HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2) (14 page)

‘Open the door,’ yelled his mother as they reached the lifeboat.

The door had a window, and Justin saw a crew member struggling to open the door from the inside.

‘It won’t open,’ he yelled. ‘Climb through the window!’

‘You first, Justin,’ his mother ordered. ‘Then pull me through.’

They had only seconds before the lifeboat descended beyond reach.

Justin dove through the window. The crewman pulled him through.

Justin spun. His mother grabbed the window ledge. She had her head and one arm through the window.

‘Pull my shoulders,’ she cried. ‘Quickly!’

Justin grabbed her shoulders and pulled with all his strength.

It was too late.

Someone tackled his mother.

Justin glimpsed a blur of yellow as his mother was torn from his grasp and dragged from the window. Justin dove at the window.

Two crewmen stopped him.

‘It’s too late,’ one yelled in his ear.

‘Let go of me!’ roared Justin.

Suddenly the entire lifeboat fell away under their feet.

It only fell six inches, but far enough for Justin and the men restraining him to lose their footing.

From the floor, Justin looked up through the window. He only saw the side of the ship.

The lifeboat was descending!

They were leaving his mother. She was still fighting for her life back on the ship!

Justin scrambled up and pushed through the crowd.

‘Move!’ he shouted at a man sitting below a window.

When the man didn’t move, Justin climbed right over the top of him.

This time no one tried to stop him. Justin climbed straight out the window and up onto the lifeboat’s roof.

He stood up.

Holy crap!

The lifeboat swayed under his feet.

If he wanted to help his mother, he needed to jump. It wasn’t a long jump to the railing, but it was a long drop if he missed.

If I miss I’ll be sucked under the ship and minced by the propeller.

If he didn’t jump now, his mother was out of reach.

Justin jumped.

He leaped off the lifeboat and flew through the air.

His fingers
just
caught the decking.

His body
whumped
against the ship.

The table leg slipped from his belt and fell away, disappearing into the water far below.

Justin’s entire body was hanging off the ship.

But he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t scared at all now.

He was angry.

Angry with himself for leaving his mother and angry at whoever had dragged her from his grip.

Hold on, Mom. I’m coming.

Justin lunged up and grabbed the lowest railing rung. He hooked one leg up and then pulled himself up the remaining rungs as fast as he dared.

At the top of the railing he jumped over, landing on the deck.

Where are you, Mom?

Most of the lifeboats had launched now. The remaining lifeboats were epicenters of violence.

There!

He spotted his mother lying on her back, using her wheelchair as a shield. A woman in a torn yellow dress was trying to wrench the chair away.

As he sprinted toward them, Justin noticed something familiar lying on the deck. He snatched it up.

Whack!

Justin hit the woman in the yellow dress with the clothes iron.

She dropped instantly.

Justin stood panting over his mother, scanning her for injuries, ready to clobber anyone who tried to hurt her again.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked.

His mother stared at him as though she were seeing a ghost.

‘I saw you get on the lifeboat,’ she said.

‘Quickly. Back in your chair.’

Justin flipped the chair. His mother climbed in.

‘But I saw them lowering the lifeboat,’ his mother repeated.

Justin didn’t want to explain how he’d jumped from the roof of the lifeboat and been hanging off the side of the ship by his fingers.

‘We’ll get off this ship together or not at all,’ he said. ‘Come on. We can’t use any of these lifeboats.’

His mother glanced at the chaos around the remaining lifeboats. ‘We’ll try the boats on the other side. We can cut through the atrium.’

Justin dashed after her, praying she was right.

Ben studied the monitors.

He’d sent two armed officers out to help the trapped passengers.

The restaurant was the closer location.

On a monitor, Bryant pointed at the officer sneaking into position behind the sick passengers.

‘There’s Buchanan.’

The bridge staff clustered behind him.

I hope this works,
thought Bryant.

The people inside the restaurant had barricaded the door, waiting for help to arrive.

Well, here’s your help
, thought Bryant.
Make the best of it
.

Buchanan began firing his pistol into the group of crazed passengers assaulting the restaurant.

The group broke apart. One half maintained their assault on the restaurant’s double doors while the others charged toward Buchanan.

Bryant watched in amazement as the sick passengers ran fearlessly into gunfire. Seven of them charged Buchanan. They ran in a pack, almost impossible to miss. They didn’t duck or dodge.

They just ran headlong into the gunfire.

Buchanan shot all of them.

The people in the restaurant reacted.

The restaurant doors flew open and the passengers charged out.

Buchanan fired twice more, dropping two more sick passengers before the people in the restaurant were among the sick passengers, hitting them with chairs and fists and broken off table legs.

The battle only lasted seconds.

Ben nodded in relief as Buchanan waved the healthy passengers after him toward the portside lifeboats.

What about the people trapped in the Duty Free Shop? Where was Officer Reynolds?

Ben checked the other monitor.

It was too late.

The Duty Free Shop’s front doors collapsed. The violent passengers surged inside.

Ben searched desperately for any sign of Reynolds.

He should be there by now. Those people don’t stand a chance without him.

‘I don’t think Reynolds made it,’ said Karen. ‘He’d be helping by now.’

Ben imagined the panic and screaming as the sick fell upon the healthy.

A few healthy passengers climbed over the broken doors and sprinted for their lives. The rest never left the store.

Craigson and Myers scanned the atrium’s entrance over their weapon sights.

‘This is it,’ confirmed Myers.

Craigson keyed his headset. ‘Captain. We’ve reached the atrium.’

‘Is it clear?’

‘It looks clear, but we’ve picked up about twenty healthy passengers.’

‘Send them through,’ ordered Coleman. ‘We’ve cleared a path. It won’t stay clear for long. There are too many hostiles. Set up a defensive position in the atrium. Be prepared to pull out quickly and reach the bridge.’

‘The bridge?’ asked Craigson. ‘Won’t you need us at the lifeboats?’

‘This disease can’t reach the mainland,’ explained Coleman. ‘I need you on the bridge. Understood?’

‘Yes, sir,’ both Craigson and Myers responded into their radios.

Craigson scanned the atrium.

The ship’s atrium looked like the primary information center for passengers.

Dominating the atrium was a ring of marble service counters for exchanging currency, booking day trips, making shore side reservations and purchasing future cruises.

Luxury stores encircled the atrium. Wealthy passengers could spend a lot of money here. Craigson spotted Gucci, Rolex and Versace store fronts. The stores’ marble entrances and glass facades blended into a continuous circle of shop fronts that only paused when a corridor branched off.

Craigson advanced cautiously.