HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2)

by Shane M Brown

  ‘I know, Erin. I have you on screen right now.’

  Erin turned to face the nearest ceiling camera.

  ‘We need to evacuate the ship,’ she demanded. ‘Every minute we wait, more people are waking up crazy. They’re smashing through their doors. They’re killing people, Ben. You need to trigger the evacuation. At least give the passengers a chance to reach the lifeboats.’

  ‘If I trigger the evacuation all the doors will open,’ countered Ben. ‘Those hallways will be filled with crazies. It will be a massacre.’

  ‘What about the engineers?’ asked Erin desperately. ‘Can’t they stop that?’

  ‘They’re trying. They need more time.’

  ‘Don’t wait,’ Erin insisted. ‘You need to evacuate this ship right now. Every deck is turning into a mental asylum. If we don’t evacuate now, no one will have any chance of reaching the lifeboats. You’ll have even worse carnage.’

  Erin waited for Ben’s answer, praying he’d do the right thing.

  ‘Listen, Erin, I need you to reach the helipad.’

  ‘The helipad?’ Erin looked toward the rear of the ship. ‘Why there?’

  ‘A team of U.S. Marines is landing any minute. I need them to secure the lifeboats and protect the evacuating crew and passengers. When I sound the evacuation, it’s critical they know what to do. You’ll have to direct them.’

  ‘I understand,’ confirmed Erin. ‘I know what to do.’

  ‘I know you do, Erin. Be careful.’

  Erin nodded at the camera and lowered her radio.

  It sounded like she was getting a new security team after all.

  All I have to do is survive long enough to reach them.

  Squatting, she filled her pockets with first aid supplies. She grabbed her fire extinguisher. She paused, looking at the knife lying on the carpet.

  I’m alone now.

  She took the knife.

  And if I have to, I’ll use it.

  As she stood, she felt a shudder running through the ship.

  She felt it through the floor.

  Up and down the deck she heard insane passengers hurling themselves at their cabin doors.

  The combined violence trembled the deck under her shoes.

  She ran for the helipad.

  It’s too late, she thought, gripping the knife handle tightly. God help us. They’re all waking up.

  First Officer Ben Bryant stood in utter disbelief.

  The wall of monitors in the bridge fed live video from all over the ship.

  Every monitor competed for his attention.

  It looked like half the ship had declared war on the other half, and their only tactic was mindless violence.

  Hundreds of passengers had fled their cabins as friends and family woke up homicidal. Not all of these healthy passengers could reach the rally points on decks 10 and 11.

  Too many sick passengers are marauding around the ship, searching for people to attack and kill.

  Ben noted pockets of refugees fighting for survival all over the ship.

  In the Coral Cove Restaurant a massive conflict was escalating. A dozen healthy passengers had barricaded themselves inside the restaurant with tables and chairs. As fast as the passengers could throw furniture into the doorway, the sick passengers were smashing it apart, trying to get in.

  The passengers in the restaurant were outnumbered. They were fighting for their lives.

  They weren’t giving up.

  Officer Ryan pointed to another screen. ‘Sir, look!’

  In the ship’s main kitchen, a group of almost twenty healthy passengers threw heavy pots and pans at a charging horde of crazies.

  The sick passengers jumped and scrambled over benches to reach their prey.

  A few passengers fled for the dining hall, but the rest all pulled out long kitchen knives.

  They had a plan.

  Men and women, they drew shoulder-to-shoulder and stood their ground with knives ready.

  The two groups made sickening contact.

  For the first few moments, the free-for-all looked like a pitched medieval battle.

  Everyone ended up on the floor, wrestling and stabbing and biting and kicking.

  Bryant watched just long enough to see the healthy passengers prevail. The survivors, more than a dozen, rose from the grisly mess, helping others up and then heading toward the ship’s main dining hall. From there they could reach the stairs to the rally point.

  Scanning the monitors, Bryant spotted other groups of healthy passengers fighting for their lives.

  On the promenade, passengers were trapped in the Duty Free Store. They had shoved the main counter up against the door. Outside, the hostiles took turns launching themselves against the door. They couldn’t get in, but neither could the passengers escape.

  Every monitor showed scenes of madness.

  In the billiards room, three men with pool cues were bashing two sick passengers mercilessly to the floor.

  On the basketball court, five women and a man wrestled so fiercely that Bryant couldn’t tell who was sick.

  In the Japanese Bathhouse, Bryant counted fifteen people crouching in a bamboo thicket, hiding from the mayhem.

  On the ice-skating rink, six people slipped and slid as they outmaneuvered their pursuers over the ice.

  Bryant glanced toward Karen, his communications officer and wife of four months.

  They had met two years ago as bridge officers on their previous berth. As newlyweds, the Captain offered them positions on the First Lady of the Sea.

  Having worked together before they started a relationship, they knew exactly how to conduct themselves on the bridge.

  Right now Karen was updating mainland operations about the ship’s status.

  Ben heard her repeating the same statements over and over. Obviously the mainland couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

  She removed her headset and spun in her chair.

  ‘How’s Erin?’ she asked.

  Karen had the uncanny ability to hold one conversation while listening to another - a useful trait for a communications officer.

  ‘She’s doing her job,’ replied Ben. ‘She’ll be fine.’

  ‘But is she injured?’

  Karen moved her chair, trying to see the surveillance monitors. Ben didn’t want her to see the ghastly images. He pointed to the flashing lights of incoming calls needing her attention.

  ‘I’ve sent her to meet the Marines. Try contacting their helicopter for an ETA.’

  Karen nodded and swiveled back to her station, broadcasting a call to the incoming chopper.

  I’m lucky she’s on the bridge.

  Ben wouldn’t be thinking straight otherwise. He looked on the surveillance monitors at the people fighting for their lives or hiding in fear.

  What if that was Karen out there?

  He made a decision.

  At the weapons locker he entered his security code. Inside rested two Beretta 9mm semi-automatic pistols and six spare magazines of ammunition. All bridge staff trained in their use for the unlikely event the bridge became compromised.

  He turned to address his bridge crew.

  ‘I wouldn’t request this normally, but these are extraordinary circumstances. I need two volunteers to take these pistols and help the trapped passengers. I can’t order anyone to—’

  Two officers stood up immediately. Officers Reynolds and Buchanan.

  ‘Okay,’ said Ben, nodding at the men. ‘Take these.’

  They accepted the pistols and ammunition as Ben pointed to the monitors.

  ‘I need one of you at the Coral Cove Restaurant. The other at the Duty Free Store. I need you to use these weapons to help those trapped passengers reach the lifeboats. If you can’t return, head to the nearest lifeboat to help with the evacuation.’

  The officers nodded soberly and loaded their weapons.

  ‘Ready?’

  The men checked their weapons and radios. ‘We’re ready.’

  From
the outside, little short of a tank could breach the bridge’s customized blast door.

  From the inside, however, it required only a code.

  Ben entered his code and shoved the door open.

  ‘Okay. Good luck.’

  He shut and locked the heavy door behind them.

  When he turned, the other officers were watching him, judging his actions silently.

  Karen gave him a small nod of encouragement.

  He held her eyes a moment before pointing at her station.

  ‘Anything from the engineers?’

  ‘They still can’t disconnect the doors,’ she replied. ‘All the cabin doors will open when we trigger the evacuation.’

  The engineers had told Ben this from the start, but he’d hoped they might work a mechanical miracle.

  ‘How long before the Marines arrive?’

  ‘Twelve minutes,’ Karen replied instantly.

  Twelve minutes was too long for people fighting for their lives.

  Erin was right.

  Every second Ben waited made the situation worse.

  Without hesitation, Ben crossed to the communications station, squeezed Karen’s shoulder, and then triggered the evacuation alarm.

  Chapter Four

  ‘This is it!’ cried Justin.

  The siren and evacuation message blared out all around the ship.

  Click.

  Justin heard their cabin door unlocking.

  The door began opening automatically.

  ‘Come on. Let’s go!’ Justin yelled at his mother.

  Justin was leaving everything. He only carried the wooden leg he’d unscrewed from the coffee table. If anyone got in his way, he intended to clobber them.

  He gripped it tightly.

  The cabin door swung fully open.

  The evacuation alarm sounded even louder now.

  Justin imagined hundreds and hundreds of doors opening all over the ship, releasing the sick and the healthy into the corridors together.

  Justin’s mother shoved the ironing board back into place.

  ‘Hurry!’ yelled Justin. ‘We need to go before the hallway fills up with freaks.’

  Justin’s mother played wheelchair basketball. She could move fast in her wheelchair. She did so right now.

  They paused to peer into the hallway.

  For a moment the hallway stood empty...

  ...and then pure chaos erupted.

  People surged from everywhere into the hallway.

  His mother grabbed Justin’s arm. ‘Wait!’

  Justin saw why.

  The sick passengers trying to escape their cabins had surged first into the hallway. Spotting open cabins all around them, they began charging into rooms.

  The healthy passengers tried to escape.

  The hallway descended into a state of violent anarchy.

  Justin heard so much screaming it became one continuous sound. People were punching and biting, kicking and fighting. People rolled on the floor or in the doorways, battling for their lives. Justin couldn’t even tell who was sick now.

  Everyone looked crazy.

  And every second the corridor grew more crowded as the sick and healthy came together like magnets. The combat grew like an amorphous creature stretching the length of the corridor in both directions, rolling and squirming and bucking as pure animal savagery was released on both sides.

  Wherever possible, people began fleeing, trying to run the gauntlet of homicidal maniacs to reach the stairs.

  Justin frowned at his little wooden club.

  We can’t do this, he thought. We’ll never make it. We need to shut this door and—

  ‘Wait...wait...NOW!’ said his mother.

  She zoomed from their doorway and straight into the chaos. One moment she was beside him, the next she was powering through the mayhem.

  Justin sprinted after her.

  Taking the lead, his mother lowered her head and charged forward in her chair.

  Justin chased her, ducking blows and dodging kicks. A punch clipped the back of his head. Someone grabbed his shirt but lost their grip. A woman dove at his hips, but his momentum sent her tumbling into the wall.

  Ahead, three struggling men fell between Justin and his mother like a felled tree falling across a road.

  Justin didn’t slow.

  Only momentum and speed mattered now.

  He leaped over the struggling men.

  His mother had chosen their timing perfectly. No one managed to stop them. Ahead, people sprinted up the stairs, avoiding the elevators.

  People are getting through! realized Justin.

  His mother avoided the elevator and stairs. She raced toward a side corridor. The corridor led to ramps for passengers in wheelchairs. Her chair barely slowed as she swerved around the corner.

  Justin lost sight of her.

  He dashed around the corner just as his mother slammed down her brakes.

  Their luck had run out.

  A woman spun toward them. She looked like she’d fallen sick last night at the casino. Her black sequined dress hung from one shoulder. Spotting Justin’s mother, her face twisted with rage.

  She gripped a pair of black stilettos like weapons.

  Blood dripped off one spiked heel.

  ‘Dodge around her!’ Justin shouted.

  Instead of dodging, his mother accelerated, smashing her chair straight into the woman’s legs.

  Tangled together, the crazy woman and Justin’s mother slammed down onto the floor.

  Justin didn’t have time to panic. His mom was vulnerable. Maybe hurt. He needed to get her chair back up.

  But first he needed to deal with the crazy woman attacking her.

  Justin didn’t play football, but he knew how to tackle.

  He dove over the wheelchair and tackled the woman off his mother. His shoulder slammed so hard into her chest that he heard her ribs crack. The stiletto shoes went flying.

  That should slow her down.

  He was wrong.

  She didn’t even pause.

  She scrambled right on top of him.

  God, she’s on me!

  Justin swung his wooden club at her head.

  Thump!

  It struck her chin and split her lip.

  She punched him back in the face. Before Justin could recover, the woman grabbed his club with both hands and shoved it down on his neck.

  Oh, God, she’s winning. She’s going to kill me!

  Justin couldn’t lift her.

  He felt the wood crushing his windpipe. He could barely think, let alone breathe.

  The woman pushed down so hard on Justin’s throat that her arms shook. She stared into his eyes.

  Justin saw nothing but anger.

  Push her off with your legs, he thought desperately. That’s the only way.

  Clang!

  The crazy woman tumbled off him.

  Justin grabbed his throat, sucking in air and raising his club defensively.

  The woman lay still.

  He climbed to his feet, holding his club ready, staring at his mother.

  She sat in her wheelchair again. She held a clothes iron. She’d used the iron to clobber the crazy woman.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  Justin pointed at the iron. His voice sounded croaky. ‘I didn’t know you had that.’

  ‘Neither did she,’ said his mother.

  Justin remembered his mother fussing with the ironing board back in their cabin.

  She was arming herself, Justin realized.

  The steel clothes iron had felled the woman with one hit.

  Justin frowned at his short, wooden table leg.

  I need something heavier.

  Coleman hauled open the Black Hawk’s cargo door.

  ‘Come on. Let’s go. Go!’

  His team leaped down onto the helipad. The single helipad jutted off the ship’s stern.

  Coleman leaped out last and waved everyone away from the chopper.

&nbs
p; ‘I don’t see any rioting,’ shouted Forest.

  ‘I don’t see anyone at all,’ replied Easterbrook.

  Before them, colorful deckchairs surrounded a children’s water park and playground. The water park surrounded a rope climbing tower and two long waterslides. To Coleman’s right rose a rock climbing wall. To his left lay a surf simulator.

  Beyond the surf simulator, a golf putting green wound back into lushly manicured gardens.

  ‘Check this place out,’ yelled Myers, bending to pluck something from the helipad. ‘Real grass.’

  Coleman didn’t care about the grass.

  Where are the passengers?

  He signaled the pilot. The chopper’s rotor blades began to slow.

  Forest snapped up his arm. ‘Captain. Look.’

  A tall woman came sprinting toward them across the water park. A set of sliding glass doors closed behind her.

  What’s she running from? Coleman thought instantly, seeing the fear on her face.

  And then he witnessed something truly disturbing.

  A mob pursued the woman.

  A mob of people.

  When they reached the automatic glass doors, they didn’t stop running.

  They didn’t slow.

  They just ran straight into the glass at full speed.

  SMAAAASH!

  Bodies broke through the glass like a tidal wave.

  The front runners fell through the breaking glass, impaling themselves instantly on the razor sharp shards. The mob pushed forward, charging right over the impaled people, crushing them underfoot with total disregard.

  People poured through the doors faster than Coleman could count.

  Like rushing water, he thought. Like water bursting through a broken dam wall.

  ‘Fucking hell!’ swore Myers. ‘What are they running from?’

  ‘They’re not running,’ pointed Coleman. ‘They’re chasing. They’re chasing her.’

  The woman fled through the playground. Tall and fair, she wore an officer’s uniform splattered with blood.

  She sprinted toward the Marines. To her left rose the sheer face of the rock climbing wall. To her right churned chaotic water in a wave simulator.

  She had no choice.

  Her only option was an obstacle course of umbrellas and deck chairs and fountains and wading pools.

  She leaped over a deck chair.