It was Lieutenant Junior Grade Charles Duncan, the man who had made it his mission to humiliate Jerry at every opportunity. Jerry stared at him, waiting for him to make a move, but he stood as still as the others.
“Mighty thin ice, White,” Duncan hissed.
Abrams reached the hatch first. He opened it, and held it open as Jerry dragged Matson’s body through. Oran came last, wielding the lantern as a weapon, although Jerry was convinced that something else was keeping the vampires at bay—something about the reactor room itself.
When they all were inside, Abrams slammed the hatch shut again. The sailors guarding the hatch had pistols now from the weapons locker, trained on Jerry and the others as they turned around. Jerry didn’t even flinch at the sight of them. After facing down vampires, he just didn’t find guns all that threatening anymore. The worst a gun could do was kill you.
“Lower those weapons!” Captain Weber told the men. “It’s them!”
As the captain walked up to them, Abrams turned toward him and then collapsed. The captain stooped to catch him under his arms before he hit the deck.
Captain Weber turned to his men. “The lieutenant needs medical attention immediately!”
Two enlisted men took Abrams from the captain and escorted him farther back into the reactor room. Oran followed them.
“What happened, White?” the captain said. “Where are Ortega and Keene?”
“They’re dead, sir,” Jerry said. He let go of Matson’s legs, and the body rolled on its side, the mop handle still jutting from its chest.
Captain Weber looked down at the body on the deck. “I see Senior Chief Matson got what was coming to him. Good work, White, but there was no reason to bring him back with you.”
“With all due respect, sir, there was,” Jerry said. “There’s something you need to see. This isn’t a mutiny, sir. It’s something else.”
The captain frowned. “What are you talking about, White?”
“The fever, sir,” Jerry said. “It wasn’t just a virus, it was the incubation period of a—a kind of transformation. A terrible transformation. Bodine, Matson, and all the other infected crewmen have become something no longer human, sir. They’re stronger, they’re faster, they’re hungry for blood, and they’re damn hard to kill.”
The captain listened, the look of incredulity on his face growing with each passing moment. When Jerry was finished talking, Captain Weber stared hard at him.
“Mr. White,” he finally said, “I can only assume that this nonsense you’re telling me is the result of either a serious blow to the head, or psychological trauma, because this is not the time for a practical joke.”
“Sir, he’s telling the truth.” Tim Spicer stepped out of the crowd of dumbfounded sailors. “I saw the vampires too, sir.”
He nodded at Jerry, and Jerry nodded back. Not quite all was forgiven, but Tim had his back, and that meant something.
“Vampires?” the captain said. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”
“No, sir,” Jerry said. “That’s why we dragged Senior Chief Matson’s body all the way up from the torpedo room. I knew you wouldn’t believe it unless you saw for yourself, sir. I know I wouldn’t have.”
They knelt over the body. Matson’s ruined eye socket looked even worse in the bright light of the reactor room.
“What happened to his face?” Captain Weber asked.
“I shot him with the M1911, sir,” Jerry explained. “Right in the eye at point-blank range, sir, and it didn’t even slow him down. He came right back at me. Would have bitten me too, if—”
“Bitten you?” the captain interrupted.
“Aye, sir. He would have bitten me if Seaman Apprentice Guidry hadn’t stabbed him, sir. With that.” He nodded at the broken mop handle skewering Matson’s chest.
“A wooden stake,” Captain Weber said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I wish I were, sir,” Jerry said.
The captain turned Matson’s head to the side and winced at the bite marks on the neck. “Are those…?”
“Aye, sir, but that’s not all,” Jerry said. “Look at this, sir.”
Steeling himself with a deep breath, Jerry pushed Matson’s rubbery lips apart to reveal the elongated, strangely sharp canine teeth.
Captain Weber’s eyes went wide. “Holy Mother of God!”
In the bright light of the reactor room, Jerry could see the teeth more clearly. They were curved like a viper’s fangs, smooth across the front but sharp as carving knives. The enamel had an iridescent sheen that looked very different from human teeth. Captain Weber stared in silence. Jerry could see him trying to think it through, trying to come up with a reasonable scientific explanation for it all, and almost felt sorry for him. It was one thing to face a mutiny. They were rare, but they were recorded in the historical archives. No one doubted that they had occurred. But vampires? They were the stuff of horror movies and novels and campfire tales. Until now, even Jerry would have scoffed at the idea that vampires were real. Whatever mental gymnastics were happening inside Captain Weber’s head at that moment were no doubt much the same as those Jerry had gone through not so long ago—a path that had led from denial to anger and, finally, to acceptance.
The captain shook his head, obviously still in the first stage. “I don’t believe this. I do not fucking believe this.” The astonishment in his eyes gave way to fury. “On my submarine. On my goddamn submarine!”
The room tilted and spun suddenly. Jerry couldn’t stay upright and fell forward onto the deck. He heard Tim cry out, “Jerry!” Someone else said, “Jesus Christ, look at his back!” And then he passed out.
When he opened his eyes again, nothing had changed. He felt as if he had been out for hours, but it may have been only a few seconds.
“Don’t try to get up,” someone said.
Jerry hadn’t realized he was trying. He looked up and saw Tim crouched over him.
“You’re… The whole back of your uniform—it’s covered in blood, Jerry.”
“I’m okay,” he said. “Help me get up.”
“Slowly,” the captain cautioned. “I need to see how bad it is, White.”
When Tim had him sitting upright again, Jerry unzipped his coveralls to the waist. He pulled his arms out of the sleeves, wincing in pain as he peeled the sticky, wet fabric from his skin. Then he turned around to let Captain Weber and Tim see the damage.
“Dear God,” Tim murmured. “Those bruises look awful. And those cuts… Jesus…”
“Senior Chief Matson did this to you?” the captain asked.
“Yes, sir, when he grabbed me by the arms,” Jerry said. “He was unnaturally strong. He wasn’t human anymore.”
A shocked murmur ran through the crowd of sailors. If any of them hadn’t believed Jerry’s story about vampires before, they were starting to come around now.
“Someone get me some disinfectant!” Captain Weber ordered.
An engineer scurried off, and a minute later, he was dabbing Betadine-soaked cotton balls on Jerry’s wounds. At first, Jerry winced with each touch, but soon the pain passed. The engineer put bandages on his wounds, and Tim brought him a fresh uniform.
“You should rest now,” Captain Weber told him after Jerry had changed coveralls. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“There’s no time, sir,” Jerry said. “We have to take back the boat.”
The captain shook his head. “You won’t be any help if you’re in danger of passing out again. Now go rest, White. That’s an order.”