The Book of Doom - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,53

If you do that, it’ll know we’re here.”

“It already knows we’re here.”

Zac took hold of the motor’s ripcord and braced his foot against the wooden bench. He yanked hard on the cable. The motor growled once, then fell silent. Zac pulled again. There was another growl, another splutter, then more silence.

A few metres off the boat’s port side, the surface of the Styx began to froth. Cursing below his breath, Zac tore at the cable, yanking it sharply again and again, trying to force the engine into life.

“Come on,” he hissed, pulling the cord again. “Come on!”

Over the sputtering of the misfiring motor he heard Angelo draw in a breath. His eyes went to where the water had been foaming, even as his arm pulled back once more.

The water was no longer frothing. Something that might have been a tentacle and might have been a neck coiled above the surface of the Styx. At its tip, claws or teeth snapped together as it snaked slowly towards the boat.

“Now should we pray?”

“No!” Zac bellowed as the squirming shape drew closer. He tightened his grip on the ripcord handle and pulled. “I am not going to—”

With a roar, the motor came to life. There was another groan from the thing down below as the boat shot forward, spraying gloopy black liquid in its wake.

“Hallelujah!” cried Angelo, clapping his hands with relief.

A spout of water erupted right ahead of them, forcing Zac to lean hard on the rudder. Angelo grabbed the bench and clung on tightly as the boat leaned left.

“I’m going to fall in!” he wailed.

“No, you’re not,” Zac hissed. Another tentacle or neck or whatever the Hell it was stabbed up through the froth, forcing Zac to put more weight behind the rudder.

“I am!”

“You’re not!” insisted Zac. “Trust me, you are not going to fall in.”

Angelo fell in.

A moment later, so did Zac, as a third appendage struck the boat from beneath, flipping it over.

The water wasn’t hot, but it wasn’t too cold, either. It didn’t take Zac’s breath away. It didn’t make his limbs cramp up. It just clung to him like runny tar, thick and gloopy and dragging him down.

The mournful thing beneath them groaned once again. Zac felt the sound more than heard it as the sludgy Styx vibrated all around him. Angelo flapped and flailed his arms, and took deep, unsteady breaths as he fought to keep his head above the surface.

“You didn’t answer me,” Zac said, dragging himself closer to the boy. “Can you swim?”

Angelo shook his head. “Don’t know. Never tried,” he gasped, and then the ink-black liquid flowed over his face and he sank beneath the Styx with a soft, gloopy schlop.

AC FILLED HIS lungs and ducked down under the waves. The liquid stung his eyes, forcing them shut. He reached out, grabbing at empty space as he tried to catch the sinking boy.

Deeper down, the creature gave another low moan. The pressure of the water seemed to increase. It poked at Zac’s eardrums and pressed down on his head. He felt his lungs shrivel up and it was all he could do to reach the surface before his mouth forced itself open.

The waters of the Styx oozed lazily down his face and tangled his hair. His eyelids were stuck closed, and it was only a splashing in the water that warned him something was behind him.

He had no chance to take a breath this time. He tucked himself up and pulled himself down under the water just as something stabbed at him. He heard the impact on the surface, felt something sharp tearing at his leg, but then he was off and swimming in what he hoped was the direction of the shore.

The sound of his crashing heart thundered around inside his head. He thought of Angelo, down there somewhere in the dark. But it was too late to help him now. Only survival mattered, and survival meant getting to shore.

As he broke the surface, a current caught him, whipping him downriver. Scooping away the worst of the watery goo, he managed to open his eyes. The roaring was still there in his ears as he watched four slinking tentacles snake across the water towards him.

“Angelo!” he shouted, although he knew it was pointless. “Angelo, where are you?”

He thrashed against the current, trying to turn and scramble for the shore, which was now just five or six metres away. That was the moment he realised the roaring sound wasn’t in his head at