Page 27 of Darkest Dredge

Noah screamed something in my head. The eldritch words were lost on me, not because I didn’t understand—it was a safe bet to assume he wanted me to go back below deck—but because I wasn’t listening.

Pointing and aiming, I shot the flare straight into its beak.

Bullseye. Squid’s eye? Whatever.

This time, its scream was that of pain. Its grip on Noah loosened enough for him to slip free. He extended a hand toward me, his open palm waiting expectantly. “But, there are no flares left.”

He hissed something unintelligible, demanding the flare gun.

Swallowing, I handed it over.

Muscles rippled down his naked back, and he hurled the flare gun at the creature. His aim was true, and it bounced off its eye hard enough to leave it blind. At least in that eye. Due to the squid-shape of its head, it couldn’t see us at all until it turned over. Buying us precious seconds.

Noah scooped me up into his arms and bolted across the deck toward what appeared to be a large black rock protruding from the sea. A natural rock formation jutted out, creating a dock-like protrusion leading to the opening in the rock. A cave?

Another pale tentacle exploded from the water at the port bow. Cutting off what seemed to be our only exit strategy. It whipped toward us and coiled around Noah’s ankle, and with one tug, yanked him off his feet.

There was no clawing himself free, not with me occupying his arms. As he stumbled forward, he threw me with just enough force to send me tumbling onto the rocky ledge at the cave’s opening.

Pain shot through me at the impact. I didn’t care. I was screaming for other reasons.

“Noah!” My voice was lost in the storm. There was nothing I could do. I was all out of dildos and flares, with no other tricks up my sleeve. I was helpless to do anything but watch as the creature dragged my captain and his many flailing appendages across the deck.

With one last tug, it pulled him over the railing—taking much of it with them—and plunged into the impossible depths below.

***

The cavern was warmer than it had any right to be. The bewildering humidity had me scrambling out of my heavy layers until I was barefoot, in nothing but Noah’s T-shirt. The thin cotton was soaked with sweat within seconds, as if I'd stepped into a sauna instead of a cave in the middle of the arctic ocean.

My train of thought drifted from the temperature as I wandered toward the center of the cave where a large hole in the floor opened up to the ocean. It was an almost perfectly circular hole, at least ten feet in diameter.

Erected in another perfect circle were fifteen statues depicting eldritch deities. They’d been hewn into the rock face and positioned around the blowhole at the center of the sea cave. Only one of the statues had a face, though it wasn’t carved into the stone.

It wore a mask, just like the one we’d found in the crab pot. This one reminded me more of an angler fish than the tentacled one we found.

Did that mean there were thirteen other masks scattered at the bottom of the ocean?

It would be impossible finding them all, like a needle in a haystack. But what would happen if all the masks were somehow found and returned to each of their statues?

Unease thrummed through my circulation as I ventured toward the statue nearest to me and placed my hand on the smooth stone. Hot to the touch.

If only Noah were here to see this.

My throat swelled with emotion.

He’d saved me from the creature, confirming my suspicions once and for all that Noah hadn’t been completely consumed by the mask.

Now he’s gone. Probably eaten by the hulking mutant. What was I supposed to do now? The Clamburglar was still intact, and while Noah had taught me how to operate the boat, our navigation system was fucked. Meaning getting back to land by myself would be complicated, if not impossible.

Oh, and then there was the fact that an alien had laid its eggs inside me. For all I knew I was a ticking time bomb.

It was too much for one marine biologist to deal with.

I need a distraction. Something to cool my brain, maybe slap a plan together.

My field journal!

Going back to my abandoned weather gear, I fished my worn notebook and pencil from my coat pocket, sat on the floor and began to sketch.