CHAPTER 61


“What do we do?” Gail asked.

“Stay down.” Novak motioned to the others as the waves pushed their boat closer to the bigger vessel. “McCann, grab an oar. Let’s get alongside her.”

Gail noticed a sudden change in both Novak’s tone and demeanor. Gone was the hopelessness and fatigue that had seemed to surround him since his injury. He seemed to be his old self again. She could almost picture him standing up in their boat, cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth as he sprayed the Catamaran with a blast from his homemade flamethrower—if the weapon hadn’t still been on the ship, of course.

“How many people are on board?” Simon asked, ducking low as yet another volley of gunshots echoed across the water.

“Well, let’s see.” Novak frowned, thinking. “We lost Warren and Lynn soon after we left the boat. So that leaves Riffle, Morgan, Ben, Mylon, Paris, Caterina and Tatiana.”

“Seven of them,” Simon said. “Those aren’t such bad odds. And judging from the sounds we’re hearing, a second mutiny is underway. That might benefit us even more.”

They closed to within a few hundred yards of the ship. The rain parted enough that they could make out the outer decks. All of them appeared deserted.

“Gunshots must be coming from inside.” Novak leaned hard into his oar. “Steady, McCann. Let’s come around the aft side. There’s a ladder we can use.”

“We’re going aboard?” Gail asked, surprised.

“Well, we can’t stay out here.”

“But they’re shooting inside,” Gail insisted. “Shouldn’t we at least wait until the fight is over?”

Novak pulled alongside the bigger craft and reached for the lowest ladder rung, steadying their boat. “The longer we wait, the better the chance something comes up from below and eats us. I’ve kept you alive this long, right?”

Blinking rain from her eyes, Gail nodded.

Novak smiled. “Then give me a little while longer, and I’ll do the same.”

He swung out of the boat and scurried up the ladder. His feet slipped on the wet rungs, and the others gasped, but he managed to hold on tight. When he reached the top, he peered over the side. Then he glanced down at the others and motioned for them to follow. Simon went next, followed by Gail. McCann brought up the rear. He didn’t bother securing their small boat. All of them knew that if this didn’t work out to their advantage, they wouldn’t need it anyway.

They huddled together in the shadows. A deck light flashed a momentary glint off of McCann’s sword blade. The outer decks were deserted. Rain pounded against them in a steady drumbeat. The ship rocked slowly back and forth. Two more shots rang out from somewhere beneath their feet., followed by a woman’s scream.

“Come on,” Novak said, brandishing one of the knives they’d taken from the flooded office building. “Let’s do this.”

They crept forward in single file, moving slowly and making sure they kept a few feet of distance between one another. Gail had to reach out several times and steady herself against the bulkhead as the ship rolled and pitched from side to side. The shotgun grew slippery in her hands. When they reached a forward hatch, Novak paused. The hatch hung partially open, blocked by a body lying halfway through it.

“Is that…?” McCann covered his mouth with his hand.

“Yeah,” Novak knelt beside the body. “It’s Paris. At least, I think it’s her.”

Gail nudged her way forward and glanced down at the body. Immediately, she saw why Novak was having trouble identifying it. The corpse was partially headless. Something had sliced or bitten the top of the victim’s head off, just above the bridge of the nose. The victim’s brains, and everything else, were gone—not splashed onto the deck and bulkheads.

Gone.

Something slithered across the deck behind them, and a shadow fell over them all.


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