Jack was about to ask what the hell that meant, when a body came crashing into the room. It was another waiter. The terrified man was bloody and wounded, a wide gash running down the side of his neck. He tried to speak but could only manage to gargle on his own fluids before falling to the floor, dead.
“Shit.” Jack looked at his watch and saw that it was twenty-four minutes past eight. The infected had turned.
Joma looked down at his dead colleague and shook his head. “We need to get somewhere safe. I didn’t realise we’ve been talking for so long. I should have locked the door.”
Jack looked at the splintered frame of the flimsy door. “I’m not sure it would have made much of a difference. We’re going to have to go out through the bar area.” He peered out through the gap in the doorway and saw what he didn’t want to. “Damn. There are a couple of eyebleeders out there.”
“I can’t go out there,” Joma said anxiously.
“You’re going to have to. If we stay in here, they’ll eventually get in. Plus this dead waiter on the floor will be back on his feet soon. I’ve seen it happen before.”
“You need to get them out of the lounge, Jack, and barricade the doors.”
“It will be easier if we just run.”
“I can’t take the risk, Jack. I can’t.”
Jack pushed the broken door as closed as he could get it, then looked across the small room at Joma. “Why not? Why can’t you leave?”
“Because if I die the spell is broken.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Then you want to be careful I don’t bloody kill you. There’s nothing I want more than for this goddamn day to end.”
“If I die, then this is exactly how the day will end. Everyone onboard will become infected. And then it will get a whole lot worse. I’ve seen it, Jack. That’s what this whole thing is about. If I die tonight, the spell will be broken and there will be no hope left at all.”
There was no time for Jack to ask questions. One of the infected in the lounge had already spotted him peering out from the doorway and was coming over. It was an overweight man with a torn belly hanging out of his shirt like raw hamburger meat. He sprinted for Jack as soon as he clumsily managed to round the bar.
Jack braced his back against the broken door and fought to keep it closed. He looked at Joma for answers. “What the hell should I do?”
“Maybe, they will go away if we just keep them out of this room.”
“Are you serious?”
The infected man behind the door began to shriek like an animal and Jack’s body jolted as the weight against the door increased. The other infected passenger in the room had obviously joined the fat man’s efforts. Jack wouldn’t be able to hold the door for much longer. Joma ran up to help him brace it, but it was awkward for them both to find space and leverage.
“This isn’t going to work,” he said. “They’ll be in here as soon as we start to tire.”
“Maybe they will get tired first,” Joma suggested.
“Wake up. They’re not like us. I think they can just keep going until something tears them apart.”
The conversation became irrelevant when the dead waiter in the middle of the floor began to twitch. His fingers clawed at the carpet and a low moan started to escape his lips. Jack felt his skin tighten up in terror as he realised they were about to be surrounded by infected on both sides of the door.
“Your colleague is going to be on his feet any minute, Joma. We need to deal with him right now.”
“You do it,” Joma said in a voice so thick that it sounded as though he was on the verge of puking. “I’ll hold the door.”
“You sure you can hold it?”
Joma nodded.
Jack moved away from the door, fully expecting the two infected people to come crashing through it the moment he did so. Fortunately, Joma was able to hold it, allowing Jack to move over to the dead waiter, who was beginning to clutch and kick at the floor in an awkward attempt to get to his feet. Blood dripped from the man’s eyes and merged with the dye of the carpet fibres. Jack did the only thing he could think of; he raised his foot and brought it down as hard as he could on the waiter’s head. The blow was met with a wet thud, but it wasn’t enough to do the job, so Jack stamped again, harder, crushing the infected man’s skull against the floor.
Then he stamped again.
And again.
Eventually the waiter’s skull was a pulped mess against the carpet and left Jack feeling sick. Stamping on a person’s head was something he never thought he would be doing.
He turned around to face Joma and realised that the man was about to lose his struggle to keep the door closed. He stumbled away as the door flew open and the two infected passengers piled in.
Jack shoved Joma aside and met the two dead men head on, planting an open-palmed strike against the overweight one. The blow was only enough to send the man staggering backwards and colliding into his mate. Jack already knew that hand-to-hand didn’t work against the infected, but it could at least get them out the way.
“Joma, stand behind me. When I move, you follow. Understood?”
Joma scuttled behind Jack and stood an inch off his heels. “Understood, Jack.”
“Okay. When these two clowns get close enough, I’m going to try and shove them aside. Then we run for it.”
Jack made himself rigid, ready to strike like a cobra. The two infected recovered from their disorientation and came at him again. Jack sidestepped them both and shoved out with his arms. Their momentum took them over Jack’s outstretched leg and they clattered to the ground in a heap.
“Run!”
They bolted back into the lounge, which was now empty. The reception area beyond was not. There were almost a dozen infected passengers out in the hallways. They had not yet noticed Jack or Joma standing nearby.
That all changed when the overweight passenger came stumbling out of the lounge’s office and let out an animalistic shriek. The noise alerted the others outside and all at once they turned to look into the lounge area.
“Damn it!” Jack rushed over to the double doors and shoved them closed. A dozen bodies threw themselves against the wood and rabid fingernails tried to claw a way through. Jack turned the lock and put his back to the door, but arm came smashing through one of the door panels and grabbed a hold of his collar. It was sudden and unexpected/ Jack had been unprepared to resist. His found face being dragged into the shattered opening of the door, and could smell the sweet, putrid tang of open wounds and bleeding flesh. From behind him, Joma cried out as the overweight man and his companion stalked him around the lounge. Jack needed to get free, or everything he was fighting for would be for nothing.
He grabbed at the errant hand on his collar and yanked it away with a twisting snap! The fingers became tangled in his shirt and kept a hold on him, so he braced his feet against the door and kicked out hard. His t-shirt tore and he went flying backwards, landing on his hip. The double doors seemed to hold out on their own, despite the frenzied arms poking through the broken window, so Jack scrambled to his feet just in time to save Joma from being tackled to the ground. The overweight man had gotten a hold of him and was struggling to take a bite. The back and forth tussle sent both men off balance.
Jack shoved the overweight man just as Joma was about to tumble over. Immediately, Jack started to pummel his fists into the man’s pudgy face, not because he had any hope of incapacitating him, but because it would at least keep the man down.
“Joma, find me a weapon,” he shouted. “Something solid.”
After a moment of shocked inactivity, Joma got moving, leaving Jack to deal with the overweight man on the floor by himself. Along with the blood spewing forth from the man’s eyes, Jack’s barrage of punches had left his face a crimson mask. He was still snarling, though, ready to bite.
Jack was so consumed with keeping his current opponent down that he did not see the other infected passenger coming up on his flank. The man leapt up onto Jack’s bac
k and instantly began biting and tearing at the back of his neck. Jack screamed out as he felt a chunk of flesh come away from the bone. He shot to his feet with the passenger still clinging to his back. The overweight man began to rise to his feet in front of him, and Jack knew there was no way he could defend himself against both of them.
Suddenly the weight removed itself from Jack’s back and he spun around to find Joma standing over the body of the infected passenger with a heavy, glass ashtray. One corner of it was covered with blood and matted hair. Jack snatched it away from Joma and quickly turned to the overweight man who was now fully on his feet. He brought the ashtray down on the man’s head and no other blows were necessary.
“Okay,” Jack said, panting and moaning. “Let’s barricade ourselves back inside the office. We have to make it until midnight.”
***
The infected tried their best to get in, but with the sofa pushed up in front of the office door and several bar tables placed on either side of it, Jack and Joma were relatively safe. Safe enough that Jack had relaxed sufficiently to polish off almost a quarter bottle of whisky. The fuzzy feeling in the bottom of his guts was pleasant and almost made him forget the horror on the other side of the door. The bite on his neck had stopped bleeding and was now just tacky and moist. It throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He didn’t have long.
“You need to end this,” Joma said, flinching as something unseen was tipped over in the lounge. “Time is running out.”
“What do you mean?” Jack took another swig of liquor. “You still haven’t told me what the hell it is I’m supposed to do. Is it still against the rules now that your cover is blown?”
“No,” Joma said. “You found me, which makes anything I say to you a consequence of your actions, not mine. It is now within the rules that I tell you what you need to know.”
“So tell me already!” Jack almost shouted it. “I’m tired, Joma. So goddamn tired of this shit.”
Joma rubbed at his face and seemed to have yet more wrinkles. “This virus…. It’s not just a danger to the passengers on this ship. It’s going to wipe out the entire world.”
“You’re shitting me?” Jack gulped the whisky down to halfway and let out a long sigh. “And you know this how?”
“I saw it, Jack. People like me, those that can see the pathways, have dreams. These dreams show us glimpses of the future – especially tragic events. We see death on a grand scale. A person’s death causes a small pulse in the fabric of existence, but when many people die at once it creates a ripple that travels in all directions – including backwards. When one of these ripples travels backwards it can reach some people through their dreams. I dreamt of this ship, Jack. I dreamt of the virus. I saw the end.”
“What, so this virus turns into…what? An epidemic?”
“More like a global pandemic. It will wipe the earth clean of life in less than a year. The world will fall apart. It will be hell on earth.”
“How does it happen?”
“The ship will dock in Cannes tomorrow and from there the virus will spread throughout Europe and into Asia, reaching farther afield through national airports and contaminated food shipments. Once the Spirit of Kirkpatrick hits the mainland the virus will become unstoppable.”
Jack swallowed, and found his throat unbearably dry. “I don’t get it. Who would want to unleash something like this?”
“I don’t know, Jack. When I had the dream, I caught short flashes of the man responsible, but, for some reason, whenever I tried to focus, I kept getting images of a…of a doll’s face. All I know for sure is that if you do not stop this virus from reaching the shores of France, everyone is doomed.”
Jack felt faint. The throbbing of his neck wound had progressed to a full-on drumbeat pounding in his ears. “So what do I do? How do I stop it?”
Joma seemed to deflate. “I don’t know. I just knew the danger was coming and acted as fast as I could to stop tomorrow arriving until you could find a solution.”
Jack took another swig of whisky and felt himself getting a little dizzy. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the surrealism of the conversation, or the fact that he was dying. “How did you stop tomorrow coming? Tally told me you’re a pathwalker, but how do you mess with time itself?”
“By giving up the essence of my soul.”
Jack found himself laughing at the drama of the statement, but then he thought about what it meant. “What do you mean? Is that why you’re older than you were?”
“I’m dying, Jack. Every time the day resets and I hold back tomorrow, I age. Only eight or nine days at a time, but eventually I’ll run out of life and then the spell will break upon my death. You have to put a stop to this before it puts a stop to me. There is a candle in my room that gets smaller every day. It is how I fused my essence into the flow of time and gave myself the power to manipulate it.”
Jack shook his head and looked at Joma. The man was haggard and drawn. He hated to think how he would look in another week or two. “So, to save the world you had to give up your life?”
“It’s my purpose, Jack. Many of my ancestors have done the same thing. Global catastrophe is something that threatens us more often than you think, and it always starts with a small-minded group of people with big ideas. I was born knowing that I may have to die before my time. That is the burden my people carry – it is our honour and our duty. Don’t make my premature ending be in vain, Jack. You must find a way to stop this. You have to-”
Jack feel forward from the sofa and onto his knees. There was a burning in his stomach that was in contrast to the numbness everywhere else. He looked up at Joma and saw the man through a red-hazed filter. “The bite wound on my neck…I’m changing. You have to…”
Joma raised the glass ashtray over his shoulder and brought it down hard on Jack’s head.
Day 247
Jack sat up in bed and cursed out loud. His death had cut his conversation with Joma short just when things were becoming clearer to him. While he had learned many of the answers he had sought, he still had no idea what the hell he needed to do. Joma had said that time was running out and that if Jack didn’t stop the virus it would wipe out the world. It was time to focus.
He went into the bathroom to take a cold shower and clear his mind, and as he lathered himself up, he tried to put the pieces together. If Joma’s dreams were to be taken literally, then the person responsible for the outbreak had something to do with… a doll? It also seemed that Tally was somehow involved and that Donovan had been nothing but an unlucky bystander. Jack himself was only in this mess because his life lacked any meaning. He was only a lost soul with nothing to lose – a perfect martyr.
Once his shower was over with, Jack got dressed and thought about where to go next. He didn’t know how to find Joma during the day and he couldn’t waste time looking for him. They would catch up later at the Voyager Lounge, but until then his only priority was finding a way to contain the virus and stop it infecting the mainland.
There was a knock at the door.
Jack suddenly realised what a fool he’d been. With all that was going on in his head, he had forgotten that security would be coming for him. He had to get out of his cabin, but there would be no avoiding the guards outside.
Jack opened the door and immediately took a swing. He clocked the bearded man on the left with a haymaker and then backhanded the man on the right. Both guards stumbled backwards, but remained on their feet. Jack tried to run by them, but the wispy-bearded guard made a grab for him. He tried to struggle free but the other guard made a tackle at his thighs and knocked him off balance.
Jack was powerless to resist as his arms were secured behind his back with zip ties. The plastic cords pinched at his flesh, and he could do nothing as the guards hoisted him to his feet and escorted him to the brig.
***
They stuck Jack in the same office as before and left him to wait for the captain to arrive. He started to think that perhaps he was abo
ut to have a golden opportunity to stop the virus. If he could convince Marangakis that there was a deadly virus onboard the ship, perhaps he would quarantine it and alert the authorities. If the people on the mainland knew what to expect, they might be able to keep the virus thing contained.
Captain Marangakis entered the room. Jack stood up to greet him, but his offer of a handshake was declined.
Hardly surprising seeing as the man thought Jack was a rapist.
“Captain Marangakis, I am aware of the seriousness of the accusations that your waitress, Tally, has made against me, but I assure you that they are without merit. She has an agenda, of which I am not fully informed of yet, but I would ask that you put her petty vindictiveness aside for one moment and listen to me, because there is something far more important that we need to discuss.”
The captain’s interest seemed to have been piqued and he silently took a seat opposite Jack before staring him in the eye. “What are you talking about?”
“There is a weapon onboard this ship – and I don’t mean the illegal shipment of arms you have in your hold.”
Marangakis leant back in his seat and seemed surprised. “A weapon you say?”
“Yes, sir. A biological one. Someone onboard has released a virus among the passengers. If you take a walk around the ship you will see that about one third of your passengers have developed cold-like symptoms. By the end of tonight, most of them will be dead and the entire ship will be infected. You have to quarantine everyone to their cabins and keep them there. You have to tell the French Government to be ready for us when we make port in Cannes. The virus can’t escape onto the mainland.”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve, Mr Wardsley, but I will not allow you to cause a panic aboard my ship. My doctor has already informed me of the nasty cold going around my ship, but he also assured me that it is nothing to worry about. Your claims are unsubstantiated and you are just trying to subvert attention from the crime you have committed.”
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