There was a long silence, then a few more uncreative curses. The footsteps shuffled away. I hurled the uncooperative pistol on the stained yellow mattress. After a few minutes’ squeezing my injured hand, I was nearly able to breathe.

We sailed twenty minutes before the engines cut out. I tried to imagine how far that might have carried us from the city and realized I had no idea if we’d gone upriver or downriver, or how far a ship could travel in that amount of time. I was ruing my ignorance of maritime mathematics when something massive rocked the ship, and the sound of scraping metal cut through my spine. The engines stayed quiet. The shadows began to move.

They crept down the walls and raced across the floor like flooding water. I leapt onto the captain’s bed, pressing my back to the wall. They surged up the legs, then the mattress, and then my feet. I went numb. I fell to my knees. The shadows were at my throat.

The lights went out. The darkness was black, and then it was blinding white, and there was no sound at all.

I reached for something to hold on to, for some wall to press against, but I felt nothing, saw nothing. My breath was coming far too fast, and had I been able to feel my pulse, I’m sure it would have been racing. I tried to control my breathing, to remember that no matter what evil place I had stumbled into, I was still in a locked room. I got my breath under control, closed my eyes, and waited.

The lights flared on, glowing black, and I saw the cabin in reverse. I grabbed the gun. As I gripped it, something strange happened. My fear was gone. Like all sinners must, I was becoming accustomed to hell. Instead of terror, I felt something far more dangerous: curiosity.

I unlocked the cabin door.

The hall was empty; the lights were bright. There were no shadows, no ghouls. I stepped lightly, knowing no one could hear my footsteps, and kept the revolver pressed to my temple in case I needed to make a quick escape back to reality.

I peered around the corner into the hold and saw the sailors—the cops—huddled on the floor, heads bowed and hands over their eyes. I watched them for some time. They were paralyzed by fear.

Past them, iron steps led up to the deck. I sprinted past them, making no noise. They could have seen me; they could have caught me, but these men who were brave enough to gun down children were too scared to open their eyes in the dark.