The Ship of the Unforgotten - Chapter 32

Camp NaNoWriMo

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Jun. X, 2565 A.C.E.


Dann tore his eyes from the display in disbelief. Cobb was barely recognizable. He looked strong, but hadn’t regained the mass he must’ve had before freezing. He was skeletal and wirey, his movements shifting between swift and sure to shaky from moment to moment. But it was the eyes more than anything that really creeped him out. They shone brightly with madness; they’d have given his mental state away even without the terrifying rictus grin that seemed to be permanently plastered across his face.

“Rose,” he said, “are there audio pickups there too? He looked like he was mumbling to himself before he ran upstairs and out.”

“They’re all over the corridors, yes. Let me set it to replay those last few moments.”

The four of them—Jenny and Lydia had crowded around to see—leaned in to hear, as the mumbling was very soft, almost like he didn’t realize himself that he was speaking. Rose adjusted the volume, making his words, or sub-vocalizations, really, somewhat clearer.

It was something like trying to pick words out of the wind, but a few times Dann could’ve sworn he heard the word trap, and a lot of invective, mostly directed toward them he thought. His eyes widened at the language the man was using. He kept glancing around the area, as though trying to make up his mind. His body was tight, drawn in upon himself, as though expecting attack, or some kind of harm.

After about a minute, he stiffened, his face in profile, half-shadowed. His grin grew wider, and he cast his gaze up the stairs and toward the door that should have lead him to the sub-arctic tundra biome.

“The sea of red lights … the green pool of the unfortunates,” he said with sudden shocking clarity, and then he seemed to laugh soundlessly. His eyes narrowed with a hunter’s intensity then and he stalked up the stairs and out of the view range. Moments later they heard a door creak ponderously open, and the screaming of sub-arctic winds. Rose shut the display and the sound off.

Sea of red lights, green pool. Dann’s eyes widened, and he turned to look at Lydia apprehensively. She had gone very pale at the implication; she stood rigidly still. With a glance but without a word, she spun on her heel and was gone in a flash up the corridor to where their supplies—and weapons—were kept.