Offshore (9 page)

The
whole process, from first bite to steaming heap of entrails, had
taken no more than two minutes. The creature gave the pile time to
settle before he rose and came forward to nose through it,
searching for the most nutritious parts - the liver, the kidneys,
and the heart.

Why
those organs in particular? Not only were they fat and protein
rich, but their cells were particularly densely packed, and in
those cells, nuclei, and in those nuclei - the body’s richest most
abundant source of deoxyribonucleic acid.

The
double helix of DNA formed into long twisted strands - the
blueprint of life packaged into handy little chromosomes; a
complete copy of the genome in every cell. And there were billions
of such cells.

Finding
the choice portions he needed, he fed, bolting them down without
pause for breath, his first real food for over six
weeks.

With
their rich complement of genomic cells safely packed away and
already being processed, he continued consuming. The remaining
flesh and organs were more than enough to satisfy his
hunger.

He tore
at intestines, chewed on lungs and lapped at blood, alternating
between fat and flesh, muscle and bone - balancing his intake, not
favouring one thing over another, and with every morsel he
swallowed he grew stronger, until after thirty minutes of steady
dining nothing much remained of Lonny Dick but his hands, feet and
head, along with a collection of stripped bones and unwanted
leftovers, sitting in a pool of coagulating blood and
semi-liquefied skin.

Dining
complete and appetite sated, the creature licked his lips to remove
sticky residue, belched, and rubbed his hands over a belly
distended like a happy Buddha.

Unable
to take another bite he once more retired to his dark corner,
curled into a foetal ball on the pile of blankets, and fell into a
deep postprandial torpor.

Yet more
than mere sleep this was more than simple digestion. As the body
rested complex processes were set to work, processes which involved
the breaking down of proteins and fats, of minerals and metals into
their composite molecules and atoms, of decoding genetic material,
of rearranging it, of rebuilding and reforming it, of …
assimilation. Of becoming. For this was the true nature of the
creature, Euterich.

Chapter 11

The
process would take time, there was a lot of damage to repair and it
would not be hurried.

As
Euterich slept he dreamed, fetching forth memories of his most
recent stolen life and his subsequent imprisonment here, a result
of his boredom and selfish desire for yet another
change.

The boat
trip he took in search of adventure took him into the fog, and then
came the swell and the boat being hit by a freak wave before
vanishing beneath him.

He
twitched in his sleep as he struggled for breath against the
imaginary water in his lungs, fighting his fantasy half drowning,
swept helplessly along by the swell until by some miracle it
smashed him against one of Bravo’s legs.

The
climb, up, up, up the ladder, hundreds of feet up, to heave open
the escape hatch in the belly of the beast, to scramble through and
slam it closed behind him, weakened and exhausted by his ordeal,
falling into a state of deep unconsciousness.

On
awakening twenty-four hours later he found himself not safe, but a
prisoner; chilled to the bone, starving, thirsty, dying.

In his
nightmare he cried out, and his reformed fists clenched and
unclenched in recollection of their pounding on the workshop door
and their battering on the solid window when the supply boat came.
He moaned aloud, his re-knitting shoulder muscles aching as they
re-enacted his heaving at the hatch lid which solidly resisted his
failing strength, remaining closed.

His
throat burned from calling out, pleading in vain for help, and his
eyes spilled tears of pain and frustration in memory of how he fell
to his knees and howled like a beast when he came to understand no
one could hear him.

And then
his breathing settled as the dream reached the stage of
realisation, when he took the time to think, and he knew what this
place was, and it wasn’t abandoned, merely … unoccupied.

Someone
would come back, if only to check it was still in one piece. When
that would be, he had no idea, but come they would. All he had to
do was have a little patience.

The
newly formed nostrils in the sleeping face flared as he remembered
the smell of oil and grease and dirt as he gathered together
whatever he could to make himself a rudimentary nest in the darkest
corner of the room - packing blankets, dust sheets, tarpaulins –
and settled down to bide his time in hibernation, until rescue
came. Or to die. Whichever came first.

Twelve
hours of careful recombination and readjustment later, it was done,
reconstruction complete, apart from a few minor points which would
put themselves right in their own time.

A
languorous sigh, a stretch, a yawn, and from where the scabby
unhealthy rat/dog creature had lain down to rest a large naked man
now rose, his flesh the colour of unbaked clay, mottled with blue,
the patches of prickly black fur shed and replaced with fine fair
hair. The once open weeping sores were all but healed, closed over
with silvery pink patches of new skin.

The man
got to his feet, a little unsteadily at first, and inhaled to the
full capacity of his lungs, filling them with cold fresh air. He
swung his arms and circled his back, stretching like a runner
before a marathon, encouraging blood to circulate and bring a
healthy bloom back to his newly acquired human hide.

The sense of being out of that disgusting un-form, neither
his nor the rat's but an unwholesome mixture of both, was not just
one of freedom, but of pure jubilation.

This new
body was young, muscular and coursing with testosterone, and suited
him well indeed, like slipping out of tight uncomfortable dance
shoes and into a pair of soft and pliable carpet
slippers.

He could
stretch his limbs and move freely, and he could think again. He had
a new set of memories to add to his own, ready to explore, a whole
new library waiting to be read.

Euterich
ran his hands over himself, down his smooth hairless chest, over
the expanse of a hard well worked stomach, down between muscular
thighs to a nest of dark blond pubic hair and to his genitals,
somewhat disproportionately small for a body so large.

Experiencing a brief pang of disappointment at what he found,
he thought maybe the chilly air might have contributed to a certain
degree of … shrinkage. It had certainly brought out goosebumps on
the rest of his naked skin. Once he warmed up maybe things might
look a little more appealing.

He had
been cold for long enough down in this hole, it was time to seek
warmth and a little comfort, to see what else Lonny’s life had to
offer. He took a few steps around the room to get the feel of
moving about in human form again. This body was big, bigger than
any he’d had before, and it would take a little getting used to,
but it would do … for the time being.

Picking
up Lonny’s identity badge he examined the details on it.

“
Lonny Dick. What an unfortunate name, my friend. I bet you
were the butt of many a jest, weren’t you?” he said. His voice
sounded oddly feeble after an age of neglect, and he cleared his
throat and swallowed saliva to lubricate it. He practised a few
words as he gathered up the hapless Lonny’s remains into a plastic
tarpaulin, adding the mighty wrench for ballast, and tied them up
with the makeshift leash.

While he
worked Euterich searched the memories he had transferred from
Lonny’s mind to find out why the man had been down in the equipment
dock last night all by himself. He found it easily enough - beer,
dope and hard core porn.

Lonny,
he discovered, was not quite the dim-witted imbecile people took
him for. Behind his façade of simple-mindedness lurked a devious
criminality. Not only had he managed to smuggle several dozen
bottles of strong lager aboard in one of the shipping containers,
and a plentiful supply of cannabis in his equipment bags, he also
imported a goodly crop of dirty magazines.

He also
had it in mind to systematically trawl every room he could,
whenever he had the chance, for anything he could purloin, to fence
when back onshore. Lonny Dick was nothing more than a dirty minded,
not so little, thief.

Last
night he had sneaked down here to indulge in a little secret
drinking and smoking, and have a furtive wank over naked airbrushed
females with plastic tits and shaved pussies. Crafty
bastard.

But why
here in the cold and dark of an equipment store? Why not in his
nice warm bunk? Because although it was a might uncomfortable, it
was safe, that’s why. In his cabin, jacking off was expected,
encouraged even, but drinking alcohol and smoking dope - two of the
most illegal substances likely to incite the wrath of both the
company and the law - would soon be sussed out, and if he got
caught it would be considered not far short of a hanging offence,
especially if he didn’t share.

A whiff
of his breath and a look in his eyes, bloodshot with pupils the
size of doorknobs, and Eddie ‘Up Your Arse’ Capstan would anoint
himself judge, jury and executioner. This new occupant of Lonny’s
body would have to be careful if he was to enjoy his recreations in
peace.

After using the lavatory for the purpose for which it was
intended, Euterich was now wearing Lonny’s skin and looking through
Lonny’s eyes, yet thinking with his own refreshed brain, stood
naked before the mirror over the basin in the washroom examining
his new features – he hadn’t had blue eyes for a while.

This
pair was set in a heavy uneven face, with a broad nose which looked
as if it might have been broken more than once. With full lips and
hooded lids he was far from handsome, but his well mauled
appearance gave him a distinct ‘don’t mess with me’
character.

He
turned his head from side to side to see all aspects and check his
profile, exaggerating a grin which would frighten a cougar. It
showed all his teeth. Not the dangerous needle-like dentition of
his natural form, or the gnawing blades of the rat, but small even
pegs. He moved his tongue over them, measuring out their
length.

They
would not be particularly efficient when it came to tearing through
flesh and bone, but they would suffice for tackling soft, bland,
human food.

The tip
of his tongue met roughness behind his left canine - a cavity, and
tasted the tang of metal - fillings.

“
Not your best choice,” he said, addressing the reflection.
“But beggars can’t be choosers.”

He put
on the big man’s clothes and boots, retrieved his gas detector and
ID lanyard, washed and dried his hands, ran his large fingers
through his close cropped blond hair, and headed back to the main
workshop.

Still
one last job to do before he could join the others and take Lonny’s
place among them. He dragged the plastic sheet containing Lonny’s
leftovers across the floor to the escape hatch, turned the handle
and heaved open the cover, easy now with these new strong muscles,
revealing the long drop to the pounding ocean below.

Fighting
off a wave of vertigo at the shifting mass tempting him to plummet
into it, he kicked the plastic wrapped bundle through the hole and
watched it drop into the water below.

Weighed
down with the metal tool, it should have sunk without a trace.
Instead, air caught in the folds of the tarpaulin formed it into a
bubble, keeping the package afloat to bob around like a bright
green man o’war, until a wave snatched it up and mashed it against
the support gantry.

Caught
in the current, time and again it crashed against the metal
skeleton until the lashing worked free and the contents spilled.
Freed from its load, the empty plastic sheet flattened out and
continued to ride the surface, each wave taking it further and
further away from the platform.

Euterich
had no worries. In as little as half an hour it would be out of
sight completely, and one more piece of plastic flotsam floating
around the world’s oceans would attract no undue attention. There
were no markings on the sheet to identify its source.

Satisfied his activities had gone unnoticed, he closed the
hatch. One of Lonny’s thoughts pushed itself forward. The group had
agreed on pancakes for breakfast, with maple syrup.

Although
his stomach still carried some of the savoury meal from the
previous evening, he rather fancied something sweet and was sure he
could fit some in. A couple more chores and he would be done -
dismantle the nest, clear up the latrine, generally tidy
up.

After a
final look around and satisfied he left no obvious clues to his six
week incarceration, Euterich stuffed Lonny’s small tin box into his
pocket, turned off the fan and the lights, and pushed the workshop
door closed behind him.

A little
heaving, straining and shoving, had the crates of engine parts back
in place. Well placed illuminated signs and the smell of salt air
led him to the door to the main deck, and outside. Fresh air and a
turn around the deck before breakfast would do his appetite a power
of good.