Just steps away, Thumbs touched the third molar in his mouth with his tongue and his reflexes kicked into overdrive. He always liked using his reflex trigger, it gave him such a rush. He slashed his monofilament blades at the sea serpent with chipped speed, a blur in the rain. The rest of the crew was battling the leeches crawling over the deck of the Esmeralda like roaches on a wet kitchen floor. Green-black waves rose above the radio mast to crash on the decks harder than piledrivers, smashing the last few lifeboats and washing off everything and everybody not holding on for dear freaking life.