by Perrin Briar
Thud!
A low groan, like a man grieving for his lost love, echoed into the night. The silhouette of a man loomed in the frosted glass of their cabin door. The silhouette grew larger as it moved closer, the door rattling in its frame as the figure bumped into it.
“What was that?” Francis said, his eyes still closed.
“It’s nothing,” Liz said. “Go back to sleep.”
I swear, Liz thought, if Bill’s had a skinfull...
Francis mumbled something, rolled over and fell back to sleep. Liz looked back up at the door. The figure was gone. Liz moved to the door, unlocked it, and turned the handle. The door squeaked on its hinges.
The sea was beginning to get rough. The boat rode the waves in what felt like slow motion. Liz took an involuntary half-step back each time the boat reared up, her stomach moving several feet behind her.
Liz moved to the railing and looked over the side. The sea roiled below her like the coils of an angry snake, her face sprayed with a fine mist. She looked for bright clothing against the dark of the sea, but saw none.
She heard a loud roar of excited voices toward the main huddle of buildings at the centre of the boat. Liz turned and headed toward it.
She got to the main mess, where she could hear raucous men’s voices cheering and singing. The thick yellow glow of light spilled from the outline of the front door. She put her hand on it to press it open, and then looked down at the clothes she was wearing. She tied her gown closed with the rope around her waist and thought better of going inside.
A muffled grunt to her right. She edged a few paces along the wall and peered into a dark corridor of shadows. Something rustled. She peered closer, hearing something, but was uncertain what it was. The moon poked out behind its veil of clouds and swept aside a wedge of darkness revealing a bare pair of female legs.
The woman’s body appeared big and lumpy, at odds with the slender legs until Liz’s eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and she realised it was the figure of a large man atop the woman. Liz turned away, a hand over her mouth. A smile broke over her face and she could hardly contain her chuckles.
As Liz turned to sneak back across the deck to her cabin there was another grunt, this one unheard by Liz, and the wet snap of exposed flesh.
Chapter Eight
“THE WORLD STANDS ON the precipice of disaster,” the voice on the radio said. “People are rising from the dead. Humanity was too slow in reacting to the epidemic. So long as it occurred away from our borders we did not care. So long as the people who died were over there and have little or no power, they can die in their millions, and we did not care. Only when it is a threat to us and our security did we take action. What does this say about us as a species except that we are totally selfish?
“This viewpoint is not sustainable. Neither is it capable of prolonging the lifespan of our species. It may already be too late to stop the virus spreading across the globe. We will be the oarsman at the back of the ship, the last to see the enemy and the ones least able to combat it.”
“It doesn’t sound real, does it?” Zack said, turning away from the radio. “Maybe it’s not real? Maybe someone’s playing a joke. Isn’t that what Orson Welles did once with an alien invasion?”
“Who would do that out here?” Bill said.
Zack didn’t have an answer for that.
“But it can’t have broken out across the whole world already, can it?” Zack said. “I mean, we’ve only been offshore a few hours.”
“It only takes a moment for milk to curdle,” Bill said.
Zack frowned.
“What does that mean?” he said.
“It’s something German people say,” Bill said. “The turning point of disaster occurs in a single moment. This virus has been over the news for weeks, gradually grabbing more and more column inches. Now might be the tipping point. Maybe the virus mutated or reacted with something or managed to become airborne or who knows what, but it’s out there now. It might have reached its apex while we were casting off.”
Zack didn’t look convinced.
“Think about it,” Bill said. “How fast could a virus spread with air travel? It would only take one passenger on one plane to slip through, infect all the other people on board, and they’ll spread germs all over the place. A scratch to a nose, a hand on a door handle, a sneeze, even covered, can spread to dozens, hundreds of people at the same time. There’s no telling how far or how fast an airborne strain might spread.”
“But we’re on this boat,” Zack said. “We’re safe here. Aren’t we?”
“For now, perhaps,” Bill said.
“But what about our families back home?” Rohit said. “Maybe they’re okay. Maybe Singapore avoided the worst of it.”
No one replied.
“Singapore has very strong defences,” Rohit said, more to himself than anyone else. “I’m sure they could defend themselves.”
Zack put his hand on Rohit’s shoulder.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” he said.
“It might not be as bad as the news is making out,” Bill said. “They always overstate things.”
Priya tugged on her uncle’s sleeve.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said.
“Then go,” Rohit said.
“But it’s scary in there,” Priya said.
Rohit sighed.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said to Bill and Zack.
Once he was gone, Zack turned to Bill.
“What’ll we do now?” Zack said.
“We’ll have to trust Captain Rodrigo,” Bill said. “It’s his boat. He’ll have radio equipment, intelligence. He’ll find somewhere safe for us.”
Zack peered around to ensure no one was too close. He lowered his voice.
“What you said earlier to Rohit,” he said, “about the news not being as bad as it appeared. You don’t believe that, do you?”
“No,” Bill said.
“Then it’s really happening?” Zack said. “What are we going to do? What happens if the virus has spread all over the world? Shouldn’t we try to avoid the larger cities? They’re going to be the worst hit. What if one of us here, right now, is carrying the virus? What then?”
“There would be panic, chaos,” Bill said. “But relax. We would have noticed if one of those things was on board. No one has shown symptoms of the virus so far.”
“What symptoms?”
“At the airport they were looking for flu-like symptoms. Pale skin, coughing, tiredness...”
As the words spilled from Bill’s mouth Bill and Zack locked eyes.
They turned to look at the empty seat at the next table. Reg’s seat.
Chapter Nine
IT WAS THE TWELFTH game Ernest had watched, and the twelfth game Felix had won. Ernest was beginning to get a sense of how the game was played. The purpose was to get three sets and a pair, otherwise known as a complete set, or Mahjong. The trick was to get the highest score possible. It was similar to rummy, not chess, and required strategy, skill, patience and more than a little luck.
Among the current batch of losing opponents, a Chinese boy screwed up his face and kicked the tiles. He tossed his coins on the deck and stormed off, his younger sister in tow. Felix took no notice and scooped up the money.
Another two players stepped forward to play. Felix cast an eye over the assembled for the fourth player, but none stepped forward. He looked Ernest over.
“You play?” he said.
“I don’t have any money,” Ernest said, showing his empty pockets. “Can we play a few friendly games? Friendly?”
Felix chuckled and turned to another boy. Jenny stepped forward.
“I have money,” she said, taking out her purse. “I’ll pay for you to play.”
“No, it’s okay,” Ernest said. “If I lose I can’t pay you back.”
“I’ll take the risk,” Jenny said.
“Why don’t you play?”
“Because I’ll lo
se. You at least have a chance. Besides, I’ll get forty percent of any winnings you make.”
“There won’t be any winnings.”
“Fifty percent, then.”
Ernest looked from Jenny’s purse to the tiles on the deck. The temptation was too strong.
“Fair enough,” he said.
Ernest sat down cross legged and waited while Felix mixed the tiles. The players chose their pieces and they began to play.
Chapter Ten
“HE MIGHT HAVE ALREADY turned into one of those things,” Bill said. “So, be careful. We don’t really know what we’re up against.”
“Tell me again why we’re not bringing more people with us,” Rohit said, using a knife to curl shavings off the tip of his chair leg into a sharp point.
“Because you try and stop a scared mob when they learn one of those things might be on board,” Bill said. “If it’s one thing we don’t need right now it’s a full-scale panic on our hands.”
Rohit nodded.
“All right,” he said. “Lead the way.”
The room was located at the front of the boat, underneath the wheelhouse. On the door was written ‘Captain’s Quarters’.
Bill nodded to Rohit and Zack, who raised their chair legs in white-fisted grips. Bill reached for the door, silent, slow. He turned the door handle, threw it open and dashed inside.
The room was smothered with shadows. The suitcases had been opened, their contents spilling over the floor like they’d exploded. The number of suitcases would have made Marie blush. They were garish with tiger stripe patterns and leopard spots. Designer clothes hung on hooks from every surface.
Moonlight spilled through the small porthole windows and fell onto the large bed pushed up into the corner, like a spotlight on a theatre stage. The boat gently rocked from one side to another, the room groaning in response.
Bill approached the bed, drawing closer. A sharp tang filled his nostrils. The sheets were splattered with red. Reg lay with his mouth open wide, skin white as manuscript paper. His ribs protruded, a paunch encircled by the bedsheet. Bill batted away the flies that buzzed over his head.
“Oh god,” Zack said, turning away to face the wall.
“We must lay his body to rest,” Rohit said.
Bill lowered his weapon and reached over to press his fingers to the corpse’s neck. The body had already made the transition from living to dead in Bill’s mind, and so it came as some surprise that as Bill pressed the tip of his fingers to Reg’s neck Reg’s eyes shot open.
Bill flew back, smacking into Rohit, landing in a heap on the Chinese rug on the floor. Rohit raised his hands to his face in horror, hitting himself on the forehead with his chair leg and nearly knocking himself out.
Zack turned, the last to see the body sit up. Reg muttered something under his breath, a wheezing gasp like the last breath a human took on his deathbed. Reg’s head turned, his eyes passing over the assembled, bloodshot and swollen.
Zack girded himself and ran forward. He raised the chair leg up high to bring it down on Reg’s head, but it connected with the roof rack with a sharp crack. Zack’s hands came down, but the chair leg stayed impaled in the soft wood.
Zack backed away, eyes wide with horror as Reg stared through him. Reg leaned forward. Zack’s hands came up in front of himself in a protective cocoon, like a child defending himself against the school bully on the playground.
Reg’s face contorted into a mask of pain and a loud wet gas evacuated his body. Reg sighed with relief. He looked at each of the men in turn.
“What in blazes are you all doing here?” he said.
The chair leg dropped from the ceiling, striking Zack on the top of the head. Bill got to his feet. Rohit picked up his weapon, fingering the sharp end with his finger.
“Have you lost your voices as well as your minds?” Reg said.
“We know you’re infected,” Bill said.
Reg leaned back like he’d been slapped. He took a moment before replying.
“How did you know?” he said. “If Gloria told you...”
“She didn’t tell us,” Bill said. “You have all the symptoms. Pale skin, fever, being sick, blood... I’m a doctor. I know the symptoms when I see them.”
Reg nodded.
“It came as quite a shock, I can tell you,” he said in soft voice. “You live your life believing you’re going to live forever. You stay in good shape, stay healthy, eat the things they tell you to eat, do the exercises they tell you to do... and then when you catch something like this you wonder what you did wrong, why it was you that got this.”
Reg coughed then, covering his mouth, and spat something into a tissue.
“But then you pick yourself up and you deal with it,” he said.
“You knew you had it?” Bill said. “But you still decided to travel the world? You should have been quarantined.”
“They wanted to hospitalise me,” Reg said, nodding. “Give me all the treatments and procedures. But curling up in a bed and withering away has never been my style. Why delay the inevitable?
“What? You think I should stop living my life because I have this? If I only have a limited amount of time left I’m going to use it the best I can. I had two years left, the doctors said. At first you think a miracle will happen, that they’ll discover a drug that will save you, but they don’t. You never really believe your life will come to an end until you’re staring it in the face.”
Reg looked up at Zack, who clutched his chair leg tight.
“I was hoping you were finally going to make it up to me for earlier,” Reg said. He spread his arms wide. “Come on then, give it to me. I’ve seen enough of the world as a walking dead man. Bring me the end.”
“Wait,” Bill said, raising his hands. “How long did you say the doctors gave you?”
“Two years,” Reg said.
“Two years?” Bill said, frowning. “Are you sure? I was under the impression that once you caught the virus you turned rapidly.”
“Of course I’m sure,” Reg said. “Ain’t nothing wrong with these ears.”
Bill searched Reg’s eyes but found no hint of falsehood. He shot a glance at Rohit and Zack.
“I’m sorry,” Bill said. “I think we’ve made a mistake.”
“Interrupting a dying man during a peaceful night of painless sleep is indeed a mistake,” Reg said.
“I apologise,” Bill said. “We’ll leave you to your rest.”
“I’m up now,” Reg said. “You might as well tell me what the big deal is.”
Reg reached for a bottle of pills. He tore the lid open. Bill saw the label.
“You’re taking Erlotinib?” he said. “Often used to treat lung cancer patients.”
“Yeah,” Reg said. “So?”
Zack let out a sigh of relief. Rohit frowned with confusion.
“It’s a relief I have lung cancer?” Reg said.
“Compared to what you could have, mate, it’s a Godsend,” Zack said.
“Are you aware there’s a plague making its way across the world right now as we speak, destroying everything in its path?” Bill said.
“Sure,” Reg said. “It’s called capitalism. So what’s new? Don’t tell me you woke me up in the middle of the night to discuss politics and social issues?”
Reg threw the pills in his mouth and chased them with water.
“No,” Bill said. “The virus in Baghdad.”
“That’s just an urban myth,” Reg said. “No one on the rigs takes it seriously.”
“We just heard on the radio about a virus sweeping the world during the time we’ve been at sea,” Bill said. “If memory serves, the first reports were from Baghdad.”
Reg looked from Bill to Zack and Rohit. A shadow darkened his brow.
“What is this?” he said. “Some kind of joke?”
“I wish it was,” Bill said.
“I refuse to be hosed, Bill,” Reg said. “I took you for a serious man. This isn’t funny.”
Bill’s sombre expression made Reg think twice. His eyes lowered to their weapons.
“Do you promise on your oath as a doctor that you are telling the truth?” Reg said.
“I do,” Bill said.
Reg leaned back on his pillows, taking in the information and processing it. He pushed the sheets of his bed back, swung his feet over the side and stood up. He wore a knee-length nightgown.
“Who else knows about this?” Reg said.
“Just us,” Bill said. “So far as we know. But we were going to go to the captain after... meeting you.”
“We’d best inform him then, hadn’t we?” Reg said.
A shout rang up outside, a long string of expletives that Bill couldn’t make out. Bill ran outside first, swiftly followed by the others. A man turned in circles on the deck, his elbow up in the air, hand clamped over his neck.
“God damn it!” Dennis shouted out to the night. “Why me?”
“Dennis?” Bill said. “What’s going on?”
Dennis took his hand off his neck, a thick sliver of blood dribbled down his shirt collar. He pointed at Reg.
“It’s his slut on the side!” Dennis said. “She was wild! Her eyes turned red and she tried to rip my throat out! I only just managed to get away. She’s a psycho!”
“Let me take a look,” Bill said.
Dennis removed his hand, his fingers caked in blood.
“She missed your jugular vein,” Bill said. “You’re lucky.”
“It sure doesn’t feel lucky,” Dennis said, grimacing.
“Gloria a psycho?” Reg said. “She has a temper on her, I admit, but she would never have done anything like this unless provoked.”
“I didn’t do anything she didn’t want me to!” Dennis said. “Some apology she turned out to be! Now my jacket’s soaked in whiskey and blood!
“We were making out, about to get down to it, when she started shaking and grunting. I just thought she was getting into it. Then she grew still in my arms, like she’d passed out or something. So I shook her, and she looked at me, but not really looked at me, but through me, like I wasn’t really there. It scared me. A lion looking at a zebra would look the same, blinded by hunger, not really seeing what’s in front of her. I got excited. I imagine we all look the same when we’re really in the mood.”