Ghost Ship (NUMA Files 12)

To Paul’s surprise, Elena came next. “You’re not leaving me out there on my own,” she said.

At first, they could only crawl. The sediment in the room had piled up so high that the ceiling was only three or four feet above their heads. As they moved away from the window, the space spread out and the sediment sloped downward. In one section, small ridges protruded. Paul made his way over to them and started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Gamay asked.

“Remember that candlelight dinner you wanted?” “The one I never got?”

“Well, here’s your chance,” Paul said. He worked the object out of the silt. It was a rotting chair. “I think we’re in the ship’s dining room.”

Gamay chuckled. “Somehow, I was hoping for a little more ambience.”

They moved deeper into the room, traveling down the slope of the invasive sediment until it was no more than a thin layer on the floor. As Paul stood, he found it to be packed down hard and no more than six inches deep.

Gamay stood up and wiped her palms on the front of her jeans. “Not gonna need a mud bath next time I go to the spa,” she said. “What next, O fearless leader?”

Paul looked around. “Let’s see if we can figure out what ship this is and where she came from.”

They moved deeper into the hull, soon finding the kitchen and a storeroom.

“Look at these ovens,” Gamay said. “They’re ancient.”

“How old?” Paul asked.

“I don’t know,” Gamay

replied. “Old. Like the stove my grandmother had forever.”

Paul took a look at the stoves and some of the other equipment. The designs belonged to another era. He began to feel as if he’d stepped back in time.

He pulled open a cabinet and it was stacked with serving plates. He picked one up and began scraping off the blackened mold. When he’d cleared enough of it, a logo became visible in the center, a stylized anchor with barbed flukes, resting sideways. It looked familiar.

He showed it to Gamay, who shrugged and shook her head.

“The storerooms are empty,” Elena said, popping into the kitchen. “Not a can of beans left behind.”

Paul put the serving plate back. “Let’s find the bridge.”

He took a step toward the door and stopped. The harsh breathing sound had returned. It was a deep sound, guttural and menacing. This time they all heard it.

Paul aimed his light for the doorway as something shot forward. A roar of some kind echoed through the dark as all three of them dove in different directions.

Paul grabbed Gamay and pulled her to safety as a shape spun toward them and what felt like a log slammed Paul in the ribs. He tumbled and sprawled in the mud. His flashlight flew from his hand, and the roaring continued.

“Run!” he shouted.

Elena clambered up onto the stoves as Gamay helped Paul up.

Something slammed against the old, cast-iron stoves, and the impact sent the serving plates Paul had discovered smashing to the ground. A burst of gunfire rang out, bathing the room in staccato flashes as Elena fired her Ruger at the attacker.

By now Paul and Gamay were scrambling out the door and into the dining room. In their haste Gamay slipped in the muck and pulled Paul down with her. They tumbled to a stop against the far wall.

Paul’s light was gone, but Gamay found hers and aimed it back at the door to the kitchen. A monster emerged, charging toward them. A twelve-foot crocodile with ragged teeth and an ugly bumpy snout. It lunged just as Paul pulled his gun and fired, blasting several shots straight into the creature’s gaping mouth.

Gamay screamed in Paul’s ear, but the gunshots drowned her out as the shells went through the upper jaw of the animal, into the brain, and out the other side. The creature slammed into Paul, crashing onto his abdomen and knocking the wind out of him like a sack of concrete tossed from the back of a truck. But it didn’t bite or thrash, it just collapsed on him, twitching and then lying there.

The long snout and what remained of the head lay right on Paul’s chest. The stubby forearms and claws continued gripping Paul’s legs until the muscles died. Of all things, Paul noticed how badly its breath stank.

Realizing it was dead and that they were alive, Paul kicked out from under the beast and pushed it away with his boot. Its powerful tail twitched once more before going permanently still.