Simon waited for them to leave before entering the captain’s cabin again. Michelle didn’t seem to have moved, but her bottle of water was more than half empty.

“Who is it? Who survived?” she asked.

“Pedro. The engineer. Can’t remember his second name,” Simon said. “He’s fine.”

“I remember him. I saw him,” Michelle whispered and looked at the white blanket she had draped over her body.

“He remembers you, too. Said you were singing. Remember singing?” Simon asked.

“I never sing. My friends don’t even take me to karaoke anymore,” she said, and a smile appeared on her face. It was just for a short moment, but Simon took this as a good sign.

He knew he had to push now.

“Michelle, we’ve got a problem.”

“What . . . what problem?” she asked with a trembling voice.

“My friends think it is too dangerous to take you or Pedro off this ship if we don’t know what happened here.” Simon sighed. “So, I know you don’t want to remember, but you have to. You understand me? You have to tell me what happened.”

“I saw Pedro at the medbay. The second mate, the doc. They . . . ripped those two apart. I think they ate them, their hearts and organs. Blood was everywhere. He was out of his mind. They all were.”

“Begin at the beginning.” Simon said. “What happened after they let you go after the two guards were dead?”

“I heard the whisper. I tried to sleep in Anton’s cabin, but I kept on hearing the whispers. So, I put loud music on. It made them go away. I couldn’t hear the whispers anymore,” she said.

“The whispers? There was more than one?”

“Yes, it seemed to become more and more. You can’t imagine these voices. They pierced into your mind, into your soul. Listening to them was like losing yourself.” Michelle stared into the room.

“I knew if I listened to them, I would be lost, and I felt how the whispers spread. It became more and more. Then I heard screams. Even over the loud music, I heard screams. I was afraid, but I also needed to know what was going on, so I left the cabin and went over to the medbay. The screams came from there. I sneaked in, and there was a dead man. I don’t even recall who it was. Then I saw them—the doctor, Pedro, the second mate . . . the captain. Yes, I remember the captain was there, too. Pedro stood above them, laughing, blood coming out of his mouth. He had his hands spread and laughed as the others ripped the flesh out of the screaming, tied-up patients. Moore and Mannheimer. I remember it was those two.

“They begged for mercy, screamed in pain. I ran away. I just ran away. There was blood everywhere. Down there, I saw Krug with an axe. He swung it into one of the engineers. The man stumbled away, past me. Krug had no eyes for me. He wanted to get into the cantina. I ran again. Upstairs. I heard shots and screams. I made it to the bridge and saw Krug had been there, too. He had—” Michelle burst into tears again.

“I know. He had beheaded the acting officer,” Simon said. Michelle nodded.

“Roberts locked himself in the radio room. I hammered against the hatch, begging him to let me in. He told me to run away and hide and not come near him. Anton found me. He had a gun and wore a headset. He grabbed me and told me he would . . . have to end this. I asked how, and he told me that he would blow it up. The thing in the cargo area. He would blow it up.” Michelle shook her head.

“He was so brave. But the explosives . . . only the captain had the key to the safe where they were kept, near the equipment shaft. I begged him not to leave me alone, but he said he had to go. He had to. He was so brave. Then, he locked me in this room and left. I had no music here, so I went into the shower. I turned the water on and closed my ears to keep the whispers out. I tried to keep them out, you know? Before they took me.”

“You stayed there for two days?” Simon asked. She didn’t look as if she had spent two days under the shower.

“I don’t know. I remember hearing the captain, so I must have gone back to the cabin at some point.”

“What did the captain say?”

“He screamed in pain from far away. I think someone killed him like the men in the medbay were killed.” Michelle wiped her tears away. “I stayed silent. I had no weapon. The only clear thought I had was that if they found me, I would die, too. And the whispers—they grew fewer again. Fewer and fewer, until it was only a handful, and I could understand the words again. I hear them again. Far away, but the whispers are still there. Can you hear them?” Michelle asked.

“No,” Simon said and sighed. Michelle leaned forward.

“It’s still down there in the dark. It’s waiting for you, Simon. Waiting for you and your friends to do the same thing it did to us. Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach.” she whispered.

NASAT NASAT PRIOMIN. NASAT DEFIRE. ACHPACH. ACHPACH.

Simon heard the words in his mind. Not a whisper—an echo.

“Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach.” Michelle repeated them again, her eyes now glassy and feverishly glowing.

“Stop it!” Simon said and jumped up from his chair.

“Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach!” Michelle hissed the words. Simon stepped forward and put his hand in front of her mouth, pressing hard on it. She still tried to say the words under his hand, her eyes now rolling and vanishing under the lids, so her eyes were only white balls.

Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach. Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach. Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach. Achpach. Achpach. Achpach. Achpach.

Simon heard the words echoing in his mind. Echoing from far away, like . . . a whisper. He screamed. He screamed out loud and kept Michelle’s mouth closed, pressing his hand on her mouth and nose. She spasmed but didn’t fight him. Finally, she slipped away as the tension left her body, and Simon’s scream died down. The whispers were gone. They were gone. He felt sweat drip off his head.

So, Pedro hadn’t been entirely wrong about Michelle. Simon turned and left the room as quickly as possible. He locked it once outside and leaned with his head against the metal wall. The cool steel did him some good. She didn’t seem to realize what she did. It was as if she lost control like the words possessed her. Or was he just wishing she did? Shaking his head, he pushed himself away from the metal wall.

Simon realized with painful clarity that they had to find out what was going on fast or they would all die.

There was no monster to slay here. No bullet would end this nightmare, no matter who they shot. No, this place turned them into monsters.

The voice had filled him. He dared not even remember it, fearful the words would come back. It had been as Michelle said. The whisper penetrated one’s mind and soul, twisted it, corrupted it.

Simon focused on breathing and wondered for the first time if Brockmann had actually lied to them?

Because whatever it was, it was still here.

****

Brockmann went first, and Anna followed him with the small pad that contained the entire three-dimensional map of the ship.

“Left. That’s the kitchen. Check the door,” she said.

Brockmann did so with the hand not holding the gun as she gave him light with her flashlight.

“Open,” Brockmann said and turned the metal wheel that locked the room. He pushed it open and stepped back as the smell of rotting flesh escaped the room behind the hatch.

“Doesn’t smell like survivors,” Anna said. She wished she had a gun—she really did.

“No, it doesn’t.”

With a raised gun, his own flashlight now turned on again and flickering in the dark, Brockmann entered. Anna waited for him to clear the room and then followed into the large kitchen. Knives were missing from the blocks. It was the first thing she realized. Brockmann stepped on a pan, and the sound made Anna jump.

“Sorry,” Brockmann said. In the light of his flashlight, he saw the pan was smeared with dried blood.

“They killed each other,” Anna said. “It got to them.”

“We’ll see,” Brockmann said and passed the kitchen. Anna followed him.

On a table next to her, she saw sushi, rotten now as it had been there for two days. A small, sharp knife lay on a heap of now-greyish looking fish. At the corners, one could still see it had once been orange salmon. Quickly, she took the knife and put it into her jacket. She still had the gun at her ankle holster, the one she hadn’t given Simon, but she would only use this in a case of absolute emergency. So, a knife was a good weapon if she needed one—the best she could do right now.

“Come here,” Brockmann said as he entered the cantina through an open hatch. Blood was smeared on the ground, making it terribly sticky. It had dried days ago and was brown now. Anna followed and saw what he had called her for.

The cantina was a slaughterhouse. Bodies were everywhere—no, body parts were everywhere. Sixty, maybe seventy bodies torn apart. Blood covered the walls, tables, floor, and doors. It looked as if someone had painted the room in blood.

“They shredded each other to pieces,” Anna said as her light fell on an especially bizarre couple.

Two men, one lying on the ground with his left arm missing, and the second man above him, biting into his skull. His mouth was so wide open that he might have broken his jaw to do so. The pain of breaking one’s jaw was terrible, but he hadn’t cared. He’d tried to eat the man, head first, when someone had rammed a long knife into his neck and killed him instantly, preserving the two dead men in this bizarre embrace.

“Great God,” she gasped.

Brockmann looked at her and stepped into the room.

“No one had any chance to escape. Like hungry rats thrown into a basket, they . . . ate each other.” Her stomach tightened, but she wasn’t going to throw up in front of Brockmann. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

Brockmann shook his head in the dim light.

“The captain doomed them,” he said.

“No self-preservation, no sense of morale or decency. They were like animals.” Anna saw a man whose guts had been ripped out with bare hands, and she quickly looked away, covering her mouth. The smell was terrible—it was the smell of death.

“The reign of madness,” Brockmann said.

“What?”

“I remember a file where something like this was described. An old file. They called it the reign of madness.”

“This has happened before? You know about this?”

“No, we never got to the source of it.” He looked at her. “It was an old case. Happened in World War II.”

“Like the sub,” she said.

“Like the sub.” He knelt down and gathered a bunch of papers up. “Speaking of which. The manifest of the U 39,” Brockmann said, holding them out. “The log, maybe. Hard to decipher.”

Anna took the papers, now glued together with dried blood. The sigil of the Third Reich was still clearly visible. Below it was a second sigil, showing an eagle.

“You recognize this?” she asked.

“Ahnenerbe. The Nazis occult division.”

“They had a . . . ” Anna raised her brows.

“Everybody did back then. The Nocturne Society worked closely with the allies in the war. Hitler had his Ahnenerbe. They did mostly nonsensical pseudo-science, but they found a few true . . . things,” Brockmann explained.

“What does this mean?”

“I think the submarine was not on its way back to Germany. I think they tried to get these things somewhere else. Let’s take these with us. Maybe Simon or Fornby know some modern ways to make it readable.”

“I know an expert.”

“Good,” Brockmann said and removed his backpack. He grabbed a plastic bag from it, took the papers from Anna, and put them inside.

Anna saw his backup gun in there—an automatic Colt 1922, like the one he had given Simon. Exactly the one he had given Simon, probably. Brockmann looked at her, realizing what she had seen. Quickly, he closed the backpack and put it on his back again.

“There are no survivors down here,” Anna said and let her flashlight circle through the room. Her eyes fell on one of the walls. Someone had scratched something into it.

Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach.

Anna stepped back. She knew the signs; she had seen them in the radio room, and now she knew what they meant. She could hear them.

“Are you alright?” Brockmann asked.

Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach.

“I hear it again,” Anna said, pressing her eyes closed.

“Listen to my voice, Anna. Ignore them,” Brockmann said. “Can you do this?” He peered at the wall himself and stepped towards it. “Just listen to my voice. My voice. You hear me? Anna?” He continued staring at the wall as if talking to her was more of a side activity.

Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach.

“Stop it,” Anna said.

“What?”

“Stop whispering to me!” Anna yelled and drew the knife from her jacket.

****

Simon had to find out what happened, and talking to Michelle was no longer an option. Not alone. The same was true for Pedro, who might have been just as dangerous. So, the only choice he had was to go looking for other hints. He decided he had to confirm Michelle’s story by finding the captain.

Somewhere on the second level, she had said. That’s where she had heard him scream.

****

Leaving Michelle alone posed a certain risk, but he felt uncomfortable staying near her. He was relieved to escape her proximity. Like a black hole, she and these whispered words seemed to have their own inescapable gravity; even thinking of them made the words sink into the periphery of his thoughts. It was as if his mind was under siege, constantly probed and tested for a gap through which they could slip in and take it apart.

Whatever had been in the cargo hold had vanished. At least, that’s what Brockmann told them. Yet, Simon remembered this look, that short moment when Brockmann asked if he trusted him. He couldn’t really deny it—the look was what puzzled him. Simon wondered what Brockmann looked like when he lied. Maybe he wanted to protect Simon, but more likely, he had come to the conclusion that it was too dangerous for Anna to know; his mistrust towards her made this already difficult mission worse. Simon slid down the metal stairs to the second level and closed the door to medbay. The mutilated bodies were a distraction, and it took all his power to ignore them.

He passed the corridor where Paul was guarding the door of Pedro’s room. Paul had a can of some Austrian energy drink in his hand and sipped from it. He nodded to Simon.

“Did he behave?” Simon asked.

“Not a sound. I think he’s sleeping,” Paul answered.

Simon nodded and sighed. Then he went left, turned on his flashlight, and entered the corridor to the aft part of the second level. He tried to remember if someone had told him what was here, and if so, what it actually was, but he couldn’t. So, he slowly entered it, keeping the automatic handgun Anna had given him out and ready next to the light next to it. He was ready to shoot if anything suddenly jumped out of the dark. Nothing did. The only sound he heard was the rain from outside, crackling against the ship’s exterior. That and the wind crying.

On the sea, the wind had a different intensity; there was no cover, nothing slowing him down. Out here, nature ruled, and humans tried to survive under her tyranny. Humans were good at survival, of course, and that is why they build large ships—monstrosities of steel. Simon breathed out, closed his eyes and continued his way through the corridor. He opened the door to his right and found another empty cabin. Then to the left where he found a room for two. It didn’t seem to be a place to live, just a sleeping room. Probably some sort of extra crew awaiting emergencies and otherwise sleeping through their nightshifts. There was blood, but again no body.

Simon was about to leave when he saw something on the ground. He stepped over to it, saw a smartphone, and picked it up. Obviously, it had no battery anymore, but even if it had, out here, there was no chance of signal. There was no network. So why would anyone have it on him, actually? Simon put it into his jacket, and then his head snapped around. He heard a noise . . . steps. He was still kneeling but raised his gun at the door. Paul appeared there, raising his hands in defense.

“Hey, stay cool,” he said. “Only me.”

“Sorry.” Simon lowered his gun.

“I thought I saw something, wanted to check. You find anything?”

“Not really.” Simon sighed and got up.

“So, how do you guys plan on finding out what happened here? You said you’re experts. This is madness, so what kind of experts are you? Psychiatrists?” Paul raised his brows. “Chemists, maybe?”

“Chemists?”

“Yes, don’t think I’m stupid. This nightmare here? It didn’t have natural causes. These people went insane. So, I wondered—because you said we should only drink bottled water and only eat our rations—if you think these people were exposed to some sort of chemical? Or is this a literal ghost ship?”

“I know the captain’s report was spooky but let’s collect the facts and then judge what happened here, okay?” he said.

Simon saw he wasn’t satisfied with that. He sighed again and sat on one of the two flat, uncomfortable beds. “Listen, I can’t tell you everything. But—”

“Don’t pull that crap on me. You can do whatever you want. You guys don’t work for the Government. Not for ours, not for any other,” Paul said.

“I never said we did.”

“No, you let Anna imply it without confirming or denying it, right?”

“We work for an independent organization investigating extreme cases. Is that enough?”

“Guess it has to be. So, none of you got any authority over me.” Paul sat on the opposite side of Simon and stared at him.

“Neither would we have any if we were Government agents. You’re a civilian.”

“Wouldn’t have made a difference to me. I’m an ex-soldier,” Paul said. Simon looked at him and then smirked.

“If we get out of here, you should ask her out,” Simon finally said. Paul’s eyes snapped up, then he laughed.

“That obvious?”

“No, but I have these hunches from time to time.”

“I see. Well, I already did.” He sighed and leaned back, resting on his arms.

“And?”

“Not her type. We agreed to stay friends.”

“Ouch,” Simon said, and both laughed. Then Paul grew serious again.

“Do you trust your partner?” Paul asked.

“I do.”

“Have you two worked together long?”

“A couple of weeks.”

“I don’t trust him, just so you know.” Paul said and stood up.

“Why?”

“I know men like him. I see how he manipulates both of you. Anna knows it, but he out-maneuvered her every time. I wonder why?”

“He doesn’t trust her completely, that’s all.”

“How come?” Paul asked. “The most loyal person I know.”

“But he wouldn’t know that. It isn’t her fault. In this line of work, trusting is tough. Especially for him.” Simon stared at his feet, his arms resting on his knees as he leaned forward.

“So what will you do if this is contagious? What if we begin hearing those whispers?”

“Do you?” Simon asked, giving him a long look.

“Not yet. It might be the darkness or all the bodies, but I feel . . . something,” Paul admitted.

“What is it?” Simon had his gun next to him on the bed. He almost smirked at how that had become his immediate reaction. Where is his gun?

“Something is here. If you know what I mean. Something . . . is aware of me, my presence. It watches me. It’s waiting,” Paul said seriously. “As I said, the darkness and bodies might be playing tricks on my mind.”

“Maybe.” There it was again, the whisper. Searching the mental perimeter of his mind for a way in.

“So, what do you do if it’s contagious?”

“We deal with it. As I said, we’re experts.” Simon insisted, not sure if he was an expert on anything.

“You mean we contain ourselves and stay here? Stay here until we suffer the same fate as they did?”

Simon shook his head. “I know what happened here. I talked to the survivors. What happened to them won’t happen to us.”

“Why?” Paul asked.

“It took them by surprise. Completely unprepared. They had no defense mechanism, no awareness it was even happening until it was too late.” Simon waved his hand. “They had no chance. We do.”

Paul nodded. “When Odysseus passed the Sirens, he closed the ears of his men with beeswax. Then he had them tie him to the mast, to endure the song of them. It almost drove him crazy as their beautiful voices called for him. His ship passed safely. So, do you got any beeswax? Because we have no mast on this ship, I hope you know.” Paul got up.

“Beeswax,” Simon said, and it gave him an idea. “We need to go to Pedro’s room.” Simon hurried from the room, and Paul followed.

Simon ripped open the door. He knew right away that something was wrong as he stepped inside. Pedro was sitting in front of the bed, his head leaned forward; blood was forming a pool around him. In front of him lay a razor. They hadn’t checked the room, and he’d slit his wrist.

Paul quickly stepped forward and took his pulse.

“So much for sleeping.” Paul sighed. Simon nodded in the dark, looking around. There was a pen and a sheet of paper on the bed.

SHE WON’T GET ME. I HEAR HER WHISPER NOW. SHE WON’T GET ME!

The words were barely readable, scribbled onto the paper in haste.

“Damned idiot,” Simon hissed and sat on the bed. “Why didn’t he tell us?”

“Guess he didn’t believe in this defense scenario you described,” Paul said.

Simon took out his phone and unlocked it.

“You got no connection out here,” Paul said.

“I don’t intend on making a call. I want to see if there’s any bluetooth device around. A box or something.”

“Why?” Paul asked, raising his brows.

“Because I can’t see anything here that makes music. Michelle lied to me,” Simon said, sighing. “You stay down here and guard the body. I need to talk to her.” Simon said and got up.

She had lied, and Pedro was probably telling the truth. And she had whispered to him, just as Pedro said she would. On purpose? No, that was the wrong question. The real question was, had she done it knowingly or under something else’s control? He headed to the metal stairs, then heard a rumbling to his left. From the bridge. Checking the door first, he realized Michelle was still locked in.

He aimed his gun at the bridge and slowly entered. Something was hammering against the hatch of the radio room from inside. Simon swallowed and slowly approached it, the gun aimed at the metal.

“She attacked me.” The raspy voice of Brockmann came from the dark, and Simon turned around to see his partner standing there.

“Is that her?” Simon asked.

“Yes.”

“You locked her in there? With the signs on the wall? Have you lost your mind?”

“She is tied up and gagged.”

“That isn’t what I meant. We don’t know what these signs will do to her. We need to get her out!” Simon took a step to the door.

“We have no other room, and she’s dangerous, Simon. I saw down there what they can do. They are all dead. If I hadn’t been cautious, I would be too. It got her, though. Whatever it is that causes this, she . . . attacked me,” Brockmann said. “I told you we can’t trust her.”

“This has nothing to do with trust. You felt the words, their power. Even as a recording. I heard them speaking. I heard Michelle whisper them to me, and I can tell you—”

“Do you hear them now?” Brockmann asked.

“No,” Simon answered, irritated. He saw Brockmann was still holding his gun, but so was Simon. They stood there in the darkness for a long moment, then Brockmann put the gun in his holster.

“Good,” he grunted. “Now get away from the door. She stays where she is.”

“Are you using her? Is she your lab rat?” Simon asked. “She is one of us.”

“No, she isn’t,” Brockmann hissed.

“Of course, she is. We accepted her, and we brought her here with us.”

“She isn’t one of us anymore. She is one of them, whoever they are. You haven’t seen her. She was out of her mind, Simon. She attacked me in blind fury.” Brockmann stepped forward. “The signs in there can’t do her any harm anymore. She’s already lost.”

Simon looked at the door. “Pedro is dead. We can bring her down there . . .”

“These doors are thicker and made of metal. She is good where she is,” Brockmann said. Simon shook his head in the dark.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Brockmann? She . . . we can save her,” Simon said. “We can save her.”

“What makes you think so? You let your sympathy for her get in the way of things. You’re not thinking clearly.” Brockmann stepped forward.

“No, I think this thing—whatever it is and wherever it is—is afraid of us,” Simon said. Brockmann raised his brows in surprise.

“Why would it kill all those people otherwise, hm?” Simon asked.

“A side effect?”

“No, this is intentional. I can feel it. There is a will behind this. There is a will in these words, these whispers. It kills everyone because it’s afraid of us.”

“Maybe.” He paused. “You have heard it? The whisper?”

Simon nodded.

“Then you need to give me your gun.” Brockmann nodded at the weapon in his right hand. “You got a new gun, hm?”

“Yes, she gave it to me,” Simon said.

“Good, now give it to me.” Brockmann extended his hand.

“No,” Simon said. He looked at Brockmann and couldn’t believe the look in the old man’s eyes. Anger? Disappointment? Did he really want to take his gun?

“Why?” Brockmann asked, and his hand went to his gun. Simon glanced at it and then at Brockmann. The old man hesitated.

“Don’t draw your gun, my friend,” Simon said, and he realized he had called him a friend for the first time.

“Why won’t you give me your gun like you told Anna to do before? You know you’re affected. I just told you what it did to her,” Brockmann said.

“First, because I need to talk to Michelle again. I need to be able to defend myself when I do. Second, because I know you lied about the cargo bay. You lied about what you found there.”

Brockmann sighed. “I didn’t lie to you. I lied to her.”

“So, what’s down there then?”

Brockmann looked at him. “The sarcophagus. It’s made of a strange metal, and I’m not sure it can be opened, but let’s call it sarcophagus for now because it looks like one.” Brockmann sighed. “It’s covered in these glyphs. Every inch of it. The metal is not silver. It’s something else.”

“Did you hear the whisper?”

“No,” Brockmann said, staring directly into his eyes.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It is the truth. Simon, I’ve been trained for these things for decades. I have seen many things, and I know how to keep an influence out of my head.”

“Do you?”

“It uses the fear of people. Fear is a feeling one can’t ignore. It amplifies them until they turn into mindless rage.” Brockmann whispered now as if someone would overhear them. “I’m not easily scared, as you should know.”

Simon looked at him and then nodded, but not in agreement. It felt wrong; it didn’t feel like the entire truth. But he had to accept the answer for now.

“It’s just the two of us, Simon. As always. We must work together, or these things will win,” Brockmann whispered. “Give me your gun.”

Simon shook his head slowly. “I’ll talk to Michelle now,” he said and turned away.

“If it takes you over and you have a gun, I might not be able to overpower you, Simon,” Brockmann said sharply. Simon stopped. “I might have to kill you.”

Simon nodded in the dark and half-turned to his partner. “Likewise.”

Brockmann stared at him and finally nodded.

****

Michelle was still sitting on the bed as Simon entered. He sighed, closed the door, and locked it from inside.

Anna was imprisoned in a room with those glyphs, and Brockmann behaved as if he didn’t trust Simon anymore. Yet, he hadn’t acted to neutralize the threat. It was unlike him.

“Where are your clothes?” Simon asked her.

“I am sorry for what I did. I think I lost control,” Michelle answered, her eyes getting wet again.

“Cut the crap. Seriously, I don’t want to hear another lie from you, you hear me?” Simon said. “Where are your clothes?”

“I . . . I don’t understand.”

“We found you naked in the shower, but I didn’t see your clothes anywhere. Where are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Simon, I don’t remember anything . . .” She started to cry.

“Stop lying!” Simon yelled and raised his gun, pointing it at her head. “Listen, we’ve got a helicopter. We can leave at any time, and the way things are developing out there, I think I might take my chance, pack my guys, and simply leave. But you’ll stay here because all you’ve done is tell me lies. There is no music in Anton’s room. No box, nothing that makes sound. Only dead Pedro, who was so scared of you, he slit open his arms and bled out.” Simon lowered the gun again.

“So, you tell me the truth now, or I leave and lock the room. I’ll barricade it and let you rot in here.” Simon said. “For the last time, where are your clothes?”

“Under the bed,” Michelle answered, her voice weak and eyes lowered to avoid Simon’s gaze.

“Why are they under the bed?”

“They were drenched in blood.” She burst into tears, this time in a genuinely uncontrolled way. “Please. I was afraid. Afraid if you knew you would kill me.”

“If we knew what?”

“Simon, that wasn’t me. I had no control. I was so scared, so desperate. And then there was this rage . . . this unbound rage. It was like a warm blanket. I made the fear go away. You understand?” Michelle looked at him.

“Whose blood is it, Michelle?”

“Anton’s. When he entered the medbay, we attacked him. Dragged him away. I . . . I think I ripped a piece of flesh out of him and . . .” She shook her head.

“Ate it?” Simon asked. Michelle sobbed and nodded, burying her face in her hands.

“I understand if you kill me now,” she whispered.

“Good to know. But I’ve got a couple more questions before we decide on that.” Simon sat in the chair, putting his gun on his leg. She was afraid, but this fear was useful now. It made her finally tell the truth.

“I don’t . . .” Michelle sobbed again and then looked at Simon.

“It was you, right? It was all you, just as Pedro said,” Simon asked.

“No, not me. You have to believe me. It wasn’t me. My body, my voice, but it wasn’t me.” She trembled now. “You have no idea how it is when it fully . . . embraces you. It is as if it . . . imposes its will on you. It controls you.”

“Everything becomes a blur. You . . . I . . . vanished in it. All I knew was this mindless rage.” She leaned forward. “And this whisper. It’s a song, you know? A song I couldn’t stop singing. I almost felt as if I knew what it meant, but I didn’t. It knew what these words mean. It was inside of me. Drained my consciousness and . . . it became me.” Michelle got on all fours, and Simon moved back, sliding the chair away from her.

“It isn’t human. Not even remotely human. I could feel that. It’s . . . something else. Sleeping down there in its sarcophagus. Dreaming. Violent dreams that made us do violent things,” Michelle smiled.

“You have no idea how it felt. To have it inside of me. Have it feed on me—my fears, my rage. It consumed all of our fears, and slowly, it came from its long slumber. It’s waking up, Simon. It’s waking up, and it will make the whole world its feast.” She suddenly lost the smile and began crying again, this time without making a sound.

“They will come and take it away. Back to the mainland. That is where it needs to go. So many souls, Simon. Unlimited souls . . .”

Simon stared at her. “No, it won’t. I won’t allow it to leave.”

Michelle’s eyes became hollow again, and her eyes spasmed. She opened her mouth. Simon had expected this moment and knew what he’d have to do from the moment he entered the room.

He raised his gun and put it to Michelle’s head.

“Say the words, and before you finish the first, I will blow your brains out,” Simon said.

Her mouth snapped shut, and Michelle’s eyes returned to their normal state. She stared at him and swallowed.

“So, you can fight it,” Simon said. Michelle nodded.

“Not for long,” she whispered. “You should leave now.”

Simon stared at her.

“I have to do something first,” he said. “I am sorry.”

Her eyes widened as he raised the gun and hammered the grip onto her head. She passed out immediately, a bleeding wound on her forehead.

Simon took out the cable binders he’d picked up from Anna’s backpack that now rested in the map room. Then he tied her hands behind her back, took out a handkerchief, and put it into her mouth. A second cable binder closed around her mouth so tightly it cut into her. He was sorry about that, but he had to do this. Finally, he tied her arms to the bed so she couldn’t move and left the room as quickly as possible.

As he reached the door, he heard the mumbling sound. Simon looked over and saw her pupils had vanished again, leaving ghostly white eyes. She screamed into the gag; he knew what she was trying to say but pushed it aside. Not thinking the words, not allowing them to be thought, he quickly left. Outside he leaned against the wall.

“So?” Brockmann asked and looked at him.

“She’s dangerous. I gagged her and tied her up.”

“Good,” Brockmann said, nodding.

“I want to talk to Anna.”

“No way.”

“I wasn’t asking for permission,” Simon said. “Michelle could fight it, and she’s not half the woman Anna is. If she can do it, so can Anna.”

“For how long?”

“We will see,” Simon answered and brushed past him. Brockmann grabbed his arm; his grip was strong.

“I cannot allow you to do that,” Brockmann hissed.

Simon looked at him. “Then shoot m—”

Instead, Brockmann pushed him away and against the wall.

“C’mon. Hit me!” Simon yelled as he saw Brockmann’s large hand had been clenched into a fist.

Brockmann’s jaw bit so hard that he heard the teeth crack. Then his partner relaxed, and his hand opened again.

“We need to talk this through, Simon. You are irrational.”

“Okay, then let’s talk,” Simon hissed at him, now more angry than afraid. “What’s your plan, hm?” Simon cocked his head to the side. Brockmann looked at him as if he didn’t understand the question.

“C’mon, you’re Brockmann. You do anything to take down the monster. We both know that. So, what do you wanna do about this one, hm?” Simon raised his brows. “Hm?”

Brockmann kept on staring at him.

“Nothing? How come? This thing has killed more people than the Hamburg monster and Wormking put together, and you haven’t even begun working on a plan to get rid of it?” Simon shook his head. “How strange. How totally not you.” He stepped forward and put his finger on Brockmann’s chest.

“I need you here, Brockmann. And right now, I don’t even recognize you. This thing is in your head. It is in all our heads, now. So, we need to find out what we can do about it, or we’re going to die here. All of us and everybody who comes after us. If they drag this ship back to a harbor, it could be thousands—tens of thousands—before they even realize what they’re dealing with. We are now the only line of defense between it and the world. We are in the middle of the Northern Sea with only a few turbines and the wind as our witnesses. If these things get out of here, we are done. You understand that, don’t you?” Simon hissed.

Brockmann nodded in agreement. “I doubt we can destroy it.”

“Okay, then let’s put it back where it came from. I say we take it where it can do no harm. We throw this damned thing into the sea,” Simon said. Brockmann looked at him and finally nodded.

“Yes,” he grunted and looked down, almost as if ashamed.

Simon nodded. “Now, we need to talk to Anna before Paul finds out what you did.” Simon sighed and passed his partner, who silently followed him.