Brian Keene - Deluge - The Conqueror Worms II

“Easy,” Novak hollered. “What the hell, McCann? You trying to bottom us out?”

“I can’t see shit out here. This fog’s like cream of mushroom soup.”

“You’ve gotta be more careful.”

McCann nodded, and then laid the oar across the bench. “Look on the bright side, boss. We’re here. Let’s check it out.”

CHAPTER 36

“Ladies first.” Grinning, Novak made a sweeping gesture.

“I don’t think so,” Gail said. “You should have the honor.”

“Yeah,” Lynn agreed. “After all, you’re leading this expedition. It’s only right you go first.”

Nodding, Novak stepped forward and onto the island. The boat rocked slightly. Gail went next, followed by Warren and then Lynn. McCann went last. He stood next to the boat with a rope in his hand.

“Don’t see anywhere to tie off, boss.”

“Is the current strong enough that you won’t be able to hold it?”

McCann shook his head.

“Standby then,” Novak said. “I think we’ll be alright. Just make sure you keep a good grip on that line. You let that boat float away, and we’ll eat you first.”

He tried to sound lighthearted and joking, but Gail noticed the edge in his voice. Novak was nervous. So was she.

They spread out and began slowly exploring the formation. The ferocity of the rain and the swirling mists hampered their visibility, and even now, standing atop the mass, Gail still couldn’t tell for sure what it was. The gray surface was hard like stone, but smooth and unmarred by cracks or fissures. Raindrops bounced and splattered against it, and pooled at their feet. As they’d seen from the ship, there were no buildings, trees or grass. Other than the strange hill in the middle, the island was utterly featureless. It was also larger than it had appeared to be from the ship. Gail knelt and placed her palm against the surface. It was warm and slick.

“What do you think, guys?” Warren asked. His voice sounded distorted in the fog.

Novak sighed. “I think we wasted a fucking trip. There’s nothing here.”

“Maybe we should try that hill?” Lynn motioned with her makeshift spear. “There could be something behind it, or maybe inside of it.”

“Might as well,” Novak agreed. “We’ve come this far.”

They shuffled forward, weapons held at the ready, but without conviction. Gail was about to stand up and join them, when the ground trembled slightly. She felt the vibration run through her palm and up her arm. She glanced up to see if any of the others had noticed, but their attention was focused on the hill.

From the shore, McCann called, “The waves are starting to get stronger.”

Novak turned around. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s picking up all of the sudden.”

Gail frowned. Could it be an earthquake? She grabbed her pistol and stood up. Novak was still facing her and McCann. Lynn and Warren were approaching the hill.

“There’s something here,” Lynn said.

They all looked to where she was pointing, and as they did, the hill opened up, looked at them with one giant, baleful black eye, and then blinked. The island shuddered beneath their feet. Screaming, Warren scampered backward. Gail was torn between running toward him and fleeing for the boat.

McCann gasped. “Holy shit!”

The eye opened again. Lynn, prodded by fear or panic, jabbed her spear forward, thrusting it into the orb.

“Don’t,” Novak shouted. “Let’s just—”

The island shivered, and then surged upward, knocking Gail, Warren and Novak off their feet. The handgun slipped from Gail’s grasp and slid away from her. She realized that it was plunging toward the water, and that she was suddenly clinging to a slippery slope. She scrabbled for a grip on the smooth surface, but her fingertips couldn’t find a purchase. Warren zipped past her, following the pistol’s trajectory.

Gail screamed, and then the island roared.

CHAPTER 37

“Do you see anything?”

Yawning, Mylon shook his head. He lowered the binoculars and pointed at the lenses. “Can’t see shit through these things. They’re all fogged over. Got anything dry I can wipe them with?”

Riffle laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I can’t remember the last time I had something dry.”

“I dream about it sometimes. It’s funny. Before the rain started, I used to dream about other stuff. Food, mostly. And sex. But these days, I just dream about being dry. And warm.”

Nodding, Riffle peered through the haze, trying to catch a glimpse of Novak and the others. The mist had grown thicker since their departure, and the rain fell harder. The island was still visible, but the small boat had disappeared from sight. He felt uneasy. Granted, he usually felt that way all day long in this new world, but now the feeling was amplified.

“I hope they’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Mylon said, raising the binoculars again. “I hope so, too. I reckon they will be. Novak’s a tough son of a bitch.”

Riffle grinned. “That he is. I remember when I first met him, he—”

A scream cut him off. Mylon sat the binoculars down and both men ran out onto the deck. They skidded to a halt. Paris knelt by the rail. Morgan stood overtop of her. He clutched a pistol in one hand and Paris’s hair in the other. He yanked her head back, forcing her to cry out again. Ben stood next to them, armed with a rifle. He appeared anxious and sick, almost as if he were going to vomit.

“What the fuck?” Riffle yelled.

“I’m sorry,” Paris sobbed. “They didn’t give me a—”

“Shut up.” Morgan pulled her hair again, and then pointed the handgun at her head.

“Where did you get those guns?” Riffle asked, staring at them in disbelief.

“Your boss man is slipping,” Morgan said. “He told us to stow them again and then sailed off to Fantasy Island—after threatening to toss me over the side. I guess I forgot to lock mine up again. Oops.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Morgan?” Mylon took a step toward him. “What is this?”

“It’s a mutiny. And if you come any closer, I’m going to decorate the deck with this girl’s brains.”

The rain fell on them all. Paris sobbed. Riffle and Mylon froze, their hands in the air. Ben’s eyes darted from the two of them to Morgan and then back again. The rifle shook in his hands.

“Okay,” Riffle said, his voice low. “Look… you guys don’t need to do this. Ben, come on, dude. This isn’t you.”

“I don’t want to die,” Ben said. “Novak’s gone crazy, Riffle. All that talk about suicide pacts? He needs to step down.”

“And you’re gonna put Morgan in charge instead?” Mylon’s tone was incredulous. “Listen to yourself, man!”

Morgan released Paris and prodded her with his foot. “Get over there with the others.”

Still sobbing, Paris crawled across the slippery deck. Riffle reached out a hand and helped her to her feet. She clung to him, shivering.

“Now,” Morgan said. “We need to figure out where everyone stands. Tatiana and Caterina are below, sound asleep. It’s just us. Believe it or not, we’re doing this for your own good. It’s like Ben just said, Novak isn’t fit for command of this vessel. All we want to do is relieve him of duty. The question is, where do you stand on that?”

“You know where McCann and I stand on that, you son of a bitch.”

Morgan nodded. “I expected as much. Both of you are loyal to a fault. How about you, Mylon? Want to join the winning team?”

“I’d rather chug gasoline and then piss on a campfire. I ain’t throwing in with you.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Morgan,” Riffle said. “Think about this. If you kill me and McCann and Novak, who’s going to pilot the boat? You need us.”