In the light from the reactor room behind him, Jerry’s shadow stretched ten feet ahead. He glanced back at the men gathered in the open doorway, covering him with their Browning M1911 pistols. Bullets wouldn’t be enough to kill any vampire that attacked him, but they might slow it down until he got away.
Got away. That was wishful thinking. There wasn’t far to go on a submarine, and there were few places to hide.
At the bottom of the steps, he shined his lantern into the mess—and nearly jumped out of his skin. He had forgotten about the corpses of Ortega and Keene that were slumped at one of the tables. He hadn’t braced himself for the sight of them with their throats torn out, their glazed eyes staring back at him. He took a deep, shivering breath and walked into the mess. Up close, he could see the strips of muscle and skin hanging from the ragged wounds in their necks, the blood-slick meat glistening in the lantern light. Jerry kept moving.
At the service counter, he saw a spread of day-old sandwiches—the last meal Lieutenant Abrams had served. Beside the sandwiches were two bowls of yellowing mayonnaise. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in at least six hours, but he was nowhere near desperate enough to eat anything here, now.
Setting his lantern on the counter, he grabbed an empty plastic soup bowl and dipped it into the bucket.
He whispered to himself, “This damn well better work.”
He splashed the coolant across the deck of the mess, hoping it would be enough to kill any vampire who stepped in the puddle. He took the rest of the small stack of soup bowls from the service counter and lowered them carefully into the bucket. Though Carr had assured him the water was safe, he still yanked his hand out quickly after releasing the bowls.
He decided he had better check the galley too. It was right next to the mess, and the perfect place for the vampires to hide before attacking. He picked up his lantern again, walked the few steps to the galley, and aimed the light inside. The bulkheads and deck were spattered with big plum-colored stains of dried blood. Men had been killed in here, but he didn’t see any bodies. The place looked as though it had been abandoned in the middle of meal prep. Various cooking utensils lay scattered across the deck, along with several overturned pots and pans. There was no sign of the crewmen whose blood was all over the galley. Either the vampires had already taken them down to the torpedo room for disposal, or…
Jerry swallowed, and backed nervously out of the galley.
Or the bodies had gotten up on their own.
He pulled a bowl from the bucket and splashed coolant water across the deck. At least it would keep the vampires away. He turned and nodded to the men in the reactor room doorway, who closed and secured the hatch, cutting off the light from inside. He was on his own. The plan gave him thirty minutes to create a path up to the control room and secure it. Normally, thirty minutes would seem excessive to go such a short distance, but he was glad for the extra time. So far, he had been lucky and hadn’t encountered any of the vampires, but he didn’t expect his luck to hold out indefinitely.
He heard the scuff of a shoe on the deck farther down the corridor. He froze and aimed the lantern in the direction of the sound, looking for movement. Just another dark corridor filled with countless hiding places. Shit. This was starting to look like a terrible idea. Running into a burning engine room had been a lot less scary.
As soon as he moved the lantern beam away, the sound came again. This time, two glowing eyes appeared in the open doorway to the officers’ wardroom. He swung the lantern around again, heart pounding. Ensign Penwarden stood in the doorway, his skin as sallow as old newspaper. The ensign hissed and shielded his eyes as the light hit his face.
“Fuck!” Jerry exclaimed. His hands were full. He couldn’t grab a bowl out of the bucket without putting down the lantern, but if he put down the lantern, Penwarden would attack. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
He had to act fast, while Penwarden was still at a disadvantage. He dropped the heavy-duty battle lantern onto the deck and, throwing caution to the wind, plunged his hand into the irradiated water to grab a bowl.
The instant the light was out of Penwarden’s face, he sprang. Jerry’s fingers closed around the curved underside of a bowl, but he didn’t have time to pull it out of the water before Penwarden crashed into him like a linebacker sacking a quarterback. The impact slammed him backward against the bulkhead, and the bowl and its contents went flying. The bowl clattered across the deck, the irradiated water it held splashing uselessly. The force of the impact knocked the air out of Jerry’s lungs, leaving him dazed and unable to breathe. Somehow, he had managed to hold on to the bucket without letting the water slosh out.
Being this close to the bucketful of radioactive coolant slowed Penwarden down, turning him noticeably sluggish and groggy, but it wasn’t enough to hurt him. If Jerry wanted Penwarden to burn, he was going to have to get the irradiated water on him. He reached blindly into the bucket, pulled out another bowl, and splashed Penwarden in the face.
The vampire released an ear-splitting howl of agony that echoed off the bulkheads. He clawed at his face as it began to blacken and burn. His skin pulled tight and melted away like wax. Little flames erupted all over his body. Then the screaming stopped with a horrible suddenness, and he collapsed onto the deck.
It worked! Jerry couldn’t help it; he laughed out loud as Penwarden burned in front of him. The goddamn coolant worked!
Something heavy landed on his back, knocking him to the deck, the bucket falling out of his hand. He was pinned under the weight of another man. Rough hands yanked at the collar of his uniform, tearing it away from the skin of his neck. He heard a sharp hissing in his ear, and the brief touch of the tip of a fang.
Bracing his hands against the deck, Jerry pushed with all the strength he could muster, rolling over so his attacker’s back was on the deck. He managed to turn his head enough to see Steve Bodine’s face. Bodine’s mouth opened wide as he shrieked in pain, fangs glistening in the lantern light. As he squirmed, his grip on Jerry loosened, and Jerry scrambled away from him. Smoke began to billow from Bodine’s arm, and then blue and yellow flames. Jerry understood then what had happened. He had rolled Bodine partially into the spilled coolant water.
Still howling, Bodine jumped to his feet and ran, quick as a flash. He was so fast, Jerry didn’t even see him move—only saw the hatch to the head slam open. He heard the heavy thud of a body falling to the deck inside, and the screaming stopped before the hatch swung closed again.
Jerry clambered back to his feet. He considered following Bodine into the head to make sure he was dead, then thought better of it. There wasn’t enough time. If the vampire wasn’t already dead, the flames on his body would likely spread and consume him soon enough. Jerry needed to clear a path to the control room ASAP.
He lifted the bucket, which, by some miracle, had landed upright. It was light, though. Much of the water had sloshed out onto the deck. He would have to be sparing with what was left.
Picking up the lantern, he returned to the main ladder. Above, the top level was in darkness. Below, the bottom level was too. He scooped out a small amount of coolant and poured it down the rungs to the bottom level. If any of the bloodsucking fiends down there tried to climb up, they would have a hot time of it.
Then, peering up into the empty blackness of the top level, where the control room waited, he gripped the lantern’s handle between his teeth and began to climb. His arms were sore from the injuries Matson had given him, and his shoulder ached from carrying the bucket of water. Hauling it one-handed up the ladder only made both worse. As he brought one knee up for the next rung, he banged it against the bucket. He heard the coolant slosh inside and felt a wet splash on one hand. He paused, cursing himself for his clumsiness, and held the bucket steady to avoid losing any more of the precious, lethal seawater.