Dead Sea

by Aline Riva

  “Vicki, wait!” he called, and hurried after her.

  Marc had almost caught up with her when she stopped suddenly at the fork in the path that led towards the village pond. As the oil covered corpse lumbered out of the tall grass she staggered back in fright, staring wide eyed at the same creature she had pushed from the rig. Now it towered over her, taking a step towards her, slowly raising an arm as its hand opened up and its fingertips reached out.

  “Shit!” Marc said, coming to a sharp stop and then taking slow, careful steps towards the creature as it staggered closer to Vicki. He drew his gun, taking careful aim. Down by the pond the woman supervising screamed as children screamed too and people scattered in panic at the sight of the corpse, but Vicki held up her hand to Marc, indicating not to shoot. More of Parson's patrol men were running now, as another headed the other way towards his residence.

  “Don't shoot!” Vicki said, casting a glance about the gathered armed men, as Marc looked on in horror. Vicki wasn't even afraid now, it was as if seeing the return of the creature had given her a strange kind of hope...

  “He won't harm me,” she said, “Watch this...”

  Then she stepped closer, looking up at corpse as its rotting, bird-pecked face looked down at her in strange fascination. It grasped at her hair, trailing golden locks through its grip and letting go gently, leaving her hair stained with oil.

  “You're not like the others,” she said, then she turned to the shocked witnesses, “I met him on the rig...he didn't harm me. He's different.”

  Parsons had joined the crowd where he pushed through to the front, his unsheathed cleaver in hand, ready for attack.

  “Mr Parsons,” Vicki said, “Spare this one... believe me... look at him, is he harming anyone?”

  Parsons looked on, watching as the creature stood there, fascinated by the sight of Vicki. Then he motioned to the two men stood closest to the creature.

  “Capture it,” he said, “I want it kept in a deep pit – not the kill pit, this one might be worth studying.”

  As a heavy chain was looped over the corpse it gave a snarl and then a roar and soon two men struggled to contain it as a third shoved a sack over its head and tied it securely, then after a second chain was looped about the creature, the men led it away towards the grounds of Parson's home.

  Marc looked at his employer in utter shock.

  “You're going to keep it alive?”

  “Marc,” Parsons replied, “Look beyond what it is and think about how it reacted. We know nothing of these creatures. Perhaps some are different to the rest. You just saw it, as I witnessed too – it did not harm Vicki.”

  “He had a photo of his daughter in his pocket on the rig, I look like her.”

  Parsons turned to her in surprise.

  “Then perhaps it means these corpses can retain some kind of memory after their transformation. Maybe if we can understand the extent of that, there could one day be a way to control them. We must look at all possibilities.”

  Vicki smiled. It was the first time Marc had seen her smile since the horrors on board the rig and it seemed completely out of place as the corpse snarled and struggled as the men dragged it towards the field.

  “Maybe this is some kind of good omen,” she said brightly.

  “Perhaps it is,” agreed Parsons, “I do know Christian would love the opportunity to study its behaviour. He's very keen to try and understand how the virus works. This unusually placid creature could one day lead to a break through, Vicki.”

  “At last,” she said, still looking radiant, “Something to hope for! I feel so much happier now! I'm starting to believe everything will be okay!”

  Then she walked off, still with a smile on her face.

  Marc cast a doubtful glance at Parsons.

  “That girl is fragile. And if she thinks that corpse is different to the rest, no offense to you, Antonio, but I think you'll both be proved wrong. I saw enough of them back on the mainland, they are nothing more than killing machines!”

  Parsons took his criticism well as he paused to sheathe his cleaver.

  “Maybe in time you will open your mind to other possibilities, my friend,” he replied with confidence, “There's always room for hope, Marc.”

  Then he took a slow stroll up the road, heading for the field at the back of his property leaving Marc standing there alone, watching him walk away as doubt reflected in his eyes.

  SIX MONTHS LATER:

  Time passed by quickly.

  The summer heat turned to autumn chill and icy winds blew across the island. The rain and the thunder storms were heavy and when winter came the snow fell thick and fast, coating the island in January and melting by February, but the islanders were kept warm by their state of the art heating system and strong houses, on milder days the bravest would wrapped up in thick winter clothing and light bonfires to meet up and chase away the chill.

  By now Emma had taken up a position on security patrol, Vicki had spent her time alternating between making blankets and repairing clothing with some of the other women at the main building. When she wasn't there, she was sneaking down to the pit to lean in and talk to the corpse, who was deep below surface, always turning its rotting face up to her in fascination. Never once did it try and lunge, nor did it snarl...

  Then Vicki was offered a job she had once thought out of her reach – Greg was finally on the road to recovery and Christian needed her to help with his care because knowing he would soon be out of the infirmary, the doctor wanted to devote a little more time to the study the behaviour of the corpse in the pit. It had been six months. By now it was almost the start of spring, and Greg was finally on the way to making a full recovery...

  If winter had been as cold as Vicki had said, Greg was sure he had missed it entirely. He had spent months under sedation, then a few more months coming out of a fog and back to awareness. Stacy had been there for a while, he recalled her helping him to move his limbs and then he had complained his legs felt tight and painful. The scars were ugly, but he didn't have the holes he had expected, just deep gouges and livid surgical scars. His last memory had been of Vicki hugging him before the surgery. He didn't recall the seizure and remembered nothing of the brain swelling that had almost killed him. He felt fine now. His legs were weak and painful, but he was getting stronger every day. Knowing he could still feel his legs and move them and even take a few cautious steps had done wonders for his confidence. But still, Stacy was missing...

  “Why doesn't she stop by to see me any more?” he asked Vicki as she arranged his pillows so he could rest against them after breakfast, “I know you said once I started improving I didn't need the care – but I thought she cared...”

  As he sat there looking and sounding just like the same guy she had fallen for on the rig, Vicki knew the time was right to hand him the news she had waited to give that would hopefully push Stacy far from his thoughts forever.

  “Stacy was pregnant.”

  His eyes widened in surprise.

  “I'm sure she wasn't pregnant when I met her...”

  “She must have been. She just didn't say anything about it when she first arrived...” she hesitated, thinking about the child and the pity she felt for it, then she added, “She had a little boy three weeks ago. He's not normal, it's such a shame.”

  “What do you mean by not normal?” Greg asked.

  “The baby has frosty white hair and almost entirely white eyes... just a small ring of weak colour in the iris. Eyes like a corpse... “ she looked away for a moment, “Sorry, that sounds terrible... he's not infectious, but she was only pregnant for around five and a half months. That kid was born looking like a nine month full term baby. She couldn't breast feed because he bites, he seems to like doing that a lot...but thankfully there was some formula here at the infirmary. Christian think he looks different because he was exposed to the bite virus at conception, but Stacy swears she was clear of the virus after the bite was cut from her arm. She won't talk about
the father. He was probably killed on the mainland...she won't even tell Parsons who he is.”

  “But she said she wasn't infectious when she conceived him?” Greg's voice was hushed.

  Vicki shrugged.

  “She's lying about something. Or maybe she feels guilty for having a virus affected kid. I bet there won't be many more like him about when he's older. Poor little baby, he's going to grow up like a freak. Oh god, that's a terrible thing to say! I didn't mean how it sounded...I just feel so sorry for that kid. When he was born they thought he was blind. But apparently he can see okay – he just has strange eyes....Greg, are you listening?”

  He slowly turned his head, met her gaze and nodded, then he sat up, hit with the usual unsteadiness that rest brought with it as his strength began to flow back. It had had been a hard few months, recovering slowly, but Christian had said he could return home as soon as he felt well enough to cope. Suddenly the pain in his legs from the still healing scars meant little, nor did the fact that walking whilst leaning heavily on a cane was agony. He wanted to see Stacy urgently. He had a feeling that was too strong to shake off, as if instinct was screaming at him that of course she hadn't been pregnant when she arrived on the island – neither had she been responsible for the virus affecting the baby. It was his fault, he knew it – he had been heavily infected with the virus on the night they had slept together. Something deep inside was telling him over and over, that baby was his son...

  “I want to go home,” he said, “I'm well enough now. I want you to tell Christian to come and see me right away – I'm ready to get out of here.”

  While Vicki went back to the house to warm the place up and prepare for his return, on hearing his decision, Christian had hurried down to the room where Greg had spent the past few months recovering. He greeted him with a smile before reminding him that he wouldn't be walking back – it was too far, he wasn't ready to walk half the length of the island.

  “You'll have to use the wheelchair,” he added, “If you don't do that, I can't let you leave.”

  Greg gave a sigh.

  “I'm not being stuck in that thing any longer than I need to be! I can walk... short distances.”

  “And you're going to need help when you go home,” he reminded him, “Vicki's done a great job with you. Ever since Emma took up the security post when you were over the worst, she's been here night and day, I think she's very fond of you, Greg.”

  But his thoughts were not with Vicki.

  “I heard about the baby. I didn't know until today. Was she pregnant when she arrived on the island?”

  Christian hesitated.

  “Tell me!” Greg demanded.

  Christian gave a heavy sigh.

  “I can't prove anything... all I know is she stopped by here to see you about a week after your surgery. While I was in another part of the infirmary she went down to the women's clinic and stole a pregnancy test. She soon told me about it when she came to me the next day, crying with a positive result in her hand. That pregnancy was rapid. It didn't progress like a nine month gestation period should. Almost six months and she was full term. Then as you've heard, the baby was...different. Silver hair, white eyes...he can see but he seems sensitive to bright light, probably due to the eye colour. Physically he's a normal healthy child like any other. He just looks a bit different and he seems to have the urge to bite. But he's not infectious – he doesn't carry a trace of the virus.”

  “I think he's mine,” Greg said in a hushed voice, “I was heavily infected with the wounds...carrying the bite virus and when Stacy was looking after me before the surgery, we slept together. I think that boy is my son. If he is, I want to be a father to him.”

  “You'd better speak to Stacy about it,” Christian replied, “She's been very guarded...I think if she is holding back it's because Vicki was very keen to step in and take over as your carer. She may have given her the impression -”

  “What did she say?” Greg was getting worked up now.

  “I don't know, probably how much you mean to her...this is something only you can sort out...Now, let's get you ready to leave, shall we?” as he made that suggestion his tone brightened, as Christian was keen not to get involved in the domestic matter that had nothing to do with him. Vicki had made it clear as soon as she took her place that Stacy was not welcome, but Christian said no more about it as he helped Greg get ready to leave.

  A short while later, Greg was back in the cosy house at the bottom of the hill. The fire was flickering in the hearth and the radiators were on, warming the place through nicely. Vicki had welcomed him inside warmly. He had paused to thank Christian again, but the doctor had just smiled and reminded him there was no need to thank him for doing his job. Then he left and Vicki closed the door and wheeled his chair closer to the warmth of the fire.

  “It's so good to see you home again!” she said and gave him a tight hug.

  He held her gently, then released her, cautiously pushing her back as a look of confusion came to her eyes.

  “Vicki,” he said gently, “I know you care deeply for me. Thank you for that, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. But I need some time alone. I need to be independent now. We are great friends and I'm sure that friendship will always be good, but right now I need to be alone. I have some things to do and I need to do them by myself.”

  Her smile faded along with the hope in her eyes and the sight of that hope fading made his heart ache as he looked at her, remembering the first time they met on the helicopter, then recalling their conversation on the rig... It suddenly hit him that if not for that child possibly being his son, he probably would have chosen Vicki – in time, when he was out of the chair and had his strength back and felt fully recovered... He wasn't sure if regret was burning in his heart as he reached for her again.

  “What are you doing?” She sounded confused as he hugged her tightly, then he kissed her cheek and let go once more.

  “You're a wonderful girl,” he told her fondly, “But I have some stuff to sort out, so please, understand I need to be alone for a while.”

  She nodded, then forced a smile. That second hug had lent her some much needed hope. But after she put on her coat and left the house, as she stepped outside and closed the door behind her, Greg breathed a deeply relieved sigh. Finally, Vicki was out of his way…

  He got up stiffly from the chair, grabbed the cane that was leant against the wall and took some stiff and painful steps over to the window, where he pulled the net curtain aside, looking across the street at the house where a warm light glowed from within. It was late afternoon but the skies had turned to lead, bringing a light flurry of snow that was just starting to fall. But that house looked warm and cosy, and he was glad of it too, because he had just seen Stacy walk up the path and let herself in with a key, and she had a child in her arms wrapped up in a warm shawl.

  “I'm sure you're mine,” he murmured as again that instinct kicked in strongly, “I know you're my son...”

  News had travelled fast. As soon as Marc had heard Greg was back home, he had been given permission to take the rest of the day off, and had headed off down the hill with a smile on his face, feeling a sense of elation. The past few months had been hard, with the others settling in and making a life here, as he had worried silent for his best friend and had to watching him fight for his life and then struggle to make a recovery. But he was home now, and it felt like the final problem was out of the way – Greg was going to be okay. Life was looking up at last...

  As he headed away from the property, a small group of children ran from the shadow of the treeline and over to the pit. The two eldest were twin boys aged eleven, who were carrying a ladder. Two younger girls followed on as a much smaller child hung back, looking unsure as her friends talked of meeting the friendly monster...

  The boys lowered the ladder slowly into the pit, and then they looked inside. The oil-stained corpse looked up sharply, starving for flesh as it sniffed the air and caught the scent of warm
blood and its mouth twisted into a snarl.

  “Hey,” said one of the brothers, making a beckoning gesture, “Hey friendly corpse... we heard you don't bite... you're the one who likes people...Want to be friends with us?”

  It snarled and snapped its jaws together then reached up in vain, making grasping movements as its eyes blazed and it gave a sudden roar. The children screamed and yelled and ran, one of the girls paused to snatch up her baby sister and then the group were gone, running away from the friendly corpse who was – apparently - not friendly at all...

  The oil stained creature reached up again, grasping at the ladder as it snarled, its only urge now to climb out of the pit and feed. It had been months since it had tasted blood. The corpse was starving...

  Chapter 12

  The snow was still falling lightly, this was Winter's last kiss goodbye before spring burst into bloom. The leaden skies had hastened the fall of dusk but upstairs in his bedroom, Greg stood by the glow of lamplight before a full length mirror and paused to admire his new clothing. The wardrobe had been full of fine suits. It was a great stroke of luck that the previous owner had excellent taste in clothing and the fit was near perfect. Greg brushed down the fabric of his jacket, then straightened his silk tie and glanced in the mirror as behind him, Marc was reflected, stood in the doorway watching his best friend enjoy the sheer luxury of fine suits once more.

  “What do you think?” said Greg, gesturing to his reflection and the dark blue suit he wore.

  “You look great,” Marc replied, holding back on the urge to walk up to him and risk creasing that suit by giving him a brotherly hug, then there was the fact that taking a look at Greg standing there looking so well had put him on the verge of tears. A few months back, he had thought he was losing his best friend, now to see him standing and managing to walk and looking like the man he used to know, it seemed as if a miracle had happened.