by Trimboli, TJ
He uttered the words so quickly Bobbi couldn’t keep up. Beware the what? What plague? Aren’t sparrows birds? She could barely comprehend any of it. She got so caught up in her own thoughts she never noticed Trent had finally made eye contact with her. It was as if the devil sat in front of her staring into the deepest parts of her soul.
Bobbi slowly backed away.
Trent stood up off the stool, walking like a drunk toward her. “It’s not long now. The flames of sorrow have ignited and the foul stench of death plagues the air. The seneschal will come. A war will ignite. Death must be paid for life.” Trent came upon her with all his weight tumbling into her.
She screamed.
Her scream came with so much force that it flung her awake, falling off of her lounge chair by the pool. She backed up against the chair wrapping her arms around her legs. She scanned the area to assess her surroundings. She seemed safe for the moment. The pool lounge was abandoned. No one within eyeshot but she could hear their chatter. They were somewhere nearby. Just as she thought the chatter was all in her mind, she saw them. A group of people off by the portside of the ship. They were all gasping and talking over one another. She couldn’t make out what was being said but it suddenly all came flooding back to her.
She checked her watch. The ship was due to be back in Rome’s harbor today by noon. All the people were idling by watching the ship dock. She relaxed. The horrible dream was just that, a dream, brought on by all the mimosas and sunshine she was basking in this morning. Bobbi wanted to get as much fulfillment of her last day as possible. From here, she and Trent would board a plane out of Rome to head back home. Bobbi couldn’t mask her sadness. This two week long cruise had been just the refresher she needed. The last thing she felt ready to do was to walk back through those doors, once more to be engulfed in the dread and suffering that was the NYPD.
Picking her bag up, she stuffed her towel and people magazine back inside. She turned to head for her cabin but her legs wouldn’t budge.
A woman screamed.
Bobbi turned towards the crowd to see a woman collapse. To Bobbi’s horror, no one even passed a second glance as the woman went down.
No one turned to help her. She lay there unconscious as dozens around her ignored her cries.
Bobbi wasted no time and sprang into action. Her legs finally working in tandem with her as she pushed and shoved people aside, making her way towards the frail old woman. She lay entrenched by the people around her. Bobbi managed to reach her but by then it was too late.
She felt for a pulse only to be rebuffed. The woman was dead.
It must have been a heart attack. And these people did nothing.
Bobbi stood up, shouting and pushing at the people around her. “What is the matter with you people? Are you so blind and selfish that you didn’t see this woman collapse around you, gasping for help? You did nothing while she died. Have you no hearts?”
Yet still, no one would respond. They stared ahead off the port of the ship at the harbor in horror. Men stood speechless. Women with their mouths agape, clutched their children tight while they wept in their arms, using them as shields to blind them from the atrocity on land. An old man made the signs of the cross.
Bobbi stared feeling flabbergasted at them. She turned to see what all the commotion was about and it took only a second for her to join them.
She saw the harbor as it lie in ruin. Hundreds of people racing for any kind of boat they could find. The coastguard’s boat, a dingy, a rowboat, anything to get away. From what they ran from, she knew not. A warehouse containing copious amounts of fuel went up in flames, exploding. The debris went everywhere. A metal pipe sheared a man in two from the breakneck speed of its trajectory. Bricks collided into the boats in the harbor, destroying many people’s chances of escape.
Bobbi recoiled in horror at the sight of so many men, women and children incinerating with the warehouse. Yet she couldn’t look away. She watched as they ran around aimlessly, furiously trying to douse the flames that engulfed them. None succeeded.
Gunfire permeated the sound waves. Bullet after bullet, second after second, with no end in sight. They saw guards, harbor masters, regular citizens all take up arms against an enemy they couldn’t make out over the roaring of the fire’s burning before their eyes. Men and women all around the harbor were attacked and murdered by an enemy too fast for their eyes to catch.
“Can anyone see whose doing it? Is it ISIS?” a random passenger suddenly asked.
The crowd began their conjecture as Bobbi searched all across the harbor for any sign of who this mysterious enemy could be. She drowned out the noise of the people around her as she honed in on the harbor. Through the flames, she could just barely make out what sounded like a rabid dog. Dozens of them. She looked up into the large central building they would have deboarded at. It felt like just yesterday, she was walking through those halls with Trent gearing up to set off on this wondrous adventure. How quickly life can change in two weeks. She saw into the room where her passport had been stamped, for only the second time in her life, as scores of guards lit up the room with gunfire.
The guards were cut down one by one. Each enemy moving too quickly to be seen. One of the guards was thrown through the window and they all watched as he fell three stories to his death. He landed face first with a sickening thud. His face split open like a watermelon. Everyone around her screamed. One man became so horrified, he retched all over the deck of the ship. Then suddenly—they got their first glimpse of the enemy.
A figure stood on the precipice of the window sill. A man once, but ravaged by some kind of disease as far as she could tell. Boils infested his skin as if someone had bathed the poor man in an oil drum of acid. His body raw and red, the dead skin flapping in the wind. He was naked as the day he was born. Where his cock should’ve been, lay a ruin of cuts, scars and bruises. He roared. His war cry, a guttural scream of agony. The sound a wild animal makes right before it leaps in for the kill. The man leapt off the window sill landing atop the dead guard below.
No one expected what they saw next.
The man scooped up portions of the guard’s brain feasting upon it. He dipped the brains into the smatter of blood on the floor as if the brains were simply a nacho chip and the blood the sauce.
Bobbi could feel her breakfast making its way back up. She held it together and swallowed it back down. It did no one any good to retch here.
The man continued his feast as dozens more like him approached. Men, women, children, all rotted away to cuts, scars and burns, she never imagined people could survive through. The dozens around him all approached cautiously like a pack of wolves waiting their turn. The man held his position like a prideful lioness protecting her kill. He warded them off by growling and screaming at the herd around him. They all backed off to fend for their own kills. There seemed to be a pecking order to these beasts.
Suddenly, the most obvious thought plunged into her head. “We’re heading right for it. Why hasn’t the captain stopped the ship?” she whispered to herself. She rounded on the others around her. “WHY HASN’T THE CAPTAIN STOPPED THE SHIP!”
Suddenly, as if on cue, the ship came to a screeching halt. The crowd around Bobbi tumbled to the floor. Bobbi lost balance herself and collapsed into the woman in front of her. The woman hit against the rail careening over it. Bobbi reached out to grab her but the weight of the woman was too much for her. She slipped from her grasp falling the fourteen stories into the blue waters below. She landed in the ocean with a such a thud, the reverberating sound boomed like she’d went through concrete.
Bobbi stared down at the water. Come on. Please god, let her have survived the fall.
It felt like hours but finally the woman surfaced. She screamed in agony, as if the force of the fall had broken every bone in her body.
Bobbi sighed a cry of relief. Her respite temporary. The woman in the water had nowhere else to go but land.
The land with them. Those foul beast
s.
She swam for shore. The boat lurched to life sailing starboard. They were turning off the coast.
Bobbi could only watch as the boat left this poor woman to die.
On the dock, the harbor turned into a bloodbath. The creatures made quick work of anyone in their wake. None stood even the slightest of chances. A young man with his whole life ahead of him was torn apart limb by limb in the blink of an eye. Two creatures each taking part in devouring his body.
A guard rallied people to his truck only to discover his keys were not on his person anymore.
The creatures made quick work of the horde of people. The keyless guard watched the slaughter. He did what he perceived to be the easiest way out for himself. He placed his handgun to his head and pulled the trigger.
A woman was slashed in the back attempting to run for the ocean. She carried an infant child in her arms. She crawled towards the edge of the pier, the creatures cornering her, creeping in for the kill. She did the only thing she could think of to spare her child this grisly death. She tossed the infant into the waters below as the creatures ravaged her body ripping the fat off her bones.
The baby sunk to its final resting place below.
The woman who fell from the boat saw the baby and lunged for it.
Yes, save the child! Bobbi screamed in her head as she watched the woman go under. Her optimism turned quickly sour as the seconds rolled on. The woman never resurfaced. The bubbles creeping up to the surface dwindled until finally, they ceased all together. Time felt like it a crept to a standstill. She watched as the creatures all circled around the center of the harbor feasting on the corpses procured after a day of raiding. She attempted to wrest herself away from the scene but couldn’t. Suddenly, a family of four appeared from behind a set of crates sneaking towards the pier. It took no time at all before the creatures were upon them. As she watched the family make their way for the pier, she felt the nausea returning. This time, she didn’t think she’d be able to hold it.
Bobbi tried to walk away but she stumbled through the crowd. No one tried to steady her.
She retched. The last thing she saw before passing out was her descent into the pool of her own vomit.
CHAPTER TWO
BOBBI
Bobbi lurched awake in her bed gasping for air. The room was pitch black. Sweat poured off her face dampening the bed. Shivering, she felt around for her shirt. With the rampant spread of disease on this ship, the last thing she needed was to catch a cold. There was too much to do, too many people relying on her. She found her shirt at the end of the bed, soaked in sweat from the night’s terrors. The dreams were becoming more and more frequent. They’d also taken a turn for the morose. Dead bodies following her, Trent’s constant mumbo jumbo, the reliving of that terrible moment over and over again.
What did it mean?
She would ask Richard about it later when she saw him. There were only a few people on this ship she felt comfortable enough with to tell of these visions and Richard was one of them. He was, after all, a respected psychologist.
She fumbled around in the dark until she managed to make it to the dresser. On it was a set of matches and a candle, one of the last of its kind. She struck the match igniting the flame. Hovering it over the candle, the walls crept to life illuminating the room before her. She resided in one of the smaller state rooms on the cruise ship. A tiny closet barely big enough to hold a third of the clothes Trent brought. A bathroom so compact, it left you feeling like a giant in a midget’s home. How the staff managed to squeeze a love seat couch in front of the mirror she would never be able to figure out. All in all, the room wasn’t much bigger than the average interrogation room.
This thought depressed her. Even when you get out from under the force, it finds a way to stay with you.
She looked back at her bed. The sheets were drenched, the frame dented. Grime and muck dirtied her pillow. This is what it must have felt like back in feudal days.
Thankfully, she had another bed to dirty all to herself. Looking at the cot next to her made her think of Trent. He hadn’t slept in their room since the last night of the cruise. It felt like another life since that night. They had a formal dinner at The View with a lesbian couple they had met, Tina and Becky Fontaine. Bobbi had worn the nicest dress she’d ever owned in her life, at the behest of Trent. A floral print evening dress extending down to her ankles, blue with traditional style Chinese drawings of a coral reef in full bloom. Just as ostentatious as it was alluring. All eyes had been on her that night, much to her disgust. A tomboy all her life, she felt very much a fish out of water in that garb. She would have felt much more comfortable in the single breasted longline blazer Becky adorned herself in.
Trent had worn a white tuxedo with a black bowtie. His father’s watch keeping perfect time on his wrist, he’d been very much the life of the party that night. A drink always in hand, doing perfect toasts, dancing with all the girls. He knew how to keep the good times rolling.
How things could change in the blink of an eye.
Chasing the thoughts away, she lifted the candle taking three steps to the dresser. A large mirror rested atop it. She stood still, basking in her reflection. It’d been a long time since she’d made use of it. Her makeup bag sat, unused. The contours and foundations melting away in the heat of the room. The blow-dryer, still plugged in, collected dust beside it. She studied her face in the mirror. A ghost stared back. How long had it been since she last showered? She felt like a P.O.W. Bags under her eyes, hair falling out, cracks and blemishes seeping through her skin. The days were still hitting ninety degrees but you couldn’t tell from her pale white complexion. She felt every bit as hollow as she looked.
Life on this ship hadn’t been kind to her or anyone else for that matter. The Reckoning had changed them all. Such a stupid name. The more spiritual denizens of the ship gave that fateful day its name. It started with one Kendra Young. Bobbi knew next to nothing about her. Never saw or heard a peep out of her until the day she magically appeared during a meeting in the auditorium the first day after the night riot. Everyone had gathered to figure out what the next steps towards survival would be.
Kendra appeared declaring that our day to answer for the sins we’d committed in life had arrived. Those creatures, or zombies as she referred to them, were the instruments of our demise.
Come to tear us apart, she emphatically told any who’d listen. She claimed every bite, every tear at our skin was a different sin being answered for. Zealots. Though after that day, one follower turned into two which then turned into ten. Last she checked, Kendra had amassed a hundred followers of the one thousand left on board. The ship had set sail from Rome with seventeen hundred people on board.
Have we really lost so many?
A resounding thud echoed through the room. It knocked Bobbi out of her trance. She peered around the room. It came from somewhere close by.
THUD.
Another reverberated through her eardrums. She saw the ripples in the wall from the corner of her bed. Something on the other side was the cause of the ruckus. More thumps followed. Each one louder and more ferocious than the last. The dressers shook, the candle flickered almost toppling over. Bobbi steadied the candle and grabbed a small black case from under the dresser. She placed it on the table. Entering the three digit code, the black case sprung open revealing her Colt .38 special. It was her pride and joy. A lifelong fascination with firearms and westerns led to her and the .38 special uniting at a gun show in Kentucky one summer’s day. It was a perfect revival of a Frontier Six Shooter with a nickel finish. She carried it everywhere. Filling out the required forms and paper work had been a hassle of unfathomable nature but looking back on it now it may very well go down as the best idea she ever had.
She was one of only two people on board with a gun, the other being Trent, this fact had made her sheriff whether she wanted the gig or not. It didn’t matter to her. She knew no matter how far she ran, the badge would follow her. It wa
s inescapable. Fate is a fickle mistress, one that won’t let you squirm away without a fight. You had to earn your freedom from your torment.
This ship was her penance.
She held the Colt in her hand inspecting it. The thuds increased. One practically every second. It had become so loud, she half expected someone to come crashing through the wall. But the wall held and the banging continued. Bobbi pulled on the cylinder latch with the thumb of her hand. She loaded four bullets into their respective chambers. The case held eight but she pushed those thoughts out of her mind.
I did what I had to do to keep these people safe. That’s all I will say about that.
Sliding the cylinder back into place, she spun the chambers loading the pistol. The frequency at which the banging commenced caused Bobbi’s hands to shake uncontrollably. She grabbed her jeans, slipping into them as fast as she could. Whatever it was on the other side of the wall needed her help and she was wasting too much time. She caught her foot on the inseam and tumbled to the floor. Ignoring the bruise, she fastened her belt around her pants. She grabbed one of Trent’s shirts off the couch in front of the dresser; a stone cold Steve Austin shirt that read, “Fuck Fear” on the front. The U was replaced by the classic chrome skull he so often used. As she threw the shirt on over her head, the banging ceased. Bobbi froze, eyes glued to the wall.
Silence.
She felt more alarmed now than ever. She grabbed the gun, holstering it at her waist. Lastly, she grabbed a necklace off the table. Fastening it around her neck, it had her wedding band and engagement ring attached. Taking the candle, she made her exit. A small hatchet hung on a hook next to the door. She grabbed it. It was stained with blood. She secured it on her belt. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
The hallways were no different. Darkness crept over every inch of space imaginable. Bobbi held the candle out in front of her. The light bounced off every surface, revealing the grime stained walls, the torn carpets, covered in muck. The painting in front of her had been slashed at the middle. It was silent as a crypt. In the beginning, she longed for the silence. The sixth floor had been abandoned for its close proximity to the bottom dwellers, so she was never disturbed.