Sea Sick: A Horror Novel Part 2

"More about what?" a female voice asked from the back of the room.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Claire? What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean? Where else would I be?"

"I mean, how come you're not with Conner?"

Claire moved her way to the front of the group and looked at Jack with confusion. "He and his mates are having a drink in High Spirits. I was just about to join them, actually, but I fancied a bite to eat first. What's going on out there, Jack?"

"Everyone has gone bats.h.i.+t insane."

"What do you mean?" the chef asked.

Jack flapped his arms in frustration. "I mean, full-blown, Night of the Living Dead, crazy."

Claire actually laughed then, despite the screaming outside. "You mean like zom-"

"Look," said Jack, cutting her off. "I don't know what the h.e.l.l is happening. I just know that we're in danger. We need to get those doors secured. I'm not saying another thing until then."

The group murmured amongst themselves and then, thankfully, got to work securing the restaurant's doors, while outside, people continued to scream.

"Their eyes were bleeding?" Claire asked from the other side of the table. "That's crazy."

"I know it is," said Jack, sighing at the absurdity of what he was trying to tell these people. "But I'm telling you that there's some sort of super-flu on this s.h.i.+p and it's turning people rabid. There are people dying all over the place out there."

"What makes you think people are sick?" Claire asked. "It could have just been a fight breaking out, or something."

Jack looked her in the eye and spoke very slowly. "There was blood pouring down people's cheeks like motherf.u.c.king tap water. One of them came at me like a man-possessed. I must have punched the guy in the face a dozen times and he just kept coming. Can't say I liked the guy before he went mental, but I've never given someone a beating like that and they still remained standing."

"You never liked him before?" the chef reiterated. "So you knew the guy who attacked you?"

Jack wished he could take back his words, but it was too late. He looked across at Claire and saw the understanding dawn across her face. She leapt up from her chair. "Oh my G.o.d. It was Conner!"

Jack leapt up from his own chair, but wasn't quick enough as Claire raced by him. She leapt around the buffet carts and headed straight for the barricade of tables and chairs that the group had set up beside the door. Before anyone could stop her, Claire pushed aside a dining table and caused several more to collapse out of the way. Jack sprinted across the room, shouting after her with every step. But it was too late. Claire unlocked the catch and managed to prise open the doors, just enough to get her slender body through.

Jack managed to grab her by the wrist before she disappeared. He yanked at her arm. "Don't go out there, Claire. It's dangerous."

"I have to go," said Claire. "You hurt Conner. I need to see that he's okay."

"He's not," said Jack. "He is definitely not okay, but that isn't my doing."

"He needs me."

"If you go out there, you're going to get hurt maybe worse."

Claire seemed to hesitate, half in the door, half out.

"Just let her go," said one of the other pa.s.sengers from behind Jack. "We need to get those doors closed again."

Jack couldn't do that. He made eye contact with Claire and pleaded with her. "Just come back inside and we'll work all of this out, okay? Whatever help Conner needs, he won't get it by you placing yourself in danger."

Claire seemed to mull things over. Eventually her panicked expression softened slightly into something a little calmer. Finally, she nodded to him. "Okay...okay. Just let go of my wrist and I'll come-"

Before Claire could complete her sentence she let out an agonised scream. Jack was about to let go of her wrist but now squeezed harder. He pulled with all his strength, but she was being tugged equally as hard from the other side. Jack pulled with all his might, crying out under the strain. Just when it seemed like his arms would give up completely, Claire flew towards him. The door closed shut behind her as the other people inside locked it again and immediately started reforming the barricade.

Jack fell to the floor, Claire trembling in his arms. She was bleeding. Badly.

"Jesus Christ!" Jack cried out, cradling Claire in his arms. "G.o.dd.a.m.n it."The girl's left wrist was torn right open, spewing forth blood like a geyser. Already her eyes were misting over as shock seized her nervous system. The wound was deep. It looked like a bite-mark. Jack shouted at the others in the room to help him he needed towels to wrap the wound but they were only interested in securing the doors. They didn't know Claire and were obviously not willing to help her if it meant endangering themselves.

Outside, the crazed pa.s.sengers had become aware of the group's presence inside the Lido Restaurant. They were hammering at the doors, trying to get through. Jack knew it wouldn't take long for them to bust inside. He looked down at Claire, wanting to rea.s.sure her that all would be okay, but it would have been pointless. She was dead.

Jack looked down at her in shock. He'd never heard of someone bleeding out so quickly. She must have had a weak heart. It's the only thing that makes sense. He eased her down onto the floor and hunched over her, ready to perform CPR. He pumped the heels of his palms against her chest rhythmically, trying to keep the oxygen going into her system, trying to jumpstart her heart. Every now and then he would place his ear against her mouth, trying to see if she was breathing on her own.

"She's gone," the chef told him. "You can't help her."

"Shut up," said Jack, still aware that n.o.body had offered him any help when he'd asked for it. These people were selfish and he didn't like them. But he did like Claire, and he wasn't ready to give up on her. He scowled up at the Chef. "Just shut your mouth and give me some s.p.a.ce."

Jack pumped harder at the girl's chest, close to cracking her sternum, but there was nothing to lose by being rough. After performing a dozen compressions he stopped and leant forward, to see if she was breathing.

"Hey, she's moving," someone said. "Look at her hand."

Jack looked down at Claire's twitching hand and was confused. She was certainly moving, but when he leant down by her face there were no breaths whatsoever coming from her nose or mouth. He moved his ear even closer, right up against her lips, close enough that there was no way he could miss any breathing.

"s.h.i.+t!" Pain exploded in the side of Jack's head. He pulled back from the girl and felt his ear rip clear away from his skull. He looked down at Claire and saw her chewing it between her blood-soaked teeth. Everyone around Jack was screaming in terror, just like people had been in the High Spirits lounge. He felt like he was going to pa.s.s out.

Claire twisted and turned on the floor in front of him, bunching up onto her hands and knees, before straightening up to her full length. In many ways she looked just the same as before a pretty young woman but Jack could already see the wells of b.l.o.o.d.y tears forming in her eyes. She came at Jack with her arms outstretched, exactly like her boyfriend had earlier. Jack was so horrified by what was happening that by the time he even managed to consider an appropriate reaction, Claire's teeth had already begun to sink deep into his windpipe.

Day 3.

Jack awoke with a start. The fuzziness that filled his head and covered the back of his eyelids was a feeling he had not experienced for some time, yet it was vaguely familiar. The vibrations throbbing through his skull were akin to a hangover and Jack tried to remember if he'd gone for a drink after boarding the s.h.i.+p. Strange as it was, though, Jack remembered going to bed almost as soon as he'd been shown to his room.

Jack sat up in the bed and blinked his eyes. The room was dark. The light from the cabin's window was blocked by the curtain dividing the bedroom from the living area. There was a cube-shaped alarm clock on the bedside table displaying the time in glowing, red numerals. It read: 1400.

Jesus! I slept for 24 hours.

Jack got up and moved around the edge of the bed, then headed over to the area near the room's door. He fumbled for the light switch and somehow knew almost exactly where it was. The room lit up and Jack blinked his eyes for a moment as they adjusted. Once he could focus clearly, he saw that it had been his luggage cras.h.i.+ng against the wardrobe door that had woken him. The s.h.i.+p must have crested a rough wave. As if to confirm his suspicions, the room tilted again and the luggage bashed against the door.

The urge to stretch took over Jack and he gave in to it, reaching his hands towards the ceiling and cracking his shoulder joints. Suddenly a sheet of darkness clouded his vision, followed by several flashes of bizarre images. It made Jack stagger briefly, almost falling to the floor. He felt tired, disorientated almost sick. Perhaps he was coming down with a cold.

I guess I needed sleep more than I realised. One night of rest and my mind is one big mess.

He yanked aside the room-divider curtain and went over to the cabin's porthole window. Beyond the wooden Promenade Deck was the vast expanse of the blue-green Mediterranean. The s.h.i.+p was currently at sea.

Something hit the window and Jack leapt backwards, startled. He sighed when it turned out to be just a seagull perching on the ledge of his porthole. The bird stared in with its beady black eyes and, bizarrely, Jack felt like he'd met the creature before. The seagull had an expression of disapproval on his face and flew away a second later.

Jack let out another yawn and decided to go for a shower. It was a strange morning so far and he wanted the hot water to help wake him up. After months of barely sleeping, finally getting some rest had left his mind muddled and confused. Once he was fully refreshed he would feel better. He was sure of it.

The small, en suite bathroom was cooler than the rest of the cabin. A breeze seemed to enter unseen from somewhere and skim across the tiles. Jack reached into the shower and twisted the k.n.o.b jutting out from the wall. The shower head hissed and sprayed a freezing jet of water all over Jack. He cursed and yanked back his arm. He decided to take a leak while the water warmed up.

His bladder bulged and took a long time to empty. By the time he was finished, the water in the shower had reached a few levels below scalding and Jack stepped inside. The heat was wonderful, fingering his flesh right down to the bone. It almost sent him to sleep and he had to lower the temperature to shock his system back awake.

Once he felt clean and refreshed, Jack stepped cautiously out of the shower, not wanting to slip on the wet tiles. He dried himself off with one of the towels provided and then crept, naked, back into the bedroom. His clothes were still unpacked and he reached down to pick up his luggage. As he did so, he paused. That strange feeling had come over him again: a split second of random flashes in his vision. It was a lot like deja vu, like he knew what he was about to do before he actually did it. It was as though he'd had a dream where he'd s.h.i.+fted his luggage onto the bed in the exact same way he was doing now.

What the h.e.l.l is wrong with me? I feel like I'm losing it.

He put on a pair of khaki shorts, a nondescript, red t-s.h.i.+rt and a pair of white tennis pumps. Then he grabbed the Andy McNabb paperback novel he'd purchased at the airport and headed for the door. On the carpet, he noticed a sheet of paper had been slipped inside the room. It was the s.h.i.+p's newsletter, printed in cheap black ink. It was headed by the day's date 14.10.2012 and the name of the s.h.i.+p in bold, SPIRIT OF KIRKPATRICK. Jack glanced over the day's activities and decided he wasn't interested in any of them. He was pleased to see, however, that at 3PM the pool buffet would be serving...

Hotdogs! My favourite. Although, actually...I don't think I fancy them right now.

Jack loved hotdogs, but for some reason he didn't want any. Bizarrely, he felt a little sick of them, as though he'd already eaten a load and now fancied something else.

Weird.

Jack decided to head to the pool anyway. Although it wouldn't be the most private place, the thought of a bit of sun was tempting. He took the elevator upwards from B Deck and stepped out into the corridors of the Broadway Deck. To his right was a room service cart full of towels and bed linens. To his left was an exit leading to the Promenade Deck. He headed towards it and the floor tilted beneath him, sending him cras.h.i.+ng against the wall. He waited for the s.h.i.+p to steady and then continued cautiously down the corridor. As he pa.s.sed through the door and onto the Promenade Deck, Jack was almost knocked over by a pair of sprinting children. The two boys raced down the side of the s.h.i.+p without any regard for other people's safety. Jack was about to shout after them, but stopped himself. What was the point?

Jack headed along the side of the s.h.i.+p, towards where he a.s.sumed the Lido and Pool Deck would be. His sleepiness had finally gone away, but he was still left with the odd sensation of deja vu accompanying his every action.

At the end of the walkway, the deck opened up into a large rectangular area spread over two tiers. On the bottom was a modest swimming pool inhabited mostly by children, while the top level seemed to be full of sunbathers, chairs and tables. Jack stood for a while, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back and the invigorating sea air. It was the first time he'd set foot upon this part of the s.h.i.+p, yet for some reason it felt familiar. The people, too, seemed familiar.

Jack decided to take the stairs to the upper deck. With any luck there would be a sun lounger free. If not, he would have to make do with one of the tables and chairs. Unfortunately, when he reached the top he saw he was out of luck. None of the loungers were vacant; all of them were filled with sunbathers or reserved by towels and various belongings. Jack was just about to resign himself to one of the hard-backed chairs, when somebody spoke to him.

"You can have this one."

Jack looked down at the young woman that had spoken to him. She was a teenager, blonde and pretty. She was pointing to a nearby lounger.

"You sure it's free?" Jack asked her.

"No one has been using it for the last few hours. I say they've given up any right they had to it. I think someone probably just forgot their towel and left it there."

Jack thanked the girl for her help, then found himself staring at her.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

Jack shook his head and broke away his stare. He plonked himself down onto the lounger and lay back with his novel in hand. "Sorry. It just feels like we've met before."

"Ever been to Leeds?"

"Not lately," Jack replied. "You ever been to Birmingham?"

"Nope."

Jack opened up his paperback. "Guess I'm just imagining things."

"I'm Claire by the way."

Claire...

Jack didn't answer the girl, so she took another turn to speak. "Wait, don't tell me my name sounds familiar as well?"

Jack laughed and suddenly felt silly. He was probably frightening the poor girl with his odd behaviour. "We must have met in a past life. I've just been having one of those days, you know? I keep getting...I don't know, deja vu, or something."

"Yeah, I get that sometimes. Think it's just the mind playing tricks."

"Yeah, probably."

A member of staff came over: a brunette with dark hair and eyes. She asked if either of them wanted a drink. It was exactly what Jack needed and he ordered a double scotch, handing over his room card for payment. Claire ordered something called a mojito.

"What's one of those when it's at home?"

"It's rum, lime, sugar, and some other stuff. Think it's Mexican or Cuban. I don't usually drink much, but I guess one won't hurt. "

"Have you been to either of those places?" Jack asked. "Mexico? Cuba?"

Claire laughed. "Nope. I had a mojito in Spain last year and thought it was nice. You ever been anywhere interesting?"

"Not lately. Unless you count Tipton?"

The waitress came back with their drinks and Jack eagerly took a swig.

"You really are having one of those days, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I woke up this morning just feeling really...odd, I guess nervous, even. Maybe I'm shook up from a nightmare I had or something."

Claire took a sip of the mojito and was about to carry on with the conversation, but someone appeared between them. Jack recognised the lad immediately.

"Conner?"

The lad looked down at Jack with a surprised look on his face. "The h.e.l.l are you?"

"My name's Jack. Have we met?"

It was obvious the lad was confused, even though he masked it with aggression. "You don't know me, mate. How'd you even know my name?"

"I don't know," said Jack, and left it at that.

Conner turned his stare at Claire and told her to get up. "The lads are waiting downstairs. Let's get go-"A violent sneeze interrupted his words, followed by another.

Claire stood up and placed the back of her hand against his forehead. "You still got a cold, honey?"

"Yeah," Conner said, sniffling. "Me, Steve, and Mike haven't stopped sneezing for the last hour. I feel well, rough, innit. My eyes are itching like f.u.c.k, as well."

Claire wrapped an arm around her boyfriend and started leading him away. "Okay, let's go get some food inside you. I'll look after you."