The Final Outbreak

by M. L. Banner

  “The captain must have realized,” Jean Pierre explained to Ted and David as well as the ship, as he also held the microphone down, “that we had run out of heavy fuel for some reason, but that we still had MGO—a different kind of fuel that we also carry—located in a different tank. And if we could get control of our port-side thrusters, we could steer away from the island.”

  “You mean we’re saved?” Ted and David bellowed at the same time, almost sounding as one voice.

  Jean Pierre waited to answer this and when they felt the movement hard to their starboard side, a giant grin enveloped his face. “Yes, I think so,” he finally answered, and breathed out a long sigh of relief.

  Jessica’s head shot up and she joined them in watching their view of the island, which had filled the entirety of the bridge windows. The island slowly moved from right to left, until after a few seconds, there was nothing in front of their bow.

  They joined in the cheering they heard on the radio. But theirs was far more muted. Still, they would enjoy this hard fought success, but just for a moment. They all knew it would be short-lived. Their next battle would be their hardest.

  71

  A Pause

  They weren’t going to take any time to lick their nearly mortal wounds. They didn’t have time.

  Somehow, they had averted a complete disaster by narrowly avoiding collision with São Miguel. Yet their losses were mind-numbing: their captain and many crew and passengers were dead or missing. Bodies littered the ship, like discarded debris from the morning after an epic New Year’s Eve bash.

  They had some control of their helm. Having one functional bridge console and the use of their thrusters gave them very limited maneuverability. And for now, they were gliding at just under a knot, with their engines off. Jean Pierre had cut off the supply of fuel to their stuck-on engines—they still couldn’t figure out why they were like this—to temporarily stall their screws and with them, their immediate worry about running into any other islands. At least for now.

  These solutions felt to all of them like small Band-Aids applied to a giant gaping hole in their collective guts. And if their ship were to ultimately survive this apocalypse, each knew they’d have to eventually deal with their most devastating of injuries: they had lost total control of the interior of their ship, with the only exception being the bridge, engineering and a few rooms or cabins they had radio contact with. None of them had any idea how or when they would regain control anytime soon.

  To complicate their troubles, the bridge was mostly blind, and they were unable to regain the video feeds on their two working consoles. At least they could hear what they couldn’t see via Deep’s regular reporting. He radioed constant updates, laced with many verbal flourishes, describing all of the gruesome images flashing before him from the ship’s working cameras.

  From his reports, they gathered that it was still chaos outside their secured areas: enraged parasitics—Dr. Simmons coined the term for infecteds appearing violent—still dashed around the public and crew areas. The parasitics chased, maimed or killed their fellow passengers and crew, just as they had done for the last few hours. Some of the parasitics even appeared to be eating their victims.

  The only good news was that the incidents of attacks appeared to be dwindling as most of the survivors were now hiding or were hunkered down somewhere, waiting for the crisis to pass. The ship was huge and there were quite a few hiding places for the survivors. It was the survivors on which they now focused their collective attention.

  While Jessica was tirelessly working to regain control of another console under the direction of Buzz on one of the portables, Jean Pierre, Ted and David were on the base-unit attempting to identify crew and passengers and to help them find safe places around the ship. Deep continued calling out the potential perils to all involved from the MR.

  They communicated with crew members who had radios—many had been listening to the drama unfold before them—and told them what they needed to know about those who were infected, and how to stay away from them. It appeared that if they could get to a cabin or other clear room, simply locking their doors was enough to keep the parasitics back. Ultimately the infected person would grow tired or would so damage themselves from incessantly pounding on the door, it would stop and run to some other location. Many of the crew were trapped, but at least safe. And because it was still insanity out there, they remained where they were until some help could be arranged or they had somehow muted the threat. They would deal with that part later, they all decided.

  Ted and David did their best by manning the big port-side table in the bridge with the deck plans. When a group made themselves known on the radio, Jean Pierre would call out the location, and they’d mark down the number of survivors using a black wax pencil. They also marked down reports of those hiding or those still out in the open but headed to someplace identified as safe. These were indicated by an arrow. Reports of parasitics were marked in red with their number. An arrow was added if the parasitics were on the move, showing their direction.

  With this system, they were able to track the location of survivors and parasitics, so they could visually keep track of each group. Each survivor was told to hold tight; they’d be retrieved later, when they figured out what to do about the parasitics.

  After a while, they were all beginning to feel like they were gaining an upper hand in the chaos. And within an hour, there were few crew or passengers they could help, at least over the radio.

  It wasn’t long before Ted and David began to feel like third wheels to the process. Because of the few frustrating moments early on, when neither knew a location, Jean Pierre decided to relieve them. He grabbed a portable and took residence at the giant table with now more than a hundred scribbles in red and black pencil littering all thirteen deck plans.

  Meanwhile, each time Ted put pressure on his damaged ankle, by moving or just standing, he’d unconsciously grunt or groan. David offered that now would be a good opportunity to thoroughly check out Ted’s injury.

  They proceeded over to the captain’s chair, the only other unoccupied seat on the bridge, and David carefully examined Ted’s ankle. Though not a doctor, as a child, David found himself helping his fellow Auschwitz survivors with all sorts of various physical maladies. Because of what he learned, he became pretty good at properly identifying and patching up injuries, using whatever was on hand.

  “It’s a bad sprain, but not broken,” he told Ted.

  Using strips torn from a blue bathroom towel, he tightly wrapped Ted’s swollen ankle. It wasn’t pretty, but Ted could now hobble around, with fewer grunts and groans.

  With the added mobility and feeling unneeded, Ted was even more anxious to leave. He desperately wanted to see his wife, who was still somewhere in one of the engine areas. He didn’t want to wait any longer to see her. And when he did finally see her, he would hold her tight and not let her go. After thinking he’d lost her, he was practically going mad himself to make this happen.

  “It must be killing you to be locked in here, while she’s out there?” David asked, mostly to give him a chance to talk about it. David’s wife Evie often reminded him that talking out those things you had no control over helped you feel a sense of control. He had done a lot of talking with his wife over the years.

  Ted lifted his head and shot him an embarrassed glare. “That obvious, huh?”

  David nodded and smiled. He didn’t need to say anything more. Besides genuinely wanting to help Ted, he figured talking about it might also help the man better focus on whatever it was they would be tasked to do next. He didn’t hold it against Ted that his head wasn’t altogether there: if he’d thought Evie had died, he’d be beside himself.

  Of course, he didn’t know Evie’s status. At least not yet.

  “I just keep remembering her fall, seeing her fear, and knowing I could do nothing but watch. This very thing had happened to me before... I lost my first wife and a child. And when I thought it happened aga
in, I swore I’d do what I could to protect TJ. And with our spending so much time apart for so many years, it just seems ridiculous now that I know she’s alive and she’s so close, yet we’re not together. I just don’t want us to spend another moment apart.”

  “I get that. Evie and I have had our long periods of separation too, and of course, I really miss her now...” David stopped and glanced down, collecting himself.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t even know she’s safe yet.” Ted’s shoulders drooped, and his pensive look turned into a glower. “I’m being selfish.”

  “Nonsense. Evie’s alive. She’s too much of a pain in my side to pre-decease me.” David snickered at this, not sure Ted knew it was a joke. “Guess you spend so much time together as a couple over the years, you feel like a part of you is missing when you’re apart.”

  “Except when they drive you crazy, huh?” Ted said with a wry smile, obviously doing his best to add a little humor to their otherwise serious conversation.

  “That’s what I love about Evie. She knows what buttons to push. I’ve long since ceased being a mystery to her and that just suits me fine.”

  Ted studied him with scrutinizing eyes. “Listen, David. I appreciate what you’re doing. But I have to do something—hell, anything—right now or I’m going to go bat-shit crazy just sitting here. Either I find something useful to do to help here, or I’m leaving to go find my wife, regardless of how stupid that may sound.” Ted pushed himself up out of the captain’s chair, suppressing an under-his-breath-grunt.

  “I’ll go with you. But let’s first ask the staff captain... I’ll bet there’s something we can do just outside this bridge.”

  David put an arm around Ted to help him along the short distance to the port-side bridge. Ted gladly accepted and they waddled to the front-facing area of the deck-plan table, where Jean Pierre was slunk with a black pencil touching the white area of the Regal Crown Lounge on deck 11. His ear was pressed against speaker. He nodded every now and then. He wrote the number sign and then “6” with an arrow pointed to the Concierge Club.

  He’d just put out another of his many calls to any who hadn’t checked in yet.

  “Okay. Just remember that curiosity killed the dog.” David couldn’t help but smile at that one. “You hold tight until we send some crew out there.”

  After the pause was long enough, Ted asked, “Jean Pierre, do you want us to go up there? If not that, we’ll do something else that the ship needs. David and I need something to do. Don’t care if it’s dangerous. We’re going flipping stir-crazy here, just waiting.”

  David chimed in before the staff captain could answer. “We want to help, but we’re kind of limited with our lack of knowledge about the ship.”

  Jean Pierre looked up, flashing a forced smirk at each man. “You’re probably not going to like it, but I do have a suggestion.”

  “The answer is yes, whatever it is,” Ted burst out.

  “I need you both to go to the next door cabin, number 8000, on your right.” He handed Ted his key card. “You’ll need this to get in. It’s a luxury cabin and it’s one of the only places on the ship that has a satellite connection to the outside world’s television broadcasts. It would be good to know what’s going on out there, as we’ll eventually need to make land at some point.”

  “Why wouldn’t we enjoy luxuriating in the Queen’s Suite and watching TV, just so we can soak in more bad news?”

  “It should be a piece of pie, but it would be helpful to know what’s going on.” Jean Pierre didn’t crack a smile, even after his bad idiom. He scoured the notes hand-written all over his table, as if he’d missed something, and then looked back up again. “Please be careful when you leave the bridge: the, ah... parasitics, are still running up and down the hallways.”

  They both nodded, each remembering the occasional screech running by the bridge’s entrance.

  “Perhaps, before we step outside, you could ask our eye-in-the-sky if our coast is clear?” David asked and then looked to Ted. “You ready?”

  Ted had removed his hat and was scratching his temple, focused in the other direction at something on the bridge. “I was just thinking... Maybe we could secure the area around the bridge entrance and 8000 beforehand, so any of us can come and go and not worry about getting eaten.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Jean Pierre asked.

  “How about those dead consoles? I figure two or three of those, standing side-by-side, should block the hallway access on each side. Maybe we even shore them up with tables or chairs from the luxury cabin?”

  Jean Pierre smiled. It was the first time they saw him smile since their ship was overrun. “That’s a great idea. I’ll help you drag them to the hatch. Then we’ll have Deep tell us how it looks and when it’s clear for you guys to set up the obstructions.”

  They all worked quickly, dragging the five dead consoles, and a few heavy pieces from the busted conference table lying in the wrecked conference room. After getting the okay from Deep on the radio, who said he hadn’t seen anyone in the deck 8 hall in the last twenty minutes or so, they cracked open the hatch.

  Each man carried a hefty broken leg from the conference table, which made a substantial club.

  David edged his head out the door first, listening for any sign that he needed to retreat.

  He slipped out the door, followed closely by Ted. Both held their makeshift clubs above their heads, ready to pummel any crazy who threatened to attack them. Even though they were just told by Deep that their hallways were clear, David was still surprised at how quiet it was. He wasn't sure, really, what he was expecting... maybe some sounds in the distance or signs of what had been going on the last few hours. His eyes were immediately drawn to a splatter of blood on and around cabin number 8001, right next to their destination 8000.

  He turned his head in the other direction, towards Eloise's Royal Suite and saw the slaughterhouse of blood staining the carpet in front, like some macabre welcome mat.

  Because of his leg, Ted stood watching and listening at both ends of the hallway split, making sure nothing approached, while David and Jean Pierre hoisted one console after another and placed them into each hallway. One blockade was created on their side of Eloise’s cabin, giving them almost the whole length from stern to an open area contiguous to the bridge. The other blockade was built in between 8000 and the next cabin, 8001.

  David and Ted would shore it up a little better with tables and chairs from their luxury cabin destination, 8000. Until then, it was already a vast improvement. All they were looking to do was to fortify each sufficiently to slow down the parasitics enough to allow any one of them to escape back to the safety of either the bridge or the Queen’s Suite.

  Jean Pierre left them, not wanting to leave the bridge hatch open any longer than he had to. Plus, he wanted to get back on the radio and see if he could guide more of his passengers and crew to safety. They agreed whomever was on the outside would pound three times on the hatch or use the intercom button when they wanted in again.

  David verbalized a suggestion that they use the mattresses from the cabin to block anyone’s view, and to further buttress their blockades. They could then move those aside when someone who was not trying to kill them wanted in.

  Jean Pierre nodded in agreement, thanked them and then shut the hatch, locking it in place.

  Just after David and Ted stepped into the luxury cabin, Jean Pierre’s voice sounded on Ted’s radio, asking for an update from Deep.

  Because they wanted to get the mattresses out onto the barricades quickly and they wanted to get back, as instructed, to watch for news updates the cabin’s satellite TV, neither heard Deep’s reply after Ted turned his radio’s volume down.

  If they did, they would have heard Deep say, “Sir, I can’t seem to find any of the crazies. It’s like they all disappeared.”

  72

  More Bad News

  They double-timed their gathering up each of the suite’s two king-sized
mattresses, pushing one up against each barricade. Once the suite’s door closed, offering security, Ted and David dropped themselves into the lush couch in front of the suite’s giant TV. Ted punched the remote’s “On” button, filling the cabin with the staticky sounds of a television not receiving a signal, when they heard a loud click from the entrance. Both their heads snapped in that direction, and they sprang from their seats.

  “Oh Christ, Officer,” Ted gasped, “You gave us both heart attacks.” He remained where he stood in front of the couch, a little unsteady on his one good ankle, and took in the officer standing just inside the suite’s entrance.

  David, in the swift motion of someone much younger, had hopped from his seat, grabbed his table-leg weapon and taken a couple of steps toward the door before Ted’s words left his mouth.

  It was Ágúst Helguson, from the bridge crew, standing just inside their cabin, looking almost embarrassed, as if he had interrupted something. But then Ted realized it wasn’t embarrassment he was seeing; there was something not right about this man.

  “How did you get inside? We locked the door,” David bellowed over the TV static. He took another step toward the officer, while he repositioned his hands for a better grip on his weapon. Ted could see he was getting ready for a battle.

  The officer held up his key card, in answer. It seemed like a casual Through the door, you dummies point, without actually saying this. He said nothing else, keeping his head down, sunglasses on, pointed at the floor.

  The man looked pale, like he was suffering from a head cold, and Ted had to remind himself that this man had reddish eyes earlier. He was partially symptomatic with the Rage disease. Had he turned completely and become parasitic like the others? Ted frantically scanned the area around his feet for his own weapon. It wasn’t there.

  Then he remembered, in his exuberance to get to a seat and take a load off, he had forgotten he had left his club on the dining room table. He glared at it, at least half the distance to the potentially crazed officer. And he wasn’t moving very fast right now. If this guy went crazy on them, he’d have nothing to defend himself or David—not that David needed much defending—except for the remote control he now cradled in his right hand.