The cold crept into my bones as I sat slumped in the lifeboat, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Around us, the sea was black, an endless expanse that swallowed the wreckage of the ship. The silence now was unnerving—thick, unnatural, like the world itself was holding its breath. Only the soft slap of water against the sides of the boat reminded me that we were still alive.
But for how long?
Billy sat across from me, his pickaxe clutched in both hands, its jagged edge dripping with black ichor. His wound was worse now—the bite mark on his arm had turned an ugly shade of purple, veins spidering out like ink spreading through water. Freddie was beside him, staring blankly into the distance, rocking slightly as if he were trying to keep himself from breaking apart.
"What now?" Freddie finally whispered, his voice hoarse.
I didn't answer right away. I didn't know. My gaze shifted back toward the horizon, where the twisted silhouette of the thing still loomed, its jagged limbs moving slowly, hypnotically, as it prowled the edge of the darkness. It was watching us. Waiting.
The others in the lifeboat—around a dozen of us crammed into the narrow wooden vessel—shifted uneasily. A soft whimper broke the silence as a teenage boy clung to his mother's arm.
"We need to get farther away from the wreck," I said finally, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Row."
"What if they're still out there?" a man asked, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "Those... things. In the water."
"Then we don't stop," I said sharply. "We keep moving. Whatever happens, we don't stop."
Billy groaned softly, shifting in his seat. His skin was slick with sweat now, despite the frigid air. I reached out to him, but he flinched.
"Don't touch me," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I'll be fine."
He wouldn't be. The infection—whatever those creatures had put in him—was spreading fast. I wanted to say something, but before I could, the sound came again.
A ripple beneath the water.
It was faint, almost like a low hum, but I felt it reverberate through the wood of the lifeboat. The air grew heavier, colder. My breath misted in front of me as I glanced nervously at the others.
"Did you hear that?" Freddie asked, his voice breaking.
No one answered. All of us heard it. The water beneath us wasn't calm anymore. It was shifting. Stirring.
And then, something knocked against the bottom of the boat. A sharp, solid impact, enough to jolt us.
"What was that?" the teenage boy cried, clinging to his mother. She wrapped her arms around him, tears streaming silently down her face.
Another knock—thud—this one harder. The lifeboat rocked violently, and I gripped the edge, my knuckles white. I peered over the side, but all I saw was darkness. Black, endless, unknowable.
"It's under us," Freddie breathed, his voice trembling. "It's under the boat."
"Row!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "Move!"
The men at the oars scrambled to obey, pulling frantically at the wooden handles. The boat jerked forward, but something was wrong—the water around us had turned thick, viscous, like tar. The oars moved slower, each pull meeting resistance. It was as if the sea itself didn't want to let us go.
Then I saw it.
A pale shape passed just beneath the surface, impossibly large. It moved with deliberate, gliding motions, circling the lifeboat. I couldn't make out its full form, but what I saw turned my blood to ice: an expanse of limbs that writhed like eels, faintly luminescent with that same sickly red glow I'd seen in the sky. For a heartbeat, I swore I saw an eye—huge, lidless, staring straight through me.
The teenage boy screamed, and the thing beneath us responded.
With a thunderous crash, the lifeboat lurched upward, thrown into the air like a toy. I was airborne for a single, sickening moment before I hit the freezing water, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs. The cold consumed me instantly, pulling at my limbs, sinking into every pore.
Underwater, the world was a nightmare of darkness and distant, red-tinted shapes. I kicked frantically, breaking the surface with a gasp. Around me, the others were thrashing and screaming, splashes echoing like cannon fire in the night.
"Billy!" I shouted, coughing up salt water. "Freddie!"
I couldn't see them. The overturned boat was floating nearby, its shape barely visible through the gloom. Something brushed against my leg—a soft, slippery caress that sent me into a frenzy. I flailed toward the wreckage, my fingers scrabbling at the slick wood until I managed to cling to it.
That's when I saw Freddie. He was clinging to the other side of the lifeboat, his face pale, water streaming from his hair.
"Freddie!" I gasped. "Where's Billy?"
Freddie didn't answer. He was staring at something just behind me, his eyes wide and mouth trembling. Slowly, I turned.
Rising from the water, its grotesque form towering above us, was one of the creatures. Its body dripped with black slime, the limbs unnaturally long, almost human but horribly distorted. Its head tilted at an impossible angle, and its mouth opened—revealing rows of jagged teeth, like shards of glass.
I froze, my mind screaming for my body to move, but I couldn't. I could only stare as the creature lunged forward, its limbs reaching for me. At the last moment, Freddie's voice broke through my paralysis.
"Move!"
I kicked off the wreckage just as the thing crashed into it, splintering the wood into pieces. I swam blindly, salt water stinging my eyes, my limbs aching as I searched for anything to cling to. Around me, the others were vanishing—dragged below, their screams bubbling into silence.
A hand grabbed me—rough and urgent. I twisted, ready to fight, but it was Billy. His face was pale, his eyes wild, but he was alive. He was holding a broken plank of wood in one hand, his pickaxe floating beside him.
"We—" He coughed, spitting out water. "We have to get out of here."
"There's nowhere to go!" I shouted, barely able to hear myself over the crashing waves and guttural screams. But Billy didn't listen. He pointed past me, and I turned.
In the distance, shrouded in fog and shadow, there was something—a shape. A dark island, jagged and foreboding, rising from the sea like the broken spine of some long-dead beast.
"It's land!" Billy yelled.
It wasn't much, but it was our only chance. With every ounce of strength I had left, I swam, Billy beside me. The waves grew rougher the closer we got, as if the sea itself was trying to keep us away. Behind us, the massive silhouette loomed again, its limbs spreading across the water like cracks in the earth.
And then, finally, my hands found solid ground—rocks slick with seaweed and blood. I pulled myself up, collapsing onto the jagged shore, my lungs burning.
Billy crawled up beside me, coughing violently. For a moment, neither of us moved. We just lay there, shivering, listening to the sea behind us.
But then I turned my head. The land wasn't empty. Faint shapes stood silhouetted against the mist—tall, unmoving figures, their eyes glowing faintly red.
We weren't safe. Not even close.
And somewhere behind us, from deep within the water, the hum returned—low, rhythmic, and hungry.
It was calling to us.