Slime by John Halkin Page A

later on,’ she said, cuddling up against him and hating herself for what she was trying to do. ‘To see the poor man on his sick bed. They told me when I phoned you would be in for another day.’
    ‘Doctor changed his mind, didn’t he?’
    ‘You pulled the wool,’ she accused him.
    ‘Told him I felt fine.’
    ‘Liar. Do you?’
    He laughed. His arm about her shoulders tightened. ‘Darling, if I’d known you were coming, I’d have donnedmy best silk pyjamas and stayed in bed. He let me out for a walk, that’s all. A breath of fresh air, no more. Made me promise I’d be back to let them take my temperature and tuck me up. He said even that was breaking every rule in the book.’
    From the direction of the harbour came the steady chugging of an engine. The coastguard was towing in a fishing smack, and to judge from the obvious excitement of the men on the far side Jane guessed this must be the missing boat. Yet there was something odd about it. At first she thought it must be the effect of the light, that dramatic amber tinge filtering through the storm clouds, but then suddenly she realised what it was.
    ‘Let’s run!’
    ‘Why?’ Tim protested, still laughing. ‘All right – but I’m supposed to be ill, remember?’
    She grabbed his uninjured hand and began a dash around the harbour wall, jumping over mooring ropes, skirting the bollards and lobster pots, the empty kerosene drums and fish boxes, never taking her eyes off that fishing boat.
    Had it not been so dark, she might never have noticed that strange, greenish sheen – but it
was
dark, more like evening than afternoon. In the nearby buildings people were switching on their lights; cars, too, were driving with their headlights on. At any moment now the storm was going to hit them.
    Most boats in the harbour looked perfectly normal; only the fishing boat glowed with that unnatural luminescence. A pale green light, though splashed with pink, came from the bows, the gunwales, the deck, the lower part of the wheelhouse. As they reached her to take a closer look, a coastguard on board threw a line; that, too, was gleaming faintly in the semi-darkness. It was caught by one of the knot of men gathered on the wall; he secured it, and then stared down at his hands, puzzled.
    ‘Whole boat’s covered in slime,’ Jane heard the coastguard grumbling. ‘An’ what’s left o’ the trawl, too, though there’s not much of it. Been eaten through, I’d say.’
    Jane glanced up at Tim and entwined her fingers between his, holding him tight.
    ‘Any sign o’ Jack Pine an’ the lads?’
    ‘Found his cap, but that’s about it. God knows what happened, ’cos I don’t.’
    ‘Someone’ll have to tell his missus.’
    ‘Ay.’
    ‘Don’t fancy that job.’
    It was sick, the whole thing, Jane thought bitterly. She remembered that incandescent slime on the policeman’s gloves after he had handled the jellyfish; it was obvious enough what had happened. Somehow those jellyfish had managed to board the boat, and then… well, it was too horrible even to consider.
    ‘But
why
?’ She spoke softly, as though not wishing to disturb the dead. They had to be dead. What chance could they possibly have had?
    From the expression on Tim’s face, it was evident that he shared her fears. He pointed to the lettering across the stern.
    ‘Ironic, isn’t it? The
Medusa
. You realise medusa is another name for jellyfish?’
    The storm broke.
    Jagged lightning snaked through the clouds, momentarily illuminating the boat, the harbour, their own shocked faces. Between the flashes the darkness seemed even more intense. Then the thunder followed, tearing through the air like sticks of high-explosive bombs, one after the next. Jane half-expected to find the houses behind her crumbling; she was hardly able to comprehend how they could remain undamaged.
    But it was a fitting end, she thought: like an act of 52homage to the dead.
    They made no move to run for cover with the others but