William Meikle: Infestation

“Drop it,” Banks shouted.

At the same time, one of the large isopods barreled down the superstructure stairs, trailing fire. McCally and Banks didn’t hesitate; they emptied their mags into it, then had to jump as the lifeboat tumbled out into empty air. The isopod reached for them, with limbs that looked like arms of fire.

The men landed hard but now both Svetlanova and Hynd had stood, taken aim, and aimed another volley at the beast. It hung on the edge of the deck for a long second then fell forward, hitting the water a second after the boat did. It sank with the hiss of extinguishing flame, then was gone behind them as the motor bit in the water and they surged forward.

The bung Hynd had shoved into the hole started to come loose almost immediately, water pouring in at the edges of the hole. Svetlanova had time for one look toward the dark shadow marking the harbor, far too far away, then had to deploy the bucket.

Hynd came beside her and used the mop to try to keep the bung in place. It helped but not much. She noticed as she bailed there was a sheen, oily and thick, on the water she was bailing and she smelled it as she threw a bucketful overboard; diesel.

The bottom of the lifeboat filled faster, much faster, than she could bail.

Banks struggled with the tiller, trying to keep the lifeboat in a straight line and heading for the harbor. The vessel wallowed heavy in the water and every so often the outboard propeller would hit a chunk of thicker slush or ice and the whole frame would lurch and shudder, the prow splashing hard in seas high in a swell from the previous storm. McCally stood beside him, looking back at the boat they’d abandoned.

“The fires are out, Cap. And I can’t see any beasties.”

“Well, there’s that to be thankful for anyway.”

In front of him in the lifeboat, Svetlanova and Hynd tried to keep the influx of water to a minimum but Banks knew it was a losing battle; cold water already pooled at his feet and he felt the ice bite through his boots. He pulled down his night vision glasses and looked over the bailers’ heads to the shore beyond. They were definitely closing, even as the abandoned cargo boat behind them kept coming at their rear, a slow, painfully slow race to the small dock at the settlement’s harbor.

The water grew even choppier as they got closer to shore. White-topped waves crashed against the pebbles ahead; he heard the rattle of them, even above the outboard. The tiller bucked in his hand, threatening to tear out of his grasp. The fight against the influx of water wasn’t going well either and icy slush lapped almost up to Bank’s ankles. The weight of water in the bottom of the lifeboat helped to stabilize it somewhat but it was cancelled out by the fact they were now definitely sinking. Banks turned the engine to full throttle, aimed it straight at the rocky shore and prayed.

They hit the bottom five yards from shore with a shudder, tearing the outboard off the back and threatening to tip them all over completely. A wave caught them and moved them a yard closer, then threatened to suck them back out again as it receded.

“All ashore who are going ashore,” Banks shouted and then was out of the boat and wading thigh deep in freezing cold sea, making his balls shrink and his legs turn to stone that had to be forced into movement for every inch to be made toward dry land. Another wave hit, almost knocking him over, then the backwash tugged hard at him. By the time he hauled himself up the small slope, fighting the surge and wash of pebbles underfoot, he felt like he’d run five miles in full gear.

The other three hauled themselves out to join him. They all looked to be as soaked and exhausted as he felt but he knew they couldn’t afford to stand still; they’d be dead in minutes.

“Keep moving,” he said. “We need to get to shelter and try to get some heat into us. Double time, head up to yon house with the big garage.”

He turned to start running but McCally shouted as his back.

“We’ve got problems, Cap.”

He turned to look. The huge black keel of the cargo boat loomed offshore, the tear at the water line clearly visible, made prominent by the fact blue luminescence shimmered all around it, a blue quickly spreading into the surrounding waters. Far from killing all the beasts, it looked like all they’d succeeded in doing was stirring more into action.

“Get off the shore,” Banks shouted. “Maybe they won’t be interested in us.”

They retreated, fighting the loose pebbles, climbing up the short incline to the shore track, then back farther, quickly past the burned-out remains at the harbor.

Banks risked a look back as they reached the driveway of the large house; the beasts were already swarming again, pouring out of the keel and into the water. Up on the deck of the cargo boat that now dominated the small harbor, a new blue aurora swelled and grew. Something came up and out of the hold; something bigger than anything they’d seen so far; an isopod so tall its head reached the top deck of the superstructure. It shimmered blue along its whole length and smaller pieces of blue fell off it in droves; pieces scurrying and skittering all over the deck where they landed.

It’s giving birth.

“They’re still coming, Cap,” McCally said.

A horde of isopods washed off the deck and into the water, filling the harbor area, a blue carpet clambering over each other on their haste to get at them.

“Shit,” Banks muttered. “The phone. I forgot to switch off the bloody phone.”

Svetlanova heard the captain mutter and saw him fumble, hands too cold for the task, at his jacket, trying to get at the inside pocket.

She remembered the burnings; the ship’s captain pouring kerosene down the rig, the other captain lighting the oil on the deck, and the red glare of the blazing flare.

She turned to Hynd and, before the sarge had time to complain, pulled one of the flares from his webbing belt.

“The water. It’s full of diesel,” she said, already turning away and pulling the string on the flare.

She ran forward three steps and threw it, a high and handsome arc toward the harbor. Hynd had seen her plan immediately and a second flare blazed only two seconds after hers, both of them falling into the harbor, right among the shimmering blue.

“Everybody down,” Hynd shouted and pushed Svetlanova to the ground, lying almost on top of her. She was only able to turn her head but it was enough to see the result.

The harbor went up first, a wall of orange flame flash-frying the isopods and eating them away even as it sped across the open sea and took hold around the rent in the cargo ship’s hull. The huge isopod on the deck screamed as the small ones burned and popped, then it too took hold, fire washing up and around the superstructure.

The whole boat went up with a muffled crump. A wave of heat blew across the harbor as the boat collapsed in on itself and the isopods burned.

It was some time before Hynd moved to let her stand.

The cargo boat still burned outside the harbor but the seas around were now dark, with no sign of any blue shimmer.

Banks stood above them as they got up, with the phone in his hand.

“It’s still on. If there’s any of them left, we’ll know soon enough.”

They waited for minutes but there was only the burning boat.

“Good enough,” Banks said. “Let’s get some shelter before we freeze our bollocks off.”

They were inside the large house, with a propane heater going full blast, when they heard the sound of approaching aircraft. They watched from the porch as two bomb runs passed over where the rig had been and the water rose each time in a huge bubble of foaming water. There was no sign of any blue.