It's only attacks at night

Chapter 3: Beneath the Surface

The air in the room had grown colder, almost suffocating, as the low growl resonated from the shadows. Zack's heart pounded in his chest, his grip tightening around his gun. Ethan was beside him, his breath shallow, his hand hovering over his holster, ready but unsure.

The growl seemed to reverberate through the walls, vibrating deep within their bones. It was like the very ship itself was alive, reacting to the presence of something they couldn't even see.

Zack moved cautiously toward the far corner, his flashlight darting across the room. Every shadow seemed to move, every creak of the ship's wood felt like it was the creature's breath, whispering its presence.

"There has to be a way out," Ethan muttered, his voice tight with anxiety. "We can't just wait here."

Zack didn't answer. His eyes were focused on a small crawl space near the ceiling. It was dark, almost impossible to make out, but he could've sworn there had been movement in that direction. He looked back at Ethan, signaling for him to stay still.

Ethan nodded reluctantly, his eyes never leaving the door, his hand still on his gun, ready to act at any moment.

Zack crouched low and moved toward the crawl space. The growl was growing louder now, closer. He could hear something shifting in the darkness, something that wasn't quite human, yet wasn't fully animal either.

As Zack reached the crawl space, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His fingers brushed against the edge of the narrow opening, feeling the cold, smooth surface of the metal. It was as if the ship was sealed off from the outside world—its own little world, a place where things were hidden, things that didn't belong.

A sound came from behind him—soft at first, like a low whisper, and then louder, sharper. The growl, now closer, almost deafening.

Zack spun around, his flashlight flashing in every direction. But there was nothing. Just shadows, stretching across the walls, flickering in the dim light. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

"I don't like this, Zack," Ethan said, his voice shaking. "This isn't right."

Zack didn't answer. He couldn't afford to. Every instinct screamed at him to get out—to leave the ship and never look back—but they were trapped. There was no escape.

The growl came again, this time more distinct. It was almost like it was laughing—deep, mocking, as if it enjoyed the fear in their hearts. Zack's pulse quickened.

In a sudden burst of movement, the door behind them slammed open. The force of it nearly knocked Zack off his feet, and Ethan stumbled back, raising his gun instinctively. But there was nothing there. Just the empty hallway, stretching into the darkness.

Zack stood frozen for a moment, trying to steady his breath. He glanced over his shoulder at Ethan, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Stay close," Zack said, his voice low and steady. "We move fast."

They didn't have much time. The ship was alive with movement, but there was no sign of anyone else—no crew members, no guests. Just them, alone in the belly of the ship, facing something that couldn't be understood, something that shouldn't exist.

They sprinted down the narrow hallways, their footsteps echoing in the silence. The growls continued to reverberate through the walls, but no matter how fast they moved, the source of the sound remained hidden, always just out of reach.

"I'm getting a bad feeling about this, Zack," Ethan said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why isn't anyone else here? Why are we the only ones on this deck?"

Zack didn't respond. His mind was too focused on the growing sense of danger, the feeling that they were being hunted by something ancient, something that had been waiting for them. They reached the end of the hall, where a stairwell led up to the main deck.

"Let's go," Zack said, his voice sharp. He grabbed Ethan's arm and pulled him toward the stairs.

But as they reached the top of the stairs, the world seemed to shift. The growl grew louder, more intense, and then there was a loud crashing sound—like metal against metal—followed by a sharp, screeching noise that sent a chill down Zack's spine.

He froze, his eyes scanning the deck above them. The lights flickered, casting long, eerie shadows across the floor. But there was no one. No crew. No guests. Only silence.

"What the hell?" Ethan whispered.

Zack's instincts screamed at him to move. He grabbed Ethan's arm and pulled him forward, down the narrow corridor toward the control room. It was their only chance to find answers—if the creature didn't get to them first.

They reached the door to the control room, but as Zack grabbed the handle, the door slammed shut in his face, as if something had blocked it from the inside. Zack's heart skipped a beat, and he stepped back, his pulse quickening.

"Locked?" Ethan said, sounding more panicked. "How is it locked from the inside?"

Zack's mind raced. He could hear the growl again, louder now. And it was coming from behind the door.

"We have to get inside," Zack said, his voice grim. "We don't know how long we have."

Without waiting for a response, Zack turned and kicked the door with all his strength. The wood splintered on the first blow, and with another strike, the door crashed open, revealing a dimly lit control room.

Inside, the scene was chaotic. Chairs were overturned, papers scattered across the floor, and the consoles were blinking erratically. But what caught Zack's attention was the blood. A dark, sticky pool lay near the far corner of the room, where something—or someone—had been dragged.

"What the hell happened here?" Ethan breathed, his voice filled with horror.

Zack stepped forward cautiously, his gun raised. The growl was now deafening, so loud that it almost drowned out his thoughts. It was close, too close.

Zack's flashlight swept across the room, landing on the far wall. There, etched into the metal, were strange, claw-like marks—deep, jagged gouges as if something had tried to rip its way through the ship itself.

He took a deep breath, fighting the rising panic in his chest. This was no ordinary criminal. Whatever was on this ship, whatever had made those marks, it wasn't human.

"We need to find the others," Zack said, his voice steady despite the fear tightening in his chest. "And we need to figure out how to stop this thing."

The growl was louder now, right behind them. Zack turned, his gun raised, ready for anything. But when the lights flickered once more, the room went silent. No growl. No noise. Just a stillness that felt like a trap.

And then, as if the creature was mocking them, a voice whispered through the darkness, cold and cruel.

"You're not getting out. Not alive."