The Bound Eye-Part 6 (Final Part)

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               Miguel was panicking. What could he do? How could he alert the others and find Gene? He looked around frantically and spotted the ship’s manual fire alarm switch. Pulling it down sharply, he heard the blaring wail of the sirens cut through the wind and the rain. This was certain to wake up everyone else, as well as get the attention of whomever was at the helm. It worked quickly, as he felt the vessel starting to slow its pace. He climbed up to the upper deck and went towards the research room, where everyone had agreed to meet in case of an emergency.

               Stepping into the room, Miguel gasped at the sight he beheld. As expected, Gene no longer lay on the table. Not as expected, though, was the disastrous state of everything else. It looked like the center had been ransacked, with papers, equipment, and tools all scattered about. Several important and expensive testing devices were smashed to pieces and the drawers for cataloging samples had been pulled from their tracks, their contents spilled out over the floor. The others soon came in from the rain looking tired at first, but quickly having the same shock as Miguel. The smell of fear, sweat, and a slight hint of diesel filled the room, along with the growing clamor of voices.

               “What happened here? Where is Gene?” Anita exclaimed.

               “Who broke the equipment and made this mess?” Alex shrilled.

               “I don’t know everything,” confessed Miguel, “but I saw Gene jump overboard just a minute ago! I pulled the fire alarm to get your attention; we have to stop and look for him!”

               “Jumped overboard? What the hell do you mean?” The anger towards Miguel had still not left Alex’s tone.

               “I mean I heard footsteps and watched him fall off the upper deck. Couldn’t you see him from the helm Shelly? He’s out there now and we have to find him!”

               “Miguel,” Shelly chimed in, “that will never work. He could have fallen as far as one knot back, and the waters will have dragged him farther off course than that. At night and in this storm, we’d be searching all night and not making any headway. If what you’re saying is true, he was lost the moment he hit the water.”

               Miguel did not want to believe what he was hearing. He wanted to protest, to beg that they look and at least try to do something. A new emotion also began to well up inside of him, an emotion that once again felt like it was alien, or that someone else was feeling it through him. It was a sense of distrust and disquiet towards Shelly. He knew she was right about the hopelessness of a search, but he still felt resentment for the decision and for her in general. As if to underscore his unease, a low rumble of thunder crashed outside. With disgusting resignation and a bit of contempt, he nodded his head.

               Captain Barton seemed content with his agreement and continued “Alright, let’s try and get this place cleaned up while…”
               Alex cut her off, “Wait a minute. We’re all just going to believe him without question?”
               “Oh, I have a lot of questions alright,” the captain said impatiently, “but I can clearly see that the doctor isn’t here anymore and for now I’ll take Mr. Romero at his word.”
               “Well I won’t. He’s already responsible for the deaths of Millie and Corwin. He’s been screwy this whole expedition, and the rest of us have been to courteous or too stupid to speak up about it. Maybe he tossed Gene off.”
               Anger rose up within Miguel; a hot, indignant anger that had no real target. Before he could think, he was shouting back at Alex, “Why the fuck would I sabotage my own expedition? You’re right, I haven’t been quite right since Alyssa died, but you think I would throw out everything she and I worked for? Why is everyone else above your suspicions, detective? Why didn’t the captain see anything from the wheelhouse?”
               Captain Barton now threw her own voice into the ring to defend herself, “Hey, don’t go throwing wilding accusations! In a storm like this I’m almost blind up there! I’m navigating by instruments alone, and if I weren’t as good at my job as I am then all of you would be in a load of shit!”

               “And yet you still don’t even know what’s happening on your ship,” Alex slung. “Someone’s been destroying out equipment and killing your crew right under your damn nose!”

               “Will all of you shut up!” Anita’s voice boomed with a sense of presence and command nobody had ever seen her wield before. The others stopped their shouting and turned to her in shock, their blood still hot, but their mouths quieted. “Arguing like this will not solve anything! I can see you don’t trust each other, but we are losing our heads over this, and it’s becoming dangerous. Have any of you even noticed that Steven isn’t here?”

               In fact, none of them had noticed. They looked around quickly and saw she was right. The fire alarm still blared its high pitch scream, and it was impossible that it would not have woken him by this point. “Shit,” Captain Barton cursed, “you all stay here, I’ll go and check on him.”

               “I’m not staying around with psycho here,” stated Alex.

               “Listen, none of us had any reason to destroy equipment or tear this room apart,” Anita said calmly. “If there is someone else on this ship it will be safer if everyone stays together.”

               “She’s right,” agreed Miguel. “We need to move together. If there’s a stowaway, then we’ll have safety in numbers. If there’s a saboteur, we’ll have eyes on them” Alex and the captain seemed to cautiously agree, and so the four of them set out to search for Steven.

               The stairs to the lower deck were slippery from the sheets of rain pouring down. One by one, everyone went down, tightly grasping the hand rails and placing each step with care. The storm had picked up even more since Miguel had last been outside, and the swirling winds were tossing water everywhere. Even the overhang provided little refuge from the driving torrent. The party crept along the deck, sticking close to the exterior walls of the galley. As they approached Steven’s quarters, Miguel thought he saw a small light flowing out from under the door, but it vanished just as quickly. With the stress and anger roiling in his head, as well as the strange separation of his feelings and thoughts, he was beginning to doubt even his own senses.

               Alex was the first one to reach the door. Yelling as loud as he could over the storm, he pounded his fist hard against the metal. “Steven, are you in there?” There was no response. “Steven, if you’re in there let us know! Some freaky shit is happening, and we need to know if you’re all right.” Still silence.

               Captain Barton pushed her way in front of Alex and pulled out a set of keys. She flipped through it quickly and stuck the one she needed into the keyhole. Before unlocking it she loudly announced, “I’m unlocking the door Steven. We’re coming in now.” The lock gave a soft click and the captain pushed the door open.

               Inside was dark and musty, but dry. The fire alarm was shrieking just as loud in here as anywhere else on the ship, but there was no movement or any indication that it had been heeded. It took a moment for Miguel’s eyes to adjust to the dark. When they did, he looked and saw Corwin’s empty bunk on top, the sheets still untucked from the previous night, and Steven’s bunk below that. There was clearly something lying in this bunk, and Shelly pulled back the sheets to reveal Steven’s body.

                His eyes were wide open and staring 1000 meters beyond everyone. His mouth hung open is a contorted, silent scream. He had no color in his skin at all lay frozen in fear, one hand hanging limply from the bed. Anita let out a little shriek and despair began to mix in with the fear and anger inside of Miguel. Shelly placed her finger under his nose, then under his jaw. “Damnit,” she cried, fighting back visible tears. Miguel stood motionless and silent, partly paying respect, and partly trying to quell his fear.

               “We need to get out of here,” Anita whimpered. “Someone else is onboard this ship and it’s not safe anymore.”

               Captain Barton stood up and nearly growled her next sentence. “If there’s a stowaway on my ship that’s killing my crew I want to find and kill that bastard. There’s nowhere else to go anyway.”

               “What about the life boats? Those can carry four people can’t they?”

               “They can, but launching them in a storm like this is a huge risk.”

               “Staying on this vessel is a huge risk,” Miguel said. “I second the motion to abandon ship.”

               “And what about you?” Captain Barton asked Alex.

               He stood for a moment, thinking over his options carefully. He looked harshly at Miguel, a look that Miguel returned in kind. Finally, he said glumly, “I don’t know who to trust any more, but the life boats can get back to land faster. I say we take our chances with them.”

               Captain Barton saw she was outnumbered and reluctantly agreed to try launching the life boats. The four headed astern, passing the stairs they had come down and staying on the second level. On the rear deck, the pouring rain soaked everyone to the bone. Flashes of lighting split the sky overhead and load roars of thunder followed soon after. The life boats swung violently in their riggings, but mooring lines tied to the ship’s cleats could be used to hold it steady. Alex and Miguel grabbed these lines and pulled the boat close.

               Anita was the first to step over the little gunwale. She put he foot down and immediately slipped backwards. Shelly was able to catch her before she hit the deck and helped her to right herself. “There’s something slick on the step inside the boat,” Anita declared, a little out of breath.

               Cautiously, Shelly went into the boat as well and had a quick look around. She came back onto the Bess with a look on deep concern. “The fuel tank has been slashed and drained. There’s gas all over the interior and no way to repair the tank. We’ll have to check the other one.”

               They went to the other life boat, fighting the wind across the deck, and pulled the second boat in. Again, Shelly checked the craft, and again she found the fuel tank was sabotaged. Whoever had stowed away and was committing these atrocities did not want anyone to leave. Alex and Miguel let the boat free again and they all looked at one another with despair.

               The thunder and wind howled furiously over the deck, but another sound caught Miguel’s attention. Or rather, it was the lack of sound that caught it. Ever since he had pulled the fire alarm, the ship had been stopped and the engine put into idle. Now, the soft churning of the engines had stopped completely. “Does anyone here the engines idling?” he asked. The other waited for a moment, straining their ears against the storm, but soon they too agreed that the sound was gone.

               Suddenly, the outboard lights and the still screaming sound of the fire alarm shut off. The four were left in darkness out on the deck, their only source of light being the flashes from the storm. The howling wind and sudden black chilled Miguel to his very core. He felt someone grab his arm tightly, but he couldn’t see who it was. He heard Shelly curse again and say, “Looks like our stowaway’s down on the engine level. Anita and Miguel, you two head down below to see if you can restart the power and the engines, plus head off that fucker. Alex, you come with me up to the wheelhouse to make sure the controls work when the power comes back on.”

               “Wait a minute,” Miguel protested, “we have no idea how these engines work. How do you expect us to make any headway?”

               “They’re not that complicated. Check fuel and oil levels first, then look at the pressure gauges and see which, if any, are blocked up. If I had to guess, they probably cut a fuel line down there the same as they did to the lifeboats. There’s some extra hose in the rooms down there you can use to replace it. As for the power, the easiest way to kill it is to disconnect the battery, so just hook it back up. Here.” She walked over to the access shed and pulled out a pair of two-way radios from the repair equipment shelf. “Call me if anything looks fishy or you need help.”

               “And what if we do encounter this stowaway?”

               “Then give the bastard what he deserves.” Shelly’s tone was fierce and angry, and before either Miguel or Anita could argue any further, she grabbed Alex by the arm and dragged him forward. The other two looked at each other with disquiet and doubt, but ultimately grabbed a couple of flashlights and descended the ladder in the shed to the bowels of the ship.

               In stark contract to the environment on deck, the air on the third level was stagnant and warm. The humidity made their already soaked clothes cling to their skin like a heavy blanket. The glow of the flashlights illuminated a small area in front of them and they kept them pointed down to see the floor ahead. They first passed through a reserve fuel room, with a dozen barrels of gasoline that made the air hard to breath. Opening the bulkhead at the end of this room, they came into the main engine room. Here, the warmth became even more oppressive and the smell and taste of acrid smoke sat heavily in the air. There was almost no sound of the raging storm outside, and Miguel found the near silence to be even more ominous than if there had been the loud clamor he was used to.

               The two began to throw their lights around the room, searching for anything that might have caused the engine to stop. Looking at the fuel lines, Miguel found that one had indeed been cut. The gas lay in a thick puddle on the floor, with the small drops still falling from the severed line. He looked around for the hose Shelly had mentioned, but couldn’t seem to find anything. Then, he heard Anita gasp and say with a trembling voice, “Miguel, look at this.”

               He spun around and cast his light where she was looking, adding to the glow from her flashlight. On the side of the engine itself was a gigantic, inhuman handprint. It had four digits that were long and slender, and from fingertip to palm was nearly a meter long. He approached it cautiously to see if he could tell how it had been left there. The print was black, like soot, but did not come off when Miguel ran his finger over it. The edges were unkempt as well and, to Miguel, it seemed like the print had become a part of the engine, like a scorch or brand. In fact, the mark was eerily similar to the discoloration around the fossil skull on the sea floor.

               Like a red-hot ball slithering down his throat, Miguel felt a primordial fear descend throughout his entire being. He began to sweat heavily, causing his jacket and pajamas to stick even tighter to him. Here before him was concrete proof that they were not alone on the ship; that some primeval force that had wiped out an entire race millions of years ago now stalked the pitch-black halls. He had no idea what it looked like, what it could do, or, worst of all, where it could be. He looked over at Anita and saw her face twisted with the same horrifying revelation as he had. His hands shaking, he pulled out the radio and pressed the button to speak. “Shelly, holy shit we’ve found something. There’s…there’s some kind of handprint. It’s scorched onto the engine and…dear God, it’s huge and I think it’s related to the excavation site. We have got to get out of here somehow. Shelly, do you hear me?”

               Only static came through the radio when he stopped. With his heart beating so loud that he thought Anita must be able to hear it, Miguel tried calling again, “Shelly, do you hear me? We have to get off the ship!” Still nothing. “Fuck! Anita, we can’t stay here, we have to move. We have to get off the ship.”

               Silently, and with the deep lines of terror still cutting across her face, Anita nodded her agreement and they both started heading back the way they came. Through the foul-smelling fuel room, up the ladder, and back out into the raging storm they went. The wind and rain beat mercilessly down on them as they frantically looked around the deck for their next move.  “See if there’s a flare gun or life vests in these crates, I’ll check the ones over there,” Miguel shouted, pointing across the deck. He ran as fast as he could while still keeping his footing and slid down next to the crates.

               He was desperately fighting with the locks and securing lines when he heard Anita let out a toe-curling scream. He whirled around and threw his light at the source of the sound. He saw his friend sprawled out on the deck, bleeding from a deep wound on her torso. Her eyes were filled with tears and horror as she silently mouthed something to him, reaching out with a weak, shaking arm. Then, with a sickening crack, a knife was shoved through her head and into her skull, sending a great flow of blood onto the deck. It took all of Miguel’s strength not to vomit from the scene. Shifting the light just slightly, his terror and disbelief peaked as he saw Shelly Barton tightly grasping the knife.

                Pulling the knife from Anita’s body with a wet slurp, Shelly began to come slowly move towards Miguel, limping on her left leg. Miguel had enough wherewithal to get to his feet and back away, never taking the light or his eyes off of the assailant. Over the roar of the wind he cried out. “Why? Why are you doing this Shelly?”

               To his surprise, she called back, “You and I were right. This place, this expedition, it was all wrong. God had meant for that place to stay hidden, and what we saw cannot be brought back to the good and holy world he has created.”

               “So it was you? You killed everyone?”

               “Not everyone. God is merciful, and I did not have to bear the burden for the souls of my crew.” From her tone and her words, Miguel could see she had been completely consumed by the idea that these murders were just. The woman before him was not the one he had met two weeks ago; something had dragged her into religious lunacy.

               “If you didn’t kill Corwin, Steven, and Millie then who did?”
               The answer to his question came in a blinding flash of lightning. The strike was so bright and close that Miguel had to turn away and shield his eyes. When he moved his hand, he saw the angel that had visited his dream in Albany floating upon its wings of light behind Shelly. With the ship and woman as measures, Miguel could see that the angel was four meters tall, and he could feel the warmth coming off of it even across the deck. The being did not give him the same feeling of divine grace as it had the last time, however, but instead filled his soul with disgust and terror. It was this creature that attacked the sub, this creature that murdered Steven while the others argued, this creature that left the handprint upon the engine.

               Shelly spoke again, “It came to me last night and told me the will of God. What you found down there is an abomination, an affront against all that is holy.  Those who carry its secrets cannot be allowed to take them further. I was told what I have to do, and I have repented for it. I’m sorry Miguel, but this is His will.”

               Finishing her final sentence, she began to lunge towards him as fast as her limp allowed. Miguel turned to run off the deck, but the angel flew ahead to block his path, its radiance hitting him like a blast of air from a furnace. He turned to see that Shelly was nearly upon him. He looked and felt around for anything he could use as a weapon. Running his hands down his sides and in his pockets, he felt his lighter and a large, heavy lump in his jacket. He pulled out the stone idol he had put there hours before, and, with the crazed strength of someone defending their life, he swung it at Shelly as she slashed at him. The corner of the statuette smashed into her temple with a crack and she fell like a ton of bricks, her body spasming as blood and bone splinters poured from the wound.

               As Shelly lay dead on the deck, Miguel turned just as the angel let out an ear-splitting shriek. It rushed over to him and grabbed his neck in its massive hand. He could feel its touch burning his skin as it squeezed tighter. Flailing his arms and legs wildly, Miguel manage to bash the idol into the creature’s arm. It shrieked again at the blow and released its grip. Miguel fell to the deck and saw the creature grasping its arm in pain, the living light where he had hit it turning a deeper red. The idol had slipped from his grasp in the fall, and he now scrambled to find and use it again. He saw that it had slid near the crane, and he dashed quickly towards it. Unfortunately, the angel saw his move and nearly instantly beat him to the spot, tossing the idol overboard at the expense of its own hand.

               Miguel now had no way to fend off the creature. The only thing he had left was the lighter. With desperate terror, he pulled it out of his pocket and lit it. The rain and wind threatened to put out the small flame, but with his last ounce of strength he tossed it into the nearest lifeboat. The gas drenched boat lit up instantly, throwing a great fireball into the storm above.

               The explosion threw Miguel from the ship and he crashed hard into the sea. In a giant bubble, the wind was knocked out of him and he felt his lungs fill with water as he reflexively gasped for air. The salt burned in the wounds on his neck, and he felt himself slowly sinking into the depths. His thoughts turned to Alyssa and, despite the pain he was in, he felt at ease with his inevitable death. For a brief moment, he wondered if he should pray in his final moments, but he quickly remembered that it was God who had sentenced him to this fate, and instead he let the darkness take him.

               Yet, once again, a feeling that was not his seemed to take over his body. He felt the water catch in his throat, and the pressure of death seemed far away. It wasn’t that he could breathe; the water still felt heavy in his lungs and every part of his body still screamed for oxygen, but simply a feeling that he would not die. It was as though he were possessed by a will to live that was not his own.

               He looked before him and beheld a sight that terrified his mind, but made him feel nothing. In the darkness surrounding him, whether it was water or void he could not tell, were seventeen burning eyes. Each one stared hard at him, their collective weight feeling greater than any pressure within the ocean. The eyes were not fixed in space, but moved and danced in nauseating kaleidoscope patterns. Despite their eclectic motions, the eyes never looked away from Miguel.

               Then, in the middle, amidst the swirling orbs, another, absolutely massive eye opened from the darkness. Miguel looked into this one as it stared in full burning fury at him. Within this eye he saw everything and nothing all at once. His body began to tear itself apart with contradicting feelings: pleasure, pain, terror, exhilaration, sickness, joy, every emotion possible and more washed over him and threatened to rend his mind. The eye continued to bear down its other-worldly gaze and penetrate its way into his mind and soul with its expressions of eternity.

               A voice came forth from the darkness; a booming voice that issued from every direction at once. Miguel was not sure whether he heard it or was simply aware that it was speaking. The words were clearly not English, and yet he was able to understand what they meant. It was a single line both whispered and shouted to him from out of the void. “Perhaps it is time you sought a new god.”

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