And where there’s two, there can be many.
She had slid quietly back into the pantry and stayed still for many hours but nothing had come to investigate her presence.
Not yet.
Now all she could do was eat biscuits, ration her water, and worry, not about the infestation here on the boat but about the possibility of it spreading. Just how far the spread might go was a matter of speculation but everything she knew about isopods pointed in one direction; they liked to swarm and they liked to feed.
And they’re not fussy eaters.
She listened, hoping to hear the gunfire again, hoping someone might be on the way with a rescue.
Hoping.
- 7 -
Off to the north, the sky was reddened with the flames from the still burning house and post office in the harbor, but the fire had spooked the beasts. For now, the yard where they stood was quiet and empty and they’d managed to negotiate a series of backyards to get here without any further encounters. Hynd led them into the dark shadows at the back of a squat timber house and removed the ties on a canvas sheet, drawing it back to reveal their proposed rides. The long slim vessels were raised up off the ground on a series of heavy timber railings to protect them from the ice and frost.
Banks stepped forward for a better look over the kayaks. The timbers they sat on were old, rotted in places but the kayaks themselves looked to be well maintained and probably seaworthy.
“I’m guessing they only take them out in summer,” Hynd said quietly at his ear.
“Probably a great idea around here generally,” Banks replied. “Unfortunately, we can’t wait. Let’s get these ‘round the front to the shore. If the beasts are still concentrated up the other end near the fire, we might be able to slip off quietly out of the way. Best be quick about it, lads. The fire isn’t going to burn forever and we’ve got a boat to catch before it buggers off without us.”
The squad ferried the kayaks and paddles ‘round the side of the house and down the short driveway to the shoreline, two men to each kayak, until they had six of them lined up at the waterline. Looking up the shore, Banks saw the beasts were still congregated a hundred yards or so to the north in the harbor area, near the now burnt-out, smoking ruin of the post office. He also noted something else – he wasn’t going to need the night glasses much longer. The sky was lightening over in the east, a red tinge on the horizon showing dawn wasn’t far off. When Banks took the night glasses off, the first thing he saw was Nolan’s pale-faced gaze, studying the kayaks warily.
“I’m not going to enjoy this, Cap, me with the fucked legs and all…”
“Suck it up, lad,” Hynd replied. “We’re not leaving you here. Yon beasties have had a taste of you already. They would be having you for a light breakfast.”
Banks waited until the rest of the squad got settled inside the long kayaks and slipped on the waterproofs at their waist to stop the freezing water sloshing inside onto their legs. One by one, he pushed them off the rocky shore into the water; he was the only one to get wet feet. To mitigate the cold, he had zipped the parka all the way up, pulling the hood tight over his head so the fur lining sheltered his face from the worst of the chill. He kept his weapon slung on the outside, hanging down at his chest so he’d only have to drop the paddle to reach it. His boots were laced up tight enough that the slushy water didn’t penetrate but his feet felt like blocks of ice as he slid his legs into the kayak, although he felt almost warm after clipping the waterproof sheet around him. With the help of a pull from Sergeant Hynd, he got himself launched into the water to join the rest of the squad paddling in the shallows, holding their position, waiting orders.
The crab-like beasts had lost interest in them and the squad was able to paddle, albeit slowly in the slushy water, to a position some twenty yards offshore. The sky was much lighter already and all of the squad had stowed their night glasses. Pink washes above fiery orange lit the horizon and it might have been psychological but Banks felt warmer with the coming of the new day, even while bemoaning the fact they would now be in plain sight on their approach to the Russian boat.
Nolan looked paler than ever and a pained expression crossed his face with every paddle-stroke but he managed a wan smile as they all came together in a line.
“How you doing, lad?” Banks asked
“Guess the auld legs will do me for a few years more yet, Cap,” he said.
Banks turned to look at their destination. The Russian boat sat at anchor some quarter of a mile out in the bay; it was going to be hard work getting there in the slush, which was thicker in places and interspersed with larger blocks of ice to be navigated. The boat itself looked, at first glance, to be a typical cargo boat for these waters; a hundred meters or so long, with a high superstructure at the back end and a flat main deck with two large cranes to load and unload fish. What was different about this one was the attached drilling rig at the prow, taller even than the boat itself and looking solid enough, although even at a distance Banks saw scorch marks from a recent fire all across its surface. There were no lights on board and no sign of life on the deck or up in the superstructure. She looked dead in the water.
“Spy boat, my arse,” Mac said and spat in the water. “They’re fucking drilling.”
“What do you think they’re after, Cap?” Hynd said.
Banks shook his head.
“Oil maybe? Or gas? Could be anything. We won’t know until we get there and we won’t get there by sitting around here freezing our asses off. Keep your eyes peeled; any sign of trouble, anything at all, you know the drill. If some fucker starts shooting at us, take them out; don’t bother waiting for an order.”
They’d all been preoccupied with looking at the Russian boat and it wasn’t until Mac turned and looked back to shore they saw something had changed; the harbor area lay quiet and empty; the beasts had slipped away with the dawn. The only movement was thin wisps of black smoke rising from the ruined burned-out buildings.
“What the fuck, Cap?” Mac asked.
Banks still didn’t have an answer for him.
“Eyes front and rear,” he said. “The fuckers could be anywhere and the boat’s the mission here; we’ll worry about the beasties when we have to. Move out.”
The paddling was as strenuous as Banks feared it would be and twice as cold. The early illusion of warmth inside the kayak proved to be a fleeting memory as an icy breeze coming across the surface of the water sucked all the heat out of him. His arms felt like iced-over wood, his arse like stone, and he couldn’t feel his feet. But he kept paddling; it was better than the alternative. He also kept an eye on the boat ahead of them but the closer they got, the surer he was it was deserted, totally dead in the water. But it wasn’t going to be easy getting aboard; he couldn’t see any ladders or gangplanks to get them up onto the deck.
“Head for the drilling rig, lads,” he said. “That’s our best hope of getting up there.”
As they closed in, Banks saw there were still two long lifeboats in their clamps at the rear of the boat. Whatever had happened to the crew, they hadn’t abandoned ship by the conventional route.