Pressure Read online

  “What’s so funny?” Carrie bristled.

  “I said the carcass was there if you still needed it. But I do not think you will.”

  Carrie frowned in confusion.

  “I was playing a joke on you,” Takenaka explained. “I wanted to see if you would really go down there. I have to admit, I am impressed. But I am happy to say, you won’t need to do anything so extreme.”

  “Why not?”

  “Remember, Anderson, I only care about my payday, and there’s still the matter of the bonus I was promised for helping you obtain what you seek. While you have been here with your friend, my men have been hard at work, making sure that will happen. Follow me.”

  He led her to the portside of the ship. Abhi trailed along behind them, rushing to catch up. As they walked, Carrie noticed Takenaka flexing his hands and occasionally shaking his arms at his sides, as if they’d gone numb.

  “Are you working on a heart attack, Captain?”

  “Eh?” He turned to her, frowning. “No. My arm is just a little numb. That’s all. I think it was the recoil from my harpoon gun. It’s a heavy weapon.”

  As they walked, Takenaka paused several times to quickly confer with members of the crew, listening to damage reports and estimates. This allowed Abhi time to catch up with them, as well. His complexion was gray, and he seemed subdued.

  “Are you okay?” Carrie whispered to him.

  He nodded, but she noticed that his expression was slack, and his eyes had a faraway, hollow look.

  “I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Stop worrying about me. I’m just tired. In the last two days I’ve been on two separate boats that got attacked by monsters. It leaves an old man winded.”

  “Well,” Takenaka said, dismissing a sailor and turning back to them, “we won’t be winning any races. One of our engines is blown. The communication system also seems to be down, along with a few other things. But we’ll make it to shore.”

  “That’s good,” Carrie replied.

  “Of course, the repairs this job cost me are going to eat up the pay I earned, so, lucky for us both we have your bonus.”

  Carrie’s eyes went wide in surprise. “You have a poison gland?”

  “Not quite, but…”

  He motioned to the side of the ship where a group of mercenaries was raising a massive net they’d used to trawl the surface with, grabbing debris. The net bulged, full of pieces of the dead creature. Arms, legs, tentacles, and more jutted from between the netting, dripping onto the deck. When they had maneuvered it into position, the sailors released the contents, spilling assorted body parts into a great, steaming pile. The stench was horrific.

  “Perhaps what you are looking for is in there?” Takenaka asked.

  Carrie nodded. She had to admit to herself, however begrudgingly, that he was probably right.

  “Yes,” she said, “I suspect it might be.”

  “Good. This pleases me.” He flexed his hand again, obviously still feeling some discomfort.

  “Do you have a pair of work gloves?” she asked.

  “No.” Takenaka shook his head. “But I can have one of my crew muster a pair up for you. It might take a few minutes.”

  “That’s okay. I’d rather get this done quickly. I can improvise.” She turned to a nearby mercenary. “Give me your shirt.”

  Grinning, the man did as ordered. A few other sailors watched, clearly bemused, but none of them dared to comment or joke about it. Perhaps it was the expression on her face, or maybe they were just still shook up from the battle. If they had made a snide comment at that moment, Carrie was fairly certain she’d have knocked the offender overboard. She stretched the shirt out over her hands, noticing as she did that they were still tingling. Then, using the cloth for protection, she began sorting through the limbs, searching for what she needed. After a few moments, she found a segment of one of the thing’s arms with barbs that looked just like the poison pod that had been in Paolo’s leg. She tugged, trying to free it from the pile, but the cracked limb held fast, leaking noxious fluid onto the shirt. Bracing her feet, she gritted her teeth and pulled harder.

  “Here,” Abhi said, taking hold alongside her. “Let me help you, Carrie.”

  They started to pull again when Abhi gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” Carrie asked. “The smell?”

  “No, not that. Look. There’s a man in that pile, and he’s still alive!”

  Carrie looked at where he pointed, but all she saw were the creature’s burned and battered appendages.

  “I don’t see anything, Abhi.”

  Blinking, he shook his head. “Oh … Oh, I … I must have…”

  Carrie glanced down at the blood on her shirt and on Abhi’s hands. More blood covered their shoes. And the deck. And the captain’s clothing. And the crew. The entire front end of the ship had been splattered in blood and gore.

  Takenaka stood with his back to the rail, watching them disinterestedly. A group of mercenaries approached him. One of them carried an open bottle of rum. He handed it to the captain. Smiling, Takenaka tilted his head back and took a big swig, leaving bloody fingerprint smudges on the glass bottle.

  His hands, Carrie realized. Takenaka’s hands and arms were numb. He thought it was from the harpoon gun, but it wasn’t. My hands are going numb, too. And his behavior since the explosion. He’s not just being a dick. It’s the blood. The ship is covered in neurotoxins.

  “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, and clambered to her feet. “Abhi, listen to me very carefully.”

  “Hang on,” he whispered, rolling his eyes. “El Capitán is about to say something. I’m sure we don’t want to miss this.”

  Still leaning with his back against the rail, Takenaka raised the bottle, addressing the assembled crew members.

  “Good job tonight, men! Most of you have been with me a long time, and because of that, you know we’ve been in some tough situations before. I don’t think any of us ever expected what we saw here. I certainly didn’t. But despite that, you handled yourselves well. Most of you did, at least. Sanderson, you shit your pants, judging by the stain on your rear end.”

  The mercenary crew erupted in laughter, except for the unfortunate Sanderson, who, Carrie noticed, had indeed soiled himself.

  “Anyway,” Takenaka continued with the bottle still raised, “we beat those things back into the water. We were contracted to kill one, and we killed one. Nobody said anything about a second target, so I’m not concerned that it’s still out there. If our employers wish, they can pay us double and we’ll come back for it. I’ll meet with them in the morning. Each of you have been given your advance, so have fun when we hit port, but not too much. We may have to go back out tomorrow. I want each of you ready to muster at oh-nine hundred. In the meantime, here’s to—uck”

  His body stiffened, his mouth gaped, and his eyes went wide. The bottle of rum slipped from his hand and shattered on the deck, spraying the crew’s boots with broken glass. Takenaka glanced down as a red splotch appeared in the center of his shirt and rapidly expanded. A second later, the tip of a barbed claw burst from his abdomen, flexing and swiveling around, sawing back and forth, making the wound wider.

  Shouting, the mercenaries backed away in horror as the captain was lifted off the deck. Takenaka opened his mouth to shout, but a great stream of blood bubbled from his lips. He tried grasping the jutting appendage with his blood-slicked fingers, but to no avail. Screaming, he pounded at it with his fists. The scar on his face seemed to turn crimson for a moment. The claw flexed, and then opened, ripping Takenaka apart. Part of him fell into the ocean. The other two sections slopped onto the deck with a wet thud. His eyes seemed to stare directly at Carrie, and for a brief moment she wondered if he was still alive.

  As if in answer, Takenaka’s lips moved. A bubble of blood formed on them.

  Carrie screamed.

  Then, pandemonium consumed them all.

  The mercenaries scattered in all directions. Some returned with w
eapons and took up defensive positions. Others fled beneath decks or ducked behind equipment, cowering and shouting in blind panic. Carrie realized that their reactions were exacerbated by the toxic effect the creature’s blood seemed to be having on them. While it was diluted enough to not impact them with its full, hallucinatory and calming effects, it had altered their behavior nevertheless, as had the fear that now drove them.

  The creature splashed back down into the ocean, drenching Carrie, Abhi, and the few mercenaries who had remained at their side. Takenaka’s remains ran in bloody rivulets across the coarse, pitted deck. Abhi turned to run but slipped on a loop of intestines and fell, sprawling. Gritting his teeth, he sat up. Carrie noticed that he’d scraped his cheek and one of his palms, but Abhi seemed unconcerned.

  Noticing that her arms were growing more numb, Carrie helped Abhi to his feet and held him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly.

  “Are you with me, Abhi?”

  He frowned in confusion. “I’m standing right here.”

  “No, I mean are you hallucinating? Are you with me?”

  He nodded slowly. “I’m okay.”

  “Good. Do you think you can pilot this ship?”

  He stuck out his chest and drew himself up to his full height. “You should know better than to ask me something like that. I can pilot anything.”

  “Then get up to the bridge and take the helm. Head inland, while we still can.”

  “It’s going to be tough with only one engine left. If I push it too hard—”

  “Figure out a way,” Carrie interrupted.

  “What about you? What are you going to do?”

  She pointed at the pile of severed, burned limbs. “I still have to get that poison gland, or all of this is going to have been for nothing. Soon as I have it, I’ll find you. I promise. Now go!”

  Nodding, Abhi turned and ran for the ladder leading up to the bridge. He weaved back and forth, teetering a few times as the ship rolled, but managed to keep his balance.

  Carrie glanced around the rocking ship, looking for a weapon or tool she could use to cut into the body part. She found a discarded screwdriver and a hacksaw within reach.

  “Perfect.”

  She retrieved them both, noticing with distaste that the screwdriver handle was sticky with blood, and then went to work on the appendage, cutting and prying the section with the barbs and the poison gland from the rest of the meat and shell. It was hard, disgusting work, made more difficult by the side effects of the toxin and the chaos all around her. Steam rose from the pile, seeming to glitter in the air. Carrie squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them a second later, the sparkles were gone.

  “Well, at least it’s not butterflies or exploding seahorses this time.”

  She felt the ship roll slowly, and then settle, and knew that Abhi had reached the controls. She wondered then where the creature had gone. Judging by its smaller—but no less formidable—size, she figured it was the one she and Paolo had previously encountered. It probably wasn’t big enough to swamp the boat the way the other one had attempted to do, but obviously it could reach the upper decks with its multiple appendages. But it seemed to have disappeared. All around her, the sailors appeared to be slowly coming to the same conclusion.

  Several mercenaries of various nationalities approached her curiously. They were armed with an assortment of harpoons, boathooks, and edged weapons—hatchets, fire axes, and even a tarnished meat cleaver.

  “What are you doing, lady?” The sailor spoke with a thick Nigerian accent.

  “I’m operating.” She continued prying at the leg with her screwdriver. “This thing is why we came out here.”

  “I thought we were hired to kill the monster,” another man said.

  “You were,” Carrie admitted. “And you did. But this little thing right here is what they were paying you the bonus for.”

  “Bonus?” The first mercenary frowned. “The Captain said nothing about a bonus.”

  “Maybe he was going to keep it for himself,” Carrie suggested, working the tip of the screwdriver beneath the gland. She saw that it was protected by a pink, leathery sheath. “But he’s gone now, so I don’t see why the rest of you shouldn’t keep the bonus for yourselves. Right?”

  She looked up at them and casually blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. The mercenaries glanced at one another. Slowly, they began to smile.

  “You should come work with us,” a man said, grinning. Two gold teeth glinted in his mouth. “You think like we do.”

  Carrie returned the smile. “Maybe I will, if this job doesn’t work out.”

  “Do you always go around without your shirt on?”

  Groaning, Carrie rolled her eyes. “See? You had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”

  The engine suddenly made a grating noise that reminded Carrie of when she’d been a kid, and would roll up a sheet of paper and thrust it into the blades of the fan in her bedroom window during the summer. The ship’s speed, already sluggish due to having only one operable engine, noticeably slowed.

  The bridge hatch slammed open and a crewman emerged, waving his arms and shouting something. Carrie couldn’t hear him from this distance, but the man was clearly agitated.

  “The engine,” his cry echoed. “The engine!”

  She realized immediately what had happened. This new attack on the boat had taken on a different complexion, as if the creature had learned what the ship used to propel itself through the water. It was going after the remaining engine. And given their previously displayed heedlessness for injuries to themselves, she could only imagine that the creature wouldn’t stop until it—or its prey—was dead.

  Carrie jumped to her feet, and got the mercenary crew’s attention.

  “Anyone with a boathook or a harpoon, or rifle, get aft and protect that engine! The creature is trying to damage it. If you have a rifle, be careful where you aim. You don’t want to do the creature’s job for it. Go!”

  They hesitated for a split second, and Carrie held her breath. Then, as one, they rushed off to defend the engine, following her orders without question.

  “Carrie Anderson,” she muttered, blowing a lock of hair from her eyes. “World-class free diver, respected oceanographer, and now captain of a mercenary pirate crew. I bet Mom would be proud.”

  “You think you’re so smart,” her mother sneered.

  Carrie closed her eyes. “She’s not there. She’s dead.”

  When she opened her eyes again, the hallucination was gone.

  She knelt back down, grabbed the hacksaw, and started cutting. She cringed as the sounds of the creature’s attack on the engine rumbled across the ship again, but then that noise ceased, replaced by the sounds of sailors shouting, and a few gunshots.

  The hacksaw blade chewed through the other side of the shell, and with a grunt, Carrie wrenched the poison gland free. Glistening strands of tissue hung from it. She sliced them away, but they stuck to the blade like spider webs. Grimacing, she dropped the tool on the deck. More gunshots rang out, followed by more screams. Carrie looked around for something to protect her prize, found an empty five-gallon bucket that had once held detergent, wrapped the gland in the sailor’s bloodied shirt, and then carefully placed it in the bucket.

  She saw distant lights glinting ahead of them, as Abhi piloted the boat toward shore. She couldn’t be sure, but she suspected they were way off course. She saw nothing that looked familiar, and certainly not the harbor they’d departed from.

  Grabbing the bucket by the handle, she began to run for the bridge. But another round of shouts from the aft end of the ship made her change course. She ran as fast as she could toward the sounds, careful not to slip as the boat rolled and rocked on the swells. She saw a cluster of mercenaries spread out along the tail, thrusting and stabbing at the ocean with their weapons. Another man stood to one side, reloading a rifle magazine. Carrie was almost upon them when a dark shape snaked up behind the man with the rifle, looming over him. The sailor did
n’t notice. Before she could shout a warning, the shape darted forward, and one of the creature’s spear-like arms impaled him through the throat. With a tremendous flick, it tore his head from his body. His corpse plopped onto the deck. Then the arm flicked his head up into the air and out over the side of the ship.

  Frenzied and enraged, the mercenaries renewed their defense, stabbing at the creature without mercy. Their desperate efforts were successful. After a moment, it sank beneath the waves, apparently giving up this mode of attack.

  “Stay here,” she shouted, “in case it comes back. We need to protect this engine.”

  “Where are you going?” one asked.

  “The bridge!”

  They nodded, seeming to accept her plan, and then returned their watchful attention to the churning waves.

  Without pausing to consider her new, unexpected position, Carrie ran for the mid-section and charged up the ladder. The ship tilted again, nearly dislodging her. Carrie gripped the handrail tightly. The bucket smacked against her leg. When the ship righted itself again, she reached the top of the ladder. She yanked open the hatch door and stepped inside the bridge, where she found Abhi at the controls, assisted by two other crewman.

  “Are we going to make it?” she asked.

  He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “We don’t dare go any faster than this, but yes, I think we’ll make it. Did you get what you needed?”

  “Yes. Let’s just hope we get it back to Paolo in time.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Shouts echoed from below as a new commotion broke out, this time from the front of the ship. Carrie moved to the window and saw that the creature had moved to the bow. Like its mate, the thing was trying to climb aboard the ship, or at least capsize the vessel with its bulk—a task made more difficult by its lesser size. Several sailors charged forward into a fury of writhing tentacles and snapping claws, desperately trying to dislodge the beast. Carrie watched in horror as the creature slaughtered them one by one, severing arms and legs, bisecting others, or simply plucking them from the roiling deck and flinging them, shrieking, into the sea.