Deluge: The Conqueror Worms II

CHAPTER 46

Stunned, Gail wiped water from her eyes and blinked. Then she leaned forward and peered into the water, gripping the sides of the boat so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Sound returned—first the rain, then the cries of the birds overhead, and then the waves.

“Novak?”

Shadows moved beneath the surface, but she couldn’t identify them. Was it Novak and their attacker? McCann? A mermaid or shark-person or fuzzoid or other weird denizen of the deep? Shivering, she reached for the discarded shotgun.

Novak burst from the water, gasping and coughing. Screaming, Gail skittered backward. The boat lurched hard to one side.

“It’s okay,” he panted. Novak grabbed the side of the boat with his good hand and clung to it, eyes closed. “It’s okay. He’s dead.”

Gail opened her mouth to respond, but all that came out was a low, guttural moan. She closed her mouth, took a few deep breaths through her nose, and then tried again. Her voice still trembled.

“Are you okay?”

Novak nodded.

“What about McCann? Did you see him?”

“I’m right here.”

Novak’s eyes snapped open. Gail turned around and looked behind them. She gasped with relief when she saw McCann paddling toward them.

“Son of a bitch,” Novak said. “I thought he shot you.”

McCann shook his head, spraying water droplets as he climbed into the boat. “I thought he did, too. But he didn’t. When the gun went off, it startled me. I slipped and fell into the water. Where is he?”

“Sinking to the bottom,” Novak replied.

“Think he had friends inside?” McCann nodded at the office building.

Novak shrugged, wincing in obvious pain. “I don’t know. If so, you’d think they’d have come running when they heard us fighting.”

The three of them fell silent for a moment, catching their breath. Birds continued wheeling overhead. Eventually, a few of them landed on the rooftop and studied the new arrivals with interest.

“Wonder what they’re thinking?” McCann asked.

“Dinner-time,” Novak said. “They look as hungry as I feel.”

“Well,” Gail said. “We can’t just sit out here in the rain. You’re injured, and McCann and I are both shaken up. I vote we go inside. If there was anybody else in there, they’d have taken a shot at us by now.”

“Unless they’re waiting,” McCann said. “It could be a trap.”

Novak grunted. “It could be, but I’m with Gail. Better to take our chances inside, where it’s at least partially dry, than to sit out here and wait to get eaten.”

“Those birds won’t really eat us,” McCann said.

“No,” Novak agreed, “but there’s things in the water that will.”

Without another word, they guided the boat back over to the open window. McCann went inside first, muttering about getting shot at a second time. When that didn’t happen, he reached out and grasped Novak’s good arm, and hoisted him inside. Gail followed, after tossing up the line to McCann. Once inside, she offered the shotgun to Novak. He shook his head.

“You keep it.”

The room was dark and quiet and devoid of furnishings, other than a desk, a chair and a filing cabinet—the latter of which was lying on its side and badly dented, its moldering contents scattered across the floor. The air smelled thick and musty. Gail waited for her eyes to adjust, but she could make nothing else out in the gloom.

“Wish we had a flashlight.” Novak’s voice echoed.

McCann tied the end of the line around the desk, and then pushed the piece of furniture, grunting with the effort. He stood up and wiped his hands on his wet clothes.

“It’s pretty heavy. I don’t think the boat will go anywhere.”

“We’d better hope not,” Novak said. “Otherwise, we might be here for a while. Come on. Let’s explore our new home.”