Splintered

by Laura J Harris

  ‘Right.’ Prior said, making a small coughing noise in the back of his throat that signalled a return to the matters at hand, ‘Even if Blakely’s codes were used, I don’t think he’s our man somehow.’

  Davies agreed.

  ‘So, I’d like you to go grab the personnel files and head up to the bridge. I’ll meet you there shortly. You can fill Andrews in — ’

  ‘Aw, thanks, Guv’.’ Davies said, sardonically.

  ‘You’re welcome.’ he continued, a wry smile just about curling his thin lips, ‘I’ll join you up there shortly and we can go over everything we have and everything we know. I want you to get hold of a passenger list too and as many two-ways as you can carry — I don’t know how many are fully charged — but we’re going to need them to keep in touch.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  Davies gave a small nod in acknowledgement and turned from Prior. The elder man caught his arm briefly, almost as an afterthought. ‘Thanks Marc.’ he said quietly.

  Davies’ eyes were friendly as he bobbed his head a final time, before moving swiftly down the corridor.

  Sucking in a deep breath to steady his nerves Prior turned the corner, marching resolutely towards the medical bay.

  ‘Prior?’ called a familiar, feminine voice, ‘Mr Prior?’

  He recognised the soft accented tones instantly and turned to find the dark-haired woman he had been sat next to at the dinner table the night before.

  Christine Kane.

  She was struggling towards him in the low light, dragging another human figure along besides her, a left arm draped around her neck to secure them in place as she inched her way along the corridor using the wall as a support.

  ‘Dr Kane.’ he said, rushing to her side.

  He took the blood-soaked body from her, realising only as he scooped the sagging bulk into his arms that it was Kelly Livingstone. ‘What happened to her?’ he asked, looking down at Kelly’s injuries.

  Christine struggled to catch her breath as she continued to lean on the wall for support. Her beautifully crafted, dark-wood stick nowhere in sight. ‘I went . . . to see Kelly,’ she breathed, ‘to return some work . . . the lights went out and . . . I think someone was in her room . . . I found her like this on the floor.’

  Prior raced her through the doors of the medical bay and straight into the back room where the gurneys and the freezers lived.

  There was more dazzling, false light in this room than he’d experienced in the last half an hour and his eyes complained at the sudden brightness. He placed Kelly down on the first bed he came to, turning on his heels to go back and help Christine.

  ‘What is this?’ Dr Matthews clipped in irritation.

  ‘This is Kelly Livingstone.’ he shouted back as he exited the room, jogging from the medical bay to find Christine not four steps further than when he had left her. Reaching her, he extended his arm.

  For a moment she looked dubious, resistant and even a little hurt. He knew it was her pride preventing her from accepting his help and ordinarily he wouldn’t have pushed, but he was concerned for both her and Kelly. And time was of the essence.

  ‘Please.’ he said, quietly.

  Releasing her grip on the wall, Christine Kane slipped her arm through his and leaned her gentle weight on him as he assisted her through to the harsh, bright room.

  Once at Kelly’s side, he left Christine only for a moment while he found a blue, plastic chair and sat it next to the bed. ‘They’re not the comfiest.’ he apologised as Christine sank into the awful mould.

  She winced briefly, trying not to let it show, before relaxing against the back of the horrid plastic thing.

  ‘It’s fine.’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  In his haste Prior hadn’t noticed just how busy it was in the room whose light still hurt his eyes. He found himself straining his green gaze as if he were looking out across a bay on the brightest of cloudless days somewhere in the Med.

  All around him nurses and technicians hurried about checking over the unending stream of bodies that poured through the doors. Searching — hopelessly — for any small sign of life; peeling back the lids of those whose eyes were shut and passing a small light before their pupils; pressing at their wrists and throats to find a pulse, to discover any small sign that their defiant little hearts were still trying to pump the cooling haemoglobin around their bodies.

  They searched, knowing it was futile. But, they searched all the same.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Christine questioned, following his gaze.

  Prior shook his head. ‘We’re not entirely certain.’

  As Prior made his way towards Dr Matthews he caught the bedraggled sight of Kemp — looking more wild than usual and even a little terrified — thundering his way towards him.

  ‘Prior!’ he shouted over the clamour.

  What? No Jon-Boy? It must be serious.

  ‘Nurse Kemp!’ Matthews interjected, joining Prior, ‘I will not have you screaming and shouting across my medical bay, can’t you see what a — ’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ he cut-in, shaking visibly. ‘But, you haven’t seen what I’ve just seen.’

  It was serious.

  Pressing Kemp into another blue plastic chair, Prior signalled for a glass of water. When the pathetically small paper cone of H2O arrived he shook his head a little and handed it to Kemp.

  He waited for him to drink it down and catch his breath.

  ‘Now, what is it?’ he asked.

  Kemp opened his mouth, but no words came. Only the tiniest sound — a strange sound that conveyed only his horror and disbelief as he tried to translate his thoughts into language — managed to escape his lips. He shook his head over and over, seeing something in his mind’s eye that Prior could not access.

  ‘Adrian,’ Prior said patiently, as the man began to sniff, his eyes filling with tears, ‘I can’t help if you don’t tell me.’

  ‘I don’t know how old she could have been.’ he whispered.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The girl . . . in room fifteen-thirty-four. She . . . she’s dead, Prior.’

  ‘What?’ he exclaimed, equally unnerved and intrigued by Kemp’s statement. ‘Did it look like suicide?’

  Kemp shook his head gravely. ‘It looked like a bloody horror movie. Like a . . . butcher’s shed.’ He struggled to finish the sentence, before violently throwing up the contents of his stomach across the bleached linoleum floor.

  Dr Matthews expelled a sharp grunt in annoyance, before clawing at one of the junior nurses to fetch a mop and bucket.

  And an extra bucket for Kemp in case it happened again.

  Prior caught Mathews gently by the arm, ‘She needs looking at.’ he said, nodding towards Kelly.

  For a moment it seemed that Matthews would argue the point with him. But, she did not. Instead, she reeled off a list of names and called for equipment, medicines and an IV drip as she finally turned her attention to the battered and bloodied body of Kelly Livingstone.

  ‘Well, she’s alive.’ she said, almost nonchalantly. Christine raised an eyebrow as Matthews began checking over the artist. ‘She’s lost a fair amount of blood . . . and has certainly taken a battering . . . hmm, her ribs might . . . no, I don’t think they’re broken. She’ll need stitches though . . .’

  Her voice trailed off as she continued to press her palms against Kelly’s beaten body. Christine looked away, catching Prior’s eye.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he asked.

  She nodded, shakily. ‘Do you need . . . is there anything I can do?’ she said, her eyes flicking towards Kemp who was still shaking and vomiting intermittently, his head hung low over a small, grey plastic bucket that sat on his knee.

  He looked lost. A still and tortured thing misplaced amidst the chaos of the medical Marathon that swooned around him.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d want to get involved.’ Prior said, without cruelty.

  ‘I probably don’t. But, I’d rather be helping you. I’d rather be use
ful. If I can.’ Her gaze fell on Kemp once more, ‘If I don’t . . . and more people . . .’

  The words seemed to catch in Christine’s throat, but Prior understood perfectly. He’d been there.

  In that same position.

  Torn between fear and self-hatred; carrying both the tortured burden of survival and the knowledge that if he chose to turn away from helping out with a case and more innocent people paid with their lives, that he would only have to carry a heavier, guiltier burden along with him in the future.

  He nodded and extended his arm as before. This time Christine slipped her arm through his without hesitation, but still with a reserved sense of defiance, trying not to wince as she rubbed the false knee joint once more.

  ‘Take care of her.’ she said, her eyes narrowing with concern as she spoke to Dr Matthews.

  The physician glanced up, even as she continued to check over Kelly’s bruised ribs for fractures and brakes. ‘Wait,’ she said, turning suddenly from Christine and Prior, her tightly bound blonde pony-tail bobbing ferociously as she moved quickly about the room; her severe features pulled into a firm frown as she shooed people out of her way.

  She spoke briefly to yet another young nurse who nodded and rushed out of sight as Matthews returned to Christine with a small box. ‘Diclofenac Sodium.’ she said, ‘Take two now and another two in three to four hours time. It’ll help with the pain. Have you eaten?’

  Christine nodded — slightly bewildered — as Matthews popped two tablets and thrust them into her palm. She stared at the ugly brown pills for a moment before popping them into her mouth and swallowing.

  She’d never had trouble with taking tablets and rarely needed a drink to wash them down. Though, she soon wished she’d taken these tablets with a very large glass of water, struggling with the acrid taste that now coated the back of her throat and trying not to let the look of disgust show on her face.

  She didn’t succeed.

  ‘Thank you.’ she said, coughing.

  Dr Matthews smiled a small, tight smile and gestured to beyond Christine and Prior. They turned to see the nurse that Matthews had spoken to only moments earlier hurrying back into the room. She carried an ugly-looking metal walking stick that she presented to Christine as if it were a trophy.

  Christine breathed out an irritated sigh, gritting her teeth.

  ‘I thought you might need this.’ Matthews said.

  Inhaling slowly, Christine forced herself to smile as she thanked the nurse and Matthews alike.

  It wasn’t Matthews’ fault, she told herself. She was only trying to help. She didn’t know — couldn’t know — just how deeply she was wounding her fragile pride.

  Prior picked up on Christine’s irritation and the awkwardness that was now pressing down upon them like stale air. His reaction was stereotypical of his sex, brushing off the moment with a jolt and three small words as he turned towards the exit; ‘Come on then.’

  Christine nodded, twisting awkwardly as she tried to find a comfortable position and range of movement with the horrid, grey stick. It was a little too short for her liking, causing her to stoop on her initial few steps towards the door. But once she had found her feet, she straightened her spine; stretching out and enjoying the satisfying crack that followed.

  She would not stoop!

  ‘Are you ok?’ Prior asked.

  ‘Yes. I’m fine.’ she snapped, a little harshly. She was immediately sorry for this and he seemed to understand and accept her silent apology. ‘So, how do we find this room?’

  Leaving the medical bay was like stepping out of the sunlight and into the darkest of dark winter nights. Both Prior and Christine blinked, stunned for a moment by the sudden intensity of the shadows that blanketed the inner deck; the low-level emergency lighting doing little to aide their quest for vision.

  ‘This way.’ said Prior, taking the lead and turning to the left down the vast corridor. It was surprisingly clear considering all that had gone on.

  Obviously, the passengers didn’t yet know about the atrocity in engineering. Only a handful, including himself, had any idea about that. But he had, in all honesty, expected to be confronted by a wide-spread panic following the sudden loss of power.

  Maybe there had been a certain amount of chaos. Earlier.

  Perhaps he had missed it.

  Perhaps Andrews had actually managed to organise his crew and contain the alarm. Contain the panic before it really set in.

  Prior couldn’t fight the small grin that curled his lip at the corner as he thought of Andrews actually taking charge of something like that; Well, stranger things had happened!

  ‘So,’ Christine said, cutting through the meandering trail of his thoughts, ‘are you going to tell me what you know?’

  He looked at her, admiring her courage. Knowing how she must have suffered, though he was aware of only a fraction of the details surrounding the Butler ordeal.

  ‘A man was killed in engineering.’ he said, ‘The deputy-chief. Gary Blakely. Someone used his codes and . . .’ his voice became small again, barely audible even in the relative silence of the unmoving ship, ‘they changed the time sequences on the emergency lock-down facility. It’s used to contain and extinguish any fires that may break out in engineering. Only the time delay and code sequences guarantee the crew the time they need to evacuate the area.’

  Christine stopped, feeling the gravity of his words as if the atmospheric pressure had increased three-fold, pressing down on her chest, making her fight to catch her breath. ‘Those people in the medical bay . . .’ she whispered.

  ‘The engineering crew.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ she said as they pressed slowly forward, ‘I’m so sorry. I . . . was there no way of resetting the system or aborting the command from inside the lockdown area?’

  Prior shook his head, ‘There wasn’t time. The delays on the lockdown and the CO2 release were specifically designed to prevent anything like this from happening, but they had been tampered with . . . and it was Blakely’s codes that authorised the alterations.’

  ‘Do you think it was him?’

  ‘If it was, he didn’t do it willingly. He was a mess. Merged with the backup CPU.’

  ‘Merged?’ Christine asked breathlessly as they reached a flight of stairs.

  Prior stopped; turning to look at the petit psychologist as she hobbled along besides him.

  A handful of her soft, brown hair bounced in a tangle of curls about her face, having escaped the constriction of the taut bun that sat at the base of her skull.

  She was an attractive woman; there was no doubt about that. And she had a natural grace about her that made her seem elegant and refined even whilst struggling with the monstrous stick Dr Matthews had provided. She looked closer to her early thirties than her early forties, younger still when she smiled.

  Prior felt a pang of guilt and his heart ached as his mind was flooded suddenly with thoughts and memories and the image of Rachel Adams. Even just noticing how attractive Christine Kane really was felt like a great betrayal.

  How could he do that? How could he do that to her?

  ‘Blakely’s face,’ he continued, shaking off the thoughts of Rachel, ‘and most of his body were . . . melted to the CPU.’

  Christine let out a small gasp, but retained her composure.

  Prior strained to look down the stairwell, it seemed clear of obstruction. ‘Can you manage — ’

  To his surprise and delight, he saw that Christine was already making her way down the stairs, a step at a time, before he could even finish his sentence. Or make an offer of assistance. This was a woman who clearly didn’t accept aid lightly.

  As Prior moved to follow, he felt a large hand on his shoulder. He jumped, tensing; ready to deliver a short, sharp jab to the mid-riff of the owner of that hand.

  It was Davies.

  Didn’t he ever tire of jogging up and down this ship?

  ‘Guv’,’ he breathed, ‘you left this.’ He held up the large to
rch that Prior had somehow managed to leave behind him in the medical bay. ‘Thought you might need it.’

  Prior nodded, ‘Thanks. Did you speak to Captain Andrews?’

  ‘Yeah. Briefed him and Roberts . . . they’re looking through the crew files and passenger lists now.’

  ‘I bet that pleased them. Trawling through papers like a couple of ensigns.’

  ‘Yeah. I told ‘em it was your idea!’ Davies sniggered.

  The lad truly was an insatiable ball of energy that simply couldn’t be contained, with a smile that was more than contagious, it was epidemic! You simply couldn’t dislike Davies. Even if you wanted to.

  ‘Thanks for that.’ Prior said, as he flicked on the LED torch and the pair made their way down the stairs behind Christine, ‘You might as well come along with us now that you’re here.’

  ‘Where are we headed?’

  ‘Room fifteen-thirty-four.’ Prior said. He made a gesture towards Christine and was about to introduce the pair. But, as they turned the corner that brought them onto the main corridor of that level, they were immediately confronted by a crowd of people gathering around the two young men that had been posted outside the closed door of room fifteen-thirty-four.

  As they approached, several women in the crowd surged forward, shouting and clawing at the stifled maintenance officers. ‘Let us in!’ they cried, ‘We want to see Stacey.’

  ‘I need to see my sister!’ called another, as she scrambled to grab the cardkey attached to one of the officer’s belts.

  With a precise slight-of-hand and an awesome speed, the feisty, young blonde had slipped the cardkey through the reader and thrown open the door before the officer had even had a chance to react.

  There were gasps of horror and repulsion as the door swung back. This was followed by a moment of sickly silence when all the sound seemed to dissipate as if it had simply been sucked out of the lungs of the spectators and the gossips gathered before the suddenly exposed scene.

  Strung up on the metal curtain pole opposite the door was the bloody, naked body of a twenty-something year-old girl; her arms spread wide. It seemed that several torn pairs of nylon tights held the girl aloft, while the bloodied drapes that fell in symmetrical arcs below her arms looked like open wings.