He had to admit, it was possible, if not exactly probable.
“What’s the other thing?”
“What every creature needs. A food source. If the stories are true, these things are bio-engineered, made of complex hydrocarbons. Other complex hydrocarbons, and lots of them, would be irresistible to such a beast.”
“But why would…”
Noble never got a chance to finish.
The boat lurched. Metal squealed. Even through the door of the lab they heard screams, wild and full of fear, coming from the direction of the bridge house. Noble ran for the door.
“Wait!” he heard Suzie shout. But the screams were too insistent. He could not stand idle in the face of them. Taking a tight grip on the axe he opened the lab door.
The screams were too loud. Just as he stepped into the corridor, the Skipper fled down from the bridge. Noble almost didn’t recognise this wild-eyed, frantic man as the usually stoic Captain. In all the years he’d known the man he’d never seen him even so much as flustered. Now he was a screaming, babbling ruin of his former self. Blood poured from his head where a piece of scalp flapped, showing bone below. He was running so fast he almost fell at the foot of the stairs, his legs giving way beneath him. Turning, he gave one look back up the steps and squealed in fear again before getting to his feet and breaking into a limping run.
Noble saw the reason a second later. A black sphere rolled lazily down the steps, slumping like a partially deflated beach ball. The Skipper yelped and fled along the corridor towards Noble.
“Quick. In here,” Noble shouted.
The old man didn’t make it. Behind him, the tar-ball opened and stretched, bat-like wings touching the wall on either side of the corridor. The underside of the wings fluttered… and scores of green milky eyes opened in unison. The thing surged forward. The Skipper had time for one more scream before it fell on him like a wet carpet, engulfing him totally in its folds. Noble moved forward to try to save the man, but was held back by a hand on his shoulder.
“We need to go,” Suzie said. “You can’t help him.”
One quick glance showed him she was right. The black mass seethed and roiled over the Skipper’s prone body, but the old man made no sound, even as a lump of bloody meat was dragged forcibly from bone. He was already gone.
And so will we be if we don’t get out of here.
Back at the staircase, more black spheres rolled lazily down into the corridor. Noble felt something get put in his free hand.
“Use this,” Suzie said. “Quickly. It might cover our escape.”
He held a flare gun, already loaded. He aimed it in the general direction of the Skipper and pulled the trigger. He took Suzie’s hand and ran as the corridor exploded with light and searing heat. They reached the end of the corridor before Noble realised they were trapped. The only way to go was up onto the loading deck beside the Zodiac—to the outside where the tendrils writhed around the hull. He turned back to the corridor, looking for another means of escape.
Too late.
Black protoplasm, pieces of it smoking, filled the far end of the corridor. Long tendrils searched the air ahead of a thick mass of the black tar. It coated the corridor, reached several feet up the walls, and had already covered half the distance between them.
“Up onto the deck,” Noble said. “It’s all we can do now.”
Suzie didn’t argue. She handed him three flares.
“That’s all we’ve got. Make them count.”
He nodded. He handed her the axe.
“Be careful. Chop first, ask questions later. I’m right behind you. Okay?”
“Got it,” she replied, and started up the small set of steps.
Noble looked back along the corridor. The black tendrils were less than five feet away and seemed eager to reach for him. He just had time to load the gun and send another flare into the main mass before heading after Suzie out onto the deck. Light and heat followed him out. He turned just beyond the door, loading the flare-gun, but no protoplasm came out of the corridor.
“Noble,” Suzie cried from nearby. “I need help here.”
She stood by the side of the Zodiac. A long tendril was raised high over her, and she was barely keeping it at bay with the axe. What she couldn’t see was a second appendage creeping along the deck behind her.
“Get down,” he called, hoping that her reflex would be as quick as his had been earlier. He raised the gun and fired just as she threw herself forward. The flare embedded itself in the side of the dinghy and burned furiously. Suzie scuttled across the deck to stand with him as they watched it blaze.
It took most of the two tendrils with it. Noble was about to celebrate when the Zodiac’s fuel tank exploded, the blast knocking him backwards to teeter on the steps to the lower deck. He would have fallen back if Suzie hadn’t steadied him.
He looked around. Tall black tendrils still wafted on high all around the hull.
But they’re staying well away from the fires. Maybe we have a weapon after all.
“Help me,” he shouted. “I’ve got an idea.”
A minute later he was using the axe to break into the fuel storage area in the stern. There were five plastic containers stacked there, each holding fifty litres of diesel for the Zodiac. Noble stuffed the flare gun into his belt and started to lug the canisters out on the deck.
The Zodiac had burned itself out and lay in pieces, a smouldering ruin. All around, the tendrils raised themselves up higher, swaying from side to side. Pale green eyes stared down from the heights.
“Now or never,” Noble whispered.
He started to pour diesel across the deck. He emptied the first canister completely, making sure the others were sitting in the pool of liquid.
“Get to the upper deck,” he said. “Quickly. I’ll cover you.”
She left at a run, clambering up the exterior ladder to the raised deck that sat above the crew quarters. The tendrils continued to sway above the bow, but for now at least, they encroached no further. Noble said a silent prayer and ran for the ladder. A tendril struck at him and missed by mere inches, slapping into the deck at his feet and splashing diesel over his ankles. The air shimmered as the fuel evaporated in the heat.
Suzie stretched down a hand and helped him haul himself up beside her. He stood, turned… and gasped. The view from the bridge hadn’t really imposed itself on him. At the time, he’d been too preoccupied with merely staying alive for a few minutes longer. But from here on the upper deck, he couldn’t ignore it.
Black tendrils rose into the sky from horizon to horizon, waving slowly in unison like an audience at a concert moving in time to a ballad. Nowhere could the ocean be seen. All that was visible was a thick mat of black protoplasm anchoring the tendrils.
And the eyes were everywhere—pale, green, and unblinking. As Noble noticed them, so they noticed him. Tens of thousands of eyes swivelled and fixed their stare on the boat.
The chant rose, filling the air with noise.
Tekeli Li. Tekeli Li.
Tendrils surged forward, crawling over the bow, dragging the protoplasm behind in a dense carpet that started to smother the lower deck.
“Do it now,” Suzie shouted. “Before it’s too late.”
Noble waited for several seconds more, until the tendrils had almost reached the fuel canisters.
“Burn, you bastards,” he shouted and fired the last flare down into the pool of diesel. They had to stand back as the fire took. Tendrils thrashed in frenzy, trying to escape the flames that were suddenly everywhere. Noble threw Suzie to the ground and lay atop her, covering her with his body. The fuel canisters went up, one after the other, the explosions drumming in his ears, the heat singeing his hair. Then all was silence.