they were on a monster-infested ship. Now I didn't see any sign of tourists. I

hated to think what had happened to them, but I kind of doubted they'd been

allowed to go home with their bingo winnings.

 

I reached the promenade, a big shopping mall that took up the whole middle of

the ship, and I stopped cold. In the middle of the courtyard stood a fountain.

And in the fountain squatted a giant crab.

 

I'm not talking "giant" like $7.99 all-you-can-eat Alaskan king crab. I'm

talking giant like bigger than the fountain. The monster rose ten feet out of

the water. Its shell was mottled blue and green, its pincers longer than my

body.

 

If you've ever seen a crab's mouth, all foamy and gross with whiskers and

snapping bits, you can imagine this one didn't look any better blown up to

billboard size. Its beady black eyes glared at me, and I could see intelligence

in them — and hate. The fact that I was the son of the sea god was not going to

win me any points with Mr. Crabby.

 

"FFFFffffff" it hissed, sea foam dripping from its mouth. The smell coming off

it was like a garbage can full of fish sticks that had been sitting in the sun

all week.

 

Alarms blared. Soon I was going to have lots of company and I had to keep

moving.