Domain of the Dead

  “You worried one of those things could get loose on board?” Nathan asked.

  “No, worse than that. The top brass are worried the contagion will mutate and become airborne.” Doctor Robertson placed a hand on the wall to steady herself from her spinning head and the lurching of the ship. “That’s the fear that fuels the animosity between the two of them. It doesn’t help that Professor Cutler is a risk taker and Warden… well, he plays it by the book.” Doctor Robertson shrugged. “Fire and water.”

  “More like fire and gasoline,” Nathan corrected.

  “Just a moment,” Doctor Robertson said as they reached the door to the laboratory. “I’m not sure if Professor Cutler had finished what he was working on,” she lied, fearful that Nathan might spot the signs of their tryst. “I’ll quickly pop in.”

  Doctor Robertson slipped into the lab. It was dark inside and she had automatically went for the light switch. A soft moan emanated from the gurney Professor Cutler lay on. By the tight shaft of light from the door, it looked like he was rousing.

  Doctor Robertson moved her finger away from the light switch. He had been dead to the world when she had left him and she didn’t want to wake him unnecessarily. “I’m just getting some Scopolamine, David. Both Nathan and me are feeling a bit queasy,” she whispered apologetically.

  Another grumble came from the direction of the gurney.

  “I’m going to go back to my cabin to sleep it off,” Doctor Robertson said as she removed the container from where she had left it five minutes ago.

  Professor Cutler let out a mournful groan.

  “I’m sorry, David. I’m not feeling great. I think I’ll be better of in my own bed.” She stopped for a moment and clasped the white plastic pill tub with both hands. She took half a step forward, about to kiss her lover goodnight when a tight cramp seized her gut. She winced against the discomfort.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said before she turned and left the lab.

  The door clicked shut, leaving the room in darkness again. In awkward puppet-like movements, Professor Cutler made his clumsy way off the gurney. He slipped, pushing the gurney away from under him and landed heavily on his knees, his left arm flailing out until it found the purchase of the second gurney. His hand grasped around the arm of the tethered zombie. The creature simply lay there motionless. Unlike before, it didn’t try to lash out at the other occupant in the room. It simply lay there unconcerned.

  Professor Cutler pulled himself up and shuffled stiffly to the door. He bumped into the closed hatch and stood there motionless, stymied by the barrier in front of him.

  Frustrated by the obstacle, he let out a low, asthmatic sigh of breath.

  On the gurney behind him, the bound zombie struggled, trying to join in.

  * * *

  Doctor Robertson popped open the lid of the tub. She dipped in her fingers and pulled out two of the pastel pink tablets. She squeezed the lid back on and handed the container over to Nathan, keeping the ones she had removed in her fist.

  “Take one of those with a small amount of water as soon as you get back to your cabin,” she warned. “Just take the one. These are very strong. You shouldn’t need to take any more for at least six hours.” She paused and screwed up her eyes as a cramp took hold of her stomach.

  Nathan held out a hand to steady her. “You okay, Doctor?”

  She nodded. “This doesn’t feel like sea sickness. I thing we might have food poisoning.”

  “Sarah and Jennifer looked fine when I left them.”

  “Well, hopefully it’s just us.” Doctor Robertson straightened up and stepped away from Nathan’s supporting hand. “Now, you can only take three of these a day…”

  “Three a day, tops,” Nathan acknowledged, nodding.

  “If Sarah and Jennifer get sick, let me know straight away. If they do, then chances are we’ve all got food poisoning and the Captain will need to know.”

  “Okay.”

  “If Sarah does take ill you can give her a pill, but not Jennifer. She’s too young. If she does fall ill, come fetch me.”

  “Sure.”

  Doctor Robertson had reached her cabin door. “Now this isn’t like before; we can’t just hop down to the local pharmacy and get some more, so if you don’t use them all or if they don’t work, bring the rest back to me.”

  Nathan looked down at the precious white plastic tub. “Yeah, sure thing.”

  * * *

  Again an icy torrent of water found its way into Patterson’s waterproofs. He felt his clothes cling to his body, tugging against his every move. The cold water drew yet more heat away from his skin. This was a part of the Navy he’d never liked. He didn’t like being wet. In Patterson’s experience, if you were wet in the Navy something had gone wrong. Tonight just reaffirmed that belief. He peered over the top of his rain-splashed glasses to get a better look at the broken supports. A barrel had come loose and been tossed into the raised deck of the helicopter landing pad. Three of the four supports on the side it had struck were damaged; one knocked free, the other two smashed. The barrel was lodged under the platform by some of the debris it had carried with it.

  Patterson looked up. The ship’s carpenter was pointing the beam of his torch at the damage and behind him stood two equally drenched deck dogs.

  Patterson shook his head. “Ah, shit.”

  “What do you say, sir? Lash it down and fix it after the storm?” the carpenter said hopefully.

  “Sorry, Kelly,” Patterson said as he straightened himself up. “Normally I’d say yes, but with Idris out on a rescue op we’ve got no idea when he’ll be coming back. We might not have the time and he might not have the fuel to wait for us to fix it.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Kelly said reluctantly.

  Patterson heard the disappointment in the man’s voice. He knew this wasn’t a choice job, but he knew they couldn’t risk not fixing it. He also knew he would have to chip in. Not that his men weren’t capable, but because he had to be seen to endure the same hardships as those he commanded. “Get what you need from Stores, Kelly. We’ll try to free the barrel.”

  Kelly nodded and trudged down the deck, through the spray, towards the hatchway.

  Patterson addressed his two helpers: “Okay, we need to get a rope secured to this. One of us under the platform guiding it out, the other two at this side pulling—”

  His planning was interrupted by a scream in the direction of the poop deck. Looking round, he saw the door hatch wide open and Kelly slumped in the corridor.

  Patterson ran as best he could across the tilting deck. Waves rocked the ship so that the door swung open and shut with each swell, shut obscuring Patterson’s view of the stricken joiner.

  The door slammed shut just as he reached it. Grabbing the handle, Patterson heaved it open, bracing himself against the roll of the boat.

  “Hold this!” he shouted to the first deck hand to reach him.

  Patterson jumped inside.

  “Mah’ fuckin’ hand!” Kelly cursed, sitting against a bulkhead with his arms folded in as if to conserve warmth.

  “Let me see,” Patterson said calmly.

  Kelly unfolded his arms and held out a shaking hand. The tip of his right index finger was missing. Remarkably there was very little blood, just a flap of skin and some raw pulp.

  “What happened?”

  Kelly nodded towards the door. “Blew shut on me.”

  Patterson looked round to see a pink and red blob by the door. It sloshed back and forward with the waves. “You’d better wake Doctor Robertson,” he said. “You okay to make your own way down?”

  “Yeah, sure. What about the platform?”

  “We’ll handle that. Just you get yourself fixed up.”

  * * *

  A moan of twisting metal shuddered down the whole length of the ship as she pushed through the storm. Again Doctor Robertson convulsed. The cramps had whipped their way through her whole body like tendrils. Frail gasps of pain withered
out of her arid mouth and into the languid silence of her empty cabin. Beads of perspiration bathed her pallid skin. Her frozen joints were torn between shivering muscles and even the shallow pants she took scorched her lungs. A cough clawed its way out of her reluctant chest, wracking her with pain from her diaphragm to her lips. She spluttered out a final breath of red frothy droplets. This time she didn’t take an inhalation. A few drops of pink, foamy saliva crawled their way down her cheek onto the sweat-soiled pillowcase.

  A knock came at the door.

  Doctor Robertson’s eyes shot open.

  “Look, I’m coming in so you’d better be decent,” the anxious voice said.

  Doctor Robertson cocked her stiff neck and began to raise herself from the bed.

  Again the knocking came at the door. “Look, I’ve lost the top off my finger, lady. I can hear you moving about in there.”

  Out of her bed and shuffling towards the door, Doctor Robertson gave out an excited moan.

  The door handle started to turn. “I’m coming in. I don’t care what you and Frankenstein are up to.”

  A shaft of light spilled into the dark room from the doorway. Kelly lent into the room, blinking as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. Out of the gloom he could make out the shape of Doctor Robertson coming towards him.

  She stretched out her hands and grabbed Kelly’s head.

  “What are you... Shit!” Kelly screamed as Doctor Robertson stepped into the light. He saw her face: Her lips cracked and broken, trails of blood across her chin and those milky eyes bereft of life.

  Off balance, leaning half through the doorway, Kelly couldn’t find the purchase to pull away.

  Doctor Robertson lunged in and started biting.

  Chapter 6: Squall

  Sarah panted. Her chest burnt with each breath. The sound of her trainers slapping against the tarmac cascaded around the alleyway. An agitated moan echoed after her, but in front of her she could see daylight in the street ahead.

  A silhouette shambled across her exit. Sarah skidded to a halt. More moans; their attention drawn by the noise. More shapes congregated at the end of the alley. Looking round, Sarah could see her pursuers lethargically ambling towards her. Frantically she looked around for an escape route. She threw herself against unyielding doors and with every failure the groaning crowd grew closer.

  Seizing an assortment of boxes and trashcans, Sarah started piling all that she could find under a fire escape. A gust of wind blew down the tight walls of the alley, bringing with it the stench of rotting flesh.

  The zombies were too close now to do anything else. Sarah flung herself at her pyramid of garbage. Her weight made her sink into the loosely packed material. Her hands and knees sunk down, pulled in by the mire. In slow motion-like movements, Sarah clambered up. Something swiped at her legs but missed its grasp. She kicked out harder, dislodging some of the structure beneath her. She pushed up, her left hand scrabbling at the rough brick wall for purchase, her right hand stretched out and clawing for the bottom rung of the ladder. Hands grabbed at her feet and legs.

  Sarah pushed off with all her strength. She felt the pile disintegrate and collapse beneath her. Her hand grasped out and clenched around the first rung of the ladder. Now with her full weight tugging on the rust-pitted rung, a squeal of metal dragging against metal sounded round the alley. Slowly the ladder started to pull down and as it slid further down she to sank deeper into the pile of trash and closer to the dead hands clawing at her. Before the ladder had time to trundle to a stop, Sarah threw her left hand onto the second rung and started to climb. The escape ladder sunk down to the ground and she climbed. Each thrust upwards did nothing more than keep her stationary. With a metallic clunk the ladder met its full extension and stopped moving. Kicking wildly against the grabbing hands, Sarah finally hauled herself beyond the reach of the ghouls. Gasping for air, she sat on the first landing. Beneath her the alleyway swarmed with the living dead, rotting arms outstretched for her.

  Sarah picked herself up, and finding the fire exits barred, she started walking along the ledge around the building. Her body flat against the wall, she cautiously edged her way along the alley towards the daylight and the street beyond. As she shuffled along she came to a window. Inside looked like the living room of a small apartment. As she picked her way around she noticed a pair of legs in the doorway between this room and the next. She continued shuffling along the ledge until she encountered the next window. Inside, lying on the kitchen floor, was a body. The girl on the floor was crouched over by a ravenous zombie, eviscerating its victim.

  This flat was familiar, but somehow out of context. In a flicker of insight, Sarah recognised the place.

  This was the flat she had shared with Tricia.

  Sarah took a second look at the victim. Behind the sandy blond hair and the blood splatters, it was her—the body on the floor was Sarah.

  She let out a gasp at the realisation.

  The zombie looked up from its feast. Its chin dripping with blood, its eyes dead and cold. Sarah expected to see her long dead flatmate, but it wasn’t. It was Sarah’s face that stared back at her with death’s gaze. Both the corpse and the zombie were her.

  Before Sarah had time to absorb any of this, the zombie picked itself up and with none of the familiar stiffness it charged at the window.

  Sarah stood there on the window ledge in disbelief as the glass shattered and the zombie doppelganger burst through. The impact knocked Sarah from the ledge and tumbling towards the sea of outstretched cadaverous arms.

  She kicked and screamed as she fell, propelling the bed covers across the cabin.

  “Fuck!” Nathan bellowed as he too sat bolt upright.

  Jennifer gave out a shrill scream as the ruckus woke her too.

  “It’s okay,” Sarah gasped as she regained her bearings. “I had a nightmare. That’s all.”

  “You scared the shit out of me,” Nathan complained.

  “Me too,” Jennifer added.

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

  The trio started settling back in.

  “How are you feeling anyway, Nathan?” Sarah asked.

  “Still shitty. Been lying here dozing.” Nathan rolled over to face Sarah from his bed. “I’m hungry but I’m too scared to eat any—”

  “Wait!” Sarah cut in. “Quiet!”

  Nathan and Jennifer lay there, silent and still. The ship was making low groans as she ploughed her way against the storm. The rain and the waves showered the porthole of their cabin while the wind found tight nooks and taut lines from which to whistle.

  Nathan shook his head, but kept quiet.

  After waiting fruitlessly for a repetition, Sarah finally explained, “I’m sure I heard a scream.”

  “I hate to say this,” Nathan said, “but could it just have been the wind?”

  “No, something doesn’t feel right,” Sarah replied.

  “Look, it’s our first night on a boat and we’re in the middle of a storm,” Nathan reasoned, rubbing his upset stomach. “Of course nothing feels right.”

  Sarah sat up and slipped her feet into her shoes.

  “Where are you going?” Jennifer asked.

  Sarah picked up the shirt she’d worn to dinner and slipped it over the baggy white vest and boxer shorts she’d worn to bed. “I’m going to take a look.”

  Jennifer looked worried.

  Sarah bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “It’s probably nothing, but if I don’t check I’ll be up all night worrying about it.”

  “If it was something serious, don’t you think they’d have a warning siren or something?” Nathan’s voice had reflected his own insecurity. It was more of a question than an attempt to allay anyone’s fears. After a moment he grumbled and tossed off his covers. “Ah, hell. I’m coming, too. Wasn’t getting any sleep anyways.” He pulled on his jeans and slipped on his trainers.

  “Can I come?” Jennifer asked.

  “No poin
t in us all losing sleep, honey,” Nathan said. “You wait here.”

  Sarah opened the door to the hallway. “Best lock the door, honey, and don’t open it until we get back.”

  Jennifer nodded.

  * * *

  The hallway was on night time lighting, with only half the lights illuminated. It felt deserted. Even the constant drone of the engine was lost to the noise of the storm outside.

  “Sarah,” Nathan said softly, getting her attention. “Why were you on the roof this morning?”

  “What?” Sarah asked, taken by surprise.

  “What were you doing up on the warehouse roof so early?”

  “Like I said, I couldn’t sleep,” Sarah said.

  “No, I said that,” Nathan corrected. “I don’t recall you saying anything.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Why wouldn’t you talk to me?”

  “Nathan, you’re not making sense.”

  Nathan slipped his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the envelope he’d been passed that afternoon. He held it out for Sarah. “You forgot to clear your pockets out when your stuff was taken to the laundry.”

  Sarah slowly reached out and took the letter from Nathan’s grasp. “I don’t know what to say, Nathan.”

  “Obviously not, otherwise you’d have spoken to me before you wrote this,” Nathan replied. “We would have thought of something even if these guys hadn’t shown up.”

  Sarah stood there, head bowed low.

  “Sarah, I… I wouldn’t want…” Nathan stopped, unable to say what he wanted.

  “Nathan, I never wanted to hurt anyone...”

  “But you would have.”

  Sarah let out a puff of breath that juddered with the beginning of a sob.

  Nathan broke in, “Any idea where we’re going?”

  “I was hoping I’d hear something,” Sarah confessed.