Dead Sea Chronicles by Tim Curran

Author:Tim Curran [Curran, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodshot Books
Published: 2019-09-09T23:00:00+00:00

12

As they rowed on, Gil was seized by that weird and enigmatic sense of déjà vu again. It filled his mind and he saw things, remembered things, but then it was all gone just at the point when he might have made sense of it. There was only one image that remained after the others had gone—a face of all things, sickly yellow and seamed with agony, a mouth opening and closing as if it was trying to scream, eyes bursting with blood that formed into beads and droplets that exploded one after the other.

That’s what he saw.

Then it was gone.

Imagination, that’s all it is, he warned himself. It isn’t the first time your mind went on some crazy trip in this place and it sure as hell will not be the last.

He knew better than to think too deeply on any of it. There were real terrors out there in the mist and weed and if you thought about them, about the things you could not see, it could incapacitate you, turn into a shaking, petrified thing.

Webb began to make a whimpering sound. “Oh no, not again,” he said in a wounded, frantic voice. “Please don’t let this happen again.”

“Hell you going on about?” Craw put to him.

Webb started shaking uncontrollably. His mouth twisted in a grimace of sheer anguish, beads of sweat rolling down his face. He looked terrified. Maybe even beyond that to the point of sheer madness.

A gust of wind suddenly came out of nowhere, stirring the fog, making it spin like a vortex.

“Listen,” Craw said, pausing on the oars.

Gil heard it—a distant droning noise that was getting louder and louder, closing in on them, it seemed. The buzzing of locusts in a summer field, flies and cicadas rising into a steady whining hum until it was all around them, assaulting them from all sides.

Webb cried out.

Then he began to scream. He fell off his seat into the bottom of the Zodiac, pointing off into the mist with one skeletal finger, jabbering and squealing. “There! There! There!” he shrieked. “They’re all around us now! I can see them! They’re all around us! Dozens of them!”

Gil saw nothing, but he did not doubt that something terrible was occurring. The fog was moving with waves, seeming to peel away layer by layer. Shadows moved through it, crooked things like rawboned phantoms dipping and drifting. The sea began to roll, frenzied breakers slapping against the rubber boat. The water had gone black and boiling.

And through it all that buzzing increased, reverberating and whirring. The mist was flickering with light. There was a noise like static electricity coming from it. Whatever was happening, it was stirring everything up.

“What the hell is this?” Craw cried out. “What is it?”

Now Gil saw a form in the fog. At first, it was a shadow but then it emerged, steaming and sizzling as if it had just come out of a fryer. It was a woman and her face was the face he had seen in his mind not that long ago.

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