The Final Outbreak

by M. L. Banner

  TJ glowered at his black-as-oil eyes and sneering face. She was about to say something, when she caught only a flash of his other hand, swinging around, followed by the ear-rattling blast of Flavio’s rifle.

  The bullet shattered the man’s left shoulder and he dropped the knife that he had somehow gotten hold of while TJ was torturing him. She felt the squat man finally give up the fight. His breathing escalated to the point he sounded like he was hyperventilating.

  Squat closed his eyes and smiled a wide smile. “Oh yeah, you can kill me. But it won’t matter.” His voice was even sounding. Controlled.

  He paused a long while, and both TJ and Flavio waited, not sure if he were about to pass out or what. TJ shook the man, like a ragdoll.

  Squat flipped open his eyes. For just a moment, TJ thought they flashed red, before returning to their oily blackness. “While you’re feeling me out, my men are taking over your bridge and will blow your engine so you can’t go anywhere. And when we’re done, I’m going to eat you two for breakfast, with a little hot sauce on—”

  Flavio drove the butt of his rifle into Squat’s face, his nose making a satisfying cracking sound. He went limp.

  “I had enough of you,” Flavio added.

  TJ handed him her radio. “Have Ted check on the engine room and the refueling team. I’ll head to the bridge. You go to the engine room. We need to stop these attacks.”

  “Wait!” Flavio warned. While holding the radio, he slung off his pack, reached in and grabbed his two Moraknivs, handing one to TJ. “Take this just in case.” She accepted, sliding it behind her back, into the fold of her compression shorts.

  He attached his to his belt, while re-securing his pack and rifle. Bounding up, he had the radio to his mouth, intending to start transmitting, when the whole ship buffeted and shook. A tremendous boom echoed deep within the ship’s skeleton and under their feet.

  That’s when they both ran.

  102

  The Explosion

  The explosion not only incinerated the four men involved in the giant fireball, it also blew apart all of the aft ducting, thus severing A/C in the ship from the midway stairwell to the very stern. The fireball melted much of the plastic jacketing which protected the wiring and cabling that ran the access-way. As plastic and other flammables continued to burn, the concentrated heat fairly rapidly melted off the remaining protective coating from the wiring connecting every system in the stern. Then various systems started shorting out and shutting down. The heavy-duty power cabling was the last to fail.

  With little more to burn, the fire was out, but the phosphine gas continued to billow out from the aluminum phosphide dust still being exposed to the air coming from the incoming A/C ducting. The lethal combination of toxic phosphine gas and air conditioning would have been deadly to everyone in the stern if all the vents had not been closed.

  This was by design, as Regal European programmed this feature into its ships to lessen the severity of a fire. The thinking was that if all venting were closed, the hot air and smoke from the fire couldn’t travel through the air ducting, and there’d be less circulation of air, lessening a fire’s spread.

  As it turned out, most of the vents were already closed, so as to lower the load placed on the ship’s A/C compressors until they had received fuel. Once the power was cut to the aft decks of the ship, the remaining vents closed, too. This combo may have saved a hundred lives from the effects of the phosphine gas, but it also saved the parasitics in the Wayfarer Lounge.

  There was still some leakage of the phosphine gas, as vents were not completely air-tight, but the small amounts that found their way into cabins, although disturbing, would not be deadly.

  With all the vents closed, the phosphine gas had nowhere else to go. So it continued to billow through the small, seven foot by seven foot access way. It moved forward, following the same course Otto and the other dead men had come from, traveling rapidly along and then down the tubular structure.

  Originally used to kill rat populations, the phosphine gas then rolled down five decks until it held at deck 1. It grew thicker and thicker, patiently waiting for any unsuspecting rat or person to wander in.

  The deadly gas only had to wait two minutes to kill its first of many victims.

  ~~~

  “Are we under attack?” bellowed Ted.

  Alarms rang out and lights flashed all over the bridge.

  “Captain,” hollered Niki, ignoring Ted’s question. “I’m losing power readings for all aft decks.”

  Ted instantly knew what this meant. No power equaled no air conditioning. No air conditioning meant the couple hundred parasitics they were holding were going to wake up.

  “What about the AC?” Ted asked, thinking instantly that it was a stupid question.

  “Compressor is still operating at twenty-five percent. But I can’t tell if any of it is getting to our guests. If power goes out, vents close... I now have zero—repeat—zero readings coming from anywhere from the midway elevator going aft. So I have no idea if they’re getting anything.”

  Wasano had popped in from the port-side swing deck, where he had taken over monitoring the dock from Jessica, so she could return to her station as OOD.

  “Ted, get on the horn with all our security personnel on SC3,” Wasano stated. “Let’s get people to all decks mid-way and find out what happened.” He said this and immediately called out on presumably another channel.

  Ted had turned down the volume on SC2 to talk to the bridge crew, but when he turned it back up, he heard the frantic call from Flavio. He spun it to its max setting so that everyone could hear.

  “—under attack. At least six men are headed to the bridge and there are others headed to the engine room. We are under attack. I am headed to engine room.”

  The captain flew to Ted’s right and picked up one of the phone lines to another section of the ship. He was immediately speaking to someone.

  “Flavio, it’s Ted. Where’s my wife?”

  “Please contact refuel team,” Flavio continued. “Attack came from there and food area. Mrs. Villiams is coming to bridge. I am—hold on.” Flavio yelled something, followed by a single gunshot. Bang. “Sorry, must go,” he said and disconnected.

  Ted didn’t wait; he flipped to SC3, eyeing Wasano hurry across the bridge to the starboard side. “Attention all security personnel. We are under attack from a group from this island...” Ted held open the transmission, but put his hand over the microphone.

  “Wasano, did you catch all that from Flavio?”

  Wasano was still moving toward the starboard swing deck. Opening the door, he barely paused, said, “Yes” and shut the door behind him.

  Jessica marched to the left of the captain and even though Ted was not too familiar with the bridge, he knew where she was going. “Stop!” he hollered at her before she punched the ship-wide alarm button.

  “I just heard on SC1 that the parasitics are trying to break free. Let’s not incite them any further with that loud noise. Remember what happened with the birds.”

  Ted remembered he had the mic still open, wondering what he should tell security on SC3.

  Wasano popped back in from the starboard swing deck, holding binoculars. He looked like he was in shock. “They’re all dead,” he huffed.

  The entire bridge held its collective breath for a moment, considering what was just said, and then the frenzy continued.

  “Ted,” Wasano continued in his normally controlled voice. “Call E1 and tell all engine room personnel to exit out the aft crew stairwell to deck 3.”

  Ted followed his directions, letting go of the mic, shutting off his transmission and flipping the channel selector to E1, Engineering.

  Ted transmitted, “Attention all engine room crew. The engine room is about to come under attack by outside forces, who mean to hurt you. Please evacuate the engine room immediately. Repeat, evacuate the engine room immediately through the aft crew stairwell and continue to deck 3. Go up the crew stairwe
ll to deck 3 and await other instructions.”

  While the captain was speaking to someone named Ms. Johansson, Ted wanted to see and hear what was going on with the parasitics, as well as talk to his wife. But he couldn’t do everything at once. He switched the radio to SC1 while he attempted bring up the cameras on his monitor. He typed in one command after another, but he couldn’t find any cameras working in the stern.

  103

  Violet

  When Violet Johansson first heard the dull thrumming boom, followed by the shudder underneath her feet, she dropped down to her knees. The memory of a terrorist bombing in Istanbul, during one of their ports of call, was still fresh in her head. Pretty quickly, she realized that this was different and she went into action.

  “Mr. Ivonov,” she bellowed, “please check the inside door again and make sure it’s secure. Ms. Kashatri and Mr. Akashi, please secure the outside door.”

  “What was that, Violet?” begged Ms. Kashatri.

  “I’m about to find out.” Violet picked up the direct line to the bridge and pressed the plastic button. It immediately flashed red and her receiver made a dialing tone.

  The plastic button turned solid green.

  It clicked a connection, meaning someone picked it up.

  “Port-side gangway, Ms. Johansson calling,” she announced.

  “This is Captain Haggard, Ms. Johansson. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, Captain.” She was a little surprised the captain himself answered and not the OOD or someone else. “We were just trying to find out what just happened, sir.”

  “We don’t yet know, Ms. Johansson, but I would ask that you secure your area. And do not let anyone onboard without a second officer or higher’s approval. Is that understood?”

  She watched the gangway door shut, her team doing exactly as requested. “We are already secure here... Ah, sir. We also heard what sounded like gunshots. What can we do here, sir?”

  “Hold on,” the captain asked. Then she could hear voices from the bridge and the words “They’re all dead” from her new security director.

  Violet could feel goose bumps blossoming down her neck, in spite of her perspiring a lot. Then she started to shake. She was absolutely terrified by the time the captain got back on the phone.

  She heard him take a deep breath before speaking. “Ms. Johansson, we believe the islanders are trying to damage our ship. Hold position. However, I do need one of your team to check on the starboard exit. The crew doesn’t answer our calls. There may be combatants there, so be vigilant and be safe. If possible, secure that exit. If not safe, just report back with status.”

  “Aye, sir.” She sucked in several breaths of her own before placing the receiver back in its cradle.

  Then she turned to face her team.

  They eyed Violet, their saucer-eyed faces were deadly serious. Expectant.

  “I think we’re under attack,” she said. “The captain wants us to protect this exit, but he also wants one of us to check the starboard exit, which isn’t reporting.” She turned to the tall Russian. “Mr. Ivanov, I’m asking you to go, but the captain warns that there might be combatants there. Don’t take any risks, but...” she paused. “If you’re able to secure the outside exit, do so. Then return and report.”

  “Aye, Ms. Johansson.”

  Igor Ivanov didn’t hesitate. He cracked open the interior door, waiting for Violet to come from behind and get ready to secure it behind him. When she was there, he checked the area just outside the interior doorway,

  It was clear and so he slipped through, Violet immediately closing it and locking it.

  ~~~

  Igor Ivanov felt the door close behind him. When he heard its lock click from the other side, he knew right away that this was a bad idea.

  There was almost no place to hide. As the Americans would say, he was a sitting duck.

  A good span of the port-side hallway, leading forward and aft, was open in both directions. The stairway landing was wide open and directly in front of him. And the opening into the starboard hallway and then starboard exit was right there as well, open all the way to the outside. And that’s when he saw the dead crew member.

  Igor immediately took cover behind the hallway wall’s edge, in the event a bad guy came out of that gangway door or the stairwell or elevators. He also knew that he’d achieved one part of his mission of finding out the status of the starboard exit and their crew: it was unsecured and their crew was dead. But he was not to take any risks and moving beyond this point was risky. He knew he should have knocked on the door and retreated back to safety.

  But then what?

  Was he just to let these murderers do what they wanted? And how long could the four of them remain locked up in their area? And didn’t this also mean that the rest of the ship needed help? He could not just do nothing. Then he looked down.

  On his hip was his only weapon, a stun gun. Yet they had real guns—they had heard the shots. That’s a fight he’d lose every day.

  But there was no one in sight and his mission wasn’t done.

  Igor convinced himself to take one quick look at the starboard exit, close it and then return for a full report to the captain. Maybe then the captain would advise them how they could fight back.

  Igor again checked the hallway aft and forward, before proceeding into the stairwell and elevator landing. He walked quickly, while still keeping an ear to anyone coming up from deck 1 or coming down from deck 3, just above. Other than a distant murmur below, he heard nothing else.

  At the starboard hallway, it too was clear, so he continued into the starboard gangway area, holding up at the threshold.

  Like his team did on their starboard side, it was here where he could secure this area with a large wall and doorway that slid into place. But that would have still exposed them to further penetration from the outside. He needed to secure that exit. In between him and the exit lay the bodies of several of his crew. Then one of the bodies moved.

  Above a fallen crew member, another man was bent over... eating him.

  It still didn’t feel real seeing a person casually kneeling over and chowing down on another person, even though he’d witnessed this a couple of times during the last parasitic attack. But here was this man munching on a dead crew like he was enjoying a late morning buffet. In an unseen hand the cannibal must have had eating utensils too, because the blur of a clear-plastic knife appeared, swinging at the dead man’s arm, cleaving off another piece of muscle.

  Igor gasped. This he’d not seen before. He’d only seen them use their fingers and mouth to tear at tissue.

  Just then the cannibal stopped, swung his head up and glared right at Igor, his red eyes ablaze.

  Igor sucked in a huge breath. He must have made a noise watching this and now he was caught, backing up.

  Equally surprising and new was the cannibal’s speed, because no sooner did Igor turn a shoulder with the intent to run when the knife-wielding cannibal leapt off the dead crew-member and was there, vice-gripping him with one hand and plunging his clear plastic knife into Igor’s gut with the other.

  Igor acted on pure adrenaline; his stun gun out, he jammed it into the side of the cannibal’s neck and clicked the button, releasing 60,000 volts into its carotid. The cannibal let go of Igor and the knife and pulled away slightly, causing Igor to fall onto his back, with the knife still protruding out of his gut.

  The cannibal convulsed twice more, while standing, like he was doing some macabre dance routine. But then he rapidly regained control of his muscles and nerve endings, even though he’d received a four-second jolt, which should have been enough to knock down a moose. The cannibal came at Igor again.

  This time, the cannibal-monster, with red eyes practically pulsing at him, led with his blood-coated mouth open wide, blaring an inconceivably loud bray. Igor attempted to scoot away, but the cannibal was too fast. Igor turned to his side to make himself a smaller target and to block with an arm, as the cannibal came down
on him.

  Once again, Igor’s reflexes were his friend at that moment. And perhaps so was the cannibal’s one-track mind, set on sinking his teeth into the Russian. Somehow, Igor was able to move his stun gun around and jam it into the cannibal’s mouth as it tried to clamp down on his other blocking arm. He clicked home the trigger, this time holding it down as long as there was a charge left, and watched the cannibal dance some more.

  It may have not been the best idea, but when terror and adrenaline are cascading throughout your body, your thinking is far from logical. With his blocking hand, he yanked the now red-colored knife from his belly and shoved it, with all of his remaining strength, into the dancing cannibal’s neck. Then he let go.

  The cannibal danced for almost twenty more seconds, violently writhing on the floor, before he was finally silent. At the same time, Igor felt very, very tired, even though he had a raging fire in his gut. He laid his head on the floor, staring at the overhead lights. Sleep sounded to him at that moment. But then he remembered. He lifted his head and glanced at the wide-open exit, that he was supposed to secure.

  “Fine, first door. Then sleep.”

  ~~~

  “How long has it been?” Violet asked no one in particular.

  “About ten minutes. I think,” said Ms. Kashatri.

  “He should have been back by now.” She knew she couldn’t leave him out there, no matter what happened to him. She’d read about American military never leaving a man behind. She always thought that was a noble endeavor and vowed herself then to do the same for her people. “Mr. Akashi, I’m going out to check. Please secure this door behind me.”

  Violet stuck her head out the door; looking ahead, she saw him immediately. She pulled herself back in. “I’ll need your help,” Violet whispered now. “Ms. Kashatri, man the door.”

  She popped her head back out, checking in all directions. She whispered again, “Come with me” and darted out the door. Mr. Akashi followed.