Brian Keene - Deluge - The Conqueror Worms II

When she woke the next morning, Gail sat up and stretched, slowly working out the aches and kinks that the thin mattress had given her. She longed for her bed back home, now underwater, and then her thoughts turned to other things from her past that were now submerged. Determined not to fall into a mood, she climbed out of her rack and got dressed.

Breakfast was a multivitamin, crackers, canned pears and sardines in olive oil. She’d hated sardines before the rain, and still did, but she ate them anyway, using the crackers to mop up the oily bits left on her plate. She sat in the galley with McCann, Ben, Caterina and Warren, all of whom, like her, were eating their meager breakfast before beginning their turn at watch. None of them spoke much, other than sporadic small talk. Ben read his newspaper, as he did every day. It was mildewed and wrinkled and torn, and much of the ink had smudged from the constant humidity. The headlines spoke of things that no longer mattered—wars and the economy and which Hollywood starlet was entering rehab. Gail had often considered asking Ben why he re-read it every day, but she suspected that she already knew the answer. It was a ritual; it provided him with a sense of normalcy in an otherwise fucked up world.

One-by-one, they finished eating and headed topside, stopping only long enough to put on their rain gear. Gail pulled a heavy, bright-yellow rubber slicker over her head and then grabbed a matching rubber rain hat. She wished the boat had some boots or waders that would fit her. Her feet invariably ended up getting wet on each shift. Each of them also selected a weapon for the day. Warren and Ben had handguns. Caterina was armed with a long spear fashioned from a tent pole. Gail had a machete. They also had two pair of binoculars. Gail took one pair. Ben took the other.

Gail followed the others up the ladder and walked through the hatch. The mist immediately hit her face. It was windy this morning, and the rain whipped across the deck. She glanced out over the rails and saw that much of the ocean was hidden beneath deep, swirling fog. Lynn, Paris, Morgan and Mylon filed past them, nodding in greeting before heading below deck to dry off and sleep.

Gail, Caterina, Warren and Ben each took a position along the rails. Gail and Warren went forward. Ben and Caterina went aft. McCann headed up to the bridge to relieve Riffle, who had been on duty all night. Once they were in position, they began another long, weary, miserable day of scanning the water, looking for any salvage, survivors or threats.

Gail stared out into the haze and shivered.

They were three hours into their shift, and the fog had mostly burned off, when Warren shouted a warning. He hadn’t been talkative this morning, and had brooded silently on his side of the vessel, leaving Gail to her own thoughts. She’d been staring up at the muted silver sun and trying to remember what its rays had felt like on her skin before the rain started, when he yelled. She turned toward him, instantly alert.

“Give me the binoculars!”

She crossed the slippery deck and handed them to him. Warren brought them to his eyes, looked starboard, and then handed them to her.

“There,” he said, pointing. “Do you see it?”

Gail squinted, adjusting the binoculars until the object became clear. On the horizon was a massive, grayish-black shape. From this distance, she couldn’t tell for sure what it was—perhaps a hillside or a mountaintop? The formation was roughly half the length of a football field in size, and utterly devoid of buildings, trees or grass. The surface looked firm and smooth. It was also slightly bulbous and had what appeared to be a small dome in its center.

“What is it?” Gail asked.

“An island?” Warren took the binoculars back from her. “Or maybe the top of a water tower or a grain silo or something. I’m not sure. Looks pretty sturdy. The waves aren’t topping it. Maybe we should check it out.”

They hollered for the others and all four of them regrouped on the bridge, and Warren and Gail reported what they’d seen. Novak was present, as well. He’d brought a thermos of instant coffee for those on watch.

“Was just getting ready to hand it out,” he said, yawning. “But screw it. Go ahead and help yourselves now, while I take a look.”

Using the bridge’s binoculars, he peered out over the ocean, studying the land mass. He was quiet for a long time. Gail and the others sipped the hot coffee and waited in silence. After a few minutes, Novak lowered the binoculars and turned to McCann.

“Take us in,” he ordered, “but go slow. Can’t tell if there’s any debris around it or not, but I don’t want to take any chances. If we bottom out on something, that little island is gonna be our final resting place.”

“We’re going to land?” Ben asked.

“Sure,” Novak answered. “Might as well investigate. Can’t tell much from here, but there could be useful stuff we can scavenge. And I think we could all do with standing on dry land, even if only for a little while.”

“Except that it’s not exactly dry,” Gail said.

Novak frowned. “Beggars can’t be fucking choosers. Let’s go have a look.”

CHAPTER 34

McCann gripped the controls tightly as he piloted them toward the formation. Gail noticed that his complexion had paled. Sweat and rainwater ran down his forehead and face. His knuckles were white, his arms stiff.

He’s scared, she thought. And so am I.

At Novak’s request, Warren went below decks to wake up some of the others and form a landing party. Ben and Caterina returned to their lookout positions. Deciding it best to let McCann focus on the task at hand, Gail glanced around the bridge and found herself alone. Novak had walked back out on the deck and was standing at the rail, studying the island intently through the binoculars. The boat rocked over a sudden, particularly strong swell, nearly knocking all of them off their feet, but Novak didn’t seem to notice. His attention remained focused on the mysterious mass. Clutching her coffee, which was now lukewarm, Gail inched her way across the slippery deck and tapped his shoulder.

“Anything different?”

He shrugged, lowering the binoculars, and turned to face her. “Nothing. Can’t figure out what it is. I don’t think it’s metal or wood. Guess we’ll know soon enough. Here. Have a look.”

He handed her the binoculars and held her coffee while Gail peered at the structure. She squinted, straining to make out any details, but the lenses were fogged and mist and rain swirled around the mass. She handed them back to Novak and accepted her coffee in return.

“Are you sure about this?”

Novak shrugged again. “No. But it’s like I said last night—we’re running low on fuel, food and clean water, not to mention other things. If there’s anything to be scavenged off this island, then it’s worth the risk, if only because we won’t be fishing it out of the ocean like usual.”

“But if there’s danger—the shark-men or maybe more of those flying fish, is it worth it?”

“If we worry about that, then we might as well all check out now. Quick death getting eaten by one of those fucking monsters or a slow death by starvation. Not much of a choice, is it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve made up your mind about our conversation from last night.”

Gail flinched, blinking rainwater from her eyes. “I’m not saying that. I’m just scared. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Nothing’s felt right for a while, Gail. It starts raining at the same time, all over the world, and doesn’t stop. Everything floods. Then the monsters come—giant worms and fungus creatures and fish with scales like razors and all kinds of other bullshit… none of that is right. Chances are this place won’t be either. But it’s not like we’re going ashore unarmed. If we can find supplies—if we can find anything —then it’s worth the risk.”