“And if you hear Firebirds launch,” he added sourly, “then kiss your ass goodbye.”
Going to the stern, a bosun waved a bright orange flag at the other nine boats as a warning. But most of them had already gone silent, and soon the entire armada was coasting along by sheer inertia through the Pacific Ocean, props still, engines banked and quiet.
To the naked eye, there was only some rough water ahead. Maybe an underwater volcano bubbling up steam or a school of sharks in a feed frenzy. But under the glass, Brandon saw it all. A humpback whale was fighting for its life. Bleeding from a hundred wounds, the creature frantically rolled over and over, trying to get loose from the writhing tentacles ripping off chunks of its flesh. An eye was removed, the blowhole ripped wide. The whale slammed down a tail that could have crushed the PT boat flat, rolled over once more, but to no avail. More of the tentacles stabbed into its huge body and began to pulse as they pumped out the life fluids. Pitifully moaning a warning to others of its kind, the humpback still tried to swim away, but was dragged backward under the choppy waters. Then a red geyser shot into the air, going up a hundred feet as the horrible feeding began.
“Nuke me,” the pilot breathed, and grabbed his blaster for no sane reason. The weapon would be totally useless against one of the ocean leviathans. Its only possible function was to blow out his brains and save the man from being swallowed whole, boat and all, in a single gulp, by the underwater mutie.
Padding along in bare feet, Thor approached the machine-gun nest. The lieutenant was leaning over the railing, watching the death match closely through the binocs.
“Never seen one before,” the sergeant said, cracking his knuckles, then abruptly stopping and staring at his hands as if they belonged to somebody else. The sea muties were attracted to sound, the more the better. As a child he heard stories of the muties attacking an island ville celebrating their baron’s birthday, the finishing of wall, whatever, and dragging most of the people and the buildings into the sea. He had never believed the tales until this moment.
“What’s wrong—scared?” Brandon asked, a touch of amusement in his words.
“Yes,” the sergeant answered truthfully. Standing erect, Brandon lowered the binocs and tucked them into a cushioned bag at his side. “Me, too,” he admitted. “If that thing attacks, we don’t have a chance in hell of reaching land in time. Even if I sacrifice the other boats, it’ll still swallow us all, then go looking for more.”
“So we wait.”
“Aye, wait in silence, until it leaves.” Thor started to crack his knuckles again, then stuffed both hands into his pockets. “Shouldn’t be too long,” he ventured, watching the mutie tear the whale apart. “Mebbe only a couple of hours. It’s about done.”
“We stay right here for however long it takes,” Brandon whispered. “Cold Harbor isn’t going anywhere.”
“Aye, sir,” Thor agreed. “What’s another couple of days?”
SLUGGISHLY Krysty awakened to find herself naked under the covers of a large bed. The mattress was softer than anything she had ever been on, the quilt warm and heavy. The woman almost went back to sleep it was so comfortable, then the images of the fight on the beach flooded back into her conscious mind, and Krysty abruptly sat upright, reaching for her blaster.
But she was alone. The room was big, brick walls, bare concrete floor with thick rugs of different designs. All of the furniture was oversize, the two wooden chairs before the fireplace old leather shiny with polish. There were no windows; the light came from bright white lanterns. The door was lined with bolts, all of them on her side.
Obviously this was no prison, and aside from her lack of clothing there were no indications she had been violated. Lots of bruises, but only where she remembered Langford pummeling her with his massive fists. Then she noted the wounds had been tended, cuts stitched closed. Krysty recognized Mildred’s style of a battlefield dressing in the bandage on her shoulder. There came a fuzzy memory of the tunnel fight and a confused impression of being carried through the ville by Ryan and J.B. with people cheering. Had she aced Langford, and was the baron now? Or was he still alive and softening her to be his bed partner?