Dead in the Water by Nancy Holder

their tracks.
    “It’s over there!” Ruth hurried her as far away as she could from the direction in which she pointed. “It had pincers!”
    “Maybe it’s a crab.” Donna took a step toward it.
    “No! It was … gelatinous. I stepped on it.” She caught her breath. “Don’t you hear it?”
    Donna listened.
    The foghorn blared.
    John Fielder’s door opened and he poked his head out. “What’s wrong?” Behind him, his son called anxiously, “Daddy?”
    “There’s something on the floor,” Ruth said.
    “Oh?” John caught Donna’s eye and quizzed her. She shook her head. “Maybe it’s the cat.” The ship had one,named Nemo, bursting with pregnancy and ready to go at any moment, according to Mr. Saar.
    “No. It was … it had pincers.”
    “A crab?” John asked reasonably.
    “Let’s just keep going,” Donna suggested. “How’s your son?” she asked John.
    The foghorn drowned out John’s reply, and Ruth hurried her down the passage so fast she couldn’t ask him to repeat it.
    “Ruth, I’m sure it was nothing.” The woman was shaking. Her lower lip worked, the way old people’s lips sometimes did.
    “My dream.” She shook Donna’s hand. “There was a creature like that in my dream. It was … hideous. Monstrous.”
    A creature? “Ruth, you said you dreamed about your husband,” Donna ventured, just as they reached the end of the corridor. A metal hatch on the right led to the outside deck, and another stood perpendicular to it, marked “Officers Mess (Passengers Lounge).”
    As Donna waited for Ruth to speak, she opened the hatch and started to walk across the threshold. Her toes connected with the lip that extended from the deck. Hard.
    “Shit!” she muttered. Ruth screamed. Donna reddened. “Sorry. There’s one of those lips here. Step up.”
    “Mr. Diaz told me they’re to prevent … things from washing down the hall if the sea comes in.” Fearfully she glanced in the direction they had come. Where the Squishy Thing lurked. The Creature.
    Donna said nothing, only stepped over the lip. Her toes throbbed.
    Elise and Phil van Buren glanced up from two chairs on either side of the kidney-shaped coffee table. Both of them had been reading. As usual.
    “Evenin’,” Phil said warmly, in his soft Southern accent. His wife said nothing, just put her book facedown on her lap and stared at the two women.
    “We’ve just been through the attack of the killer fog,” Donna said.
    Ruth let go of her and touched her hair, her face. Poorlady. No makeup on, and her hair was pretty wild. Donna thought of her perm, and all the wet, and figured she must be one gigantic frizzball. She hadn’t really seen her reflection in the cabin.
    “It’s something, isn’t it?” Phil ventured, walking past his wife to gaze out one of the four picture windows. Beyond, gray curled and spiraled. “Captain Esposito was in a while ago. He said it should clear up by morning.”
    Elise snorted. She picked up a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out.
    “That man’s an idiot. I can’t believe they let him run a ship.”
    Phil flushed. He came away from the window and crossed to the long, linen-covered table where they took their meals with the ship’s officers.
    “Cha-cha made a pot of coffee. Would you ladies care for some?”
    Donna and Ruth nodded in unison. Donna asked, “Have you seen him?”
    Phil jerked his head in the direction of the side door. “Puttering around. He was talking about his fishing lines.” Lowering his voice, he added, “There’s something very strange about that man.”
    The flare of Elise’s match was like the hiss of a cobra. Her long, perfect nails flashed like stilettos dabbed in blood. Watch it, babe, Donna mentally warned her. If this fog gets any worse, we’ve already decided to sacrifice you to the gods.
    “Why don’t you have a seat, Mrs. Hamilton?” Phil finished pouring the coffee and brought the cups and saucers to the two women. Ruth sank onto the