Sea Sick: A Horror Novel (3 page)

To get shitfaced, or not to get shitfaced, that is the question.

Jack wanted to read his book and enjoy what was left of the sun so he glanced around for a
lounger.
There were none free. It was hardly surprising, considering the late hour,
and he was just about to resign himself to one of the hard-backed chairs instead, when somebody spoke to him.

“You can have this one.”

Jack looked down at the young woman speaking to him.  She was a teenager, with blonde curls framing the Nordic features of her face.  She was pointing to a lounger beside her that was covered by a bright green beach towel.

“Isn’t it taken?” Jack enquired, nodding at the towel.

The girl shrugged at him.  “I haven’t seen anyone near it for hours.  I think someone must have forgotten their towel and left it there.  Just take it.”

Jack smiled at the girl and nodded.  He shifted the ownerless green towel onto the floor and plonked himself down on the lounger, letting out a sigh of pleasure as he eased into the backrest.

“The sun’s not that warm now,” the girl told him, “but it’s better than being in England.”

“Where abouts are you from?”

“Me?  I’m from Leeds.  Can’t you tell by my accent?”

Jack chuckled.  “It’s not that thick for a northerner.”

The girl laughed back and her eyes seemed to sparkle.  “Yours is, though.  Birmingham, right?” 

“Good guess,” Jack admitted.  “I try to hide it.  Being a brummie isn’t the most sophisticated thing in the world.”

“Hey, neither is being a northerner.”

The conversation seemed to fade out then, as it often did between two strangers making polite chitchat.  During the silence an attractive brunette with striking
,
dark eyes came by to take their drink orders.  Jack requested a cold beer, while Claire said she was good.
He shuffled on the lounger until he was comfortable then
opened the cover of his novel.  Before he started to read, he gave his surroundings a cursory glance, more out of bored interest than anything else. 

Leaning against the nearest balcony, which overlooked the pool, was an elderly couple kissing and cuddling like lovers half their age.  It was romantic in many ways, but Jack couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable all the same.  The cynical part of his mind told him that it was jealousy making him feel that way;
resentment towards something he’d once wished to have for himself: a partner to grow old with.

That’s one ship that’s certainly sailed.

Jack turned his mind to other things and looked down at the pool below.  It was still
packed
with
children. It now appeared that one of them – a young boy – had slipped
while exiting the water.  The boy’s mother was currently nursing an injury on
the boy’s knee by rubbing at it vigorously.  It seemed to make
him cry even
harder.

“Were you in the army?”

Jack looked around and saw that the teenage girl was talking to him again.  “Huh?”

“Were you in the army?” She pointed to the Andy McNab novel in his hands.  “Your book looks like it’s about war.”

Jack nodded.  “It is, and,
yes
, I
was
in the army.  Six years in the Signals.”

“Cool.  I bet you saw some nasty stuff.  Were you in Iraq?”

“No.  That was after my stretch.  I was still in my mid-twenties when I left the service.  The army wasn’t really for me.”

“Don’t blame you.  I couldn’t hack it, being screamed at all the time by some arsehole sergeant.”

Jack was silent.

“Oh God,” she said.  “You were a Sergeant, weren’t you?”

Jack laughed.  “When I left I was, yeah.”

“Sorry. What did you do when you left?”

“I joined the police force.  Been an officer ever since.”

The girl’s eyes widened at that.  People were always shocked when they found out they were
talking to an off-duty police officer.  It was as though people didn’t expect them to be actual human beings.  It looked as though she was about to comment, but a third person arrived and stood between them before she had chance.  It was the lad Jack had seen the day before on the docks, the one with all of the lines and squiggles buzzed into his hair.  He was currently topless and displaying a perfectly carved set of abs.

The lad tilted his head towards Jack suspiciously.  “How you doing, mate?”

“Good,” Jack replied, ignoring the macho attitude being fronted at him.  “I was just chatting to your friend….?”

“Claire,” the girl on the sun lounger replied.  She sounded a little nervous.

“She’s my bird, not my friend.”  The lad extended
his hand out to Jack.  “My name’s Conner.  Who the hell are you?”

Jack took Conner’s hand and the two of them shook more firmly than either of them needed to.  “I’m Jack.”

“Jack was just telling me he’s a police officer,” Claire explained.

Conner pulled his hand away and took a step back.  He
impolitely snorted back a wad of snot and moved his attention to Claire, acting as if Jack had suddenly
ceased to exist.  “Come on, babes.  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.  “Get moving.”

Claire got up reluctantly and seemed to flash an awkward glance over at Jack.  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 and stepped up beside her boyfriend.

Conner sneezed.  Then sneezed again.

Claire put the back of her hand against his forehead.  “Your cold still getting worse?”

“Yeah,” Conner said.  “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.

“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.

They both glanced down at Jack as they walked away; Claire with a warm smile on her face, Conner with an aggressive scowl on his.  Jack kept his own expression plain – it wasn’t his place to cause a confrontation – if the lad wanted to treat his girlfriend like shit then that was his business. 
She’ll dump his sorry ass eventually. 

Jack lay back and closed his eyes for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face.  Then the smell of cooking sausage meat wafted up onto the upper deck and he was powerless to resist his growling appetite.  He closed the book he had not yet started and hoisted himself up off the lounger.

I’m so hungry I think I could eat a whole pig.  Let’s hope there’s plenty to go around.

Heading down the steps to the Lido Deck, Jack couldn’t help but notice something a little bit odd.  It appeared that Conner and his mates weren’t the only ones
with colds. There were several other passengers who were sneezing and coughing.  Obviously there was
a nasty bug going around.

Hope I don’t catch it,
Jack thought to himself as he joined the queue for hotdogs.

***

The hotdogs had been good and plentiful.  Once Jack had filled his belly with three or four, he decided to explore the ship, surprised to find that there was a Sports Deck and a casino.  His initial plan was to find somewhere peaceful to read his book, but somehow he’d found himself unable to settle anywhere in particular.  He visited the ship’s five bars, speaking briefly to Joma at the
Voyager’s Lounge
and ordering a double bourbon whisky at an American-style pub called
Columbia. 

He’d eventually ended up at a place called
High Spirits
and that was where he was now. The barroom was immediately next to the
Sun Deck
Sun Deck
where he had briefly sunbathed, but it was also, more importantly, right above the
Lido Restaurant
Lido Restaurant
where they served a twenty-four hour buffet.  It would not be long before Jack wanted to eat again, and when he did all he would have to do was descend a short flight of stairs to find a wide array of snacks waiting for him.
Drinks upstairs and food below.  Perfect.

Looking at his wristwatch, it was ten-past-eight.  Currently there was a comedian who would be
performing on the room’s small stage until ten-o-clock.  Jack would most likely get a bite to eat after the set was over and
then retire to bed with the book he was still eager to finally get started on.

The room’s waitress – another Filipino girl, as a majority of the serving staff seemed to be (apart from the dark-featured poolside waitress that had brought him a beer earlier in the day) – brought over the drink he had ordered: another double
bourbon, this time with coke.  Jack took the drink and thanked the lady, before settling in to watch the rotund comedian ply his trade on the stage.

“The wife and I were sat having a cup of tea with my mother-in-law the other day when, out of the blue, she says to me, ‘I’ve decided I want to be cremated.’  I said, ‘Alright, get your coat.
’
”

Mother-in-law jokes.  How original.

Jack sipped his drink and glanced around the dimly-lit lounge.  The attendance was high and nearly all of the seats and tables were occupied by passengers with their various drinks.  Nearby, he spotted the family that had boarded just before him: the middle-aged couple and their daughter.  Their little girl was not the lively spirit she’d been earlier and was now
lying across her mother’s lap, her damp blonde hair matted against her forehead as she clutched her dolly against her chest.  At first Jack assumed that the girl was just exhausted from the excitement of being on holiday, but the longer he looked at her the more certain he became that she was unwell. 

Periodically the girl would let out a hacking cough, followed by a pitiful moan.  Each time it happened, the mother stroked a hand through her hair and looked at the father worriedly.  The two parents didn’t look much healthier than their child, and as Jack studied the room
he saw that quite a few people seemed to be under the weather.  The sneezing fits
Jack had noticed earlier on the Lido Deck had now been replaced by a chorus of harsh, chesty coughs.  Everywhere around him sick people
were rubbing at their clammy foreheads and bloodshot eyes, all looking extremely sorry for themselves.  Jack’s most conservative estimate put the number of ill people in the room at about one
quarter.

Something isn’t right here.  There’re too many sick people for this to be a simple cold virus.

Jack downed his bourbon and coke and placed the glass back down on the table.  Slowly, he began to rise from his seat, oddly feeling that any sudden movements would be bad.  He took another look around the room, making sure that what he was seeing was correct and not an embellishment of his weary mind.  But there was definitely at least a quarter of the barroom audience that were sick. Paranoia was even starting to convince him that it may have been a full third.  It was time to get out of there, Jack decided.  The last thing he wanted to spend the week doing was nursing a horrible cold.

Just as he was about to abandon his table,
Jack was stopped by the Filipino waitress.  “Is okay?” she asked him.

“Yes, fine.  I’m just feeling a bit…claustrophobic.”

“You want I bring you glass of water?”

Jack shook his head.  “No, thank you.  That’s very kind but-”

The waitress shot forward into his arms, pushed by some great force.  As Jack tried to steady the woman, he saw that Claire’s boyfriend, Conner, was the one who had shoved her.  There
was a wild spark of anger in his feral eyes.

Jack snarled at him.  “What the hell is your problem?  What are you on?”

Conner gave no answer.  He rushed forward with his arms outstretched, grabbing at Jack’s throat.  Jack choked and spluttered as the fingers wrapped around his windpipe. Shock and surprise had distracted his reactions, but he quickly regained his
focus by putting his years of training to use.  He stamped his heel into Conner’s left instep and waited for the lad to back off. 

But it didn’t happen. 

Conner continued to claw and wrench at Jack’s
neck and even tried using his teeth as a weapon.  Jack turned his body sideways, hooked the lad under his right armpit, and flipped him over his hip with a basic judo throw.  Conner went cartwheeling to the floor and stayed there, grasping at the air, disoriented.  It was then that Jack heard the screams coming from behind him.

He turned around with his hands in the air.  “It’s okay, everybody.  Just remain calm.  Everything is under cont-”

The entire lounge area was filled with panicking men, women, and children.  They struggled and leaped over chairs as they tried to exit the room as fast as they could, but only ended up trampling one another.  Dotted throughout the room, several groupings of people were engaged in frenzied scuffles.  It appeared that the passengers were attacking each
other – as if some spell had taken over them all at once and incited them to violence.

Jack spun on the spot, taking in the scene from all angles.  While the room was too dark to see anything in clear detail, it was apparent that people were being hurt.  The coppery tang of blood was thick in the air and the only sound he could hear
was screaming.

Jack turned to the waitress standing next to him.  She’d remained rooted to the spot ever since Conner had shoved her.  He placed a hand on her shoulder.

 “What the hell is going on?”  He shouted the words at her, trying to snap her out of the daze she was in.  It must have worked, because she blinked her eyes and seemed to come back to reality.  But the only thing she did was flee, abandoning her duties and racing away into the crowd.  A moaning from behind Jack made him quickly forget about her. 

Conner was back on his feet, preparing for another attack.  His eyes were now leaking blood and
it coursed down his pallid cheeks in crimson rivulets.  He was snarling like a rabid pit bull.