Dead Calm

by Jon Schafer

  Steve was halfway up the stairs to deck five when he tried to call Heather on the two-way radio. Receiving nothing, he realized that either the device was dead or that the batteries had run down. After clipping it to his belt, he increased his pace. Now he had to find everyone the hard way.

  On reaching the landing that led onto deck five, he immediately saw a large group of the dead coming toward him from the cabin area. He estimated there were at least thirty. Not as many as below but too many to shoot. Remembering what Susan had told him about Heather coming back down to deck four, he by-passed five and continued to head upwards in the hope he would run into her.

  The initial adrenalin rush had worn off by the time he reached deck six, and now he could feel the pain from his injuries. Every time he inhaled, it felt like someone was jabbing a hot needle deep into his ribs and every time he exhaled, it felt like the same was being done to his solar plexus. Steve pushed down the pain as he drove himself on with the thought that he had to find Heather.

  When he passed deck six, he was moving so fast he almost ran right into two dead crew members that were coming down the stairs from seven. Realizing that Ricky had opened all the watertight doors, which had kept the dead contained, while his cohort Tim cut the chains on decks five and four, Steve cursed when he saw that he might be cut off.

  No time to stop now, he told himself.

  Instead of slowing and shooting the two Z’s, Steve thought of Heather being in danger and increased his pace, taking the stairs three at a time. Ducking slightly, he dodged the dead man on the left as it reached out to grab him then butt stroked the one on the right in the face with his M-4. The zombie was knocked back and landed with a thud. Steve looked up and saw at least twenty of the dead staggering down the stairs between decks seven and eight then decided it might be in his best interest to exit on deck seven. He could warn Sheila and Mary before making his way to the exterior staircase at the back of the ship. Those should be clear, he assured himself. Ricky let the dead go from where they were locked in cabin areas at the forward sections of the ship and it'll take the Z's a few minutes to get to the rear.

  At this, another thought struck him. The Faithful. They would either fight to protect themselves and kill the dead or run off and lead them away. If they ran away, he knew that person being chased would instinctively head for higher ground so this would lead the Z’s upward. Steve's final destination was deck twelve and he hoped he could find the others and make it there before the dead did. He slowed as he reached the landing for deck seven but found himself confronted by three of the dead that he took for business men who had died and come back while on vacation. Each of them wore loud Hawaiian shirts, Bermuda shorts and sandals with black socks. Sickened more by their fashion sense then their torn, puss leaking faces; he shot each of them in the forehead.

  Passing them before the last body hit the ground, he dodged a pre-teen girl in a bathing suit with her lower chest ripped open to reveal her ribs. She screeched as he dodged her. He could see a few of the dead scattered on the walkway in front of him and knew he could easily take them out. When he saw what they were doing though, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

  They were huddled in two groups over struggling bodies as they fed.

  Looking toward the first aid station, located thirty feet away, his heart dropped when he saw the door was open. They had gotten to Sheila and Mary before he could warn them.

  Steve stopped and looked behind him to make sure he had time to do what he needed and saw ten of the dead heading toward him from the far side of the grand staircase. He wondered at this small amount of flesh eaters compared to the hundreds flooding the other decks, then saw the reason why deck seven wasn't over flowing with the dead. The watertight doors leading to the cabin area had jammed after only opening a foot. As he watched, he saw four or five of the creatures fighting each other to squeeze through the narrow opening.

  Bathing suit girl caught his attention as the only immediate threat so he shot her once between the eyes, spraying the carpet behind her with black goo, white skull and gray brains.

  He turned back to where the dead were feeding and began methodically shooting each of them in the head, stopping only once to insert a fresh magazine in his M-4. He noticed both of the zombies’ victims were still alive so he stepped forward to get clean shots which put them out of their miseries. This was when he saw that one of them was a man. It was one of the Faithful he remembered from the pool deck, one of the men who had cursed Sheila out.

  Relief flooded through him as he realized it wasn't Mary or Sheila. Glancing over at the other body, he noted that despite having its face chewed away, it was an older lady with gray hair.

  Taking aim at the man's head, Steve wondered what had happened to Mary and Sheila. After firing two quick shots, he took off at a run for the stern of the ship.

  ***

  Heather had just passed deck eight when she heard cries of, “There he is, get him,” from above her. Her heart sped up as she realized that someone had spotted Reverend Ricky.

  “You're mine, you sick fuck,” Heather vowed as she started running up the grand staircase.

  She cautiously looked around as she reached deck nine, before mounting the last few steps. No sense popping up and giving him an easy target, she thought.

  Peeking over the edge of the landing, she looked down the Centrum and saw some of the Faithful pointing up to deck ten while others were running toward the stairs. They were all in hot pursuit of what could only be Reverend Ricky.

  “I’m on your trail now, asshole,” Heather said out loud.

  She was about to continue up to deck ten when she was surprised to see the people coming toward her stop dead in their tracks. One man even went as far as to drop down like he was sliding into home plate before spinning onto all fours and scrabbling away on hands and knees as he tried to get his feet under him.

  Screams of, “Stinkers,” filled the air.

  Perplexed, Heather at first thought the Faithful had gotten her confused with one of the Z’s that occasionally got loose. This was until she looked over her shoulder when a high-pitched keening noise caught her attention.

  Sixty to seventy of the dead had already flooded through the doors from the cabin area to her right with more coming behind them. Staggering, limping, crawling and pulling themselves along by their arms, they were intent on the people running away until they spotted Heather. The noise they made got louder as they sped up and headed in her direction.

  “Oh, shit,” she breathed as she mentally booted herself in the ass to get moving.

  Running as fast as her feet would take her, she continued upward. She knew they would have to abandon the Dead Calm but she had to make sure Ricky got what was coming first. She worried about Steve, but this was interrupted when she reached deck ten and heard a boom she recognized as a .45 caliber pistol followed by screams.

  Repeating the same cautious approach she had used on deck nine, Heather spotted a young woman crouched behind a planter not far from the stairs leading onto deck ten.

  Heather waved to get her attention, and then asked a quiet voice, “Is it Ricky?”

  The woman started babbling at the top of her voice and Heather worried she'd give their position away. “It's Ricky. I couldn't believe it when I saw him. A bunch of us started chasing him. He made it all the way to the rear of the Centrum. That fat-ass can really run. Then he shot at us, so I turned around and came back here. If you hurry you can catch him. He's probably heading for the stairs at the back of the boat.”

  Heather took this all in while she cautiously advanced and said to the woman, “I’ll get Ricky, but you can't stay here. There's Z’s on deck nine, too many to deal with, so you have to make your way to the lifeboats on seven. You need to warn the others to do the same. Find as many people as you can and spread the word.”

  The shrieking of the dead came from below and the woman's eyes went wide. Seeing that she wasn't going to move, Heather approached he
r and grabbed her by the arm, lifting her to her feet. “Go on! Warn the others,” she yelled. “Go through the upper decks and warn anyone you see. Then cut back and use the rear stairs to get to the lifeboats. It's time to get the hell off this ship!”

  Giving the woman a shove to get her moving, Heather started down the Centrum as she repeated her evacuation instructions to everyone she came across.

  After exiting at the rear of the super structure, she approached the exterior stairs. Taking every precaution while moving as fast as she could, she started down. As her foot settled on the first step, her radio crackled to life, “Steve, Heather, Susan. It's Tick-Tock. Speak to me. I’ve got an ass-load of dead coming onto deck six. I’m on seven now and they're here too. What's the plan, over?”

  Heather frowned, disappointed in herself that she'd been so caught up in catching Ricky that she'd forgotten about the others.

  Stepping out of the line of any possible gunfire from below, she spoke into her radio, “It's me, Heather. I’m on deck ten. We got a shit load of Z's coming onto nine too. Ricky must have popped the doors and now he's heading in your direction to try and grab a lifeboat, over.”

  There was silence for a moment and then she heard the faint sound of an M-4 being fired from somewhere in the ship. She counted to thirty and was about to call Tick-Tock again when his voice came over the speaker, “I heard shooting and went to go see who it was. It's Steve. He's on his way, over.”

  Shots that seemed to come from just below her snuffed out Heather’s joy at hearing that Steve was okay. She listened for a moment and could hear the deep boom of a .45 interspersed with the sharp cracks of two M-4s.

  Heather smiled evilly as she realized what had happened. Ricky had run into Tick-Tock and Steve.

  She started rapidly descending the steps to deck nine. Here she paused briefly, as she drank in the cool night air.

  The sound of gunfire had ceased so Heather took a chance and called Tick-Tock on the radio. Steve answered. After assuring each other they were okay, he filled her in on his plan to exit the Dead Calm and told her he had seen Ricky leave the stairs at deck nine. He and Tick-Tock would come to her and they would head up to deck twelve together.

  “Negative,” Heather replied, hearing the voices of the Faithful above her as they started to descend the stairs. “I’ve got people coming down to seven to get on the lifeboats. We’ve got to deal with Ricky so that I can get them past deck eight, over.”

  Brain's voice broke into the conversation saying, “There's something else you need to know, over.”

  “Brain, where are you?” Steve asked.

  “Holding position off the stern,” he replied. “Susan told me that's where you wanted me, over.” There was a pause and then Brain added, “Susan didn't make it.”

  Heather's heart felt sick at this news. She thought, poor Tick-Tock, poor Susan. Her mind flitted briefly to Marcia, Jonny G and Meat, who had all been killed when the radio station was overrun by the dead.

  So many gone, she lamented.

  Switching mental gears, rage flooded her as she thought that so many good people were dead and a scumbag like Ricky was still walking around sucking air. This shit ends here, she vowed.

  Keying the transmit button on the radio she said, “I’m going after Ricky. I’m coming down from deck nine. Steve, you and Tick-Tock work your way up from seven. We’ll make sure Ricky doesn't screw with the people trying to evacuate the ship, over.”

  Brain cut in saying, “Then you need to hurry. The ship's starting to sink. The water's already covered the outer hatch on deck four, over.”

  “Watch for us at the stern,” Steve told Brain. “We’ll be on deck twelve. Heather, we move out when you call it, over.”

  “Then I call it,” she said. “Move out.”

  She clipped the radio to her belt and moved in a crouch as she descended the stairs. The rear of the ship was only thirty feet or so to her right and the area was wide open except for a few deck chairs. Ricky was too fat to hide behind any of them, so she knew it was clear. To her left was the superstructure of the ship but there were no doors, as this would be the back wall of the Sounds Lounge. The only way to get into the ship was to go along the twenty-foot wide walkway that ran the length of the superstructure on its port and starboard sides.

  Reaching deck eight, she saw movement on the stairs below and recognized Steve. Tick-Tock appeared moments later. After they joined up, Heather said quietly to Tick-Tock, “I’m sorry about Susan.”

  Tick-Tock nodded but kept his feelings to himself.

  “We’ll grieve later,” he said. “Right now, we need to take care of Ricky and get the hell off this ship.”

  Heather wanted to say something to console him but was silenced by his blank faced expression. Instead, she turned to Steve and said, “You guys take the starboard side and I’ll take port. If I remember correctly, we have to go a couple hundred feet before we get to a door. With the Z’s coming from the forward sections and us from the rear, we'll trap Ricky in between. It shouldn't be hard to find him.”

  Steve nodded his assent to the plan. Before heading off with Tick-Tock, he gave Heather a kiss and told her to be careful. She told him to do the same. Parting, they turned their full attention to the task at hand while a steady stream of the Faithful went down the stairs to the lifeboats.

  Heather, Steve and Tick-Tock entered the Dead Calm for the final time.

  ***

  The Reverend Ricky Rose left the bridge and ran through deck ten out into the Centrum. Here, he saw a few of his former Faithful going in and out of stores as they searched for him so he kept to the outside of the walkway as he raced past. Ready to shoot anyone who barred his way, to his surprise he made it halfway down the Centrum before being spotted.

  As the first cry of alarm went out, Ricky held the .45 out in plain view as a deterrent to anyone trying to stop him. The few Faithful who were still in his path quickly moved upon seeing the gun so he had a clear shot to the doors that led out onto the stern of the ship.

  Once there, he paused to catch his breath. He turned and saw about twenty of the former members of his congregation coming toward him so he raised his pistol and fired a single shot in their direction. Not slowing to see if he hit anyone, he went outside and waddled quickly down the stairs to deck seven, then paused to rest. He was feeling nauseated from running and for a few seconds thought he might pass out. Steadying himself on the handrail, the waves of sickness washing through his overtaxed body finally faded.

  That was when he ran into the people from the sailboat.

  Firing blindly to try and keep them away, Ricky saw his path to the lifeboats was blocked. He had to find another way. He headed back up to deck eight, planning on cutting through the Centrum and using the grand staircase to descend to deck seven.

  The only problem was, he'd forgotten about the dead.

  He barely made it to the casino before he saw thirty of the creatures coming toward him from the front of the ship. A few stopped to fight over pieces of some of his Faithful who had been brought down but most were heading in his direction.

  Cursing his luck, he headed back the way he had come. As he neared the sliding glass door leading to the portside exterior walkway, he stopped again when he saw Heather cautiously look through the very door he was going to use to escape. Rage at this woman overcame Ricky's common sense and from thirty feet away he fired an un-aimed shot in her direction. She ducked back and fired a few return shots that shattered the glass panel of the door but otherwise did no damage.

  Then Ricky got an even bigger surprise. More bullets came at him from the doors set in the starboard side of Centrum. Without thinking, he spun in that direction and started squeezing the trigger of his pistol as rapidly as he could. Three times it fired before the slide locked back. It was empty.

  Squealing in rage, he flung the empty pistol down and looked around wildly for somewhere to hide. There was a door in front of him and without thinking, he ran through i
t.

  Entering the balcony above the Sounds Lounge, Ricky heard the keening noises coming from the dead below as they sensed him. Seeing no other way out, he hid behind the last row of seats in the balcony. Looking around at where he'd ended up, he cursed the fact that the dead he had let loose were the very reason he was now trapped.

  ***

  Heather picked up the discarded pistol and handed it to Steve. Without a word, she walked purposefully to the doors leading to the balcony of the Sounds Lounge. Although Ricky was unarmed, she still used caution entering. Once inside, she stopped for a moment to let her eyes adjust. With her rifle at the ready, she moved down the center aisle as she checked each row for Ricky. She had seen him duck inside and knew he was here. Behind her, Steve and Tick-Tock covered the Centrum, occasionally shooting any of the dead who approached their position.

  Heather was closing in on the last row next to the balcony rail when she heard someone crying softly.

  Stopping, she called, “Come on out Ricky. I promise I won't shoot you.”

  I’ve got another idea on how to deal with your fat ass, she thought.

  The sobbing grew louder so Heather said, “If I have to come get you, I’m gonna shoot you in both your knees and drag you out into the Centrum for the stinkers to eat. Now show yourself.”

  From behind the last row of seats, two hands poked up followed by Ricky's fat, red face. His crying stopped and he opened his mouth to speak but Heather ordered, “If you say one word, I’ll shoot you in the nuts.”

  Ricky shut his mouth with a snap.

  Heather ordered, “Move over to the aisle and stop.”

  Ricky obeyed and was quickly standing with his back to the railing, the main floor of the lounge spread out behind him. Heather advanced until she was only feet away, never moving the barrel of her rifle from where it was aimed at Ricky's crotch.

  He opened his mouth to speak again but Heather cut him off by saying, “You make me sick. When I was a cop, I used to see perverts like you all the time. We’d lock them up, but after ten years or so they'd get out and go right back to chasing little girls and boys. Innocents.”