by Perrin Briar
It was the final sound someone made on their deathbed, the gasp of relief, pain, anger, and acceptance, all rolled into one wheeze, as if the pain they were in was manifesting itself. Joel and Anne became hyper-alert, the hair standing up on the back of their necks, weapons raised on rock solid arms that did not shake.
“Sounds like it’s coming from down the corridor,” Anne said, voice low.
“Let’s check these rooms first,” Joel said, not removing his eyes from the origin of the sound. “We don’t want a stray Lurcher coming up behind us.”
Joel pushed the first door open on squeaky hinges. Their flashlights revealed a small room crammed full of cleaning utensils. Dirty discarded mop heads lay strewn like wild mushrooms. An industrial vacuum cleaner lounged in the corner. Shelves of disinfectant and polish made for a potent mix. The next room contained large toolboxes. Unlike the cleaning room, it was well organized. A battered welding kit with stickers such as ‘Hot Stuff’ and a pair of stick figures in a compromising position with ‘Merge’ written across the top, sat on the table with a pair of matching visors. They made their way from room to room, the gasping groan of the damned getting louder.
Anne froze, her flashlight fixed on something ahead. “Joel,” she said, her voice hollow.
The corridor widened at the end to reveal a large wall covered by a series of interwoven pipes that ran throughout the ferry like a series of arteries and veins. In the center of the wall was an eight feet tall, five feet wide monstrosity of a door. It had iron straps that wrapped around it like a straightjacket, thick dead bolts holding them in place. It had a large red metal wheel lock on its front, about the size of a sixteen ton lorry’s steering wheel.
But what had so grabbed Anne’s attention wasn’t the door, but what sat before it.
The man had pale skin and was covered in red sores that had got infected and oozed yellow pus. His brow jutted forward, dark shadows veiling his eyes. He didn’t flinch under the torch’s intense beam, his watery blue irises unreactive. His right leg was crushed beneath a large fuel drum, withered and small, black from lack of blood circulation. He opened his mouth, a death rattle creaked from his throat. His jaw flapped open and closed, his teeth chatting together in a series of clicks. He reached up with his free arm for them, not for help, but in a vulture-like claw, grasping for a morsel of living flesh.
“Oh my God,” Jordan said. “That’s one of them, isn’t it?”
“Well, it certainly ain’t Santa Claus,” Joel said.
Looking into those dead eyes, Jordan was surprised to find the trickle of fear he felt dry up, and was instead replaced by a stronger feeling of derision. The creature before him was not human, but a shell, a poor grotesque impersonation.
Joel knelt down beside the creature, who sensed a meal and stretched for him. Joel seized the Lurcher’s hand and pulled his arm out straight. The fingertips were ragged, the flesh missing, the bone shining through. “Looks like we found our author. He wrote the warning, I reckon.”
Something caught Joel’s eye. He aimed the torch up at the giant door. Written across it was ‘Lurchers inside. Do NOT open’.
“If he doesn’t feel pain, and he won’t die from losing limbs… why doesn’t he just chew his own leg off?” Jordan said.
“That relies on a certain reserve of intelligence. Fortunately for us, they don’t even have that much.”
The groan they’d heard had not come from this creature, but from behind the giant metal door. It was low and unbroken, one continuous note that did not change in cadence or pitch.
“He trapped whatever Lurchers were on board this ferry in this room,” Joel said. “But at some point he must have got scratched or bitten, and became one of them.”
“Lucky for us, right?” Jordan said.
Joel nodded. “It would be if the engine bay wasn’t exactly the place we needed to go.”
14.
“How many do you suppose are in there?” Anne said, pressing her hand against the door.
“Sounds like a lot,” Joel said. “On a boat this big there could have been any number of people becoming Lurchers. You saw how many cars and coaches there were upstairs.”
“We need to get inside.”
“The moment we open this door they will rush us. We won’t stand a chance.”
“But there might just be a few of them,” Anne said. “We can’t know without looking.”
“Judging by the state of this boat I’m not even sure if the part we need will be in good working order anyway.”
“So that’s it? We leave without even trying?”
Joel rounded on Anne in undisguised anger. “Do you really want to open this door and say hello? I know I don’t.”
“There must be a way of getting inside without having them rush us.”
“I’m all ears.” Joel shook his head. “Of all the rooms on this ship, why did he have to trap them in the one we needed?”
“It was probably the only one that could hold them,” Anne said.
“So what shall we do?” Jordan said.
“We need that alternator,” Anne said. “We can’t leave without it.”
Joel shook his head. “No. We need to stay alive. We’ll find another boat with another alternator.”
“You were the one who said we wouldn’t find another boat,” Anne said. “Now we’ve got one and you don’t want to go fight a few Lurchers?”
The death groan behind the door grew louder as Joel and Anne’s voices raised. There was a shuffling sound, and scratching on the door. Their groans kicked up a notch, becoming louder and frantic in nature, as if savoring the meal to come.
“There goes the element of surprise,” Joel said, the muscles around his nose contorting into a sneer. “Wonderful.”
The heavy groans washed over them like the waves on a ship’s hull.
“What if there was a way to kill the Lurchers before we entered the room?”
“Do you have some psychokinetic ability you’re not telling us about?” Joel asked. “Because if you do, that would really come in handy about now.”
Jordan ignored him. “What if we flood the engine room?”
Joel and Anne turned to look at him.
“What?” Joel said.
“What if we flood the engine room?” he repeated. “We drown the Lurchers, then open the door.”
Joel looked to the side, his eyes distant with deep contemplation.
“This boat has already taken on a lot of water,” Anne said. “I’m not sure if it can take much more.”
“Then it will sink and we haven’t lost anything.”
“It’ll be risky to whoever has to stay on board to open the door and go inside,” Joel said, his eyes never leaving Jordan’s.
“Riskier than opening the door and finding an army of Lurchers?”
Anne could see Joel was giving the idea serious consideration. “Joel,” she said, “we can’t just sink a whole ferry.”
“Why not? There’s nothing else of use to us on here.”
“Joel-”
“If you have a better idea, Anne, I’d love to hear it.”
Anne sighed, and then shook her head with the look of someone wishing there were some other way.
“We need that engine part,” Joel said. “So far as I can tell there’s no other way for us to get into the engine bay without having to fight God knows how many Lurchers.”
“We might still be better off fighting them.”
“But we might not. We have no idea how many there might be in there. If we open that door there’s no closing it.” Joel pointed to the headless Lurcher outside the door. “This guy believed they were a threat, and he sacrificed his life to protect whoever came on board. I don’t know about you, but that seems pretty conclusive to me.”
15.
The light caught Joel’s eye, giving him a sinister appearance. “We’ve told you what we’re facing, but it’s important to see it and experience it for yourself.” Joel put his hand on the
Lurcher’s head and pointed its snapping jaws away.
“Joel, don’t,” Anne said.
“He has to learn some time. Might as well be while under our protection.” Joel snapped the brittle femur bone, tore his pants and helped him up onto his remaining foot. “There we are. Your first marauding Lurcher. Or most of him, anyway. They often have missing limbs or body parts, so he’s pretty indicative of what you’ll be facing out there. They’re clumsy fellows.”
“It’s still dangerous,” Anne said.
“I’ll pacify it.”
Joel put his hand into the Lurcher’s mouth. It gnawed on the gloves’ thick plastic casing. Joel flexed his arm and tore the bottom jaw off. A thick red liquid splattered on the floor. The Lurcher’s tongue flapped like a snake without its head. Joel tossed his knives up into the air and caught them by the blade. He beat the Lurcher in the mouth. There was a sickening crunch sound like a bag of marbles thrown against a wall. White lumps flew from the Lurcher’s top jaw. Joel smashed the Lurcher again and again. It fell against the wall but did not fall over. Joel bent down and peered around at its mouth like a dentist giving a check-up. “I think we’re good to go.”
The Lurcher straightened up and hopped toward Joel, arms outstretched, tongue flapping. Joel stepped aside as the Lurcher made a lunge for him. It almost toppled over.
“Kill it,” Joel said to Jordan.
It hopped on its ragged foot toward him. The eyes were faded and distant. There was nothing behind them. It was a grotesque impersonation of a human. A fade. Barely even recognizable as a former human. But still Jordan’s insides clenched.
Jordan raised his chair leg. The Lurcher ambled closer… Closer… Jordan shut his eyes and swung, making contact. There was a loud snap. The head fell forward, its chin resting at an impossible angle on its chest. The body stood for a moment, then folded up at the knees and waist.
“Congratulations,” Joel said. “You incapacitated your first Lurcher.” His smile disappeared. “But he’s not dead.”
The Lurcher placed his hands flat against the floor as if to perform a press-up. Its skinny arms struggled under the weight. It rocked forward and back, pushed against the floor, and got up onto its one good foot. It stared at the floor, the flesh of the broken neck stretching to the point of tearing.
“You must destroy the brain,” Joel said. “Or lead it to deep waters. The important thing to remember with Lurchers is they are supremely stupid and easily distracted.”
Joel reached into his pocket and came out with a cigarette lighter. He flicked it on. The Lurcher gave a grunt of surprise that could have come from a young child. It stumbled after the light as Joel led it up the stairs.
On Light’s deck, Joel walked to the entrance gate, the Lurcher on his heels, still mesmerized by the light. Joel opened the gate and tossed the lighter over the side. The Lurcher, without hesitation or breaking its step, followed it. It splashed into the sea, its groans audible over the gentle lapping waves on the hull.
Jordan watched as the Lurcher flailed, but was swallowed by the sea.
“A little light goes a long way,” Joel said.
16.
Orange beams of sunlight burst through the afternoon clouds and lay across the world like a mother’s love. The sea was calm with a million dimples that came and went in an eternal show of affection. A flock of brown-breasted ducks flew overhead in V formation. A light breeze drifted unimpeded across the ocean to run its fingers through Jordan’s hair.
Joel and Jordan sat on a wooden door they’d torn from one of Haven’s bedrooms, empty bottles and cans strapped at either end acting as ballast. The welding kit sat between them. They each wore a welding mask and held welding sticks in tight gloved hands. Light’s hull reared up before them like a frozen wall of ice.
They lowered their visors, put the welding sticks into the water, and then turned the torches on. The flame was yellow and spat black smoke. They turned the nozzles on the side. The flame flared from yellow to blue to white. It hissed like a snake going for the kill. Jordan felt the flame’s heat on his face and arms, a heavy sweat breaking out.
The metal dribbled as they scoured two curved lines, small puffs of smoke whispering when the sparks dove into the sea. Within twenty minutes Joel and Jordan’s semi-circles joined. Jordan’s half was irregular and misshapen compared to Joel’s almost perfect circle. The hole was about the size of a large human head.
The sea lapped against the hull, sibilating when it kissed the white-hot metal. Joel coiled his leg and kicked at the circle over and over. The action caused their door-raft to push away from the hull in vicious thrusts. The pounding reverberated over the entire hull, sending out tiny ripples on the sea’s surface. The opening gave and fell into the engine bay with a loud clang. Water flooded through the hole and into the room like it was dying of thirst.
Joel lifted his visor, caught Jordan’s eye and smiled. “That wasn’t too hard, huh?”
Something grabbed Joel’s leg, his foot pulled into the hole. Rotting fingers and arms with muscles exposed to the shoulder grasped at Joel’s boot, pulling and tearing at the fabric.
“Jesus Christ!” Joel yelled, kicking at the flailing arms.
The groans floated up to them from the hole in the hull, echoing in the spacious confines of the engine bay. Jordan braced the raft’s weight and attempted to push them away from Light, but the Lurchers’ grip on Joel’s foot did not loosen.
A mad yellow bloodshot eye appeared in the hole. It rolled around until it found Joel, and one of the arms, a ragged slice of sinew without index fingers, shot out for his ankle. Joel picked up his blowtorch, turned it on, and pressed it to the arm. The flesh bubbled and popped and burst open to reveal the bleached white bones beneath. The arm lost its grip. Joel pushed the white-hot flame into the gaping eye. Before the flare even touched it, it melted and ran down a cleaved cheek. Joel aimed the torch at the hands holding their make-shift raft. Jordan curled his lips at the stench of burning flesh. The hands relented. They pushed away from the hull.
The groans grew quiet as they drifted away, paddling across the expanse of empty ocean to Haven, which sat three hundred yards away. They climbed the rope that hung against Haven’s prow and collapsed on the deck. Joel lay on his back, staring up at the wispy white clouds in a sapphire sky. He chuckled. “Your first real Lurcher attack. How was it?”
“Wonderful,” Jordan said.
Mary brought them cups of water. Stan looked out at the ferry. The water lapped against Light’s hull, submerging the hole. Pockets of air escaped as seawater flooded the engine bay, bubbles rushing out like the sea were foaming at the mouth. “How long do you think it will take to flood the engine bay completely?” he asked.
“Hours, might be,” Joel said, between breaths. He turned to address everyone on the deck. “Anyone fancy placing a wager?”
At 7pm the water entering the ferry sputtered and gurgled like a baby who’d had too much to eat. Mary put her playing cards down on the table and peered over at the ferry. “You know, I think it’s stopped-”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the water began to spill into the engine bay once again, the hole bubbling foam. Mary turned back to the others playing gin rummy.
Joel checked his watch. “That’s three hours. You’re out, Mare. Who’s still in for the running?”
Jordan and Anne raised their hands. Stan had thought the engine bay would flood within two hours.
“You look nervous, Anne,” Joel said. “You’re up next, aren’t you? Worried about your four-hour hunch?”
Anne glared at him. “Not as much as you should be about me beating your ass.”
Joel raised an eyebrow. “Is that as good as it sounds?”
Anne whipped her cards at him.
At 10pm Anne started awake. She turned over to go back to sleep, but was immediately arrested by the quiet. The stars twinkled overhead like a billion fireflies leading the way to some distant paradise. A smattering of clouds ob
scured a third of the view in what would otherwise have been a perfect night sky. The moon was bright, the blue craters clear like the veins of a particularly strong cheese. The silver light cast a smoky monochrome of the ferry. There was no sound save the wet slap against the boats’ hulls. Anne sat up on her elbows.
“It’s finished,” Joel said in a forlorn tone of voice. She hadn’t noticed him sitting with his back against the cabin. “It finished ten minutes ago. We go in the morning at first light.”
Anne yawned. “All right.” She settled down to go back to sleep.
“Oh, and Anne,” Joel went on, “don’t mention this to Jordan.”
“Why?” Anne smiled. “Because he won the wager?”
17.
The next morning Joel and Jordan cut off a piece of Light’s upper hull and affixed it over the hole they’d made the previous day. They had both seen finger fragments and chunks of torn skin floating through the hole, but did their best to ignore it.
The water was calm again today, the surface highlighted by the sun poking its head up above the sea’s surface. They once again climbed the rope up to Haven’s deck, this time bringing the door up with them. Stan would reaffix it later. They all sat down to a breakfast of baked beans and barbequed Vienna sausages, compliments of the former ferry passengers.
“This extra sausage is delicious,” Jordan said, gloating over his wager winnings. “Do you know, I think it’s the best sausage I’ve ever had?”
Joel scowled.
“Girls,” Mary called. “Come get your breakfast.”
Jessie and Stacey were playing with their favorite new toys: a plastic tube with propeller blades that they shot up into the air with a catapult. They liked to aim them so they fluttered down over Haven’s edge, and they could catch them as they leapt over the boat’s side and into the sea.
“Girls!” Mary said, this time with heat in her voice.
There was a palpable tension hanging over the group as they ate, no one mentioning the task they were going to undertake, and ignoring Light as if it wasn’t there.