Brian Keene - Deluge - The Conqueror Worms II

“Well done, shedding our opponent’s blood, Mr. McCann. This will prove useful.”

McCann nodded. “Whatever you say, Simon.”

“Indeed. It’s not whatever, I say, though. What I say next must be very specific.”

He moved to the opening and began chanting. Again, Gail tried to identify the language, but she couldn’t. As he spoke, Simon hurriedly painted symbols on the walls, using the monster’s blood as ink. Outside, the creature raged. Then, with a mighty splash, it vanished beneath the waves. Panting, Simon whipped his wet bangs from his eyes, looked at them, and grinned.

“It won’t bother us anymore.”

“I’ve gotta tell you,” Novak said, “that was some Gandalf-style shit, Simon. What did you do?”

“I prevented it from crossing the threshold. It can’t harm us or the building. The same can’t be said of its brethren, however, so I suggest that we spend the rest of the night in one of the other rooms. Agreed?”

The three of them nodded. Then they started down the hall. Gail had only taken three steps when her vision began to blur. She felt Novak grip her arm. He said something to her, but his voice was muted and she couldn’t hear him.

Then the world went dark.

CHAPTER 58

When Gail awoke again, she panicked, convinced that the monster had her in its clutches once more. She sat up, gasping for breath and glancing around. Novak smiled at her.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay. Must have been one hell of a nightmare.”

“I don’t remember. Was I dreaming?”

“You were talking in your sleep. I assumed you must have been dreaming.”

“I thought…” Gail yawned. “Never mind. I don’t want to think about it. What time is it?”

Novak shrugged. “Who knows? Your guess is as good as mine. That bothers me sometimes—not knowing. Like the dates. I wish we’d kept track of days on a calendar. I’d like to know what day it is. Hate to think we’ll miss Christmas or Halloween, and never know it.”

“You seem like you’re feeling better.”

“I am. How about you?”

“I’m okay. Hungry. I could go for some more rat.” Gail paused. “God, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“I can,” Novak replied. “That rat was fucking tasty.”

She grinned. “Tastes like chicken?”

“Hell, no. It tasted like a rat. But it was better than nothing.”

“Where’s Simon and McCann?”

Novak pointed. “Out front. Surprisingly, the boat is still there. That thing last night didn’t destroy it. But the tentacles bashed a few holes in it. McCann is patching it up now. Making sure it’ll stay afloat. Simon is standing guard while he does.”

“He’s a handy guy to have around,” Gail said. “Do you trust him?”

“After what happened when we went to the island… fish… whatever the hell it was, I don’t trust anybody. They fucking abandoned us. But at this point, I don’t think we have a choice but to trust Simon. He saved us last night. That’s gotta count for something.”

“He could have been saving himself.”

“I considered that,” Novak said, “but he could have just retreated deeper into the building. He didn’t. He was the first one to run forward. He was trying to pull you free before McCann and I even got moving. I think he—”

The conversation ended abruptly as Simon and McCann entered the room. Simon smiled at Gail when he saw that she was awake. He knelt beside her.

“I’d like to examine your ankle, if that’s okay?”

“Sure.” She nodded.

Simon gently pulled her pants leg up and stared intently at the bruises the tentacle had left behind. His expression was neutral, but Gail got the impression that he was concerned.

“Are you experiencing any dizziness?” Simon asked. “Hearing voices other than your own? Or suffering from extreme thirst?”

“No. Why? What do you think I have, Simon? What aren’t you telling me? You didn’t touch the monster last night. You used your suit coat. What’s going on?”

He smiled again. “Nothing is going on. That’s the good news. I was worried that you might have contracted the White Fuzz after last night’s attack, but if you had, you’d be showing signs of infection by now.”

“Is that how it spreads?” Novak asked. “By touching these things?”

“I’m not sure how it is transmitted,” Simon admitted. “I don’t think anyone else is, either. The two biggest theories are that it was spread by the worms or by the rain. But nobody – at least nobody I’ve encountered – knows for certain. In any case, the good news is that Gail doesn’t have it.”

McCann cleared his throat. “The other good news is that the boat is seaworthy. I vote we get the hell out of here. I was all for staying. It’s semi-dry and beats the hell out of floating around out there, but after last night…”

“I agree,” Novak said. “Sooner we leave, the quicker we can get to this doorway. Gail?”

Grunting, she got to her feet and nodded. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 59

They spent the next two hours meticulously searching the rest of the building, scavenging the wreckage for whatever meager supplies they could find. Most items were water-damaged or covered with mildew and mold. Gail was relieved that the mold was of the old-fashioned black variety, rather than the White Fuzz. One office closet held a janitor’s uniform and a raincoat, both of which Simon donned. Novak was able to fashion some crude oars by tearing apart a set of prefabricated bookshelves. Food and water were scarce, except for a lone can of garbanzo beans, a few bottles of water, some energy drinks, and an unopened bag of pretzel sticks. Weapons were more plentiful, although McCann was unable to find bullets for the gun he’d discovered during his previous search. They discovered a variety of knives and other edged weaponry—letter openers, utility knives, box-cutters and even an ornamental sword that had hung on the wall inside one office. The sword’s blade was dull and tarnished, but McCann brought it along anyway, telling the others even a dull sword was better than no sword at all.

When they had salvaged anything that might prove useful, they loaded up the boat and departed. McCann and Gail took the first turn at the oars, while Simon sat in the stern and Novak lounged at the bow.

“How are those oars working?” Novak asked.

“You did a good job,” McCann said. “They’ll suffice. Until they fall apart, at least.”

Gail felt her mood shift from hopeful to depressed once she was back out in the rain again. Although the office building had been damp inside, it had provided a brief reprieve from the constant feel of water droplets pelting her skin. Then again, she thought as she watched the half-submerged structure fade into the mist, the building had also almost been the death of them all. Not that the sea was any better. It wasn’t. Gail knew that. She seriously doubted they’d ever make it to this gateway Simon had mentioned, if indeed such a thing even existed. They were especially vulnerable in their current craft and their physical and emotional state. It was only a matter of time before something in the water made a meal out of them.

She gritted her teeth and rowed harder, wondering then why they were bothering to continue. Why keep trying if the grim end was already foretold? She couldn’t speak for the others, but Gail knew why she kept going? Because she lacked the courage for the alternative. She thought back to Novak’s suggestion of… how long had it been… had it really only been a few days ago? He’d wanted the group to take a vote on whether or not they should assist each other in a mass suicide. She turned to him, studying the older man as he gazed out on the waves, and wondered if he still felt that was a viable option.