Authors: Iain Rob Wright
“We’ll see about that,” Steve protested. “Although, if I don’t shake this cold, I’m gonna end up spending the week in bed.”
Conner nodded. The burning in the back of his nose felt as if he had inhaled glass during the night. His skin tingled and released beads of sweat like a factory. All three of them had it; they all looked like shit.
Steve probably stuck his dick in something dodgy and passed it on.
“I feel rank, too,” said Mike. “But it’s nothing a bottle of Mexico’s finest won’t sort out.” He took a long drag from the bottle and let out a satisfied sigh. He passed it to Steve.
Together, the three of them finished off the bottle in less than an hour.
Conner left Mike and Steve and arranged to meet them for hotdogs in twenty minutes. He needed to go find Claire to let her know. He’d checked her room and she wasn’t there. The most likely place she would be was by the pool sunbathing.
All she thinks about is how she looks. She’s got a man so why does she need to be so concerned with looking hot?
Sure enough, he found Claire sunbathing on the upper deck. What really pissed Conner of was that she was lay, chatting with some older guy.
What the fuck is she playing at?
Conner stomped up the steps and marched towards his girlfriend and the stranger.
He tilted his head at the man suspiciously. “How you doing, mate?”
The man looked up at him and nodded. “Good, I was just chatting to your friend….?”
Claire introduced herself. “Claire.”
“She’s my bird, not my friend.” Conner corrected, extending his hand to the man. “My name’s Conner. Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Jack.” The man shook his hand hard, trying to intimidate.
I’ll fuck you up if you ain’t careful, blood.
“Jack was just telling me he’s a police officer,” Claire explained.
What the fuck! Bitch are you crazy?
Conner pulled his hand away and took a step back. He snorted back a wad of snot and moved his attention to Claire – he was so mad with her, but that could come later. “Come on, babes,” he said. They’re about to start serving up hotdogs. The lads are already down there.”
“I’m not really hungry.”
Conner clicked his fingers at her. He was feeling too ill to put up with her shit right now. “Get moving.”
Claire got up reluctantly and seemed to flash an awkward glance over at her new friend. She reached down and pulled on a long t-shirt that covered her down to the knees. Then she shuffled into a pair of pink, jewelled flip flops.
Conner sneezed. Then sneezed again.
Claire put the back of her hand against his forehead. “Your cold still getting worse?”
“Yeah,” Conner said, feeling like his eyes had swollen in his skull. “I’m starting to feel well rough, innit. Steve and Mike have got it too. We haven’t stopped sneezing for the last hour. That’s why I need you to stop lazing your fat ass about, so you can look after me.” He went in for a kiss but Claire dodged it.
Oh no, she didn’t just do that.
“Well, don’t give it to me, babe!” She instead planted a kiss on his forehead and wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll look after you, honey. Let’s go get some hotdogs inside of you.”
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.
Conner took her by the hand, dragging her away. He made sure to give the other guy a warning stare as they left. He wasn’t about to have some old pervert chasing after his woman all week.
“Jesus Christ, I feel like I’m dying.”
Conner looked at Mike and frowned. “Don’t be such a pussy.” Secretly Conner felt just as bad. He looked down at the flesh of his arms and saw that they had gone an unhealthy grey. His nose dripped constantly a green and foul liquid. His eyesight blurred.
Conner and the lads had been drinking in the
lounge for a couple of hours now but no amount of booze had made him feel any better. There was currently a crap comedian failing to make everybody laugh. Claire had gone to get some food in the
Miserable cow can stay there for all I care.
She’d had a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp all day and Conner was getting pretty sick of it. He didn’t know what she wanted from him. He was just trying to have a good time with the lads and he’d been nice enough to bring her along.
She should be grateful.
Conner downed his double whisky in one, enjoying the brief moment where the burning of the liquor replaced the burning of his infection. He looked across at Mike and Steve and thought they looked like terminal cancer patients. It was almost as they’d lost pounds of weight in just the last few hours. Their eyes were bloodshot and swollen.
What the hell is wrong with us?
Conner now felt so bad that he was actually worried. He’d never been truly ill before and in comparison this was probably the worst he had ever felt. His current thinking was that he might go and seek out the ship’s doctor, but now his thoughts were distracted by someone who had entered the room.
Sitting several tables away, nursing a drink, was the guy who had been trying to chat up Claire.
Looks like the perv’s here all alone. He’s probably come on board just to pick up young birds.
Conner had a feeling he and the other guy were going to have a problem before the week was over. In fact, Conner felt…enraged.
A coughing sound distracted him. Mike was spluttering and shaking. Blood shot out of his mouth and splattered his teeth and lips.
“What the hell, dude?” said Steve, leaning away in his chair.
Conner went to say the same, but he was suddenly wracked by coughing of his own. Blood shot from his mouth as he felt as though his vocal chords were passing up through his throat. His vision spun all over the place, and he felt…angry.
So fucking angry.
Conner looked across the room at the man who had been trying to chat up his missus and stood up from his chair. His vision went red as liquid fell down his cheeks. He stumbled between tables and other drinkers, his arms outstretched towards the man named Jack.
I’ll kill you.
Then Conner was lost forever in a maelstrom of anger and rage.