Myths Hebert

      I've never screamed so loud in my life. I wanted to, but I couldn't make any more sounds except a hoarse gurgle. I tried to control my breathing, but this putrid smell... The foul-smelling dope of my own vomit. And the feeling... They made my whole being shudder — so much did I want to leave the locker in which I was locked.       But worst of all, worse than pain and fear, was despair. Full confidence in his own helplessness. In this mud, next to people and yet so far away from them. I wanted to close my eyes and never open them again, so as not to see this world.       Something broke, and I was startled by the sharp sound. There was a sharp, nasty clink of glass and the screech of a distant flute.       Then a headache pierced me like a nail driven between my eyes, which took my breath away.       Suddenly, the screeching of metal being torn to shreds began to sound around me. Not understanding anything, I was trying to see through the door slits at least something, when suddenly water gushed through them, forcing me to recoil.       The impact on the surface took me by surprise, and I felt the taste of blood in my mouth, but most importantly, the door of my locker deformed from the impact and opened slightly, letting in dead electric light.       Leaning my whole body against this barrier, I was able to widen the gap enough to squeeze out into it and breathe in fresh, clean, brackish air.       When I got out of the wreckage of the locker and looked around, I realized that I was on the bow of a ship rushing at full speed, and only a lone searchlight from the roof of the cabin pierced the darkness ahead and bathed me in its light.       A man stood at the bow of the ship, soaked by the spray of the waves. Shriveled from the cold and wind, he was a man in his forties with an elongated face, unhealthy skin color and a look full of horror.       Standing at the fence, he looked at me, and it seemed that the blinding bright light of the spotlight did not bother him at all. It was only now that I noticed that he was not dressed at all according to local conditions, and in his hands lay a dark book, whose surface seemed to absorb light.       I tried to say something, but I just coughed. It was at this moment that a large wave hit the ship, causing me to fall and roll to the side.       Sliding along the wet deck, I was waiting for an imminent impact on the metal side, but I crashed into someone's leg. Looking up, I saw a man holding onto the winches near the wheelhouse. He almost fell from my blow and was now trying to regain his balance.       Dressed in an old leather jacket of the US Air Force, he finally straightened up and, looking first at me and then at the man at the bow of the ship, began to speak in a hoarse baritone:       — Howard, please give me the book! Howard apparently replied with a silent refusal to these words, and suddenly a ship's signal roared right above us.       Cowering in fright against the seawater—soaked wooden deck, I looked away from Howard, but the man in the flight jacket did not. He gave a strange gasp and began to duck, keeping his eyes on the bow of the ship, and I realized with trepidation that we were accelerating. As soon as I started to turn my head back to Howard, a wet, rough hand stopped me.       — Don't look there! A man shouted at me, clutching the winch with his other hand, and just as I was about to object, Howard screamed.       It was a terrible, indescribable cry of fear, a real howl when a person realizes the inevitability of his fate.       I was scared of that scream—there was such despair in it, and I couldn't help but try to find out what made an adult man scream like that.       There is no language capable of conveying all the abomination and madness of the very existence of this creature. More than the Destroyers, and incomparably more terrible. It didn't belong not only to this one, but to all the other worlds and universes, and yet it was here.       A titanic creature, surpassing the gods, was sailing right at us, and the water parted in front of him on the way to our ship.       I screamed without even realizing it, screamed while a man in a flight jacket dragged me away behind the now so small silhouette of the ship's control room, from which came insane cackling mixed with desperate curses. I screamed, and still there was a giant entity in front of my eyes that was no longer visible. Our ship was rushing forward, roaring as if about to take off, and churning the surrounding water.       The crushing blow shook the entire ship and threw me and the man standing next to me onto the fence of the stern, washed by giant waves. Clearing my throat from the endless water, I clung to my unwitting companion and almost dragged him overboard when I was hit by a new wave.       The ship slowed down and was enveloped by a blinding green cloud that appeared out of nowhere, after which it began to pick up speed again. Such a stench arose that my stomach could not stand it and emptied itself. The vomit came out along with the swallowed water, which had a vile taste of freshly dug earth, rotten boards and rotten eggs. My poor exhausted mind couldn't stand it, and I lost consciousness.

***

      When I woke up, in a small dark cabin, lit only by a candle stub, there was only the man in the flight jacket who was dozing at a small table.       My attempts to get out of bed woke him up, and he helped me up. I tried to talk to him, but he didn't say anything until he sat me down at a table and served me food. His tired, emaciated face studied me while I ate, when finally he asked:       — What's your name, girl?       Swallowing, I replied, "Taylor Habert."