‘Here, hold this for me, Reg…’
Busby pressed the button on his stiletto and the blade jumped into place. He stabbed the blade in low catching Putner in the groin and then pulled his arm up with all the force that he had. The stiletto opened Putner up from groin to rib cage before the blade caught in bone. Busby followed it up with a haymaker of a left that knocked the radio operator off his feet. One of the washed-up dead grabbed Busby about the waist and slammed him into the wall of the corridor. Busby tossed the stiletto into his left, raised his right arm, and stabbed back into the creature’s face peppering it with wounds. A normal man would have had to release but the creature simply squeezed the bear hug tighter. Busby snarled and continued to stab out.
On the floor beneath them, Snell looked up and saw the struggle. He spat blood and raised the Webley tucking it in behind the knee of the shambling corpse. He pulled the trigger and the big .455 bullet severed the monster’s leg dropping him, and Busby, to the deck. Busby got himself turned around and smashed his fists into the water bloated face until the head came apart beneath him. Another hand grabbed at him but he swayed away and pulled Snell up.
‘Time to go, sir.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Inside the armoury, Connelly locked the door. He heard the hands beating on the other side of it but knew that it was strong enough to hold. The electric light blazed away through the bulb in the ceiling and Connelly was glad that he didn’t have to spark a match in the presence of explosives. Looking around the room it was easy enough to locate the boxes that he had disregarded earlier. He opened the first and stared inside. It was packed with beige sticks that Connelly had recognised earlier as dynamite. He searched through the boxes and found a variety of fuses and timers. These went into one of his trouser pockets and he stuffed four sticks into the other. Another half-dozen went down the front of his shirt. Not enough. Unless I touch it off here, he thought, need a way out first and to warn the others if they’re still alive. Connelly looked around the room and his eyes lighted on the ventilation grill in the far corner of the room the boxes beneath forming an easy staircase. Connelly weighed a box of the dynamite in his arms – not too bad. He checked that the box would fit and then removed the grill. Once it was down he checked that there was enough squeeze space to jam himself into the duct behind the box. There was. He turned and went back to the other boxes checking the fuses as he went and trying to remember all that he had been told on a long hot voyage.
Lily pulled up against the wall of the corridor and looked back. No one was following – yet. Amelia was already pushing off ahead further into the darkness.
‘Come on!’
‘Where are we going?’
‘The boat, we make for the boat and if any of them got through that they will meet us there.’
‘Shit,’ Lily pushed off the wall and stumbled on, ‘you think they did?’
‘I don’t know. I hope they all got clear, but…’
Lily didn’t reply. She knew exactly what Amelia meant. They had seen Snell go down and there had not seemed any hope for him, likewise Busby and Connelly cut off by the crowd of bodies. Lily took a deep breath and followed with her hands tight around her rifle.
The wind and rain hadn’t dropped down at all. Busby pushed himself in against the wall and carried Snell along the slippery deck.
‘We’ll be alright, sir. We’ll get to the boat. No need to worry now. Be back in Ceylon in a few days. I’ll get you back, sir.’
Snell was silent, semi-conscious, his body battered and stump bleeding. Busby carried him as one might carry a new born, he took careful steps and picked his way along the deck, light of foot for a big man. The lightning flashed further out at sea and the thunder rolled above them. Busby looked out at the dark waves and longed to be on them instead of on the cursed ship on which he stood. The rifle across his shoulders felt heavy. A door opened ahead of him. He turned and another opened behind. Figures filled the night. Busby laid Snell down on the wet deck.
‘You stay there, rest easy, sir, I’ll be back in a bit.’
In the lightning flashes he saw Hamilton ahead of him with three or four of the bloaters behind him. He turned and looked back – Collins stood, axe still in his face, with Putner next to him. Putner’s intestines hung out of him like a nest of snakes.
‘Right you bastards – who’s first?’
The roar of the sea was the only reply. Busby slipped the rifle off his back and knowing the bullets were next to useless against the fiends, he wielded it by the barrel like a cudgel. Busby ran down towards Hamilton. He swung the rifle with enough force that as it connected the stock splintered and shattered into matchwood. Hamilton’s head hung broken and Busby swung the rifle back catching him again and knocking him sideways. He reversed the remnants of the rifle and stabbed it into the gut of the first bloater. A clammy fist slammed into his nose and Busby felt it break. It wasn’t the first time that had happened and he shrugged it off with a sniff before twisting the broken weapon in the creature’s guts. He let go and pulled his already extended switchblade from the back of his waistband. Two slashes across the face opened up the already stretched flesh. Nails clawed their way downs his face and blood blossomed. Busby pushed against them trying to force them into the rail and over the side. A huge left hand knocked him back and they came on.
‘Shit,’ Busby turned and ran back towards Snell, stumbling on the deck.
Collins reached down and Putner tried to reach around him to get at Snell. Snell’s eyes opened and his right hand shot up to grab the axe buried in Collins’ face. He yanked it clear and with a twirl hacked down to take off the front of Collin’s foot. Reversing the axe, he pushed the heavy head into Collins and moved him back.
A second later and Busby got back to them. He dropped the knife and grabbed Collins between the legs with his right hand, left gripping his shoulder. He lifted the skinned man bodily and cast him over the rail. Putner came up from the deck.
‘You next, Reg.’
Putner looked at Busby and then stabbed out with the stiletto that he had collected from the deck. The blade bit deep and Busby roared. He grabbed Putner’s wrist and smashed a massive right hook into him that knocked his head sideways. Slipping Putner’s head beneath his left arm in a headlock Busby grabbed at his belt and once he had a grip he tossed him over the side.
Busby looked down and saw the blood leaking out of him.
‘Ah, shit…’
‘Busby?’
‘Sir?’
‘Get clear, I’m done. Leave me and save yourself.’
‘Respectfully, shut the fuck up – sir.’
Busby pulled the knife out of his gut. The blood was black in the moonlight. Busby laughed to himself and then turned to face the remaining attackers.
The boat was as they had left it. Busby’s knots had kept it lashed tight to the posts. Lily looked around and while Amelia kept watch she began to hack through the knots with the knife that she had kept from the kitchen. The knots were sodden with rainwater and they proved hard to cut through and so she moved on to simply cutting the lines themselves which wasn’t much easier. Amelia stood guard while Lily worked, the rifle held across the crook of her arm.
‘We can’t go yet, Lily.’