Charlie let out a guttural hissing from his hair-clotted throat, but that was about it as she mounted him, clutching him with needling fingers like fish hooks.
She slid fangs like slivers of ice into the mound of his skull and when he fought no more, dosed on toxins that filled his head with rioting endorphins and explosive pleasure spikes, she engulfed him, unhinging herself like the jaws of a snake and pulling him inside her before closing up once again like some immense clamshell. He was vaguely aware of his insides pulping and his bones cracking and his skin ripping like wet canvas, but that was all. Even the viscera ejecting from his mouth under great pressure was no bother. There was only the formless, inert serenity of golden depths as he submerged into the murky microcosm of self.
Sometime later, bloated and moody, the thing that haunted the Yvonne Addams disgorged a set of shattered bones. They were well-gnawed and well-used. They came out with undigested globs of marrow. By the time the sun came up, even these would be gone.
In the cavernous silences of the ship, joined in biochemical stasis, Charlie and his lover pupated as one, waiting to rise again and seed the night. And in the hot, placental darkness, this was enough.
14
When morning came, Arturo returned with the two sailors that had been waiting in the van. After steeling themselves with coffee, the three of them boarded the ship. They searched the decks and holds, cabins and lounges, but they could not find Charlie Petty. That was all the sailors needed, they left in a hurry. There was no way they were going to put a crew about this hoodoo vessel.
Arturo lingered. He went into the captain’s cabin. It was a mess. Sitting at the captain’s desk, he said, “It must have been some kind of night, eh, Charlie?”
His voice echoed and died.
In the head, something too thick to be water and too thin to be slime dripped and dripped. He did not go in there to look. He did not dare to. The porthole was open and yellow light pooled on the floor and glared against the walls.
He knew Charlie was here… somewhere. Oh, there was always the possibility a guy like Charlie might throw himself overboard as so many sailors had, but he didn’t think so. A guy with balls like Charlie Petty would tough it out right to the last.
Arturo opened a beer and ate a sandwich. “Looks like I better get this place cleaned up,” he said under his breath. He worked at it for the better part of an hour, washing and scrubbing and arranging things. Everything had to be right. There was no way his wife was going to spend the night in a pigpen.
About the Author
Tim Curran hails from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. A full-time wage zombie in a factory, he collects vintage punk rock, metal, and rockabilly records in his spare time.
He is the author of the novels Skin Medicine, Hive, Dead Sea, Resurrection, Skull Moon, The Devil Next Door, Hive 2: The Spawning, Graveworm, and Biohazard. His short stories have been collected in Bone Marrow Stew and Zombie Pulp. His novellas include Fear Me, The Underdwelling, The Corpse King, and Puppet Graveyard. His short stories have appeared in such magazines as City Slab, Flesh&Blood, Book of Dark Wisdom, and Inhuman, as well as anthologies such as Flesh Feast, Shivers IV, High Seas Cthulhu, and, Vile Things. His latest book is a new novel from DarkFuse, Long Black Coffin. Upcoming projects include the novels Hag Night and Witch Born, and a second short story collection, Cemetery Wine. Find him on the web at: www.corpseking.com.
About the Publisher
DarkFuse is a leading independent publisher of modern fiction in the horror, suspense and thriller genres. As an independent company, it is focused on bringing to the masses the highest quality dark fiction, published as collectible limited hardcover, paperback and eBook editions.
To discover more titles published by DarkFuse, please visit its official site at www.darkfuse.com.
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Other Books by Author
Long Black Coffin
Nightcrawlers
Sow
Worm
Check out the author’s official page at DarkFuse for a complete list:
http://www.darkfuseshop.com/Tim-Curran/
Copyright
First Edition
Deadlock © 2014 by Tim Curran
All Rights Reserved.
A DarkFuse Release
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.