The morning came, but James hadn't slept all night and his eyes stung with dryness. Monsters chased him whenever he closed his lids, and the smell of blood permeated the air on the ship. Every sound played painfully on his nerves, sore from overuse. Groaning like a zombie, he climbed out of the bed and got ready. Simply going through the motions without feeling or tasting anything. Ignoring the red spots on the suit, ignoring the smell and the body on the floor.

The others were quiet too. The silence raked his ears as much as the shotgun had the previous day.

The ship wasn't exactly quiet, but it was the utter lack of speech that did it. Dakarai had always been talkative. Joking, positive, silly. James needed that right now. Something positive. Instead, all he got was silence and sadness. And guilt. He hated it.

He knew it wasn't his fault, exactly. But it still felt like it. Dak had tried to save him. Had saved him. But he'd paid with his life. James hadn't asked for it. Wasn't even sure he was grateful for it. Had he been saved just to die another day? Maybe today?

'Are you ready?' Bill's voice cut through James' dark thoughts like a knife.

'No.' Rebecca stood by the bed, shivering like a paper in strong winds.

'Ready or not, we've got a job to do. Our lives depend on it. And we're only three now, so we've got to be effective.'

'Bill, can't she stay on the ship?' James tried, hopelessly.

'You wanna go, just the two of us?'

He didn't, but he nodded anyway. 'She's not gonna make it. Can't you tell?'

Bill's lips thinned and his eyebrows came together over deeply shadowed eyes. 'Fine. Come here.' He showed her how to scan from the ship's computer, and pressed a walkie-talkie into her hand. 'It's important you look at all times, and that you talk to us. Understood?'

'Yes,' she whispered, almost inaudibly.

Seven Abysses of the Seas, we're dead, James thought as they left. But he hoped Rebecca would manage, and keep them safe. At least they'd have eyes from above, and she'd be out of harm's way. Unless those baboon-hawks got onto the ship, or the eyeless dogs. He shivered.

Bill grabbed the shovel, James took the shotgun. Then they left without another word.

At first, they found nothing. But James hadn't really expected to. They'd already been through here. And so had others as well, probably. He dreaded coming back to the room with the doll. The nutcracker. He'd looked the thing up on the computer during the night when he hadn't been able to sleep. Freakiest thing he'd ever seen. He dearly hoped they wouldn't meet another one. Even if he could shoot it, provided he didn't miss, or it fired first, it was still a great danger.

The comms hissed, and Rebecca announced they had missed something in a room to their right. No monsters.

'We'll take a look. Over,' James replied.

She didn't reply, but then he supposed she wasn't in the mood to talk more than she had to. He walked in to the room, Bill stopped in the doorway, keeping an eye on the corridor for danger. What had they missed?

James looked through the shelves and boxes in the room, finding nothing much. But then, something glinted in the light of his flashlight. He stepped closer. An old phone, lying partly hidden below a dusty desk. He crouched and reached for it, struggling in the encumbering suit to get a grip on it. But after a few failed attempts, he got it and stood upright.

Suddenly, a scream echoed in the room. Startled, James dropped the phone and spun around. His flashlight fluttered all over the room, like an erratic butterfly's movements. Nobody there but Bill, who stared at him from the doorway.

'What the?' A chill ran down his spine, the hairs standing on end along his arms and neck, prickling. The scream continued, far too long. He turned back to the phone on the floor. The scream stopped.

He stared at the old receiver for a long time.

Had it come from that? That wasn't possible.

Gingerly, his hands sweaty in the gloves, James picked it up again.

Maybe it was a trap?

Pressing a button, he half expected it to give off another scream. But nothing happened. He pressed a few more, just to make sure. But only silence rewarded his efforts.

'Hello?' he said, almost inaudibly.

Nothing answered, and he felt silly for trying. Had he imagined it? It couldn't work, surely? But then, where had the scream come from? Had someone tried to phone them? Who? How? This place was abandoned. He decided it was probably best to not think too hard on it, pushed it into a deep pocket, and returned to Bill.

'The hell was that?' Bill asked, his voice hoarse.

'No idea.' He shook his head, still not sure about it. 'The phone... screamed?'

'Must have been from something else.' Bill frowned. Then he slapped James on the shoulder. 'We need to move. That racket's bound to draw something to our location.'

James nodded and let his flashlight shine down the corridors. Nothing there yet. 'Let's go.'

In silence, the pair continued forward. Eventually, they entered the place where it had happened. James and Bill both stopped, like on a command. Looking around, James spotted the nutcracker, still laying on the ground, its still figure sending chills through him. Dark spots flecked the wall and floor around it. James' ears rang and nausea rose like a wave. He had to look away and take several deep breaths.

Bill patted him on his back, then started moving again. Cautiously making his way around the room to an unexplored corridor, full of pipes.

Come on, get a grip, man, James told himself and straightened. He had to follow. If Bill could do it, he could as well.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Avoiding his eyes, and fixating on Bill, James hurried past the scene.

The corridor was dark and silent. Only the occasional creak or ping from the pipes running along the left wall. James listened closely. A faint rushing noise came from one of them. He found it odd that some things were still running in these old, abandoned places. Why hadn't they been shut down when the people left? Was there a purpose to that? And in that case, what?

'Watch out,' Bill said ahead.

James stiffened for a second, his eyes searching for trouble. But he saw nothing but Bill's orange back, standing by a t-crossing.

'What's up?'

'Steam.'

What? Carefully curious, James walked up beside Bill and followed his gaze. The left corridor was filled with a thick steam, obscuring any chance they had at seeing anything.

'Well, wonderful.' The light from his flashlight did nothing but brighten the mist into a wall of milky-white soup. 'I'm not going in there.'

'No, better not.' Bill headed off into the right corridor instead, and stopped a few metres in by a door.

'It is open?' James asked, having a sinking feeling they'd have to brave the steam anyway.

'Yeah.'

The door squealed open with an insistent added grunting every other given centimetre. A dank odour wafted out of the room. Inside rested a dusty darkness.

'By the seven,' James muttered, glad he had the suit on. Even if it didn't protect him fully from smells and sounds, it sure helped a lot. And he hoped it would protect from any potential residual diseases, mould and bacteria. Too bad it didn't deter monsters too.

They stepped into the room and looked around. There were toppled shelves and tables, old broken chairs, and a large hole, with dangling spider webs along the opening, in one wall. James stared at the hole, swallowing. Was it another giant spider? Or something worse?

'What did that?' he whispered, shining his light on it. He grabbed the shotgun and pulled it out from the strap. He might need it.

'No idea. Something big, probably,' Bill muttered. He looked over at James and nodded. 'Good idea.' Then he stepped closer to the hole and the pile of dirt, furniture and other things around it. He poked something with the shovel.

James kept the light fixed on the hole, peering into the dark, listening for any sounds.

'I'd say this is something's lair,' Bill said then. 'Lots of bone-pieces and rotting things here.'

'Maybe we should leave?' James said.

'Ask if she sees anything.'

'Wh...' James realized what he meant and pulled up the walkie. 'Rebecca? Over'

The walkie-talkie hissed and her faint reply came after a few seconds. 'Yes?'

'Are there anything worthwhile in here? Can you see the hole, or tunnel ahead of us? And are there any monsters nearby? Over.'

'Uh, no. I can't see anything. I see the tunnel, at least a little bit of it. But I don't see anything moving in there. Can't see any loot either. Sorry.'

'It's okay. Just wanted to make sure. Over.'

'There's n-'

'I heard,' Bill interrupted. 'Let's go the other way then.'

Fuck.

'Yeah, sure.' James hated when he was right. At least in these situations. But maybe they didn't have to. 'We can go back to the hub, and see if one of the other corridors opens up into a new area?'

Bill looked at him.

'Fine, fine,' he muttered. He placed the shotgun back over his shoulder and followed Bill out of the room.

'It'd be a waste of time,' Bill said as he entered the steam. 'There's a new area right here.'

'Yeah, but... it's not very, say... safe. Is it?'

'Nowhere's safe.'

James nodded. 'That's fair. But I prefer to see.'

Bill didn't even bother to reply. James didn't blame him, really. He was just whining and, he supposed he needed to talk to keep his thoughts away from other darker things. He sighed. This sucked. He could barely see his own feet, or the walls. He let his fingers trail gently along the left wall to keep him oriented, and warn him of any sudden gaps. He pointed the flashlight to the floor, in hopes of spotting any holes, tracks or obstacles.

'There's loot further ahead!' the walkie-talkie suddenly hissed. James nearly jumped out of his boots in surprise.

'Great, thanks. Over,' he replied in a subdued tone. Better be quiet than sorry. How would they find anything here though? He couldn't see shit. Nevertheless, he kept walking at a slow and steady pace.

He hit something, and grunted, grabbing for the shotgun in sudden panic.

'Sshh!' Bill hissed at him, his hand waving him back a step. 'I heard something. Listen.'

James froze, straining his ears. The hiss of steam was louder here, and his own breaths were loud inside the helmet, droplets of water pattered over him. But he heard nothing else.

'Nothing,' he whispered back. He looked at the walkie. Rebecca hadn't seen anything either, or she was occupied now. He hoped for the former. Sweating, he started walking forward again, following the hazy, orange glow of Bill's back.

The darned corridor split.

'I hear louder steam from the left,' Bill said. 'I'll go and see if I can find a way to turn it off.'

'Alright. I'll wait here.' He looked back and forth, seeing nothing but thick fog. Behind them, the same story. Darkness and steam. Water condensed on his visor and ran in little rivers, making it even harder to see anything. He dearly hoped the shadowman wasn't following them here. The bracken. He'd never see it in time. Suddenly more nervous than before, he looked around again. Making sure nothing crept up on him.

The steam swirled, the droplets crawled across his visor. The cone of light from his hand swayed back and forth. He swore under his breath. Why had they bothered with this? Unless Bill turned this off, he'd insist they go back. Loot or no loot. He didn't care.

Something creaked.

James twitched and raised the flashlight, searching. But he saw nothing. Sweating, he looked around again. Just foggy nothing.

Another faint squeal disturbed the silence. Fuck.

'Bill?' he called.

Screw being quiet.

He fished the walkie-talkie up, and pressed the button when something dropped from above.

The sudden weight and pitch dark had him stagger sideways. A muted clatter of the walkie and flashlight hitting the ground reached his ears, but he barely registered them. Something sat on his face, curled around his head. Panicking, he tried to pull at it, and beat at it with his hands. Whatever it was, it was big enough to weigh him down, and it wiggled and pushed. The helmet creaked alarmingly.

With his heart hammering a crescendo in his ears, James shouted for Bill. The helmet creaked again, and something scratched at the visor. Scratched, snapped, banged.

'Bill! Fucking help!' he yelled, trying to run in Bill's direction, but disoriented by the dark, he instead hit a wall and stumbled back, his shoulder bruised. The crack of the visor breaking shocked him into a standstill for a few aeons long seconds. Then a louder crack and a strange, loud squealing had James reeling back in full panic. An unpleasant, rank smell hit his face. Something had broken his visor.

'BILL!' he yelled at the top of his lungs, and tore at the thing on his face with both hands, but he couldn't get a good grip.

Something flicked his nose, and pulled at the helmet, breaking the visor off entirely.

By the seven, he was gonna die.

James screamed, wordlessly, desperately.