Pandora

by Joshua Grant

  No one spoke. No one needed to. They all knew what might be waiting for them in there. Aubrey and Mac eased through the opening and Gabe was quick to follow. Clink. The door sealed them in.

  Aubrey took in their new surroundings, eyes eagerly searching for any signs of danger. The stale silence and death chill contradicted the vast dining hall’s elegance. They found themselves on a wide balustrade that connected two curving staircases leading down into the main seating area. Cloth-covered tables adorned the upper balcony. Similar furniture stood out below like islands in a sea of polished marble. Several crystal chandeliers brightly lit the whole space with a warm pleasant glow.

  It was nice, if you overlooked the fact that one of the chandeliers had crashed into the main floor, several chairs were tipped in the mad dash to escape, and the place generally looked like a frat party went down at the Ritz. Mess aside, it was devoid of monsters which made it nicer than the White House by Aubrey’s standards.

  “It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but it’ll do,” Mac quipped under his breath, but even he seemed too tired for a laugh.

  “Down there.” They slid toward the stairs, navigating them carefully keeping in mind Mac’s condition and the gentle rocking of the ship. Areas of the ground floor were covered by the overhead balcony and she wouldn’t feel safe until they had seen everything. They slowly ambled down onto the main floor, Aubrey feeling a little exposed but—

  “Don’t move!”

  Shit. She instinctively turned toward the voice, the Russian voice.

  “You’d better listen or--”

  Olga slid from a table in the shadow of the balcony. She lowered her gun when she saw them, clearly relieved. Had she seen something? And where was Konesco? Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken. Did that mean—

  Aubrey’s heart sank. No.

  “Is it just you three?” Olga probed somewhat timidly. Her dark eyes darted around like they were seeing ghosts. They were pleading.

  “Yeah,” Aubrey confirmed, unsure of how to broach the subject of Konesco. “Have you seen anyone else…Julian?”

  Olga looked like she was on the brink of bursting into tears. She shook her head almost undetectably. Silence settled over them. Anger burned in Aubrey’s chest suddenly like a wildfire that had just been doused with turpentine. They were the only ones that made it. Everyone else could be dead. And for what?

  For him. She looked at Gabe who studied Olga intently. Getting him off this ship was worth all their lives.

  Aubrey broke the silence. “Olga, where were you?” Her voice contained more of an accusation than she would have liked. “Where did you go? Did you find the crewman?”

  Olga opened her mouth to speak, paused like a mute choir singer, and then closed it. Her eyes rolled around the room, searching for the words—and then focused on something past them. Only then did Aubrey notice the soft clink announcing the closing of one of the ground floor doors. Her throat closed up as well, the thudding of her heart speeding up in her ears. Soft footsteps clicked over the waxed marble behind her. Olga’s eyes went wide, her face pale.

  “Sasha!” she cried before Aubrey had a chance to look. She blew past the three of them.

  Aubrey’s gaze trailed her to the bulky Russian. His walk was slow and shuffling. He teetered from side to side like he was drunk—

  --and dread started to grow in Aubrey’s belly like a jar of spiders aching to burst. Something was wrong. Her brain filled in the details one at a time like a sadistic child’s advent calendar. Sasha was pale, well paler than usual. A tattered strap swayed at his side where a gun should have been. His eyes fixed on Olga but they lacked their usual mischievous spark. Instead they were cold, even angry.

  Could be wounded, she thought but instantly clamped down on her doctor’s instinct to help, her muscles actually quivering with the effort. That was an hour ago. By this point the medical book could go screw itself. Something about Sasha was wrong, and in this horrible world wrong meant a parasite attached to the base of your skull.

  Even Olga slowed her step, stopping just a few feet from him. He continued shuffling toward her one scuffing step at a time, unaware of her hesitation. His gaze was fixed, his face tight and unreadable. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  Aubrey clenched her pistol tight. Mac tensed too, suddenly very much awake. Gabe slid a step behind them. This wasn’t right. “Olga—“

  “Sasha, I need your help. It’s Jura.”

  Her voice choked off. Aubrey’s attention sharpened past the growing threat of the man looming closer to Olga. Did she just say Jura? What did Olga’s son have to do with anything? She wasn’t acting normal, but who the hell was anymore on this ship? It didn’t matter at the moment. Sasha was right on top of her. He lazily raised an arm toward her.

  Like in those films. The walking corpses just before they attacked—

  “Olga!”

  “Sasha?” she entreated, tears streaming down her face now, “Please.”

  His pasty fingers began to curl tightly around her tactical vest in a vice grip.

  “Get away from him!”

  Aubrey jumped. The voice came from the balcony above.

  Julian!

  Seconds later he was there, appearing just over the railing, rifle aimed. He looked almost as bad as Mac, minus the blood.

  “No!” Olga screamed, trying to slide between him and her husband, or rather the thing that used to be her husband.

  She never had the chance. Shots rang out, deafening even in the cavernous space. Four wet holes erupted from Sasha’s torso, each peppering Olga with a fresh spatter of crimson. She froze in shock, staring. Sasha didn’t cry out. If he felt the bullets he didn’t show it, his body spasming with each shot, the man taking it silently like a monk having a seizure. The fourth one put him down. He teetered, falling backward, his grip still on Olga and dragging her down with him. They crashed to the ground, the last echoing shot falling to silence.

  Stunned silence, no one sure whether to move or breathe.

  Olga settled that, a strangled sob escaping her as she crumpled in a heap with her husband. “You shot him! I’ll kill you you bastard! You shot him!” She was scrambling in an attempt to put pressure on the red splotches, to staunch the bleeding. In her panic she wasn’t doing much good, really just smearing the mess. It wouldn’t matter. Sasha was dead either way, the sad truth of it physically punching Aubrey in the chest twisting her heart in ways she never wanted to feel again.

  Julian was already descending the stairs to join them, his grime-covered face etched with fear, a pure fear Aubrey had never expected to see in the seasoned soldier, and instantly the tension slipped back into her shoulders, any thoughts of remorse for the loss of Sasha erased. “Back up Olga!” he barked, “Get her away from it! It’s not dead!”

  A pang of alarm shot through Aubrey. Not dead? Her gaze snapped back to the couple crumpled on the floor.

  “Bastard! You stay away from him!” Olga’s look was pure murder. She was going for her gun, would have it levelled and aimed in a second—

  “Olga, it’s not Sasha!” Julian implored but it was already too late—

  --too late for sanity to save any of them from this nightmare. Sasha’s chest heaved, big time, practically knocking Olga over. His back arched inches off the floor and then dropped back heavily in a painful sounding thud accompanied by a rasping gasp from his blood filled throat. It did it again, arched and dropped, and then again, Sasha moaning horribly with each convulsion.

  “Sasha!” Olga tried to stabilize him, to hold him down, all previous thoughts of murder already forgotten, the desperation seeping into her voice. “What is happening!?”

  Great fucking question!

  Aubrey was helpless to watch--they all were—as the body’s fifth convulsion came with a wet ripping sound, the man’s tortured torso forced impossibly upward like a yoga instructor trying to do the bridge without a spine. Aubrey actually heard each vertebrae snapping as it climbed. She wanted to vomit but didn’t t
hink she could muster enough movement to do even that.

  Crunch! It bent upward, bent until the back of its head touched the back of its calves, its arms dangling down for support, hands and feet both touching the ground back-to-back. And then its overextended stomach exploded—actually exploded--the pressure on the bend too great!

  Oh shit!

  And something was coming through! A writhing mass of wet coiling ropes clawed their way out with the sound of ramen noodles slipping over the side of the bowl. The brackish vines coiled upward and out, first two feet, three. For one insane moment Aubrey feared they’d keep going, but even nightmares had their limits. The intestinal ropes stopped at three feet.

  No, not intestines.

  Tentacles! They’re fucking tentacles!

  The red slimy strings whipped wildly in all directions from the mutilated stump of Sasha’s body like some sort of apocalyptic tree. Sasha’s head, now upside down, turned slowly in their direction. It opened its mouth wide, emitting a low, throaty groan that made Aubrey level her pistol without realizing it.

  “Shoot it!”

  She barely heard Julian. He was nearly down the stairs now. Can’t get a clear shot! Might hit Olga. The Russian was still on the ground next to the hellish sapling that was once her husband. She was too stunned to move, too stunned to think, just like the rest of them.

  “Shoot it!” Julian urged, rounding the base of the stairs and attempting to get his own weapon aimed.

  Can’t. Gotta get Olga. Drag her clear. There was no time. Not-Sasha’s tentacles drooped downward, feeling for the prey that was close. One wriggling noodle snaked around Olga’s arm. She was screaming, nothing comprehensive, just a revolted plea. The squishy tube contracted in a blink, the muscles along its slender body flexing and pulsing, and Olga’s arm snapped like a twig. Her scream shriveled into choked agony as a second tentacle punched hard into her abdomen, a wet red hole the size of a dollar coin opening up there.

  God, it’s killing her!

  “Hey, what are you—“

  Mac didn’t get to finish the sentence. Gabe had a hold of his rifle, wrestling him for control, somehow getting a good enough grip, and shots flew. Aubrey followed suit, awakened from her stupor. Bam! Bam! The gun kicked harder than expected. Her arms ached with each ricochet but she managed to steady and shoot.

  Each slug burned into the Sasha creature like invisible fists. Aubrey tried to aim high to avoid hitting Olga, but with the way it was flailing her around like a ragdoll—well, she wasn’t very hopeful. Bam-bam-bam! Hot lead poured into the branches of the insane tree, shredding a few, severing one entirely, viscous black ooze spurting from its end. Many of Mac’s bullets went wide but he finally got the idea that cooperating with his young hijacker was the right choice. Julian joined the fray as well and the four of them peppered the thing in the loudest fireworks show Aubrey had ever attended.

  If the bullets were doing any real damage though, she couldn’t tell. Sasha shuddered with each impact, tentacles fell or were frayed, strange black blood spewed; but the severed tentacles were instantly replaced by fresh ones, the ragged holes cut by bullets shriveled and sealed. At least the tentacle that punctured Olga’s side retracted, but it still had her by her accordion wrist. She was still conscious, just barely.

  Sasha’s moan deepened and the thing suddenly shot forward, dragging Olga in tow. Oh shit! For the world’s most talented crab walker, it, like all its demonic brethren, was hellishly fast! The room was filled with the sounds of its inverted limbs smacking the tile, its tentacles beating the air with a whip cracking, its unending moan making Aubrey’s skin crawl. The thing was a demon train speeding toward them.

  Shit-shit-shit!

  Julian and Aubrey were motion itself, flinging themselves backward over a table, crashing hard on the other end, a fork flipping off and tinging across the marble. The furniture tilted with their weight, tipping lazily at first and then upending in a blink, dumping them in a heap on the floor—

  --just as the creature smashed into the other end, hard, the flipped table creating a much needed barrier between them and the calamity. It slid toward them a foot, scraping across tile.

  “Aubrey!”

  She didn’t need Julian to explain. She was already up and bracing against the makeshift wall pressing back against the nightmare. Its tentacles beat against the other side, the horrible thumping sending painful vibrations into her shoulder, the table sliding again. Her boots squelched over the smooth tile, losing ground. This wasn’t going to work forever. She looked around, blinking away the dizzy—

  --and her heart caught in her throat.

  Gabe! God where is he!?

  She hadn’t had time to push him out of the way. He was on the other side of the table somewhere! With it! Aubrey started to raise herself around the barrier, desperate to find the boy, willing to die for it if that’s what it took—

  --when a wet tentacle slid over the top, caressing her forehead with its shriveled tip. Warm sticky fluid smeared her brow and she immediately ducked lower, her thoughts melting back into instinct. Julian did the same, a similar tentacle trying to get a grip on his shoulder. The table was beginning to crack down the middle. When it broke—God she didn’t want to think about it!

  Another groping vine snaked around the side, squirming over the wood, feeling for flesh.

  “Aubrey!”

  Again, she was already in motion before Julian said it, shifting awkwardly, freeing her gun hand, and firing into the tip. Hot gunpowder burned her fingers but she didn’t care. The tentacle shredded bloodily rewarding her with a screech from the creature. It was a short lived victory. Her gun clicked empty. Dammit! She couldn’t even begin to fathom what she’d do next time the thing came for them.

  Think Aubrey! Think! Fuck!

  Bam-bam!

  The roaring sound brought her to her senses. Someone was shooting and it wasn’t Julian.

  Mac! The wave of relief was crushing. They made it!

  Julian craned his neck, sneaking a look around the table’s edge. He yanked it back a second later, a tentacle nearly smashing him in the face. “Kitchen!”

  Aubrey kicked herself for not studying the ship’s blueprints closer. She tried to visualize the room, visualize where they needed to go. The kitchen had to be tucked under the eve of one of the balconies. Thirty feet maybe? Forty? It would be close, provided they could even make it out of range of the thing’s deadly tentacles. Not-Sasha flailed against the table again and wood splintered. It couldn’t take another hit like that. They had to go, now!

  “If we don’t make it—“

  “Save it!” Julian hissed through gritted teeth, his full weight pressed against the table.

  “—get Gabe out of here.”

  Julian met her eyes. “The kid?”

  She nodded, and in that moment there passed a deep understanding between them, something more than friendship. Was it love, or maybe just what happened to two people when some screwed up creature was inches away trying to kill them? Either way, she welcomed the feeling that cut through the murderous fear clutching her chest. If she died here, now, Julian would take care of things.

  The table bucked and started to disintegrate, the second of understanding evaporating instantly from Julian’s face. “Let’s go!” he barked.

  They launched themselves sideways as table and tentacles went flying all around them. The creature moaned, fully aware now that its prey was making a break for it. Aubrey stayed close behind Julian, vaguely aware of Olga’s body lying limply at the creature’s side, a tentacle still clinging to it. She didn’t look alive, but Aubrey couldn’t worry about that now. She had to focus on running, on not tripping over the treacherous debris that littered their path like a tornado trail. She saw a flash up ahead, realized it was Mac providing cover fire, and ran in that direction praying he and Gabe weren’t still battling over the gun. It would be just her luck to survive two monster encounters only to get popped by friendly fire. Something wet an
d limp slapped hard at her back, stinging her shoulders, and she ran faster, somehow faster. The moans increased, hungry and yearning and God Aubrey, move your ass!

  “Come on!” Gabe yelled, holding the swinging kitchen door ajar for them. Mac stood half in it, plugging away at the creature.

  Bullets hissed past Aubrey, each making wet pops as they connected with the creature. Close! It’s so close! Aubrey ran, heard Gabe yelling but couldn’t make out his words. She saw the terror in Mac’s pale face as he looked past her and she knew the creature was gaining ground. Gotta get there—

  A second later she blew through the entrance, Julian and Gabe a blur of motion ahead of her, Mac a blur behind as he struggled to get through the opening in time. He whipped to the side, helping Julian topple a nearby storage shelf to block the entrance. Hundreds of plates crashed to the ground, the most deafening (and expensive) cacophony Aubrey had ever heard, as the shelf slammed against the door, slamming it in the creature’s upside down face just as it scrambled to come through.

  WHAM!

  The shelf screeched a few inches across the kitchen’s sterile white tile. They were safe, but the barricade wouldn’t hold for long, a theme Aubrey was quickly getting tired of. They bought themselves a few minutes at best. She swiveled, searching, and found Gabe shaking his head slowly, her heart sinking with the motion. A quick sweep of their surroundings revealed what he meant.

  Stainless steel counters and stoves dotted the vast modern looking kitchen. Two walk-in refrigerators lay open, their contents no doubt rotted by now adding to the stink of death that filled the ship’s diseased air. Storage shelves were in various states of disarray, the food and cutlery they once held now littering the ground. And there was no other way out, not even a window.

  WHAM! The shelf screeched again, its side bars actually beginning to buckle. Several tentacles poked through the door’s crack.

  “Fuck!” Julian growled. An adequate summary of their situation.

  “What do we do?” Gabe asked and Aubrey’s heart sank further. It was her job to protect him. She failed, just as she had with Jen. What could they do? They were cornered, trapped!