Hell Rig (17 page)

“The hell it couldn’t! Look what it did to my shoulder,” Tolson yelled.

“The wound on Easton was thin and even. It would take something like a knife or scalpel. Besides, Waters didn’t have a drop of blood on him. He couldn’t have hacked Sid like that without getting drenched in blood.”

Tolson closed his eyes a moment as a spasm of pain swept over him. “Big Clyde,” he gasped. “You think Big Clyde is doing this.”

“I don’t know,” Jeff admitted. “He
has
disappeared.”

“Still, Big Clyde for Christ’s sake, Towns.” Tolson, too, was having a hard time imaging their friend as a mass murderer. “He’s big and loves a brawl, but to murder someone so coldly…I can’t see it.”

“There’s something else.” He started to tell them about the voodoo amulet and the fog’s reaction to it. Lisa anticipated this. She touched his arm and shook her head to stop him.

“What?” McAndrews asked. Tolson was almost out from the sedative. He simply stared at Jeff with glazed eyes.

“Never mind for now. It probably doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“The fog let both Sid and Clyde outside.”

They turned to Ed Harris. He had been silent but now stood with a look of wonder on his face. “It wanted them out there, to murder them. It’s like the damned stuff is alive.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” McAndrews snapped. “It’s an unusual fog I grant you, but not alive. It has a high concentration of salt in it, making it highly corrosive, that’s all.”

Jeff remembered the fog lapping up the blood around Easton’s body and the way it reacted to the amulet. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, Jeff. Be reasonable.” McAndrews said. He secured Tolson’s bandage with tape and stood up. “Fog is fog. There isn’t anything unnatural about any of this. There has to be a logical scientific explanation that we’re missing. If Waters isn’t the killer, then Gleason is the logical deduction. The fog is a…a coincidence, a chance of freak weather conditions.”

Lisa made a sour face. “Bullshit.”

McAndrews stared at her, aghast at her unladylike outburst.
“You’re the one who said you suspected something happened out here that Global wanted kept secret. You’re the one who said Digger Man couldn’t have killed all those men, including your brother.”

Jeff looked at Lisa. “Brother?”

She shot him a look that warned him to silence and continued. “I think you suspected Waters was in on it and suggested so to the company. They sent him back out here with us so you could watch over him. Now, you’re not so sure. Look at the facts.” She counted them off on her fingers, starting with her pinky. “One, Bale was murdered by someone, and yet you say you were watching Waters. Easton and Sims were the only other people awake. If Easton did it, then who killed him? We know it wasn’t Sims. He was in the building.” She stretched out her ring finger. “Two, the crane went crazy and Gleason almost died. I know you don’t believe Jeff’s story, but I do.” She gave Jeff an apologetic look. “Maybe I didn’t at first, but with everything else that’s happened…he has no reason to lie.” She touched her middle finger. “Three, how did Waters escape? We bound him securely and the discarded ropes are still tight. Does he have an accomplice?” Her pointer finger was next. “Four, this damn monster fog appears to keep us bottled up, except that, five,” she offered her thumb, “Gleason disappeared anyway.” She began counting on her other hand. “Six, the fog let Easton through and he wound up dead. Seven, Waters didn’t have any blood on him, therefore he didn’t kill Easton. Waters attacked Tolson, all right. We saw him. Maybe he was frightened. Maybe he was crazy. Why doesn’t the fog attack Waters? He told us why. He said whatever possessed Digger Man brought him back out here as a witness. There’s something here on this platform with us and it isn’t Waters and it wants us dead.”

When she finished her tirade, she sat down heavily in a chair, sobbing quietly.

They were all stunned by her summation, even Jeff. McAndrews shook his head. “It’s not real. It can’t be,” he mumbled.

“It’s real enough,” Jeff said. He patted Lisa’s hand. “When that ship comes, we get on it and get the hell away from here as fast as we can.”

“What if the fog…” Lisa didn’t finish. She shrugged off Jeff’s hand and buried her face in her hands.

Jeff understood her concern. “The sun will thin it out. We’ll get through.”

She wrapped her arms around her upper torso and shivered. “I hope to God you’re right.”

Chapter Fifteen

Sid Easton sat in the break room listening to the others discussing what to do next, but his mind had been on the voice in the shadows. He still felt dirty from the encounter, as if a piece of the shadow had invaded some private orifice. He didn’t believe in ghosts, or at least he hadn’t until now.
Something
had reached out and grabbed him and pulled him into shadows that were alive and hungry. They savored him as one would a piece of meat as they held his body immobile.

The voice that came from the shadows had been Lisa’s, then it became Bale’s, but different somehow, colder, less human. He had revealed to the others only part of what the voice had said. It had whispered that he was next. That much was true. What he had not told the others, could not tell them, was the rest of what the voice had said.

“You’re full of dirty little secrets, Sid,” the voice had whispered to him. “What if we tell the others?”

He had opened his mouth to say ‘no’ when the shadow turned liquid and entered his nose and mouth, a vile tasting substance that burned his throat and lungs. Bale’s voice had changed to that of a fourteen-year old girl.

“You wanted it, Sid, but you couldn’t keep it hard. Wait until I tell the other girls at school.”

He cringed at the memory. It was Elizabeth Meyers, the first girl to offer to have sex with him. It had been in his mother’s garage. He was young and stupid and didn’t know what to do. She had mocked him, made fun of his inadequacies until the entire school knew. He changed schools after that to avoid the laughter.

“I learned,” he mumbled defiantly into the shadow filling his mouth. It took the help of a few cheap whores, but he had learned.

The shadow wasn’t through. Visions flashed in his head—him sitting at his computer masturbating to pictures of young girls on the screen; parked near the junior high school with beer and marijuana trolling for truant young girls he could talk into the back seat; watching hungrily from his upstairs apartment window as school let out and the pretty, young girls ran home.

The shadows uncovered his eyes and he saw Ed Harris standing in front of him, blackened and shriveled as if burned, fingers pointing in accusation. The shadows released him. He screamed and ran. He couldn’t tell the others but Waters knew. He could see it in Waters’ eyes. He tried to work, keep his mind from the memories, but he couldn’t. He knew if he stayed, he would die. He believed the shadows. He could hear them whispering to him now.

“Run, Sidney, while you can.”

The others were doing nothing. Waters was out there somewhere, in the fog. So was Gleason. They both hated him. Everyone hated him. Well, screw them. If he wanted to survive, he would have to look out for himself.

He thought of the TEMPSC and smiled. He knew McAndrews had repaired it. The others could stay if they wanted, but he was going to leave before the platform found a way to kill him as it had Bale. The others were afraid of Waters. He grinned. Waters might be crazy, but he wasn’t the real horror. The shadows were real and alive and they were evil, just like the preachers on television spoke about, not some mythical devil or evil deeds in men’s souls.

“I’ve got to go to the john,” he announced to them, his decision made.

Tolson snapped at him but Easton ignored him. He left the others still arguing and went to the back door. He looked out. The fog was out there still, roiling like boiling water. Shapes, indistinct but somehow menacing, stirred within it. As he touched the door, the fog rolled back as if it knew him, opening a path to the stairwell, letting him escape.

“I’ll have to take my chances,” he said to himself and opened the door. The fog remained where it was. He hurried down the stairs. McAndrews had sealed the box containing the TEMPSC controls. Easton fought to pry it open. The fog grew restless.

He heard Towns above him calling his name. He worked faster. Towns ran down the stairs and shone his flashlight in Easton’s face.

“Don’t try it,” Towns yelled.

Easton ignored him, tearing at the box with his fingers. Something emerged from the fog, a shadow, and hit Towns, sending him flying forward. He lay there unmoving. At first, he thought it was Waters, but was unsure. The figure looked taller, but maybe the fog shrouded him like a cloak, hiding his features. The figure moved toward him, almost flowing along the deck.

Easton blubbered like a kid and ran. He stumbled over pipes and tripped over steps. He banged his shins and cut his arms on protruding metal. Looking behind him, the shrouded figure was gone. He passed the open mudroom door. He needed a place to hide, to get away from the figure and the fog. He entered cautiously, playing his light about the room and sighed in relief to find it empty. He turned to close the door and noticed the figure was standing in the door. He stopped and shined the light.

“You!” Easton blubbered. “What are you doing here?” He felt something hot jab into his abdomen. He looked down and saw the hilt of a knife protruding from his belly. “Why?” he asked. He saw his assailant’s eyes flash as he jerked the knife upwards through muscle and sinew as easily as if cutting paper, lifting Easton with the force.

Easton cried out as his intestines spilled onto the deck, making a sick
plopping
sound as they hit. He felt a burning pain and fell back into a puddle of his still hot blood. He spread his arms and flailed about trying to get enough traction to get up and run, but the bloody metal was too slick. After a few seconds, he couldn’t summon the strength. He lay there as his killer leaned over him.

“No more secrets, Sid.”

Easton tried to speak but only blood and foam came from his mouth.

“He’ll be here for you soon,” the voice added. “Glad you could join us.”

A flash of steel and then fire burned the side of his face. Then he was alone. He heard the others come up but he couldn’t see them or speak to warn them. He was dying, his life ebbing away as if he were drifting. He knew he would never leave Global Thirteen, would become another of its menagerie of ghosts. Easton could feel their presence around him, welcoming him to their fold.

Chapter Sixteen

Ed Harris, Lisa Love, Jeff Towns, Matthew Sims and Mac McAndrews sat around the table. An air of loss filled the silent room. No one spoke. They could hear Eric Tolson quietly snoring in his bed down the hall. He had finally succumbed to the effects of the pain pills. Seeing Easton ripped open had reminded them all of how much danger they were in.

“We have to find Big Clyde,” Lisa reminded them.

“Waters first,” McAndrews said. He pounded a fist into his open palm.

“Right,” Ed said.

“What about the fog?” Sims asked.

Jeff looked out the window. “The sun’s coming up. It seems to be thinning out just like I suspected it would.”

“Is it still dangerous?” Ed asked.

He looked at Ed. “You’re welcome to step outside and see if you want.” As soon as he spoke, he knew he should not have sounded so bitter. “Sorry, Ed.”

“We keep away from it,” McAndrews said. “We still have to eliminate Waters and find Gleason.”

“Eliminate?” Lisa repeated.

“Eliminate—to kill, capture or render harmless. I don’t care which one you choose. The man is a dangerous psycho and not one of us is safe with him running around out there. Does anyone doubt he’s mixed up in this someway?”

“You said he was asleep when Bale was killed,” Lisa reminded him.

He turned to her scowling. “Yeah. Well maybe I was wrong. Maybe I drifted off for a while and he left, killed Bale and came back before I woke up. Maybe he turned into a puff of smoke and drifted by me. Hell, I don’t know.” He threw up his hands. “You saw him attack Tolson, so he’s dangerous. Do any of you have any better ideas?”

No one did.

“That reminds me,” Jeff said to McAndrews. “Lisa said you came here to investigate your brother’s death. Is that true?”

“We don’t have time…”

“I think we do. There are enough secrets here. We need to clear up a few.”

McAndrews threw Jeff a dirty look. “Yeah, you’re right. I work for the Shreveport Fire Department as an arson investigator. My brother was working on this rig when word came that everyone had died, killed in an explosion and fire while evacuating for Katrina. I knew the rig wasn’t operational, so the explosion story rang hollow. I did some investigating and kept coming up against a wall of silence. Global was stonewalling. It took a while, and I eventually learned the truth about the Digger Man’s killing spree, but it didn’t add up. How could one man kill so many people? I’ve worked with oilmen before. They’re not easily intimidated. I knew my brother wasn’t. He could take care of himself in a brawl.”

McAndrews paused a moment to collect himself.

“Then I learned Waters was the sole survivor and, although he seemed crazy, most of what they knew they had learned from him. I suspected him of, at the very least, concealing something. When I learned Global was awarding the clean up contract to Re-Berth, I convinced them it might be in their best interests to send Waters back out with you guys. I applied for a job and came too. I wanted to see what he would do, see if I could catch him doing something incriminating.”