by Joshua Grant
Aubrey swallowed hard, but nodded. When her dig in the Middle East was attacked, she had to shoot her way free. Those echoing bursts still screamed through her nightmares. She’d hoped she would never have to use one again.
Fwump.
The soft susurr of movement came from the hallway, instantly stopping her racing heart. It sounded like—
Like someone sliding against a wall. Like a wounded person would.
Aubrey took the pistol. It was heavier than she expected. The one she’d used before was a dinky little thing. This Desert Eagle could probably pulverize someone.
Comforting, she thought, again trying to swallow through a bone dry throat. She shifted the weapon in her hands getting used to it, surprised to find that despite their trembling, they remembered what to do. She chambered a round and nodded her readiness though she felt nauseous and anything but ready.
“Don’t fire unless I say so,” Konesco instructed. “And for God’s sake don’t shoot me.”
Aubrey smirked, doing her best to hide the tension that was threatening to paralyze her in place. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
The humor drained when Konesco began creeping toward the hallway that produced the odd sound. His footfalls were muffled as they squished over the carpet. Aubrey strained her ears, listening. Whatever had made the noise had grown still, too still, like back when she was a kid playing hide and seek and the seeker was nearby.
So who’s hiding and who’s seeking?
Konesco slid along one wall and motioned for Aubrey to do the same on the one opposite to him. This way they could cover both directions of the T intersection. They came to the vestibule where lobby became hallway.
She could only see part of the corridor leading aft. Nothing stirred in the gloom. Konesco looked the other way—
--and moved openly into the hall. Aubrey let go of the breath she had been holding and did the same.
There, huddled in a crouch near the bridge entrance were Mac and Olga, their weapons trained on an open guest room door between Aubrey and the bridge. Olga pointed at her eyes and then back at the door, a universal sign that trouble was brewing. Konesco nodded.
Aubrey badly wanted to ask what she had seen. The guest room had definitely been closed when they first came through. She turned her attention to steadying her hands and regulating her breathing instead. She had read somewhere that the second you unholstered a gun you were ninety percent more likely to use it.
Pshht. The second scraping sound emanated from the room and she didn’t care anymore, angling the weapon, blood rushing through her veins. What was it? Soft, a brush against a wall. Someone wounded? Trying to hide? Trying to scare the shit out of us?
It was working, at least in Aubrey’s case.
They stood in complete silence, in a standoff with the black hole of a room. Konesco inched closer to the opening—
The doorway exploded with motion, something small and fast darting from the entry. It plowed past Konesco before he could get a clear shot.
Shit! It’s coming for me!
Things moved so quickly. Aubrey’s firearm was already up and aimed. The thing—short and lanky—was just feet away and closing quickly. Aubrey squeezed the trigger gently in her sweaty grip—
“Hold your fire!”
Konesco’s order practically made her throw the gun in the air. She lowered the weapon instantly and the thing smashed into her.
It’s a boy! Oh my God it’s a kid! Aubrey latched onto the kid’s arm before he could fly past, which was apparently his intention. He yanked against her grip, moaning in protest, clawing at her with his free hand, but Aubrey held tight.
“Shh. It’s okay. We’re here to help,” she soothed.
Miraculously, the kid stopped fighting. He studied her for a second, the fear suddenly draining from his grimy face. “You—you’re human,” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and so vulnerable Aubrey felt the crushing need to pick him up in her protective arms. She held back considering he looked like he had been through hell and the last thing he wanted was to be snatched up by anyone. Or anything, she added sickly.
The boy didn’t wait for a response to his absurd statement. He collapsed into her body, hugging her so hard she thought he had reverted to attacking her at first. She felt hot tears wetting her vest.
God, what the hell happened here?
She smoothed his dirty blonde hair over. The kid looked so tired and frayed. His clothes were in tatters. Either all the washing machines on the ship were filled with ninja stars or the kid had seen some serious shit. The poor guy was trembling.
Aubrey was too shocked to say anything. She looked at the others who also stared blankly at the spectacle--except Konesco. Efficient as always, he turned to the rest of A Squad.
“Status report.”
“Well, we found a kid,” Mac stated blankly. “Maybe you should ask him for the report.”
“When the moderately important tasks of reestablishing communications and control of the ship are resolved, I will,” Konesco replied pointedly. “Do we have either yet?”
As if on cue, the power roared to life throughout the ship with a humming vrrrm. The intense pools of emergency light were replaced with the gentle golden glow produced by numerous intricate wall sconces. The hallway, though still abandoned, at least seemed a little less sinister now.
Konesco looked to Mac for an explanation who in turn shrugged. “Wasn’t me. Maybe they got things going again down in engineering.”
Looks like Julian got through! Aubrey felt the weights lifting from her chest one by one. The kid proved that at least someone was alive on this rig. And despite being in need of a week-long bath, he looked like he had been eating okay and there were no visible wounds on him. Maybe there were more survivors somewhere. Things were starting to look up.
Guess I won’t have to use you after all. She slid the gun into the belt of her pants, careful to not let the kid see. The ship seemed to have already freaked him out enough for one lifetime. No need to add the NRA to his list of newfound phobias.
“Helm and navigation are still out,” Mac continued. “Unless you happened to find a keycard while you were out?” he added hopefully.
One spiteful look from Konesco drowned that notion. “ETA on communications?” the captain asked.
Olga shook her head. “It’s worse than I originally thought. Unless you brought a big megaphone, we won’t be talking to anyone off this boat.”
Konesco nodded slowly, mulling over the news. “Dammit!” he said suddenly, shoving a fist into the nearby wall, the first break in his cool demeanor Aubrey had ever seen. She didn’t blame him. They were essentially travelling on a massive torpedo with no way to call for an evac. To make matters worse, they didn’t have the time or the manpower to search every room on this ship for some stupid piece of plastic.
“And what about you?” Konesco turned to the kid who flinched against Aubrey. “I don’t suppose you know where to find the captain’s passcard, or have an idea as to who’s been piloting this boat, hm?”
The boy, still clinging to Aubrey, shook his head. He looked to be about ten, old enough to understand what was going on, or at least fathom that they were all in danger. Aubrey kneeled down so she could talk to him face to face. She smoothed her hands on his shoulders. “Hey, what’s your name?”
The boy trembled slightly. “It’s--not important.”
Aubrey gave the most comforting smile she could muster. “Sure it is. I’m Aubrey and—“
The boy shoved her hands off violently. “No! Don’t you see? I’m stuck here and if you guys are trying to get control of the ship then you’re stuck here too! And now they’re awake!”
Everyone stared. Aubrey thought she actually heard Mac gulp. Shit yeah.
“Who, who’s awake?” Konesco interrupted.
The boy kept his gaze fixed on Aubrey. “You woke them up. They’re gonna come up here looking now and we won’t be able to hide. We won’t. They like to look.
They found everyone. And that’s just the start. You don’t want them to find you, but they’re going to. They—they’re--”
His voice choked off, his face crinkling.
“Okay, okay.” Aubrey wrapped her arms around him again. Surprisingly, he didn’t fight back. “It’s going to be okay.” She felt the tension slip from him and pulled back. “I’ll take care of you, okay? You’re going to be just fine.”
A single tear streaked down his cheek which he immediately batted away leaving a smudge in his dirt stained face. He actually managed to conjure up an affectionate smile which she returned.
As quickly as it came, the smile disappeared. “There’s someone there.”
“What?” Aubrey asked, something cold curling in her belly.
The boy was staring over her shoulder. “There’s someone in the corridor.”
Icicles crystalized in her veins. She spun fast enough to make herself dizzy. A dark shape filled the hallway, too far down to get a good look. Just a shape, a tall slender human form, a shadow in the distant gloom. Aware that they had been spotted, the mysterious figure dipped into what might have been the midship lobby. Whoever they were, they were wearing a white uniform. A crewman’s uniform.
Konesco sprang into action. “Olga, with me. The rest of you, lock yourselves into the bridge. No one comes in or out unless it’s us. Mackenzie, I want control of this ship. Get out and bend the rudder if you have to.”
Olga was quick to respond. She and the captain rushed down the hallway in hot pursuit of the onlooker before anyone could breathe a word of protest.
“Great, wonderful. Stay and watch the house. Got it,” Mac muttered, but his face was a little paler than usual. He quickly opened the bridge door. “Come on you two, our house arrest awaits.”
Aubrey’s mind was still reeling with the developments of the last few minutes. How many people were still alive on this ship? Judging from the terrified expression on the kid’s face, she better not hold her breath for many. Whatever horrible thing had happened here, this kid had seen it all and she was determined to get the answers from him. What she would do with that information was a big question mark, but anything would help.
She had the irrational suspicion that she had better figure it out quickly though. Somewhere, somehow, a timer had been set and it was ticking away their lives.
“Come on.” She grabbed his hand, a somewhat immature thing for a boy his age but he took it, and together they marched onto the bridge.
Chapter 10
Deck 4, Starboard Hallway
Julian slammed himself against the paneled hallway wall as the lights came on. He huddled there, waiting for the attack that was sure to come, holding his breath for three seconds. Four seconds. Five—
--then exhaled slowly.
Guess B Squad finally got their act together.
It was about time they had a bit of good news. He eased himself up from the crouch and wiped the stinging sweat out of his eyes. Just a little further and he’d be at the aft stairwell lobby. From there, it was a short trek down to the engine room and B Squad (provided there weren’t too many more barricades he’d have to sidestep.)
He was surprised at how badly he yearned to see another living soul. He had only been away from Aubrey and Konesco for a few minutes, and all the members of the team were trained to take on tasks that the mission required solo, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was extremely vulnerable by himself. Well, “by himself” was a relative term. “Without an ally” would be a better fit.
Julian was certain now that he was not alone in the chilled corridor.
Nothing rational could explain it, just instinct. Just a creeping slither through the skin of his spine. Someone, or something, was watching him. From where and for what purpose, Julian didn’t know but he wasn’t about to find out the hard way.
He slowly moved down the hallway, gun up, ready to blow away whatever punk or ghoul challenged him. He paused for a breath, listening. Soft music emanated from up ahead. A speaker played “Bang Bang” by Nancy Sinatra somewhere unseen, its warbling riff further muffled by a wall or two.
Damn. And I liked this song too.
Julian crept forward, extra cautious. Up ahead, the hallway widened into a small sitting area with plush couches that his aching muscles yearned for. The large gash and exploded fluff in one was enough to ensure that taking a nap now was probably not as comfortable or rejuvenating as it looked. His aching muscles would just have to wait.
Two sets of double doors sprouted from the open space, both of them open. Directly ahead, probably the shortest route to the aft lobby, was a small piano bar called “The A Minor.”
That certainly screams, “We don’t serve alcohol to underage kids,” he mused.
To his right was a large nightclub labelled “Saturday Night Seasickness.” Clever. This was the source of the slow crawling music. Guess the DJ bought the farm in the middle of the slow dance. Both rooms were dark and hard to see who or what might be lurking within them. Julian chose the shorter of the two evils and headed for the piano bar. Maybe I can snag a drink on the wa—
Bam-bam-bam!
Shit! He had barely heard the first discharge when he was already diving into a crouch. Julian threw himself behind the meager cover of one of the couches, toppling an end table with his knee as he went. The paneled wood wall behind him got it worse. Three distinct holes erupted from the surface. Splinters sprayed his back like tiny biting insects. Had he been a fraction of a second slower…
“You want a piece of me!? Huh!? You already took the rest! You can’t have me!”
Bam! This time a vinyl lamp to his left exploded noisily.
Three round bursts, and that voice—
“Easy Harry, it’s me Julian!” he called, straining his ears. Had the man moved? He couldn’t tell if he was in the bar or the club. He waited but was only greeted with silence.
Julian swallowed the painful lump hardening in his throat. “Look, I’m coming out now so we can talk. I’d prefer it if you didn’t shoot me.”
Still silence.
Dammit! Why couldn’t I have been a plumber?
Julian stood up slowly, his gun not pointed but his hands not completely free of it either. His eyes were instantly drawn to the ghoulish man standing behind a bar inside the club.
Jesus!
Harry was a bloody mess, in every sense of the word. His clothes were torn and ripped into, probably by the same thing that had brutally worked his face over. Gone was the friendly looking Mario Brother-Young Santa Claus mashup. The shaken man before him looked more like something from Night of the Living Dead. Harry aimed his rifle, the wild fear in his eyes sending tremors down his entire body and into the waving gun muzzle.
“Stay back dammit!” he growled.
“Easy,” Julian soothed, lifting his trigger hand into the air to show that he was no threat. “We’re all friends here.”
“Are we!?” Harry challenged, big meaty hands tightening around the machine gun. “Are we?” he said more weakly. Looking at him now, it was hard to imagine that this was Julian’s old friend, and getting harder by the minute.
His dark eyes stared hard at Julian, neither of them seeing him. They were looking at something else, something that had inserted itself into them and refused to leave. “Friends huh? Like Tom and Sasha? Friends like that!?”
Julian swallowed hard. What the hell had happened down in the engine room? Harry’s question had a certain finality to it and Julian was sure this wasn’t the kind of exam he wanted to fail. He heard somewhere that when someone was coming unraveled, it was a bad idea, even dangerous, to disagree with them.
He cleared his sandpaper throat and nodded. “Yeah, something like that.”
The wild energy in Harry’s eyes softened. His damaged face crinkled into a laugh. “Yeah, like that. Julian, you’re Julian.” Julian could see that some of the man’s teeth had been shattered, his lips split—
--and he was crying. Tears str
eamed down his haunting face, mixing with the blood around his chin. He was crying and shaking his head. “Julian, please help me.”
Harry collapsed behind the nightclub bar taking several glasses with him as he fell. Julian was already moving before the man had fully hit the ground. He rushed into the club, taking care to glance around first to make sure that no other dangers were present.
The place was open providing enough room for a hundred or more people to dance in here at once. Several sections of the perimeter dipped in making for some nice sitting areas for friends and tired dancers to relax. All of it was dark, the only light spilling through a small, waist-high window that peered into the aft lobby stairwell.
But he no longer looked longingly at his destination, barely acknowledged it except for the light it provided. The stairwell didn’t promise a reunion with his friends anymore. God only knew what evil was lurking in the lower levels.
Not just God…
Julian slid around the open bar. Harry lay slumped against the wall, his breathing erratic and forced.
“I--I don’t know where I am. It’s dark here,” he said pleadingly, his voice a choked whine.
Julian dropped to a knee and clasped the man’s groping hand. None of this made any sense! Harry’s wounds weren’t life threatening. Could have been internal trauma. Or there was the shock of whatever he had seen. But it doesn’t make fucking sense!
“I’m right here with you,” Julian reassured, trying to sound calmer than he felt.
Harry looked for the source of the voice, his eyes unseeing. “Julian? No, you can’t be here! You mustn’t be here!”
“It’s okay, I’m here to help. Just tell me what happened. Where is the rest of B Squad?”
Something Julian said resonated with Harry. His searching eyes centered on Julian’s, but somehow he wished they hadn’t. In them he saw a greater fear than any he’d encountered before, fear that curdled his blood, that made him want to find the nearest porthole and throw himself out, make a swim for it.
“They’re gone Julian. It took them! It wants all of us! Everyone, everywhere! That’s why I had to get away. I had to—“