Children Of Fiends by C. Chase Harwood Read Free Book Online

sources on shore (fuel stations and storage tanks) were either empty or contaminated. They ended their day reluctantly accepting the need to logistically and painstaking search individual vessels. Grumblings were heard about coming so far – and for what purpose? There were exhausted groans about possibly turning back without the prize. For morale purposes, Dean insisted that everyone eat together in the ship’s cafeteria. Only Green was allowed to be absent to take watch. Somewhat despondent himself, Dean had nothing much to offer as a pep talk, but he fudged it anyway. “Kudos to Alice and Bill for digging up the ingredients for tonight’s meal. Canned or not, it’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed Mexican. Tomorrow we begin going boat to boat. Marshall Blakely has volunteered to lead the search. A reward of ten hours of uninterrupted sleep to the person or persons who finds clean diesel. On a happy note, we have found plenty of cleaning agents. Naoto, Abner and Maggie will take the optimistic route and begin scrubbing out the fuel tanks in the morning.” The three sailors looked at each other and grimaced.
    Later, in the captain’s quarters, Eliza stood with a blanket pulled tightly around herself. They had heated water with a canister of propane and portable grill that they had dug out of a dockworker’s shed. A pot of fresh water and some soap meant a much needed sponge bath. She had let Dean watch her wash and now she found herself in the same position as he dipped a small towel in the warm water and scrubbed his bare legs. It was cold, but he showed no sign of it as he stood unreservedly naked as though he did it every night. He had a well sculpted body that matched his chiseled features and she found herself with a lump of desire in her throat as his muscles twitched with each movement. He glanced at her and then looked harder when he caught her eyes. The dim light of the portable LED lantern left her dilated pupils looking big, black, and inviting. He smiled and she said, “Don’t stop on my account.”
    He waved a finger at her. “Come here. I can’t reach my back.” His voice got husky. “And I noticed that you had a little trouble reaching yours.”
    She smiled and took the rag, while letting the blanket drop.

    It was two-thirty in the morning and Jamesbonds awoke on the deck with a start. He had drifted off, having stared at the sky for hours, hoping for a glimpse of a star, or a planet. Years of living under constant dread of one or more of his Nantucket neighbors deciding to quit taking the anti-Cain’s drugs had trained his brain to wake and be instantly aware of his surroundings. He focused on one of the huge container cranes that lined the dock; the top of it and its long arm well above the deck of the Delfshaven. He stared at the steel beams and girders that made up the superstructure of the machine, and as he did, he noticed that something seemed out of place. The moon must have been full beyond the clouds, because the dark silhouette of the crane was very clear. He looked harder and became convinced that something extra was attached to the machine; something that seemed superfluous. He tried to imagine what the lump might be. Was that movement? He stared at the machine until his eyes started to see spots and sparks with the unblinking strain – and there it was again. He sat up and looked harder. It must have been a trick of the eye. Sometimes when he had been night fishing as a youth, if he had looked too hard at a thing it would seem to move or waver – there it was again – unmistakable. A long jointed something slowly lifted up and settled again. His heart skipped a beat. He had been face to face with such a thing – been nearly killed on the Ginger Girl by such a thing. He slowly stood while still staring and began to move toward the conning tower where Green was on watch. He walked backwards, mostly relying on his peripheral vision in order not to trip until he reached the