Dawn rose like rusted fire. The horizon bled red above the sea, a color that seemed to stain everything it touched — the ruined docks, the rusting cranes, even the faces of those who stood ready to leave.
Soufiane adjusted the strap of his rifle, feeling the cold bite of the morning wind. Around him, the group prepared in silence. Amal tightened the laces of her boots, her jaw set in grim determination. Cynthia loaded a revolver with careful precision, her hair tied back, her eyes hard with focus. Zahira watched her from a distance, one hand resting protectively on Younes's shoulder.
Julien, still weak, remained behind under Inés's care. He wanted to come, but even standing made him bleed again. So now, only five of them — Soufiane, Cynthia, Amal, Myriam, and Rafael with one of his men — would head toward the coast wreck.
"Stay close," Rafael said as he slung a long rifle over his back. "The tide changes fast. If you get caught when it turns, the mud will swallow you whole."
They moved through what had once been a fishing town. The streets were broken mosaics of salt and asphalt. Skeletons of boats leaned against the ruins of houses. Signs written in Dutch, now faded and eaten by salt, swung weakly in the wind.
The further they walked, the quieter it became. Even the gulls avoided this place.
Cynthia whispered, "You ever get the feeling the world's holding its breath?"
Soufiane nodded. "Always. Just before something goes wrong."
They reached the shoreline as the sun climbed higher. The sea stretched wide and heavy, choked with debris — twisted nets, bones of ships, and black oil shimmering like poison glass.
Out in the shallows, half-buried in the sand and broken piers, lay the wreck: a massive freighter, its hull torn open by the rocks. A banner of rust streaked its side, and its name — "ARCADIA" — was barely readable.
Rafael scanned it through binoculars. "That's her. She drifted here months ago. We sent a crew once before. None came back."
Myriam looked uneasy. "So we're the second crew?"
"The lucky ones," Rafael said flatly.
The group descended toward the wreck, crossing the exposed mudflats while the tide was still low. Each step made a wet sucking sound. The air stank of salt and decay.
Inside the freighter's shadow, the world grew colder. Seagulls circled above but never landed.
They reached a broken gangway and climbed aboard. The deck tilted sharply, metal groaning under their boots. Containers lay split open like carcasses, spilling their contents — tangled cables, sodden crates, and shattered medical supplies.
"Spread out," Rafael ordered. "Take what we can carry. Keep quiet."
Soufiane and Cynthia moved together through the corridor. Their flashlights cut thin beams through the dark, revealing streaks of dried blood on the walls. Something had happened here — not long ago.
Cynthia's voice trembled slightly. "What do you think killed them?"
Soufiane crouched beside a mark — claw-shaped, deep into the steel. "Something strong. And desperate."
A sudden clang echoed through the ship. Amal froze. "That wasn't us."
Everyone stopped. The sound came again — a slow, dragging scrape of metal against metal. Then silence.
Rafael raised his rifle. "Something's moving below deck."
Soufiane nodded. "We'll check it."
They descended through a stairwell slick with algae and seawater. The air grew thick with rot. Their flashlights swept over corpses tangled in nets — bodies swollen, faces half-eaten.
Cynthia gagged, covering her mouth. "Oh, God…"
Soufiane motioned for quiet. From deeper within the hull came a sound like breathing. Heavy, uneven, animal.
Rafael whispered, "It's trapped."
They turned a corner — and froze.
At the far end of the corridor, hunched beneath a flickering emergency light, something moved. It was human once, maybe. Its body was bloated, skin stretched and pale as wax. Seaweed clung to its limbs. Its mouth opened in a wet, gurgling snarl.
Then it lunged.
Rafael fired first, the shot deafening in the confined space. The creature staggered but didn't fall. Soufiane rushed forward, blade drawn, slashing across its throat. Black water burst from the wound, and the thing collapsed, writhing until it finally went still.
For a moment, no one breathed.
Then Amal whispered, "There's more."
From the darkness beyond came another sound — dozens of dragging footsteps, echoing in the flooded chambers.
Soufiane's voice hardened. "We're leaving. Now!"
They ran, the ship trembling beneath them as the tide began to rise. Water surged through broken doors. More shapes appeared in the corridors — pale faces, drowned eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
Cynthia stumbled, nearly slipping as seawater reached her knees. Soufiane caught her arm and pulled her up. "Move!"
Rafael fired behind them, shouting curses in Spanish as one of the creatures lunged from a side passage. Myriam threw a flare, and its red light filled the corridor like blood. The monsters recoiled, hissing.
They burst out onto the deck just as a massive wave struck the hull. The freighter shifted, tilting further. Amal screamed, grabbing onto the railing as the world went sideways.
"Jump!" Soufiane yelled.
One by one, they leapt into the freezing water. The tide was already turning, dragging the ship back toward the deep.
They swam hard for shore, gasping, salt burning their throats. Behind them, the ARCADIA groaned like a dying beast — then split apart, collapsing into the sea.
When they reached land, they collapsed on the wet sand, trembling. The sun had already begun to sink behind the horizon, painting the sea red again.
Rafael spat seawater and cursed. "Half of it's gone. But we got something." He held up a small waterproof crate he had strapped to his chest. "Medical supplies. Enough to buy you a favor with my people."
Soufiane looked back toward the wreck — now nothing but broken masts rising from the waves. "Let's hope it was worth it."
Cynthia turned to him, her voice quiet. "What were those things?"
Soufiane wiped salt from his eyes. "The drowned dead," he said softly. "The sea doesn't let anyone rest anymore."
Thunder rolled far offshore, echoing like a warning.
And as they started back toward the Coast, Soufiane couldn't shake the feeling that the ocean was following them — watching, waiting.