Darkness Girl: Trickster God

Chapter Twenty-Four: Lessons in Violence

Regan pushed open a heavy steel door and Bastian felt a cold rush of night air. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The clean air filled his lungs and gave him a renewed sense of hope. There was a light rain falling, almost a mist, that made the decks glisten under the halogen glare of the lights mounted outside. 

'We made it,' he said in a tired voice. 

Regan didn't respond. He could sense she found it bizarre that everyone kept following her. He half expected her to turn on the other prisoners and tell them to find their own way, but she seemed to have decided to simply ignore them. 

The thirteen prisoners stepped out onto the deck for the first time. 

'Holy hell,' said one of them. 

Bastian had to agree. 

The ship was like a vast metal city; a colossal, floating superstructure hundreds of metres long. He guessed that it had started life as a cargo ship. The wide, empty deck in front of them would once have been stacked high with shipping crates. Now, it formed a rust coloured plain that stretched beyond the lights of the bridge tower and disappeared into the darkness. The bridge tower itself rose out of the steel wasteland to loom above them like an ancient temple to a forgotten god. Bastian looked up into the tiny droplets of rain that fell in drifts though the beams light above them. 

'The controls for the ship are probably on the top level of the bridge,' he said. 'If Carver's doing her job, we shouldn't encounter too much resistance.' 

'And if she isn't?' said a barrel chested man in a stained tacksuit. 

'Then you get to have a nice change of scenery before you die,' said Regan. 

'If we can get to the controls, we have half a chance of driving this thing out of here,' Bastian said. 'This is our best shot at survival.' 

'What are we going to do with the crew?' said the man. 

Regan was already climbing the grated metal stairs that ran up the side of the bridge to the level above them.

'I think she's already decided.' 

He ordered the other prisoners to move around the bridge and guard all of the surrounding stairways, then started up after Regan. The bridge was four storeys high with catwalks running around each level. Regan's footsteps were already retreating into the darkness. 

He followed close behind and stopped when he heard her pause on the level above him. For a few moments there was silence, then a sharp intake of breath followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the metal catwalk. Regan's footsteps continued. As Bastian reached the catwalk, he saw a crumpled shape at the foot of the stairs leading up to the next level. He stepped over it carefully and tried not to look. 

As they reached the final staircase, Regan dropped to her stomach and slithered up to peak over the top of the stairs. Bastian copied her movements and crawled up to join her. There was a wide landing in front of them that led up to a wheelhouse. Halogen lamps spaced along the safety railings at the edge of the landing provided a circle of light for the gigantic letter 'H' painted in the centre. 

'A helipad,' said Bastian. 'Maybe we can fly out of here.' 

'Can you fly a helicopter?' 

'Well, no. I sort of assumed--,' Bastian left the sentence hanging. 

'Why would you assume I could fly a helicopter?' 

'Forget it.' 

The wheelhouse was a squat shape in the darkness behind the helipad that ran the width of the bridge. At its centre, a door with a round porthole allowed warm, yellow light to spill out onto the ground.