Frank Schatzing - The Swarm

'Sigur?' she called.

No answer.

'MacMillan?'

'Over here.'

Her feet touched the deck. She was up to her chest in water. Why now? She'd almost got hold of one of the bodies… Something prodded her shoulder and her hand whipped up. A boot – and inside it a leg.

'Karen?'

Johanson was somewhere close by. Little by little her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Without warning the emergency lighting flashed on, illuminating the laboratory with a red glow. She saw the outline of Johanson's head protruding from the water. 'This way!' she called. 'I need a hand.'

A dull roar came from above as well as below. The lab was getting warmer. Johanson appeared beside her.

'Who is it?'

'No idea. Just help me shift it.'

'We've got to get out,' MacMillan said breathlessly. 'Hurry.'

'We're just coming, we're-'

'Hurry!'

Weaver's eyes were drawn to the far end of the lab.

A faint blue glow.

Then a flash.

She tightened her grip on the body and fought through the water to the door. Johanson had the dead man's arm. Or was it a woman? Weaver prayed that it wasn't poor Sue. She trod on something that slid away to one side. Her head disappeared under water.

Eyes wide she stared into the darkness. Something was snaking towards her. It bore down on her rapidly like a long, glittering eel. No, not an eel. More like an enormous headless worm. And it wasn't alone.

Her head shot up. 'Let's get out of here.'

Johanson yanked at the corpse. Below the surface a tangle of swarming tentacles had appeared. MacMillan raised his gun. Weaver felt something slide past her ankle.

In a flash, feelers were winding themselves round her body, crawling upwards. She tore at them, trying to prise them off. Then Johanson was beside her, digging his fingers under the tentacles, but he might as well have been trying to free her from an anaconda.

The creature was pulling her backwards.

Creature? It wasn't one creature she was fighting but billions. Billions and billions of amoebas.

'It's no good!' Johanson gasped.

The jelly slid over her chest, and she was pushed back under the water. The glow was brighter now. At the far end of the tentacles a large mass was approaching. The main body of the organism.

She fought to the surface. 'MacMillan,' she gurgled.

The soldier raised his gun.

'It's no use shooting,' screamed Johanson. 'It won't help.'

All of a sudden MacMillan seemed calm. He took aim, keeping his sights on the mass of jelly as it moved through the water. 'Oh, this'll help, all right,' he said.

There was a dry staccato sound as he fired.

'This always helps.'

The volley pierced the organism. Water sprayed in all directions. MacMillan fired a second round, and the creature was blasted to shreds. Clumps of jelly whirled through the air. Suddenly Weaver was free. Johanson grasped the body, and together they pulled it frantically through the water, picking up speed as the water level sank. The ship was tilting more drastically than ever now, prompting most of the water to collect at the bow end of the lab. The area around the door was almost dry. They hurried up the slope, careful not to slip, until suddenly the water was only ankle deep.

They heaved the body out on to the ramp. Weaver was almost sure she'd heard a muffled cry.

'MacMillan?'

She stuck her head back around the door. 'MacMillan? Where are you?'

The glowing organism was aggregating again. There was no sign of tentacles. The creature was now a flat sheet.

'Close the door,' Johanson shouted. 'It could still get out. There's water everywhere.'

'MacMillan?'

Weaver gripped the doorframe and stared into the room, but the soldier was gone. He hadn't made it.

A thin, glowing tendril approached. She leaped back and hit the switch for the door. The tendril rushed forward, but the door snapped shut.

Experiments

Anawak had been climbing down a companion way when the blast rocked the boat. Now his breath was coming in gasps and his knee hurt. He swore. He'd had trouble with that knee ever since the crash in the seaplane, and then Vanderbilt had kicked it.

The only way to the well deck now was via the vehicle ramp leading down from the hangar bay. He turned and went up until he was on the right level to get to the ramp. It got steadily warmer as he ascended. What was happening up there? He stumbled on to the hangar deck and saw thick black smoke pouring through the gateways from the elevators.

Suddenly he heard someone calling for help.

He took a few steps into the hangar. 'Is anyone there?' he shouted.

It was hard to see anything: the pale yellow lights weren't strong enough to penetrate the dark smoke. But he could hear the voice clearly now.

It was Crowe.

'Sam?' Anawak ran part-way through the sooty cloud. He stopped to listen. 'Sam? Where are you?'

No answer.

He waited for a moment, then turned and ran towards the ramp. He didn't notice until too late that it was now as steep as a chute. His legs gave way and he thudded downwards, praying that at least some of the syringes would survive. At the bottom, he splashed into a pool of water that cushioned his fall. He shook himself, crawled out on all fours and saw Weaver and Johanson walking away from the lab, dragging a body in the direction of the well deck.

Ahead, the floor was covered with a thin film of water.

Of course! The basin had been full of water, which was now streaming into the passageway. If the ship tilted any further this whole compartment would flood.

They had to hurry.

'I've got the syringes,' he shouted after them.

Johanson glanced round. 'About time.'

'Who've you got?' Anawak ran to catch up with them, and looked down at the body.

Rubin.

Flight Deck

Crouched at the far end of the roof Crowe watched the island go up in smoke.

A man with Pakistani features was lying next to her, shaking all over and dressed in a cook's uniform. Either they were the only ones to have run in this direction, or no one else had made it. The man coughed and sat up.

'This is what happens when intelligent species disagree,' Crowe told him.

He stared at her as though she had three heads.

Crowe sighed. She'd run to a spot directly above the starboard-side elevator. Below them was the opening to the hangar deck. She'd called over the side a few times, but no one had answered.

The boat was burning, and they were going to sink.

Maybe there were lifeboats somewhere on board, but they wouldn't be much use. Everything on a helicopter carrier was set up for people to be evacuated by air. And, anyway, even if they did find the lifeboats, they'd still need someone to lower them, and everyone who knew how to do so had vanished in the blaze.

Tarry black smoke drifted towards them. 'Have you got any cigarettes?' she asked.

She expected him to pronounce her completely insane, but instead he dug out a packet of Marlboros. 'They're Lights,' he explained.

'Oh, the healthy option…' Crowe smiled and inhaled as the cook put his lighter to the tip. 'Very sensible.'

Pheromones

'We'll squirt it into his tongue, his nose, his eyes and his ears,' said Weaver.

'Why?' asked Anawak.

'To give it a better chance of escaping.'

'In that case we should get some into his fingertips and toes. The more the better.'

The well deck was deserted. The technicians had fled. They undressed Rubin to his underpants, working as swiftly as they could, while Johanson filled Anawak's syringes with the pheromone. Rubin was laid out above the embankment. The water was only a few centimetres deep, but it was rising all the time. They'd removed the layers of jelly clinging to his head and flung them out of reach of the water. There was more inside his ears, which Anawak fished out.