead, the four stunned members of the security team searched for anything they could use to help him barricade the door.

The tables and chairs in the conference room were lightweight, and so they piled them high and wide in a silent blur of furious activity. Vega threaded the wooden legs of a chair through the door handles, apparently unwilling to sacrifice his gun to the task once more. In the dark it was impossible to tell just how secure the barricade was; most likely, Mark thought, anything that broke the makeshift deadbolt and came through the door would simply brush the flimsy furniture aside. Still, the act of creating the barricade seemed to calm Vega a little, and Mark thought that was vital.

Hearing the big man's whimpering fear was almost worse than the screams outside. Vega wasn't the type of guy to panic about anything, and Mark was sure that he would have done his level best to avoid showing any weakness or fear in front of his
troops
. The fact that Vega clearly didn't care about appearing terrified and weak made dry panic surge in Mark's throat.

And made him wonder again about Herb's story.

Surely it couldn't be true?

"What's out there, Steve?" Mark said finally, when there was no more furniture left to move. "What did you see?"

Vega's response was a trembling sigh that made Mark's nerves dance.

"I've got no fucking idea," Vega said at last. His voice sounded weak and distant; preoccupied somehow. "The chopper we heard dropped a shipping container right onto the middle of the park. Time-locked doors. The things that came out...they're killing everyone. It was a bomb, after all. Just not the type that explodes. A living bomb."

Vega sounded like he was carrying on parts of a conversation that Mark had not been privy to, and so Mark picked out the word that seemed most important and focused on it.

"Things?" Mark said sharply. Judging by Vega's voice, the ex-marine's confidence had been punctured, and it seemed like a fatal wound. He didn't sound pissed off at Mark addressing him by his first name; didn't even sound like he realised he was speaking to Mark at all. Mark thought the big man sounded like he was deflating inexorably.

Like he was beyond terrified and had no idea how to deal with it.

"Killing themselves," Vega mumbled absently. "Because they got into their heads.
Making
them kill themselves. I wanted to—"

"Vega," Mark snapped. "Steve.
Steve
.
Focus
."

Vega whimpered into silence.

"You said there were things out there," Mark said. "What things?"

"Things," Vega repeated in a faraway tone. "I don't know. Creatures. Monsters."

"Vampires," Herb said in the darkness. "And you bastards promised you'd shoot me."

"Will you shut the fuck up about vampires?" Mark hissed.

"Didn't look like any vampires I've ever heard of," Vega said softly. "Looked like...I don't know. Insects? Like someone mixed up humans and insects and added a fuckload of teeth to the result. The things I saw...they're not out there
sucking blood
. They're tearing people to fucking pieces."

"Yeah, that's right. Vampires," Herb spat sullenly. "Just like I said."

Mark rubbed his temples, and tried to keep a grip on reality, but it felt evasive, like oil slipping through his fingers. Vega's words made about as much sense as Herb's.

Maybe they're
both
telling the truth.

Whatever the case, Steven Vega sounded like he had just about checked out. The hard-nosed marine bark was gone, replaced by a feeble, jittery whine that set Mark's teeth on edge. What good was the man, if the one time you needed his macho-bullshit army-man persona, he went to pieces?

"You were shooting," Mark said finally. "At these creatures? Did you kill any?"

"No," Vega said quietly. "I emptied the gun before I saw 'em. Shot the guys who set this up, the ones who set off the EMP. Trying to board the chopper. Got two, at least."

Mark heard a sharp intake of breath. Herb.

"One got away?" Herb asked cautiously.

Vega didn't respond, but the silence apparently told Herb everything he needed to know.

"I know which fucking one
that
will be," Herb said to no one in particular.

For several long moments, awkward silence descended on the group. The members of the security team were, Mark realised, waiting for Vega to tell them what to do next. Himself included.

Yet it didn't sound like Vega had the slightest idea what to do next. Didn't sound, in fact, like he wanted to do anything other than hide. Mark suddenly had the notion that if Vega had been alone, the big man would have quite happily dissolved into hysterical sobbing.

Not helpful.

Mark searched his mind, irritated that he had no idea which questions to ask, and no concept of what should be done next.

The stories that Herb and Vega were telling were incredible; too farfetched to believe, and yet both men clearly
did
believe what they were saying. Herb could well be a liar or a lunatic or both, but Steven Vega had been singularly unimaginative and bullish when he left the room, and a broken shell when he returned. He’d seen
something
out there. Something terrible. He wasn’t lying about that.

Mark felt paralysed by doubt, and each attempt he made to decide what to do next foundered on the rocks in his mind.

One step at a time
, he thought.

"Are you three armed?" he asked finally, and got grunts of acknowledgement from Phillips, Ferguson and Saunders.

Herb chuckled.

"Guns won't help," he said.

Mark felt a fire of anger erupt in his gut, and gave serious consideration to locating Herb's face and punching it again.

"Fine," he snapped. "Vampires. How the fuck do we fight them, then?"

"You don't," Herb said. "Don't you get it? You, me, everybody on this boat; we've been sacrificed. We aren't
supposed
to survive. We can't. Even if you could kill them, in doing so you'd be breaking a truce that has existed for thousands of years. Starting a war with an enemy that cannot be defeated. We're all going to die, right here. Tonight."

Mark clenched a fist.

"Bullshit," he growled. "I'm not going down without a fight, you hear?"

Herb laughed bitterly.

"It will be a lot worse if you resist," he said. "And in the end, it won't change a damn thing. There are three thousand people on this ship. Way more than they need. They aren't just here to feed."

Mark's muscles ached with the constant tension. Whatever was happening on the Oceanus, it was way beyond his experience and know-how. He was starting to feel fatigued just trying to gather all the questions that needed asking in his mind. And worse, he was starting to believe Herb. After all, the guy
wanted
to be executed. He wanted a quick death.

As opposed to what?
Mark thought darkly.

"You want a quick death," Mark said finally. "You can have it. But first, you're going to tell me how to fight these things. People must have fought them before. How?"

"Nobody knows, for sure," Herb said. Mark thought his tone suddenly sounded eager and hopeful.

He really does want to die.

"All the knowledge I have comes from books, and even that is second hand stuff. I know what my father told me, and it's worth you bearing in mind that my father is a fucking sociopath."

Outside the barricaded door, a bloodcurdling scream ended in a snap. The noise sounded terrifyingly close.

Close enough that further conversation suddenly seemed like it might result in bloodshed. The room fell into silence, and Mark counted out the beats of his heart, waiting for a sound that might confirm they were in immediate danger. He counted to ten.

No further noise beyond the door.

"Get to the point," Mark hissed.

"Forget all the vampire stuff that you think you know," Herb said. "Garlic, holy water, crosses. These creatures are older than religion, none of that stuff will work. There are some accounts that being staked through the heart works, but that's just hearsay. The one thing all sources agree on is that these creatures have an effect on the human mind, something that makes attacking them directly impossible. So even if staking them did work, getting close enough to stick something in 'em is unlikely."

"What sort of effect?" Mark asked.

"I don't know," Herb said. "Supposedly it's like a sickness. My brother saw one. He said they made a girl...do things. To herself. Like she was on fucking remote control or something."

"The eyes," Vega said weakly. "When you look into their eyes, you can
feel
them. In your head. In my head."

Vega trailed off, and his words hung on the air like smoke.

"They don't like light," Herb said, breaking the thick silence. "That's one reason why we had to disable the ship's electrics. I don't know if sunlight kills them, but I
really
doubt it. But they don't like being seen. They're parasites, you understand? Like your friend over there said. Insects. If they can, they'll stick to the shadows. They'll kill everyone on board before sunrise."

"And what if they don't? Can we just find somewhere to hide until the light comes and drives them away?"

"You could," Herb said. "If they were going to leave on their own terms. But they're not. They will be picked up, in exactly the same way that they were dropped off. And then this ship will be sunk. You see? Even if you survive the vampires, you won't survive the ship. Nobody can be allowed to know about the arrangement we have with them. All evidence has to be disposed of."

"Because if people knew, we'd find people like you and tear them apart," Mark hissed.

"Because if the knowledge that these things exist got out, the whole fucking world would collapse," Herb snapped. "And the deal would be off. Truce finished. Millions would die."

"What else?" Mark said.

"That's all I know," Herb said. "And most of that is probably wrong. Remember, I didn't believe in any of this shit either until a few months ago."

"But these things aren't immortal? They can be killed?"

"As far as I know," Herb sniffed. "They're not
magic
, they're not
undead
. They're just creatures. Can they be killed? Yeah, sure. Probably. Can
you
kill them? I doubt it. And even if you could, would you? Knowing that if you kill them and somehow get off this ship, you'll almost certainly be starting a war that could cost millions of lives?"

"As opposed to surrendering, and fucking feeding people to these creatures by the thousands?" Mark said bitterly. "Yeah, I think I'd prefer war to that. I'll take a fight over that shit anytime."

"Do whatever the fuck you want," Herb said sharply. "It's not going to matter to me, is it? I've told you everything I know, and we have a deal. I'm not letting those bastards get into my head. They're evil, you understand? Sadistic. They're not just here to feed. They're here to
play
. So get your gun out, and make it quick."

Mark stared at the oppressive darkness for a moment. Even with his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he couldn't make out Herb at all.

"Yeah, the deal," Mark said. "Turns out you're not worth a bullet. Deal's off."

For a moment, the darkness confused the hell out of Elaine. She had woken with a headache, but that in itself wasn't unusual: she occasionally suffered migraines that wore her like a pair of old boots for a few hours before subsiding.

But it was damn
dark
. There were streetlights right outside the bedroom window—a source of much irritation over the four years that she and Dan had occupied the flat in South Wimbledon—but she saw no sign of their amber glow tonight, and without it, the darkness of the bedroom was almost impenetrable.

She stretched out a hand, scrabbling for the phone that she kept on the bedside table.

And drove her arm painfully into a wall that had no business being there instead.

What the hell?

I’m not at home. Not in bed.

It all came back at once. The honeymoon. Dan's disappearance. The power cut and the crazy minutes spent stumbling through the dark. Distant screaming.

Falling.

Elaine winced and lifted her fingers to her forehead. They came away slick.

Judging by the hard edges currently wedged into her back, she had fallen down a narrow staircase.

Drawing in a breath as sharp pain lanced through her back, she levered herself upright, and checked her head thoroughly. She discovered a deep gash on her right temple, but it felt no bigger than an inch across. Not bleeding too badly.

It hurt like hell when her fingers found it, though.

And it's
still
dark
.

Elaine squinted into the darkness, trying to figure out where she was, but it was if the light had been sucked away completely.

No windows, she remembered. She was still in the maze of corridors that ran through the passenger cabins, probably somewhere close to the centre of the ship. The park shouldn't be too far away. Easy to reach, as long as she could find an exit from the dark labyrinth.

As long as I stop throwing myself down staircases.

Elaine hauled herself upright with a grunt and checked the rest of her body for injuries. Aside from the gnawing pain at the base of her spine, she seemed to have come off lightly.

At least I landed on my head
, she thought.
No vital damage done
.

Dan would have laughed at that.

The thought of her missing husband made her mood darken to match her surroundings. Elaine had no idea how long she had been unconscious at the foot of the stairs, but it definitely felt like time had passed. So where the hell was Dan? And why had nobody sorted the lights out and found the unconscious passenger sprawled across the stairs?

A flash of light, somewhere ahead of her.

Weak; barely-there and then gone in an instant, but Elaine knew she had seen it. Straight ahead, and coming from somewhere to the left.

A crash of thunder made her flinch. Storms had long ago lost their power to frighten her, but Elaine wasn't sure she had ever heard thunder so
close
. So loud it made her aching head ring.

She shook her head groggily and started forward, keeping her arms outstretched to run her fingers along both walls. When she had taken thirty steps, she paused, waiting for the storm to light her way once more.

She didn't have to wait for long. This time, she was much closer to that left-hand turn, and she saw the flash of light clearly. She made for it quickly, and reached the turn before the light faded and left her blind once more. Once she rounded the corner, she saw that, up ahead, the corridor widened out onto one of the balcony areas that overlooked the park.

She set off as the light faded to nothing, keeping her steps aimed straight forward.

And stopped dead when she heard something in front of her. A strange, unidentifiable noise.

What is that?

The noise was heavy and wet, strangely rhythmic. Like a machine leaking oil at regular intervals.

A voice at the back of Elaine’s mind implored her to turn back, but she ignored it. Going back meant returning to the dark maze of corridors and getting lost all over again, and quite possibly tumbling down another set of steps.

She began to edge forward, toward the noise, and with each step she wondered both what the noise could be, and why she was instinctively holding her breath; trying to make as little noise as possible.

Because you don’t want it to hear you, silly.

It?

Feeling the wall with her arms, Elaine came to a stop, somehow afraid to take another step and see what waited for her in the darkness.

You’re being ridiculous, Elaine. There’s something wrong with the ship, that’s all.

Setting her jaw firmly, she took another handful of steps forward and stopped once more.

Directly ahead of her, Elaine could now see a rectangle of the gloomy light that diffused through the clouds. She was close enough to the balcony that she could just about make out the space beyond.

Another step.

Another pause.

There was something else; another shape that deformed the rectangle of half-light ahead of her. An odd shape that made no sense. For a moment she thought it looked like a pile of bags, and wondered if someone had forgotten to take their luggage into their cabin.

Another step.

Another pause.

Elaine's nerves fired a warning shot to her brain.

The luggage was moving.

Another crash of thunder overhead almost made her scream, and she froze on the spot, waiting for the deafening noise to subside.

But the noise rolled on and on.

Elaine frowned into the darkness.

The noise she was hearing now didn't sound like thunder; not exactly. A low rumbling sound.

Growling. Ragged panting. Like an animal. Like a
large
animal.

All of a sudden, Elaine's muscles, which had been locked in place, wanted very much to move.

She began to back up slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, without even knowing
why
she had to be quiet, just that it was imperative that she do nothing that might draw attention to her.

Attention of what?

Elaine's muscles flooded with adrenaline, pleading with her to use every ounce of energy they offered to get the fuck out of there
fast
, but she forced herself to creep backwards slowly. Quietly.

Somewhere behind her was a set of dark stairs that might as well be invisible, and which had already proven to be treacherous in the total darkness. Somewhere ahead of her, something was close enough that she could smell it, and bile surged at the back of her throat.

A foul, musty stink which reminded her of the basement in the house that she grew up in; an ancient place that her parents barely ever used. The smell of rot and damp and decay, mixed with a much fresher, and more troubling scent.

Rusting metal.

Blood.

Her heel hit the first step, and she began to back up them slowly.

And then the lightning lit the corridor once more in brilliant white light and she saw it, and Elaine froze, unwilling to let her foot drop on the step for fear that even the tiniest noise would alert the thing she saw. Crouched in the doorway straight ahead of her, in a spot she had almost stumbled to blindly in the darkness, was a creature that Elaine hadn’t ever seen before; large and angular, a muscular, dark body that seemed to glisten in the temporary light, as though it had been covered in liquid.

The creature was hunched over something, and it took Elaine a moment to understand what she was seeing. The top half of a corpse that had been ripped in two; legs nowhere to be seen. What remained of the person pinned beneath the creature was almost unidentifiable; torn into hideous strips; a human being reduced to nothing but lumps of gore and a dark pool of liquid.

The thing was eating the corpse, casually tearing away chunks of flesh and popping them into its mouth like snacks.

Suddenly, Elaine realised what the rhythmic noise she had heard moments earlier was: not something
mechanical
. Not even close.

Something
chewing.
The sound of a human body being steadily consumed.

The dark liquid that covered the creature’s hideous body stopped being a mystery immediately. Human blood. It looked like more blood than one person’s body could possibly contain.

The creature tossed a chunk of flesh aside, as though it couldn’t stomach another bite, and alarms began to sound in Elaine’s mind.

You have to move!

She took another step backwards; another step up the stairs toward the dark corridors that she had been so desperate to escape only moments earlier, and as the last of the illumination from the lightning faded, she saw the creature rising up to its full height, its meal forgotten.

And turning toward her as the darkness returned.