Kraken (26 page)

The fourth bite came from behind him. There was a stab of fresh agony, and then the strangest sensation, like a twisting pop. When Will looked down, his arm was gone.

There was nothing below the shoulder. Unthinkingly, he brought his other arm up to stroke the open joint, and gagged when his gentle fingertips touched torn muscle and a curiously smooth socket. Will screamed, from pain, yes, but more from the horror that part of him was missing, and would never return. The rush of the shark’s attack had propelled him forward ten feet, and with his remaining fingertips he brushed the opening in the rock where the lagoon lay.

The tide was full low now, the shallow gap in the rocks that led to the pool was only covered by a few feet of water. He reached for the ledge, feeling rough barnacles cut his hands, and Will’s scream became a sob at the realization that if the shark returned now he would never feel any texture beneath his fingers again. A sweeping bulge of water against the small of his back signaled the end. Will clenched in terror at the rock, pulling himself forward in a desperate attempt to postpone the inevitable. Just as he felt the cold brush of teeth against his skin the push sent him tumbling over the rock. The harsh surface removed the skin from his back and flank as he slid across. He braced himself for the bite: it would sever his spinal cord, and then there would be no more struggling.

The lagoon was calm and the blackness fell forever beneath him. Moving his legs against the searing agony in his pelvis was impossible to consider. Will didn’t even bother opening his eyes. He sensed the shark on the far side of the rock wall, unable, by a matter of inches, to cross the gap in pursuit. The water was rising though; it wouldn’t take long. It would hardly matter, anyway. He would last minutes at the most. Will knew no more terror, only certainty.

He wrapped his remaining arm against his body and thought of Aiden’s kiss. That wasn’t a bad thing to take with him into eternity.

The sky was so dark there was no sensation of falling deeper. He inhaled water, breathing deeply, trying to memorize the scent of Aiden’s skin. As he drifted he realized the gentle caress of sensation had returned to his neck and skull, the pain in his pelvis no longer a sharp spear-tip ripping into his mind. He unfurled his lone arm and felt for the injuries on his hip and legs. He touched only shallow dents in the skin, tender, yes, but the flap of loose skin no longer dangled from his body, and his hand no longer felt slippery with more than saltwater. Tensing in anticipation of pain, he kicked his leg experimentally. It ached, but the breath was not ripped from him in response.

He paused, treading water. All filaments of tingling pleasure retreated as he forced his hand up. Finding the strength to touch his shoulder was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Harder by far than being eight years old and having to cross the bedroom floor in the dead of night, certain,
certain
, that monsters were lurking. And he’d been right.

His fingers flickered tentatively over the surface, as if tasting unfamiliar food. No tattered fleshy remnants met his touch. The skin was smooth, but strangely bulbous, with a fleshy protuberance coming from the thickest meaty center of his shoulder. The realization made him squeeze his eyes tight in distaste and a fresh spurt of horror. His arm was growing back. As much of a monster as Cyrus was, he should never forget he was now one too.

Something bumped his hip and Will threw a noiseless scream into the vast darkness. He whirled in place, then realized it was the torch. Working his one hand awkwardly, he released it from the clip and switched it on. The beam played across the rock to his left, curling inwards underneath him.

He kicked downward, trying not to think about the crawling sensation in his shoulder joint, as if something was burrowed deep inside, fighting for egress. He followed the increasing pleasure across his neck and skull, ever-aware he had to rip it out at the source.

The wall beneath him was curving in sharply now, and Will angled his direction, shining the torch ahead of him. And there, just ahead, it waited, such a small, unprepossessing thing. He dropped the torch and reached out.

His hand closed around the top of the stone, the etched lines feeling comfortable against his palm. As he lifted, it was as if a thousand bubbles broke across his skin, and with a tearing sensation the pleasure was gone. Will cried out at the loss.

He tucked the stone close against his chest, cradling it with his one hand. He pushed off with his feet against the sharply-canted pool bottom. With horror he realized the tiny new limblet was reaching, wriggling, trying to stroke against the water. He felt a sense of alienation from his own body, and bent over, trying to retch against the pressure of water in his throat.

A terror like a deep ringing tone filled Will’s body. Fuck. It was Cyrus. Cyrus had entered the water. He knew what they’d done, and he was coming. In fear Will tried to pull himself through the water with both arms, and nearly dropped the stone.

Surfacing took a day and a year. Will coughed as he breached the water, his lungs gaving up their fill of fluid, leaving a salty taste on his tongue. Rain was pounding the ocean, fat drops hammering against the top of his head. He flipped onto his back, tasting the fresh water, and made for the entrance gap, supporting the stone with his body.

The moment he remembered the shark still lurking outside the lagoon Will’s heart hammered in his chest. He stopped dead, treading water. He couldn’t get his thoughts in order: the terror of knowing Cyrus was drawing closer every second stopped any coherent thought forming. He had to leave, but he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t hear Aiden’s boat over the sound of the rain, couldn’t sense it over his fear, but he knew it must be out there, trusted that Aiden was waiting for him. Fuck. How would he even find him? The torch!

He dove back under the water. The darkness and peace helped Will gather his thoughts. He knew with certainty it wasn’t just him able to feel Cyrus; Cyrus knew exactly where Will was and what he was doing. He would come and he would hurt him. Hurt Aiden. The thought gave his descent greater impetus. Whereas for himself he felt only resigned despair for what would inevitably come, for Aiden he could still fight.

He’d left the torch shining. From thirty feet up he could see its beam. His arm was regrown down to the elbow now, a misshapen hand on its end grasping at the water, long enough to grab the handle as Will angled his body over it. The ascent seemed faster this time, Will concentrating only on what he had to do next. On reaching the surface he struck out not for the gap to the ocean, but to the beach. His foot jarred as it struck bottom unexpectedly quickly, and Will limped as he staggered through the deep shingle. He walked south, along the rock shelf, too cautious to run. Falling in now would be the end. Crabs skittered out of his way, unseen in the darkness. Where they dived into the ocean at the edge of the platform Will felt them as tiny streaks of foam.

And now, even over the sharp dread he felt toward Cyrus, he could sense the displacement that was Aiden’s boat, there, three hundred yards out. He waved the torch, hoping the feeble beam would reach against the rain and dark. He sagged with relief as he felt Aiden turn the bow towards him.

When it was as close as he dared wait for – a barely distinguishable silhouette – Will threw the torch aside and dived into the water. Every touch of kelp frond made him catch his breath, but he forced his good arm to keep stroking through the sea, refusing to seize in terror. The side of the boat was so close, but he had no idea where the shark was until suddenly, it was upon him. He screamed again, his throat burning fiercely, tensed against the blow and pain to come. Aiden’s hand grabbed his, and lifted him out of the depths, into the boat. Will clung against him, shaking, as Aiden peppered kisses against his ear, his chin, his nose, and the rain fell on them both.

Will tried to speak, but Aiden kissed him into silence. “Fuck, I was so scared for you. You’re all right?”

Will wanted to shake his head, to share the sense of disgust and disquiet he felt, but there were more important things.
A
more important thing.

“We have to go. Now. Cyrus is coming. I don’t know how fast, but he’s on the way.”

He was relieved Aiden didn’t argue with him, merely throwing Will’s clothes and shoes at him and pressing him onto the seat while he started the engine. They swung south, along the coast. Will grasped his Jacket, tugging frantically, and shouting over the engine roar.

“No! That’s getting closer to him.”

Aiden shook his head.

“There’s a bay, just along here. We can go overland to the trees. It’s the fastest way from this side of the island. We’ll never beat him back to the harbor. Get dressed. Get your shoes on. Get ready to run.”

It did only take a few minutes to reach the bay, Aiden cutting the power at the last second, letting the incoming tide push the bow up onto the sand. He threw an anchor over, and Will wondered if there was any point. He didn’t think either of them would be coming back.

“Aiden! I need a backpack or something. Something to put the stone in.”

Aiden disappeared into the cabin, flicking an electric lantern on. The warm light spilled into the cockpit but did nothing to illuminate their surroundings through the driving rain.

Ducking back out, Aiden handed black mesh fabric to Will. “Catch bag.” He shrugged. “It’ll have to do. It’s all I’ve got.” He grabbed Will’s hand and kissed the cold fingers. “I’m unsuitably equipped to be a hero.”

Will wrapped the stone in a towel and stowed it in the bag. They jumped in over the side and waded out of the water. Will was grateful the surface underneath was firm compacted sand. He looked upwards to the steep ridge towering over them. As he looked, lightning licked the sky overhead, showing Will a flicker of beach with deep forest reaching right down to the sand. Long seconds passed before a distant rumble of thunder sounded. Rain ran down his face, and he pushed his hair out of his face with his new arm. He couldn’t tell the difference any longer, and he shivered.

Aiden grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the north end of the beach. They had just made it into the shelter of the trees when Will felt Cyrus at the entrance to the bay. The nausea almost overwhelmed him, and he grabbed at Aiden.

“Oh fuck. He’s here.”

“Listen to me. On land he’s no faster than you or me. Do you think he knows where we’re going?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll just have to outrun him. Don’t stop for anything.”

There was a path here, broad and level. Water was streaming down it, making the surface slick and slippery. The driving rain made it hard to look ahead. Will had forgotten what it felt like to be dry. He relied on Aiden’s guiding hand, pulling him onward.

The noise of the rain on the leaves at either side of the road blocked all other sounds. Will’s gut clenched, as he felt Cyrus leave the water and step onto the sand. He was glad it was too dark for Aiden to see his panic.

Another bright light flashed in the sky, and the thunder was much closer now, louder. Almost immediately there was a second bolt, and boom, and Will caught a glimpse of Aiden’s grim, determined face.

They jogged as fast as they could up the track. The road started to curve around to the right, but Will could feel the distant beginnings of tingles in his skin, calling from deep in the forest ahead, to the left. He tugged Aiden’s hand, pulling him over to the side of the track.

The track was cut into the side of the hill, and they had to scramble up a steep bank. Will’s fingers dug into the soft yellow earth, and once he reached the top he reached back to give Aiden a hand. Will felt relieved now he could feel where they were heading, ducking around tree trunks and under ferns. The going was easier, the canopy above blocking some of the rain. Although the leaf litter slid under their feet, it gave them a better footing than the road. He imagined Cyrus behind them, mumbling threats and promises, and sped up. They were nearly to the top of the ridge now.

The tingling on the back of Will’s neck was strong, so it was no surprise when they burst out of the forest and into the clearing. The bleached skeletons of the three trees were white even in the darkness, and when lightning lit up the clouds directly above them, they seemed to glow. The thunder was immediate, the sound a sharp crack that seemed to reach inside Will’s ears.

The tingling was strong, and Will went directly to the northernmost tree. He circled the tree, able to feel the stone, right
there
, but he couldn’t see it. The terror of knowing Cyrus was coming fought with the pleasure the stone offered. He wanted to sit down against the trees, as he had his first night on the island. Only the thought of Cyrus kept him on his feet.