Coyle and Fang: Curse of Shadows (Coyle and Fang Adventure Series Book 1) by Robert III (great books for teens .txt) 📗

Sharp pain spiked through her back and shoulder. She winced and scooted to the wall, looking for her lamp. It wasn’t on her helmet; she reached where it should have been but found an empty space instead.

And then she remembered the creature.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins, feeding her senses with heightened awareness. She pulled herself into a crouch and waited. Every muscle tensed, waiting for an attack. Nothing moved except her and the ship in the sky, but her mind refused to believe it. She had shot it—dead? It had slumped to the floor, anyhow. And there were no sounds. It had to be safe.

She stood, unfolding herself, and winced again. But her safety was more important than aches and pains. A quick check of her belt made her grimace. Her gun was missing. The holster was empty. She pulled out a long knife and took a step, when something tapped against her boot. She looked down and smiled—it was the lamp.

She switched it on, and the familiar soft glow burned away the dark. But after a few seconds, the light shut off. She switched it on, and it clicked off again after a few seconds. She sighed. She’d have to make the best of what she had.

She clicked it on. The ladder was to her right. She followed the rungs up into the darkness.

I must have fallen when I was walking backward.

She scolded herself and looked behind. Another ladder led down to where the rest of the crew were, perhaps, still waiting. The light blinked out, and she turned it on again.

She wrestled with curiosity. The creature was above, and she was an investigator, wasn’t she? And maybe clues about the creature’s identity could help her. A chill rolled down her back. It would be disgusting, of course, but she was on the ship for a reason. Answers above and resources below.

She flexed her fingers and stepped toward the ladder. If she wanted to be a detective, then she had to act like one. That meant going up to the cadaver and inspecting it with a broken light.

She stuck the light between her teeth and flicked the light on with her tongue, illuminating the ladder for a few seconds before it shut off. She muttered a curse and pulled herself up the ladder.

A scrape against metal froze her blood. She stopped, looking up, waiting for something to appear. The rattling of her heart canceled out all other sounds. She flicked the light on to bare metal rungs and darkness. The creaking of the ship prompted her to move.

Light off. Did she see a face?

Light on. No one there.

She climbed, trying to ignore the trembling shadows of her hands. She couldn’t help herself, though. This entire ordeal ran counter to the safety and comfort of normal life. Breaths came short and quickened with each rung while her mind whispered dark fears. She flicked on the light. A few more rungs to the landing.

Light off.

Her hand reached the landing, but noises made her withdraw. She hugged the ladder, waiting, listening. What was that? Scraping. Crawling.

Someone whispering my name.

She panicked and stepped down, flicking on the light. She looked up, expecting the worst.

Light off.

She flicked it on again and turned her head. Metal walkways. Pipes. Empty spaces. Dim lights below.

Light off.

She took a deep breath and pulled herself up to the landing and peeked over the edge as she flicked the light on. Light illuminated the sloppy, glistening heap of the body.

Light off.

She ducked down, instinct exhorting her to flee, her ears suddenly picking up every sound. The ship creaked and groaned and rasped.

Something moved beneath her. The light came on, and she looked down. Nothing. She glanced up. It was all in her mind, and she cursed her vivid, overactive imagination.

Light on. She pulled herself up, peering over the edge at the body. It was motionless. She gripped the rail, just in case.

Light off. She wondered if all detectives had to deal with things like this.

Light on. She whispered a short, quick prayer.

Light off.

Light on. She crawled closer and the details came into view: a gaping hole in its head, glistening in shades of crimson; the unnatural shape of its limbs; blood and pink bits splattered the wall.

Light off.

Light on. She drew closer and sat within reach of its skinless, dead hand.

Light off.

Light on. She kicked it. No movement. No sounds.

Light off. The ship groaned.

Light on. She kicked harder. No response. It lay still. For good, she hoped.

Light off.

Light on. She leaned in, poking its head with the knife. No response.

Light off.

Light on. She reached with her other hand. Her trembling fingers were inches away from the head.

“Bzzztt-fzzt—I say, can you hear me? Repeat, Coyle-fzzzzt—”

She jumped back and swung at the empty air.

Light off. Adrenaline blasted through every fiber of her being.

Light on. She stared at the trembling creature, but it was only her light and eyes and imagination.

Light off. She pulled the lamp out of her mouth, flicked it on, and answered. “Yes, this Coyle. Who is this?”

“Heaven’s sake, what took you so long to answer? This is GEM. How goes things?”

“GEM,” she said. “I’ve had all the adventures I care to have in my lifetime. There’s a million things to share and nothing good. My radio went out after we landed on the ship, and I haven’t been able to communicate with anyone.” She kept her eyes on the creature. “I’m in the dark and alone. Well, sort of.”

“Bzzfsst—I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Coyle. Do you have a few moments?”

She frowned and shrugged her shoulders. “This is as good a time as any, I suppose.”

“Fzzss—Perfect. Now listen carefully.”

After GEM’s lengthy explanation, she tapped a knob on her left hand. Soft white light glowed from tiny bulbs on her shoulders, illuminating the floor in front of her. She leaned back and forth, side to side, testing the lights. She sank to her knees and sighed.

“Do the lights work, Miss Coyle? Everything functioning?”

“Yes, GEM, but I have a million