Secret Skin Read Online Free PDF

recorder and a compact camera that was nearly all zoom lens. It had barely enough room for the technology that made it possible to take print quality stills or basic video, a great bit of kit for uncertain days out. I checked the batteries had charge; they did, tried out the wide angle, and then zoomed in on the horizon.
    At the long end of the lens I saw for the first time an effect I’d only read about. A string of distant ships sat below the horizon, appearing half submerged, almost as if they were sailing over the edge of the world.
    Easy to see how people could believe in a description of the world so far from the truth. The fear of monsters in the unknown deeps and savages in foreign lands somewhere out there always kept us believing in the unreal.
    Although the sea sickness had gone the caustic tang of nausea began to seep back into my throat. I tried to cough it away. Then a familiar Dubai stench of rancid body odor overpowered my senses. My tender stomach clenched in retaliation and the viewfinder went black. I crashed the zoom out to wide to find a tall emaciated man with staring eyes filled the frame and lowered the camera.
    The man’s filthy clothes clung to him with the well tested glue of sweat and dirt. He scanned me up and down then shuddered as if an electric current had just passed through him.
    Clearly over the edge of whatever he’d been standing on he opened his mouth to speak then forgot what he meant to say. His dry lips hung open and his gaze followed mine as it fell on the vicious glint of the fish hook he held in his right hand, the kind of implement that could easily support the weight of a large mammal hung from its torso.
    His face contorted into a lopsided grin and his eyes opened wide as if he’d just had an amazing idea.
    ‘Captain?’ I said.
    He nodded in agreement and gurgled a disturbing, ‘Hur, hur, hur,’ then twisted his shoulder back.
    I moved before I heard the scrape of metal on rust and kept moving, scrabbling forward on all fours from the crouch I’d dropped into.
    The captain roared, furious that I didn’t want to play his game. He struck out again as I lunged passed him. The hook caught in the material of my trousers missing the meat beneath. I lashed out with my other foot but the deranged sailor simply pulled the hook towards him and my leg out from under me.
    Face down on the deck every dulled sense screamed the same warning.
    Move.
    After a short disoriented dash I found myself wedged into the bow of the boat, staring out to sea. Like an idiot I’d run myself into a perfect dead-end.
    I could jump over the side and swim round to Nick, but would he follow me in?
    I turned to see the captain stalk casually across the main hatch, carving efficient figures of eight on either side of him with that damned spike, blocking my way out.
    ‘Fuck it,’ I said and ran straight for him, feigned left, then bolted right. He anticipated my move and swung the hook at my face.
    The rush of air came at the same time as a faint touch of metal against my cheek, but no pain. He’d missed. I opened my eyes, pounded across the deck and leapt onto a weathered access ladder that led up to the bridge. It shifted under my weight, pulled away from the wall, and then held. My feet dangled in the air for just a second. I found the next rung and jumped rather than climbed the remaining steps.
    I expected him to be right behind me, but fear makes you quick, the psycho captain was still only down on deck.
    ‘Yahhhhhhh!’ I yelled without meaning to. Then fear turned to anger and I screamed every vulgar hatred I could think of at him.
    Ignoring my noisy but harmless protests he hopped onto the first rung and started to climb the all too short ladder.
    He swung the hook up at my feet and it shattered through the floor of the rusted upper deck. I stamped on it, forcing it to embed further into the worn out metal. He shook it violently, trying to work it free.
    I fell to my knees and held on. Forget