Chapter 31

Paul crashed into the bulkhead and opened his eyes. He was surrounded by a swirling cloud of the insects. They hit him like darts from every direction at once, crashing into his back, whipping into his legs, clipping his ears and neck as they flew by. Their wings felt like tiny, sharp-edged knives.

He moved along the deck, keeping close to the superstructure and crushing dozens of the insects with each step. Soon he was slipping on their guts and goo. Feeling his way along, he found a door handle. He pulled it down, yanked the door open, and ducked inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

At least a dozen of the pests rode in on him, while another thirty or forty had flown through the briefly opened door. Shaking the attackers off, Paul smashed and stomped on them, crushing them against the walls, floor, and ceiling of the corridor.

Gamay and Chantel heard the commotion and came rushing out of the science bay. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Pest control,” Paul replied, stepping on yet another one of the invaders.

“Where did these come from?”

“Outside,” Paul shouted. “From the sea.”

Chantel went to the door, peered through the porthole, and put her hand on the latch.

“Don’t!” Paul snapped.

She stopped.

“There are thousands of them outside,” he grunted. “Millions, maybe.”

“Millions?” Gamay asked, looking at him as if that had to be an exaggeration.

“I didn’t exactly stop to count them,” Paul said. “But they surrounded the ship, like those locusts that swarmed out of the wheat field when we were in Kenya a few years ago. Do you remember hiding in the shed as the sky turned dark?”

Gamay remembered the cloud of insects blocking out the sun and pelting the metal-walled shed like hail. The noise from their wings had sounded like a squadron of World War II bombers flying overhead.

She joined Chantel at the window. The flying creatures could be seen mostly in the cones of light from the upper deck. They were swarming so thickly it was dizzying to watch. Before long they began landing on the window, covering it from top to bottom in layer after layer.

“The glowing water down below,” Chantel said. “When we hit a thousand feet. They must have risen to the surface to hatch. Just like the one we plucked out of the sample jar.”

Paul found his hands burning. His neck felt worse. “Can someone please grab the medical kit?”

As Gamay went for the first-aid case, several of the hidden insects fluttered out of the vent they’d flown into. It dawned on Paul that the Isabella was running with windows and vents open to let the cool night air in. “Call the bridge,” he suggested to Chantel. “Tell them to button up the ship like we’re going into a storm. Otherwise the ship will become infested with these things.”

As Chantel rushed to the nearest intercom station, Gamay returned with the medical kit. She doused Paul’s hands with antiseptic and then swabbed his neck.

He winced with pain, but didn’t ask her to stop. “Hope these are just bites,” he said. “I don’t want to end up like those whales.”

“If I have to, I’ll lance every bite and inject a sterilizing agent,” Gamay said. “For now, I’ll use an extra dose of the rubbing alcohol and then you can smear this antibiotic cream and this hydrocortisone on them.”

She handed him a pair of tubes.

“This is for poison ivy,” he said dejectedly.

“There’s nothing in here labeled ‘antidote for killer flying fish.’”

Paul had to laugh. Of course there isn’t. He squeezed out the antibiotic gel and rubbed it liberally anywhere the stingers or teeth had cut his skin.

As Paul finished applying the treatment, Chantel called over to them. “No response from the bridge. No one’s answering.”

—

Up on the bridge, the chaos erupted in stages. The night watch consisted of a junior officer and an engineering mate who was only there to chat and grab some coffee. They’d been talking quietly with the windows and doors open to let the cool night air in.

With the tinted glass and the illumination of the various computer screens affecting their night vision, neither of them had noticed the subtle glow appearing on the sea around them. The first hint of something odd was a whirring sound like cicadas in the trees. This was followed by a dull thud as something hit one of the windows.

“Was that a bird?” the mate asked.

The officer of the watch saw no feathers flying and thought the sound was too sharp for a bird strike. He leaned in close, looking for a chip in the glass, but didn’t find one. Still, he saw things fluttering around outside, illuminated by the forward lights. They looked like bats or large moths circling a fire. He noticed the throng growing thicker with each passing second.

“What in the world…”

Stepping out onto the wing, he focused on the swarm in the lights. Flipping a switch, he turned on a spotlight and aimed it over the side.

In an instant the sea came to life. The surface turned white as the creatures left the water. The rush of a million wings drowned out all other sounds as they swarmed up and around the ship like a living tornado.

They came for the light and found the officer of the watch, crashing into him with a shocking amount of force. Each one weighed mere ounces, but a hundred of them hitting at once was like being slammed with a twenty-pound bag of rice. He was knocked off balance and stumbled back toward the wheelhouse. He tripped over the weatherproof sill and landed on his back.

By the time he hit the deck, they were swarming all over him, biting and stinging every centimeter of exposed skin. They burrowed down through the collar of his shirt and under the legs of the Bermuda shorts he wore.

Twisting and swinging his arms wildly, the officer cried out in pain, but that gave the tiny creatures another place to attack and they went for his mouth, biting his lips and tongue and burrowing inside.

The engineering mate dropped down to help his friend, sweeping the insects off him by the handful, but it was pointless. Every spot he cleared was immediately covered again. And now the insects were latching onto him.

He stood up and backed away, marveling at their numbers. They were flooding into the wheelhouse through the side doors and pouring through an open window like sand coming down a chute.

He pulled one window down and tried to shut the door, but it jammed before it closed as masses of the insects piled up in the track.

By now the engineering mate was living in full-blown terror. His arms and legs were covered by the biting creatures. His face and neck were under assault. Unlike the officer of the watch, he kept himself upright by stumbling into the control panel and holding on. Feeling about blindly for anything that might help, he found the engine controls and shoved the throttle forward.

Deep in the ship, the engine surged to life. As the prop spun up, the Isabella lurched awkwardly into motion. The next thing he found was the button that sounded the ship’s horn. He pressed the button and held it, sounding a warning with a loud, long blast.

Startled by the noise, the insects launched themselves back into the air, and the inside of the wheelhouse became a swirling vortex of wings and teeth.

The engineering mate couldn’t take it anymore. He moved for the far door, but stumbled and fell forward. Reaching for anything that might stop him from falling, his hand caught the ship’s wheel and sent it spinning. He went down to the deck and was soon covered by the mass of insects in a mound several inches deep. He didn’t move again.