Deep Fear

by Jethro Wegener

  Calder sighed. “Well, since the only sign of injury appears to be the head wound, the doc is thinking it possible that a mental break brought on by being down so far for too long. However, he stressed that that’s just one of many possible solutions. Personally, I think Goldstein is just taking shots in the dark.”

  “Fuck,” said the PR guy. “That could mean a massive lawsuit if this gets out.”

  Ekkow and Calder exchanged a look but remained quiet. They had to pick their battles and decided to wait until Thompson spoke again. The older man was still playing with his cuff-links absentmindedly.

  “I want to hear your advice, Axel.”

  “Well, taken alone, this incident doesn’t mean much. However, when we take into account what happened to the submarine crew, I have reason to believe that the security of The Kingdom is compromised in some way. I would suggest a shutdown of the hotel until we can do a thorough security check.”

  “Not possible. I cannot ask the people on this boat to head back home, not after they have travelled so far and spent so much. I need you and Ekkow to find a way to do the security check without alerting the guests. And I want you,” he added, turning to the PR guy, “to come up with a plan in case this leaks. I cannot afford the bad press. If I have to pay the guy a shit ton, I will, as long as this incident doesn’t get out, you understand me?”

  The PR guy nodded. Ekkow gave Calder another look.

  “With all due respect,” Ekkow said, standing up and placing his hands on the table, “Axel just told you what is the best course of action, Mr. Thompson. It would be in your best interests to listen to the man who you pay to look after you, your pet project, and perhaps most importantly for your fucking bottom line, your important guests.”

  Thompson didn’t say anything for a moment. He just looked up at Ekkow, making sure to maintain eye contact with the big man, before slowly turning to Calder.

  “Tensions are high at the moment,” he said slowly, “so I’ll forgive that outburst. But the bottom line is this—I pay your salaries. I am your boss. You will listen to me because you need The Kingdom to be a hit as much as I do. So, what I want you to do is find a way to make sure my guests are safe without them knowing that there’s anything amiss, am I clear?”

  Calder stood and put his hand on Ekkow’s shoulder, pushing him gently back into his seat. He nodded to Thompson, and then sat back down as well. The PR guy was on his phone, oblivious to his surroundings as he worked to figure out the best possible plan of action.

  “Good,” Thompson said and flashed his brilliant white teeth, “then that’s settled. Thank you, gentlemen. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a party to attend.”

  He rose, straightened his suit, squared his shoulders, and strode out of the meeting room with the PR guy following close behind.

  “Fucking cunt,” Ekkow said. “Only thing that guy cares about is his bottom line. How the fuck does he expect us to ensure the safety of his guests?”

  “He expects us to find a way, mate, so let’s do just that. Our mission is to make sure no one else gets hurt, and when we get back to land, we let the journos do their job. Until then, we do our jobs, just like always. Just a little longer.”

  7

  Billy was in agony. He felt like there were hundreds of tiny insects crawling beneath his scalp, worming their way across the bone under his skin. He felt like he could actually see the pain in front of his eyes—black splotches that danced across his vision. Tears streamed from his eyes, snot ran out his nose. He was aware of other people in the room, but only vaguely. The pain was overriding everything else.

  “Stop him screaming!” George said from the corner of the room, chewing on his thumb.

  Two orderlies were trying desperately to hold Billy down while Doctor Goldstein scrambled for the sedative. Billy was thrashing and kicking. His right foot caught one orderly in the face, smashing his nose, causing him to spurt blood all over the white, linoleum floor.

  The second orderly’s shoes slipped in the blood and he toppled over backward, only just managing to catch himself before he cracked his head on the counter behind him.

  “Help me!” the man growled, pulling George over to the thrashing Billy. “Hold him the fuck down!”

  George was wide-eyed with fear but did as he was told. He leaned all his weight on Billy’s left side, the muscles in his arms straining. For a skinny guy, Billy seemed to have all the strength in the world.

  “Any minute now, doc!” the orderly yelled.

  Goldstein finally filled the needle with the right dosage and rushed back to the gurney, stepping over the injured man on his way. He instructed George to hold Billy’s arm steady before plunging the needle into it.

  “Just hold him while we wait for it to take effect,” the doctor said, throwing the needle into the corner of the room and joining in the effort to hold Billy down.

  It took a few minutes, but finally Billy started to settle. Eventually, he stopped thrashing around and went still. George collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily, while Goldstein attended to the injured orderly.

  “Christ on a bike,” said the other man, whose name tag read Frank, wiping sweat from his brow, “how the hell did he manage to fight us for so long?”

  “Patients going through a mental breakdown can be incredibly strong,” Goldstein said. He was examining the second guy’s broken nose, prodding it gently with his fingers. “Even though I’m not qualified to speculate, I’d say being down here for so long has taken a serious mental toll on Billy.”

  “He seemed fine to me,” said an exhausted George. “Same jokey, swearing guy he’s always been.”

  “Well, some of these guys can hide it really well,” Frank said. “I remember working in a psych ward back in Philly. You could have sworn some of them didn’t have any issues up there whatsoever. But, man, when they snapped, they went all kinds of crazy.”

  “I don’t like that word, Frank,” Goldstein said. “Now, if you could please help me restrain Billy for his own safety, while I attend to John, that would be much appreciated.”

  Half an hour later, George and Goldstein were seated in Goldstein’s office, sipping on whiskey-spiked coffee. The doctor had already reported the latest incident to Calder. Open in his lap was the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, which was the book that listed the common criteria and traits of known mental illnesses.

  “Why don’t you just Google it?” George asked. He had watched the doctor slowly page through the book for the past ten minutes.

  “Because I prefer physical books, my boy.”

  “But it takes so long to find things.”

  “It calms me down. And after that commotion, I need it.”

  “This is what calms me, doc,” George said, holding up the mug before taking a sip.

  “Oh, this helps too, believe me. But back to your friend in sickbay, are you sure he hasn’t been acting differently lately?”

  George shook his head. “Not at all. There have been no massive changes in his life, no changes in his mood, nothing. He’s just been the same as always. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any previous mental health issues.”

  “Hmm. Then maybe something to do with his head wound?” Goldstein let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know, and I don’t have the equipment to find out down here.”

  “Can we evacuate him? Get him to the surface?”

  “Not in his current state. We can’t risk it. We’ll see how he is when he comes around again. We just have to hope whatever this is subsides long enough for us to get him up top.”

  “Goddamn it. This is the worst job we’ve ever taken, I swear to God. You sure this is mental?”

  The doctor sighed. “No, I’m not. I only told Calder that was a possible, because physically he seems fine. But there are so many possible explanations, almost none of which I can accurately test for down here. Can’t do scans or tests or anything. So I’m going to do the only things I can do.”

  “Whic
h are?”

  “Keep Billy as comfortable as possible while I go through every textbook I have to try and find a possible solution.”

  “Will you?”

  Goldstein laughed. “Not this way. This isn’t a movie where we will stumble across the most likely solution by accident. But it’ll keep me from losing my mind because I’ll feel like I’m doing something, even though there really is nothing I can do.”

  “Doctor!” came Frank’s panicked voice from the infirmary. “Something’s happening!”

  Goldstein and George rushed to the other room, almost dropping their cups in their haste. They arrived to see Frank standing with his back pressed up against the wall, an expression of sheer terror on his face. Their eyes were drawn to Billy on the table.

  He lay still, but there was something coming out of him. Some kind of black gunk was leaking out of every orifice—his ears, eyes, nose, mouth, and even his pants were soiled by it. It came out slowly, oozing out of the patient, more viscous than blood or mucous.

  “What the fuck is that?” George breathed.

  Goldstein didn’t say anything as he rushed to one of the cupboards that lined the wall. He pulled out a pair of rubber gloves and snapped them on before grabbing a plastic container, the kind usually reserved for piss samples, and a wooden tongue depressor.

  “Let’s see if we can find out,” he said, stepping up to the gurney and pressing the beaker just under Billy’s ear.

  He used the depressor to scrape some of the black stuff into it, before stepping back and screwing the beaker shut. He held the thing up to the light to examine it.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Frank said. “It’s still coming out of him. What do we do?”

  “Don’t touch it,” Goldstein said, staring in horrified fascination as the stuff leaked out of the unconscious man. “We’re putting him and ourselves under quarantine. This isn’t a mental illness—it’s something else entirely.”

  George was shaking, unable to take his eyes off of his friend. “I repeat—worst fucking job ever.”

  8

  “The four of us are going to go into quarantine,” came Goldstein’s voice over the radio. “I wouldn’t advise bringing anyone else into The Kingdom.”

  “Is it a confirmed contagion?” Thompson asked.

  He was alone in the yacht’s radio room. As soon as the call had come in, Thompson had known it would be bad. He’d immediately had the room cleared. The doctor had just filled him in on the latest development.

  “No, but…”

  “Is it contained?” Thompson said, cutting him off.

  “For now, it appears to—”

  “Then keep it that way. I cannot turn this yacht around—not when we’re only an hour away. We’ll keep the guests out of the sections near the medical bay and the tunnel where the man was infected or whatever, but we are not turning around.”

  “Mr. Thompson, with all due respect, I cannot let you bring guests down here at this time.”

  “I repeat, do you suspect this to be a contagion?”

  “I do not know what it is, if I’m honest. I’m not thinking it’s an infectious disease yet, because it doesn’t look like any that I know of.”

  “So, the quarantine is the safety measure you have implemented to keep the hotel safe, is that correct?”

  “Yes, it is, but—”

  “Listen, Goldstein, I pay your salary, and you all signed the contracts. Two things on said contracts that I’d like you to remember right now are these—I have the final word, and the non-disclosure agreements. I’m confident there is no danger to my guests since it is contained.”

  “I’d like it known for the record that I advised against this.”

  “This whole conversation is on tape,” Thompson lied, “and you will be well compensated for your trouble.”

  There was a silence for a moment. “How well?”

  Thompson quoted a number and heard the intake of breath from the doctor. He allowed himself a small grin—any business deal that ended with both parties happy was a good one.

  “I’ll implement quarantine procedures immediately and keep you advised of any developments, Mr. Thompson.”

  “And one other thing—this remains between us, understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “I knew I could count on you, doctor,” Thompson replied, severing the connection.

  He reached under his expensive shirt and gripped the small silver crucifix that hung around his neck. After a small prayer that there would be no more trouble, he composed himself before leaving the radio room. He hoped God was listening, because he needed His help at the moment.

  “Everything all right?” Calder asked, coming around the corner. “You look distressed.”

  “I’m worried about the maintenance man. I was just trying to get hold of his family.”

  “Oh? I thought your PR team would have done that.”

  “I’m not a heartless bastard, Axel. I’m offended that you’d think that.”

  Calder studied him for a moment. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

  “It’s alright. I know what you mean. But all we have to do is make sure this opening goes well, then it’s all going to settle down. I’m going to pay you all very well for the loyalty you’ve shown me.”

  “And the men who’ve been hurt?” It came out before he could stop himself.

  “I promise to do what I can for them and their families. And I know I can count on you to make sure no one else gets hurt. Now, I must go upstairs and play the gracious host. We are about an hour away from The Kingdom; I trust you know what to do?” Calder nodded. “Excellent.”

  Calder watched as Thompson strode off, unable to shake the feeling that he’d just heard a lot of empty words that held no truth behind them.

  ***

  Priya sighed, sitting down heavily in one of the many chairs that were scattered around the dining tables. She’d been taking photos for what seemed like hours, while also mingling as best she could. The rich and famous had hit on her about twenty separate times—including offers of diamonds from one man who said she had looked exotic, like a princess from Arabia, apparently. It had taken all her willpower not to snort in his face.

  “Bored, huh?”

  Priya looked to her side to see a young Chinese girl seated beside her. She had raven-black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, dark eyes that were obscured by round-rimmed glasses, and flawless skin. Her outfit was incredibly basic compared to the rest of the guests—a simple white T-shirt and ripped skinny jeans, completed with black Doc Martens.

  “How did you guess?”

  “The world-weary sigh that you gave as you sat down. Plus, the fact that you basically fell into that chair.”

  “Observant.”

  “I try to be. I’m Anna, by the way.”

  “Priya.”

  “Reporter, right? Since you’ve been taking photos all this time, you’re either that or just really interested in the dynamics of dull parties.”

  “You’ve been watching me?”

  “Pretty much. These things are always so damn boring, so whenever something different happens, it attracts attention. I’d say a pretty lady taking pictures of everyone is different. Usually the photographers they send aren’t the greatest lookers.”

  Priya laughed. “Well, I think you’re onto something there—I feel like I’ve been hit on by every man in this place. While they were next to their wives, no less.”

  Anna grimaced. “To be honest, I think the wives expect it by this point. They get the money, side chick gets the terrible sex. That’s not me speaking from experience, by the way, just a guess.”

  A snort of laughter escaped Priya’s lips before she could stop it. She felt herself start to blush.

  “By the way, not that I think you can’t take care of yourself or anything, but stick with me if you don’t want to be perved on. These guys wouldn’t dream of pissing off my dad.”

  “Should I be worried?” />
  “You? Never. But he’d have a fit if someone tried it with me.”

  “Who is he? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “You won’t have heard of him, since you don’t move in these circles. These guys know him though. He’s one of the richest men in Singapore—and that’s really saying something.”

  “Sounds like an interesting person to be raised by.”

  “Oh, you have no idea. He’s very traditional Chinese-Singaporean. He wants me to be the proper daughter, which I failed at.”

  “I know that feeling. Asian kid problems,” Priya said with a chuckle. “So, you’re from Singapore? That’s cool. I was trying to place the accent.”

  “Yep. Contrary to popular belief, it is not located in China.”

  “I wasn’t even aware that people thought that.”

  “The number of times I’ve had people tell me that my English is very good. It’s fucking infuriating. Yes, we speak English as our first language over there! It’s my Chinese that’s terrible!”

  Priya was about to reply when she heard Thompson calling for attention. She and Anna looked up to see him at the other end of the deck, beaming.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to arrive at our last stop before we reach The Kingdom proper. I invite you all to collect your luggage and get ready to leave the yacht!”

  Priya saw a structure that jutted out of the ocean. It resembled one of those offshore oil rigs—a platform suspended above the water on sturdy-looking stilts, except a lot less industrial looking. However, it was no less bizarre and unnatural, a mix of polished glass windows, concrete, and steel.

  As the boat drew nearer to the rig, Priya felt the anxiousness start to get to her. It dawned on her exactly where she was going. Far down into the dark depths, an inhospitable place that humans were never meant to reach. The thought was at once thrilling and terrifying, and she didn’t know which emotion was more prevalent.

  9

  As soon as Billy had started leaking black fluid, Goldstein had implemented quarantine procedures. The medical bay and the room Billy was in had been sealed, the biohazard suits had been broken out of storage, and the rest of the hotel had been warned to keep away. The doctor also radioed up to the monitoring rig to let them know what was happening. The only thing he hadn’t done was tell them the whole truth.