CARGO

We never should have boarded that ship…

It appeared out of the fog two days ago, a shadow at first, a great shape beyond the veil of the night. It looked completely ordinary, but no one responded to our hails. I was the first to board, climbing up a twisting rope ladder from our lifeboat. I should’ve stopped there, just before the railing, and retreated back into the safety of the boat, reversed our course. We should’ve left that ship behind in the fog and the wind, floating adrift in the rising waves. But we — I — did not. I had to see. And so I put my right hand up first, grasping the cold, wet metal of the railing, then did the same with the left and hoisted myself on board.

Around me, the deck was deserted. The only movement came from the shifting cargo containers, and the water that sloshed across the deck as the ship rocked in the gathering waves. I should have known something was wrong then, that this was something else. But I kept looking. I could not, not see. At the back of the ship, mounted high on its launching platform, the lifeboat hung dully, staring sightlessly at the churning waters beneath the stern. They had not left. So where was everyone?

We searched for two hours. We found no one. There were no signs of struggle, nothing out of the ordinary. Cabins looked as if their occupants had just left. Nothing unusual was written in the log. Only the heading was wrong. Apart from that, everything was in its right place. We never found any members of the crew, any indication of what had gone wrong — for something had to have gone wrong for such a ship to end up drifting in and out of the fierce storms that rip through this distant part of the ocean.

We left it behind, somewhere in the fog, with a skeleton crew. We lost contact with them seven hours ago. Since then, the darkness has rolled in and the night sky is obscured by the thick layer of storm cloud that hangs above the ship in every direction. I’m on the night shift, watching the storm batter the ship, the thick fog rolling in off the ocean waves.

Now we’ve left the other ship behind, I must be the only one awake for hundreds of miles. The only one watching the storm, which comes and goes as we continue into the fog. When it subsides further, I make my rounds of the deck. It’s important to ensure that the containers are tied down firmly.

The deck is slippy, puddles of water reflecting the spotlights. At least the rain has abated. Between the cargo containers and the twisting pipes, the deck is a maze of shadows. The spotlights only seem to increase them, moving from one moment to the next from bright light to impenetrable darkness. With me, I carry my misgivings from the events of the past few days. I can’t shake the feeling that something went wrong on the other boat, that even worse, we brought some of it back with us. I’ve seen it in the faces of the crew. They feel it too. But it’s just me now, against the storm and the shadows, threading my way through the maze.

Sometimes you see things you can’t explain. Out here, in the ocean, it’s common. Strange lights, sounds from the waves. I’ve seen my fair share. But tonight, it’s more than that. I can feel it on my skin, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, a strange chill in the air that doesn’t come from the wind. I think there’s something moving in the shadows. It follows me as I walk through the twisting maze, matching my pace…

But I’m the only one awake.

Which means, it must be…

Something else…

I turn and there it is, silhouetted in the spotlight, standing on top of a container, looking down. Looking at me. For a moment, I think it looks human — one of the crew perhaps, but I know with the dread in my heart it cannot be — the proportions are just…wrong, monstrously strange. The way it moves, too, is wrong, twisting into shapes that should be impossible.

I don’t stop to look any longer, I just turn and run into the maze of twisting pipes and shadowy containers. Behind me, it follows, shrieking triumphantly as I run towards the darkness.

[CREWMAN H. GOVERN REMAINS MISSING]