Sea Sick: A Novel of Horror and Suspense

by Wright, Iain Rob

  What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like I’m losing it.

  He put on a pair of khaki shorts, a nondescript, red t-shirt and a pair of white tennis pumps. Then he grabbed the Andy McNabb paperback novel he’d purchased at the airport and headed for the door. On the carpet, he noticed a sheet of paper had been slipped inside the room. It was the ship’s newsletter, printed in cheap black ink. It was headed by the day’s date – 14.10.2012 – and the name of the ship in bold, SPIRIT OF KIRKPATRICK. Jack glanced over the day’s activities and decided he wasn’t interested in any of them. He was pleased to see, however, that at 3PM the pool buffet would be serving…

  Hotdogs! My favourite. Although, actually…I don’t think I fancy them right now.

  Jack loved hotdogs, but for some reason he didn’t want any. Bizarrely, he felt a little sick of them, as though he’d already eaten a load and now fancied something else.

  Weird.

  Jack decided to head to the pool anyway. Although it wouldn’t be the most private place, the thought of a bit of sun was tempting. He took the elevator upwards from B Deck and stepped out into the corridors of the Broadway Deck. To his right was a room service cart full of towels and bed linens. To his left was an exit leading to the Promenade Deck. He headed towards it and the floor tilted beneath him, sending him crashing against the wall. He waited for the ship to steady and then continued cautiously down the corridor. As he passed through the door and onto the Promenade Deck, Jack was almost knocked over by a pair of sprinting children. The two boys raced down the side of the ship without any regard for other people’s safety. Jack was about to shout after them, but stopped himself. What was the point?

  Jack headed along the side of the ship, towards where he assumed the Lido and Pool Deck would be. His sleepiness had finally gone away, but he was still left with the odd sensation of déjà vu accompanying his every action.

  At the end of the walkway, the deck opened up into a large rectangular area spread over two tiers. On the bottom was a modest swimming pool inhabited mostly by children, while the top level seemed to be full of sunbathers, chairs and tables. Jack stood for a while, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back and the invigorating sea air. It was the first time he’d set foot upon this part of the ship, yet for some reason it felt familiar. The people, too, seemed familiar.

  Jack decided to take the stairs to the upper deck. With any luck there would be a sun lounger free. If not, he would have to make do with one of the tables and chairs. Unfortunately, when he reached the top he saw he was out of luck. None of the loungers were vacant; all of them were filled with sunbathers or reserved by towels and various belongings. Jack was just about to resign himself to one of the hard-backed chairs, when somebody spoke to him.

  “You can have this one.”

  Jack looked down at the young woman that had spoken to him. She was a teenager, blonde and pretty. She was pointing to a nearby lounger.

  “You sure it’s free?” Jack asked her.

  “No one has been using it for the last few hours. I say they’ve given up any right they had to it. I think someone probably just forgot their towel and left it there.”

  Jack thanked the girl for her help, then found himself staring at her.

  “Something wrong?” she asked.

  Jack shook his head and broke away his stare. He plonked himself down onto the lounger and lay back with his novel in hand. “Sorry. It just feels like we’ve met before.”

  “Ever been to Leeds?”

  “Not lately,” Jack replied. “You ever been to Birmingham?”

  “Nope.”

  Jack opened up his paperback. “Guess I’m just imagining things.”

  “I’m Claire by the way.”

  Claire…

  Jack didn’t answer the girl, so she took another turn to speak. “Wait, don’t tell me my name sounds familiar as well?”

  Jack laughed and suddenly felt silly. He was probably frightening the poor girl with his odd behaviour. “We must have met in a past life. I’ve just been having one of those days, you know? I keep getting…I don’t know, déjà vu, or something.”

  “Yeah, I get that sometimes. Think it’s just the mind playing tricks.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  A member of staff came over: a brunette with dark hair and eyes. She asked if either of them wanted a drink. It was exactly what Jack needed and he ordered a double scotch, handing over his room card for payment. Claire ordered something called a mojito.

  “What’s one of those when it’s at home?”

  “It’s rum, lime, sugar, and some other stuff. Think it’s Mexican or Cuban. I don’t usually drink much, but I guess one won’t hurt. ”

  “Have you been to either of those places?” Jack asked. “Mexico? Cuba?”

  Claire laughed. “Nope. I had a mojito in Spain last year and thought it was nice. You ever been anywhere interesting?”

  “Not lately. Unless you count Tipton?”

  The waitress came back with their drinks and Jack eagerly took a swig.

  “You really are having one of those days, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. I woke up this morning just feeling really…odd, I guess – nervous, even. Maybe I’m shook up from a nightmare I had or something.”

  Claire took a sip of the mojito and was about to carry on with the conversation, but someone appeared between them. Jack recognised the lad immediately.

  “Conner?”

  The lad looked down at Jack with a surprised look on his face. “The hell are you?”

  “My name’s Jack. Have we met?”

  It was obvious the lad was confused, even though he masked it with aggression. “You don’t know me, mate. How’d you even know my name?”

  “I don’t know,” said Jack, and left it at that.

  Conner turned his stare at Claire and told her to get up. “The lads are waiting downstairs. Let’s get go-”A violent sneeze interrupted his words, followed by another.

  Claire stood up and placed the back of her hand against his forehead. “You still got a cold, honey?”

  “Yeah,” Conner said, sniffling. “Me, Steve, and Mike haven’t stopped sneezing for the last hour. I feel well, rough, innit. My eyes are itching like fuck, as well.”

  Claire wrapped an arm around her boyfriend and started leading him away. “Okay, let’s go get some food inside you. I’ll look after you.”

  The two of them walked away, both nodding at Jack as they did so. Conner still seemed curious about their interaction, but seemed happy enough to forget it. Jack thought about following their lead by getting some food, but still didn’t fancy hotdogs. He would eat later. For now, he’d relax in the sun and enjoy his whisky. He lay back in his lounger and let out a deep, soothing breath.

  In front of him, standing against the railings of the balcony, an elderly couple smooched like teenagers. Jack looked past them, down at the pool area, and nosed at the other passengers. There were kids swimming, adults drinking, and lots of people eating the freshly served hotdogs. The one family that stood out was a mother and a young boy. She was covering his knee with a wad of plasters from her handbag, covering up a wound that was too far away for Jack to see clearly. For some reason, he was positive the young boy had slipped poolside. He thought this not because it was a likely conclusion, but because it was a one-hundred percent certainty in his mind – he just knew. Could almost picture it.

  The next thing he noticed was a lot of people sneezing. It seemed like a particularly nasty cold had found its way onboard.

  Jack reached down and picked up his scotch, then finished it in one burning gulp. As if by magic, the brunette waitress reappeared to take another order from him.

  “Perfect timing,” he said to her.

  She replied in an eastern European accent that surprised him. “What can I get you?”

  “Same again, please. Where are you from?”

  “Romania.”

  Jack nodded interest. “Most of the staff seem to be F
ilipino,” he said.“You stand out.”

  The waitress smiled politely. He noticed her name badge read TALLY. “They hired me because I speak many languages.”

  “Really? What do you speak?”

  “Russian, German, French, and of course, English and Romanian. I speak a little Mandarin also.”

  “Wow,” Jack said, genuinely surprised. “That’s impressive. My name is Jack. It’s nice to meet you, Tally.”

  “I’ll be right back with your drink.”

  Jack watched the girl walk away and had the sense that, although she was faultlessly polite, she too was having a bit of a bad day. There was something about her curtness and short, clipped answers that told him so. She seemed stressed. Then again, working on a cruise ship was most likely a thankless job at the best of times.

  Within two minutes she was back. The double scotch that he’d ordered was more like a double-double. “I just charged you for one double,” she said. “You look like you need it.”

  “Is it that obvious I’m having such a weird day?”

  The waitress shrugged. “I can sense these things. You give me a shout if you need another.”

  Jack offered up his glass in thanks. “Will do, Tally. Thanks.”

  The waitress walked away and Jack lay back again in his sun lounger. He could actually feel his body beginning to relax. It was a tingling sensation.

  Sun, booze, pretty waitresses. Maybe this week won’t be so bad after all.

  ***

  When Jack opened his eyes it was dark. Not completely, as the deck was lined with spotlights, but dim enough that the sea and sky had become a featureless black sheet beyond the boundaries of the ship. It was as though the Spirit of Kirkpatrick was sailing through Limbo, heading through an endless abyss. Jack would be glad to see land again.

  The tingling heat in his chest told him that he’d consumed more than a few whiskies during the afternoon and early evening. He had intended to take it easy on the booze, but his problem was that trying to stop once he’d started was a battle he always lost. He was on holiday, though. He could forgive himself for one night of indulgence.

  Nothing wrong with falling asleep, drunk in the sun. Most people I come across in my line of work fall asleep in the gutter.

  Jack glanced at his watch and saw that it was a little after eight-o-clock; still plenty of time left to enjoy the evening. He’d not yet explored the ship, and thought perhaps he’d do that now.

  He stood up from the sun lounger, his bones clicking, his muscles stiff. From the Sun Deck there was an entrance leading inside the ship. A plaque beside the door read: HIGH SPIRITS. Jack thought it was as good a place as any to start his exploring.

  Inside, he found a cosy barroom with a small stage and dance floor. There was a chubby comedian currently telling jokes and doing his best to make the audience laugh.

  “The wife and I were sat, having a cup of tea, with my mother-in-law the other day when, out of the blue, she says to me, ‘I’ve decided I want to be cremated.’ I said…”

  …alright get your coat.

  Jack had heard the joke before and probably didn’t think it was funny the first time. Still, he should give the comedian a chance – he could only get better. A drink was in order and Jack ordered one from the bar in the corner. He chose to remain there on one of the stools. A gentleman sat beside him, nursing a pint of foamy lager. The guy’s head was hanging low as if he lacked the strength to support it.

  “You okay there, pal?” Jack asked.

  The man turned his head limply. His face was a grim mask of perspiration and his eyes were bloodshot. “Huh?”

  “You don’t look so good, buddy. You want me to get someone?”

  The man ignored him and turned back to his beer. The congestion in his nasal cavities made his every breath sound like a thunderous snort. Jack glanced behind the bar and caught the eye of the Filipino waiter.

  “There’s a nasty cold onboard,” the crewman explained.

  “You’re telling me,” said Jack. “Is something being done about it?”

  “The ship will dock at Cannes in the morning. A shuttle can take people to the local hospital if necessary. I think it is nothing to worry about, though.”

  Jack examined the sickly man slouching beside him and raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  The man’s snorting breaths had lowered in pitch now and sounded more like growling. Jack put a hand on the man’s sweat-soaked back and leant over him. “Hey, buddy. I think we best get you to the ship’s doctor. You don’t look good at all.”

  The man shrugged away from Jack’s touch, his movements erratic and aggressive.

  “Hey, calm down. I’m just trying to help.”

  The man swung his arm around in a wild arc, swiping his pint of beer across the bar and onto the floor. The man glared at Jack and his eyes suddenly began to leak dark fluid down his cheeks. He snarled like an animal.

  Everything came back to Jack at once, like bullets lodged in his brain. He’d been here before. Not exactly like this, but he’d lived this day before. He remembered the attacks; the crazed passengers ripping each other apart like cavemen as they bled from their eye sockets. He remembered with pixel-clear clarity.

  Everybody was dead.

  “Oops, looks like someone’s drunk too much over there,” said the comedian from the stage. “Don’t worry, mate. Rehab is for quitters anyway. Give my regards to the floor.”

  Jack put his palms out to the sick man and tried to calm him down. “Snap out of it!”

  The man rushed forward. Jack sidestepped and kicked out his leg. The man hit the floor in a heap.

  For a second, the sound of laughter flittered across the gathered audience as the comedian made another joke at the sick man’s expense, but then Jack’s ears picked up a scream. He examined the room, trying to seek out its source. He wasn’t surprised by what he saw.

  Conner stood amongst the crowd, lashing out at a nearby woman. Thick pools of blood seeped from his eye sockets.

  The sick man that Jack had tripped had started to climb up off the floor. Jack kicked the arms out from under him and sent him sprawling back down onto his face. Conner was still attacking the woman in the crowd, oblivious to the bystanders fighting to pull him off. Jack knew he needed to get out of there, right now. Things were about to get worse – he remembered.

  Jack ran.

  As twisted, confusing memories came back to Jack, the layout of the ship became familiar. He now knew that the corridor leading away from High Spirits would take him down some stairs to the Lido Restaurant. Claire would be in there along with some other people. There was no way he should be able to know that, but he did. He knew it for sure.

  As Jack fled further down the corridor and eventually down the stairs, he discovered he was right. Set into the wall were the double doors of the Lido Restaurant. He skidded to a stop and waited outside, wondering whether or not he should go inside. Things inside the restaurant hadn’t turned out so well for him last night – or tonight? I’m living the goddamn same day all over again.

  Or had he dreamt it all? Was it all just some freaky premonition, or was he actually repeating the day? The more he thought about it, the closer to insanity he verged. Neither answer was comforting. He made a decision and barged through into the restaurant.

  The same people were in there from before. They were not yet fully riled-up as the commotion in High Spirit had only just begun, but they were beginning to look anxious. Jack didn’t waste time speaking to any of them. He immediately turned the latch on the frosted-glass doors. Then he dragged the nearest table over and placed it as a barricade.

  “What are you doing?” asked the burly chef he’d met before and yet, at the same time, hadn’t.

  “We need to make sure this door stays closed,” Jack explained. “There’s been an outbreak.”

  The assembled group panicked, but it wasn’t enough to stop them standing around uselessly. Jack remembered how the people
had previously refused to help him when he needed their assistance.

  “Claire!” He shouted out at the crowd, not seeing her but knowing she was there somewhere.

  The group parted and she came to the front. “You’re that guy from earlier?”

  “Yes, I am. I’m a police officer and I need your help. We need to get every table we can in front of this door. We’ve got about ten minutes before people start trying to smash their way in.”

  “What people?” the chef asked, looking at Jack like he was a madman.

  “The infected passengers. Whatever is wrong with them has made them psychotic.”

  “You’re the one’s that’s psychotic,” said Claire. Jack was surprised at her opposition. “You were acting like a weirdo earlier as well. Going on about déjà vu and knowing Conner’s name without him even telling you.”

  “Yeah,” said the chef. “I think you need to sit down, sir, while we get security. Whatever is going on out there may just as well have been your doing.”

  The chef moved towards the doorway and Jack stepped in his way. Jack was the smaller of the two men, but he knew he could easily take the other guy down. Still, he would prefer to avoid any fighting if possible. He was trying to help these people, whether they deserved it or not. Something bad was coming their way.

  “Step away from me,” Jack told the chef calmly yet firmly.“If we don’t get this door secured, people are going to get hurt.”

  “Is that a threat?” The chef was inching closer, his body language clearly hostile.

  Jack sighed and put his hands up in supplication. “No, it’s not a threat. Just please trust me, okay?”

  “Sorry, I can’t do that, sir. Please move aside.”

  Jack kept eye-contact with the man and said, “No.”

  The chef made a grab at Jack, but was quickly surprised to find himself being twisted into an armlock. He hissed with pain. “Let go of me!”

  “I can’t do that,” said Jack.“I need that door barricaded, right now. Claire? Start dragging tables over here. Anyone that fancies being useful should help her.”