Stranded Series (Book 5): Into The Gulf

by Gray, W. S.

  Feeling lightheaded, Trey glanced down at his arm. Seeing the sheer amount of blood he’d lost, he almost fainted.

  The distraction was just enough.

  The attacker reached out with one arm and grabbed a hold of Trey’s ear. He dragged Trey’s head down. He still had control of the knife, though Trey held the man’s wrist.

  Screaming, Trey twisted as he punched out at the man’s side.

  However, it was Sofia that helped save the day.

  Rushing forward from her hiding spot, he fell down with all her weight on the man’s shoulder. She proceeded to then begin punching the attacker’s face.

  “Get the knife!” Trey said.

  Jumping up, Sofia stomped down on the attacker’s wrist just as Trey relinquished his vise grip. She stamped down one, two, three more times. She seemed immune to the horrible howls issued by the defeated man. Picking up the knife as it clattered to the ground, Sofia looked toward her dad. For the briefest second, she appeared as if she’d toss it to him. But then she simply ran past him, brushing past the other combatants and escaping into the hall.

  “Shit,” Trey said.

  “Sil vous plait…”

  “Speak English, motherfucker!”

  The man began weeping. He again curled up into a ball. He began rocking back and forth. He seemed so pathetic in his ignominious defeat. He mewled and whined as anguished sobs wracked his body.

  “You’d have been better off if she’d left the blade,” Trey said.

  Struggling up, Trey found he didn’t have the strength to stand. So, he crawled. Moving slowly, sluggishly over to the other figure, he reached out, grasping for anything he could get to. He slapped at the man’s bloody uniform shirt. Then, after perhaps the eighth try, Trey finally managed to get a good grip.

  Pulling the attacker forward, Trey weakly wrapped his hands around the man’s throat. His face slit with a hideous grin as he watched the man accept his fate. He simply lay there, limp as a noddle, waiting to die.

  Once it registered in Trey’s brain that it might be even more of a punishment to allow the creature to live, he let go. Collapsing onto the floor, he felt something viscous, a warm and sticky liquid, underneath him. Turning slightly, he realized it was his own blood. Something about that struck him as funny. He cackled.

  Vaguely aware of someone calling his name, Trey closed his eyes.

  He just wanted to sleep.

  Chapter 14

  Trey woke up on a gurney.

  Harry snored softly nearby.

  When Melody realized he’d awakened, she tiptoed forward, reaching out to brush one cheek with her delicate fingers. “I love you,” she said, mouthing the words. A tear slid down her face as she stared, with glistening eyes, at her husband.

  Looking around, Trey tried to figure out what had happened. Blinking, he raised one hand to shield his eyes from the harsh white light cast by some bulb hovering just overhead. Turning to the side, he groaned. A hot wave of pain moved through his body. Grimacing, Trey waited for it to subside. When it finally did, he resumed his examination of the room he’d found himself placed in.

  Monitors beeped in the background. A thin strip of paper clung to his bare buttocks as he tried to shift his weight. Reaching down, he peeled it from his flesh, smiling slightly at the absurdity of it. Trey felt vaguely aware of the citrusy scent of industrial cleaner mixed with the distinctive antiseptic odor that could only connote a hospital room. His throat felt dry. His limb tingled. But, other than that, he seemed well enough to take in his surroundings.

  “What happened?” Trey asked. Even as he finished the question, however, fragmented memories began to filter into his consciousness. “Where’s Sofia?” he asked, his tone hoarse.

  “She’s… she just couldn’t handle seeing you like this,” Melody said. She sniffed and wiped at her eye. “She was too traumatized by the fight.”

  “The… fight?” Trey asked. Then he remembered. Frowning, he felt his chest tighten as he began to relive the experience. “Jesus,” he said. “Will I ever go just one day without having to fight for my life?” he asked.

  “You’re so brave,” Melody said. She gripped one of his hands, looking down at him with tenderness in her expression. “I never knew you had such strength inside of you,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Trey said. “You know, that didn’t exactly come across as a compliment,” he said. He chuckled. “Is there a doctor around here somewhere? I mean, there must be. What’s wrong with me? How long was I out?” he asked.

  “Just a few hours, this time,” Melody said. “But Harry said Maxime wanted to keep you down here in the… he called it the sick bay… anyway, I guess it’s a little safer down here for you,” she said. “Apparently some people on board aren’t too happy about what happened with Enzo or whatever his name was,” she said. “So, they’re keeping you down here for your own safety for a bit.”

  Nodding, Trey relaxed. He kind of liked the idea. Closing his eyes, he silently prayed for more of whatever drugs he’d been given. “I wish I could just get drunk,” he said. “Like, sloppy, crazy drunk. So inebriated I forgot everything that ever happened,” he said. “Curative amnesia.”

  Melody laughed. Then she did something unexpected. She hopped up on the bed. She straddled him. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips hungrily against his. As she moved against him, kissing him, biting his lip, breathing in his ear, she awakened something dormant inside of him. Fumbling for his growing erection, she smiled coyly when she discovered it. She pulled it out and began stroking his cock.

  Reaching forward, Trey grabbed one of her glorious breasts. He felt his heart racing. His body grew warmer. Shifting his weight underneath his wife, he gasped as she slid him inside of her. Looking up at her as she moved slowly, her eyes half-closed in a genuine expression of ecstasy, Trey found himself growing harder.

  Grabbing her hips, he guided Melody as she moved up and down on him. She’d seized control and was taking things at her own pace, the sex intended as much an act of pleasure on her part as it was a purifying rite of cleansing for Trey.

  Breathing heavier, Trey could only watch as Melody picked up the pace. Her intensity built quickly, until it reached a glorious crescendo.

  They climaxed together, their cries coalescing to form one single, primal howl of contentment.

  Then, her face sweaty, Melody collapsed on top of Trey, resting her head just under his chin. She didn’t say anything. She merely lay there, her chest heaving from the exertion.

  Rubbing her head with one hand, Trey stared vacantly up at the ceiling. Instead of feeling relaxed by the act, Trey experienced a vague sense of unease. An anguished angst that seized his gut. He didn’t say anything, however, for he didn’t want to ruin the moment. Obviously, Melody had needed that intimate moment as a means of reconnecting with her husband. As Trey idly caressed her hair, he thought back to their encounters on Sapphira Island. How she’d been held captive by the cruise ship’s rogue security agent. How she’d confessed to being defiled by a zombie cock.

  A sudden wave of revulsion pushed through him. Trey felt nauseated. He wanted to push his wife off of him. Away from him. But he didn’t. He refused the urge. Trey understood that he needed Melody. He needed the reminder of his own humanity. He realized he’d changed. The circumstances he’d been thrust into had forced him to do things he would have never even considered. But, in the process, he was becoming too accustomed to killing.

  Plus, he owed the woman his loyalty.

  However, as she lay on him, her sexual energies spent, Trey realized that he no longer loved the woman.

  At least, not like he had. Not even close. Trey didn’t want to admit it. He couldn’t tell her that. In fact, he probably could never divulge the fact to anyone. Which only exacerbated the problem. Because he needed to tell someone.

  He didn’t love his wife. But he needed her.

  Which only served to remind him of how helpless and vulnerable he truly was. His chest tightening, T
rey reflected on the reality that he was trapped in a perpetual struggle against not just zombie hordes and dangerous, treacherous individuals given to their own lusts and ambitions, but also against his own self.

  Except, there was no prize. He wouldn’t get a trophy for winning. Because there was no victory. Instead, there was existence and then the cessation of life.

  “What are you thinking?” Melody sleepily asked, lifting her head up and looking down at her husband.

  “You don’t want to know,” Trey said. He smiled sadly, reaching out with one hand. He stroked Melody’s cheek with one finger, admiring her flawless skin and beautiful, innocent green eyes.

  Thankfully, the Bishop interrupted the awkward moment, walking through a sliding glass door at the other end of the room. “Hey,” he said. “I hear you had another bad day,” he said.

  Patting Melody on the butt, Trey signaled for her to get up.

  “I’ll just go,” she said.

  “No, it’s okay, love. You can stay,” Trey said. “If you want to,” he added.

  “Well, Trey, uh… I think it might be better if… I think it might be better if she went and got some food. Or something,” Bishop Bronson said.

  “Uh, okay. Sure,” Trey said. He exchanged a look with his wife, then watched her as she silently retreated from the room. The door made an odd noise as it slid open, marking her departure. After he was sure she’d gone, he cleared his throat. Redirecting his attention back to the Bishop, he frowned. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I’m worried about you, Trey,” the Bishop said.

  Trey chuckled. He shook his head. Grimacing, he slowly sat up, gripping the side of the bed for support as he did so. “You don’t say?” he joked.

  “Now’s not really a good time for levity,” Bishop Bronson said. He smiled sadly. “Though I can appreciate the many different ways in which grief manifests itself, I do have to say, for someone who’s only barely managed to escape death so many times, it seems odd that you’d be so cavalier at a time like this,” he said.

  Just then, Harry woke up. He yawned loudly and stretched. He smiled awkwardly when he noticed the Bishop. Waving dismissively, the old man stumbled up and retreated from the room without uttering a word.

  Blushing, Trey gulped. It dawned on him then that he’d had sex with his wife while his dad remained in the same room, not even twenty feet away. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to push away the thought of what might have been, had Harry woken up and caught them in flagrante delicto.

  “You had sex while he was in here, didn’t you?” the Bishop asked, smirking.

  Blinking, Trey stared at the man, wide-eyed. He moved his lips as if to speak for several seconds. However, no coherent speech would form. After a long, awkward silence, Trey finally managed to ask the religious figure how he’d known.

  “Kid, your pants…” the Bishop said.

  Looking down, Trey paled. He covered himself with the thin sheet from the hospital bed and turned away, trying to hide his intense embarrassment.

  “Anyway, look, you’re not part of the LDS church. Though I suspect you may someday convert. But… the point is, I don’t care about your love life. Actually, I’m kind of happy for you. I’m glad you had an opportunity to connect with your wife,” Bishop Bronson said. “But, what I came down here to tell you is, I am hoping you’ll respond to reason and agree to quarantine yourself down here for a while,” he said.

  “How long is a while?” Trey asked. He turned and looked at the Bishop.

  “Probably a few weeks, at least,” Bishop Bronson said, smiling sadly. “The truth is, a lot of work needs to be done to convince the common soldiers not to attack you. Sentiment is against you. People don’t understand how you even managed to make it aboard. There is a lot of resentment, too, since you hadn’t been given any shipboard duties,” he said.

  “How…” Trey rubbed his head. A massive headache raged, forming behind his eyes and emanating outwards. “How am I supposed to protect my daughter?” he asked.

  “Well, do you really think you’re doing a good job protecting her, when you keep getting yourself attacked?” the Bishop asked, raising one eyebrow. “Look, between Maxime, myself, your dad, the other Mormons on board, and the general sense of integrity these men have had instilled in them, I doubt Sofia is in any real danger. Your wife…” Bishop Bronson shook his head and sighed. “Well, she’s an adult. But, even her, I don’t think is in any sort of real danger,” he said. He paused, collecting his thoughts. “Look, Trey… we barely just met. I know we have some trust established. And I presume you decided to come back for me for some reason. So… I am really pleading with you: stay down here. Get well. Keep your head down,” he said.

  “What’s to keep someone from trying to get at me down here?” Trey asked.

  The Bishop frowned. He glanced away. “At the end of the day, you’re right. Yes, if someone wanted to hurt you that badly, they probably could. And you would be more vulnerable. But we could put someone down here with you. Someone your dad and I trust,” he said. “But, part of the reason they kept coming for you was precisely because you were visible. It was almost as if you were rubbing their nose in it,” he said.

  “BUT I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING,” Trey said. He tensed. He felt angry at even the slightest hint to the contrary.

  “I know you didn’t,” Bishop Bronson said, holding up one placating hand. “But they don’t. They just know Enzo died. Okay? They didn’t get the memo, that there’d been a hearing. That’s part of what I’m trying to tell you. This isn’t intended to be some long-term thing. No one wants to imprison you. Okay? What I’m asking is for some time,” he said. “If you stay down here, Maxime and I can work to find the right people, punish those that need punished, inform those that need to be informed, et cetera. You know, he has a vested interest in keeping you safe, at this point. He needs to maintain discipline and order. Things can get out of hand pretty quickly, especially in a confined environment like this one,” the Mormon leader said.

  “Okay…” Trey said. In all honesty, getting some rest and having some peace and quiet actually didn’t sound so bad.

  “You don’t sound convinced,” the Bishop said, smiling. He reached out and placed a gentle hand on Trey’s good arm.

  Tensing, Trey turned to look up when someone entered. A small young woman with long blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail, she wore a dark green pair of scrubs and athletic tennis shoes. She appeared the antithesis of martial discipline. Watching the woman as she hummed quietly and went about examining documents on a clipboard and rearranging items on a gleaming stainless steel counter, Trey couldn’t help but feel worried by her sudden presence. His heart rate accelerated. His palms began sweating. His throat grew dry. He knew something was up. Something was wrong.

  “Hey,” the Bishop said, effectively redirecting Trey’s attention. “What do you have to lose?” he asked.

  As Trey thought about the question, he heard something. Turning violently, he pulled free from the Bishop’s grasp. But it was too late. The nurse had already closed the distance. She held a syringe in one hand. With an almost supernatural speed and precision, she stuck him in the arm. Then, in near-perfect synchronicity with her partner in crime, she jumped back.

  Trey felt himself grasped by the Bishop. He grunted. Attempting to resist, he realized once again just how strong the religious figure really was. It was easy to forget the man’s physical capabilities in light of his humble, almost deferential attitude. He was always so meek and nice. But when he held Trey down, preventing him from fleeing the scene, the Bishop didn’t waver.

  Laying back, Trey closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t know what else to do. He was already beginning to feel the effects of whatever drug they’d administered. Lethargy washed over him. But, with it, there was a certain sense of peace. Relaxation. “What’d you give me?” he asked, his words slurred. “Hitting me quick,” he said, smiling.

  “Just some benzodiazepines and some
mild sedatives,” the Bishop said. “Nothing too harmful,” he said.

  “Nothing too harmful?” Trey said, raising one eyebrow. He chuckled. For some reason, that seemed funny. “You’re sure strong for a priest. And a good liar,” he said.

  “Well, I’m not a priest,” Bishop Bronson said.

  “You like the little boys?” Trey asked, laughing. He slapped the bed underneath him.

  When the Bishop grunted and raised an eyebrow, Trey laughed even harder.

  Finally, once the peals of mirth had subsided, the Bishop addressed Trey. “While you can still understand me, I want you to know we’ll have someone looking after you. Plus, Melody will be down here. Probably Sofia, too. Okay? We only did this because it’s the only way to assure you actually stay down here. Otherwise, you might actually succeed in escaping. And that wouldn’t do anyone any good right now,” Bishop Bronson said. “Does any of this make sense?” he asked.

  “I guess…” Trey said, struggling to think. “That shit struck fast,” he said.

  “Well, that was by design,” Bishop Bronson said.

  “Two weeks,” Trey said. “Two weeks max,” he said.

  “Two weeks what?” Bishop Bronson asked, wrinkling his brow. He appeared confused.

  “You get fourteen days exactly. Fix this. After that, I’m leaving this room. And I don’t care what the consequences are,” Trey gulped, trying to remain clear-headed. The lethargic effects of the drugs trespassed on his mind, threatening to rob him of his faculties. He inhaled deeply, then continued. “Bishop, I’ve never been particularly religious. No offense to you. But I will tell you this… I kind of want to die. I really do. This fucking world just keeps getting uglier and uglier,” he said.

  “So, what I’m saying is, I’ll give you two weeks. After that, I’ll take my chances.”

  Chapter 15

  He woke up screaming.

  Sweat covered his face.

  The lights were out.