Gianfranco Mancini’s Reviews > Blood Island > Status Update

Now he had no choice but to wait for the sharks to reach him and begin tearing mouthfuls of meat from his body. He hoped they’d be quick about it, but this was going to be the climax of Inez’s “movie,” and he knew she would milk his dying for all it was worth. His death would be messy, slow, and agonizing. He almost wished someone was filming this. It was going to be spectacular.

No response. She was lying on her side, her back to them, and Jarrod reached out, took hold of her shoulder, and gave her a gentle shake. She rolled over – no, she flopped – onto her back, and when she did, Jarrod saw that her forehead was missing, as if the skin and bone had been eaten away by acid, and her skull was hollow. He cried out in horror and fell back on his ass.

They passed a number of landsharks. Most of them were either carrying severed body parts to the Mass or, having already delivered their loads, had returned to the land in search of more. She saw few people and fewer vehicles, but she heard shouts and screams, footfalls as people ran, tires screeching. It seemed plenty of prey remained in the area for the Hunters to chase.

“Is it going back to the Mass?” he asked. “Yes. All the sharks are attached to it by those cords.” Pete scowled at her. “You really expect us to believe you’re some kind of psychic?” he said. “I don’t have to expect anything. I know you all believe. Besides, is my being psychic any more fucked up than a bunch of homicidal landsharks?” “No,” Susan said. “It’s actually pretty normal compared to that.”

She broke off, eyes widening. She pointed to the opposite side of the roof and screamed. Everyone, even Boyd, looked where Shari was pointing and saw a pair of landsharks climbing over the building’s edge and onto the roof with their tiny insect feet, umbilical cords trailing behind them.

He’d most likely end up in a landshark’s belly before the night was over. That, or be fed to this Mass Tasha had spoken of. He didn’t know which would be worse – being eaten alive by his own renegade body or by mutant sharks. The sharks, he supposed, but that didn’t mean he wanted to find out.

Pete stuck his head through the open window to take a look around. If this had been a movie, Jarrod would’ve expected Pete to let out a bloodcurdling scream as a mutated shark bit his head off. But that didn’t happen, and Jarrod let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The creature was within twenty feet of him and closing fast. His old friend, adrenaline, decided to pay him another visit then, and his legs felt light once more and his body was filled with energy. No way was he going to end up in some mutant shark’s belly tonight.

As soon as everyone was inside, Susan slammed the door shut and locked it. Then without a word, she ran to the kitchenette, opened a drawer, and pulled out a box of shells. She put them on the counter and began reloading her gun. Jarrod nodded in approval. This was a woman who would have a good chance of being the last person standing if this was a horror film.

Besides their strange eyes, skin veins, gill growths, and centipede-like legs on their undersides, the sharks had fleshy tubes a couple inches in diameter attached to their backs and trailing out the windows. What were those things? Were they like the oxygen lines deep-sea divers used, only in reverse? Did they pump saltwater into the sharks to help them survive on land?