Sea Sick: A Horror Novel (14 page)

Donovan set the bottle of bourbon down on the floor between his legs and leant his elbows onto his knees.
He looked Jack in the eyes and grinned.  “That’s about the gist of it, pardner.  Truth be told,
I don’t have any more of a clue about what’s going on than you do.  I’ve been sitting down here, day after day, thinking this whole thing was about me;
supposing maybe I was in a coma or something.  I figured I was just stuck in some weird sorta dream.”

“I wonder why we haven’t been affected like everybody else.” Jack pondered.“Tally said that I was probably chosen by whoever cast the spell.  Why would he choose you as well?”

Donovan shrugged.  “Now that I’ve met you, my best guess would be that whatever Hoodoo this practical joker has been casting doesn’t extend to the cargo hold.  I mean, why would it?  There’s not supposed to be anybody down here.  My being here is a secret.  I figure it takes a lot of effort to cast a spell that messes with time itself, so
why stretch it further than you
have to?”

“You really think that the cargo deck is unaffected?”

“In actual fact,” said Donovan. “I can pretty much prove it.”

“How?”

Donovan picked up the whisky bottle from the floor and sloshed the liquid inside.  “Because, Jack, every morning when I wake up, this bottle will still be empty and I’ll have to go upstairs to buy another one.  The ship’s been sailing to nowhere for months now, but anything that happens down here stays the way I leave it.”

Jack stared down at the half-empty bottle and tried to put his thoughts in order.  The more he learned about everything, the weirder it all became.  If what Donovan was saying was true, then the lower decks of the ship were a sanctuary from the spell.  Time existed here as it was supposed to.  It didn’t make complete sense to him, but it was still one more valuable piece of the puzzle.  Knowledge was power and Jack had a feeling that he needed to know everything he could to have any chance of getting out of this mess.

“What about the virus?” he asked Donovan.  “Black Remedy has to be behind that.”

Donovan shrugged.  “If it is
,
then it’s something I know nothing about.  Seems kind of counter-intuitive, anyway, if you ask me.  If the ship is overrun with a lethal biohazard, there isn’t going to be much chance of the cargo reaching Tunis.  Whatever causes the outbreak every night is unlikely to have anything to do with BR Shipping.”

Jack sighed.  “Then I’m shit out of answers again.  I was hoping these crates would be full of diseased monkey parts or phials of glowing green liquid.  Would have made things simpler.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, pardner.”

Jack waved a hand.  “Don’t worry about it.  I guess I just need to go back to the drawing board.”

“Perhaps,” said Donovan.  “But not tonight.  Tonight we drink and make merry.”

“I don’t have time for that.”

“Like hell you don’t.  I’ve been isolated down here for over six months, only popping upstairs for food and drink.  You’re going to have a knees-up with me tonight even if I have to shoot you again to keep you here.”

Donovan was obviously joking about shooting him, but Jack thought the invitation wasn’t the worst idea he’d heard lately.  It would be nice to take a break for just one night.  Upstairs the other passengers were no doubt already being torn apart by monsters and it would be too late to help them.  They would just have to do without Jack’s concern for one night.

“Okay,” Jack said, picking the bottle up off the floor.  “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get off this godforsaken ship?”

Donovan smiled at him.  “Go get a flu shot.”

***

“So how long have you worked for Black Remedy?”

“Not long.” Donovan’s voice was approaching a full-on slur now.  “I was a promis-promis…promising young boxer once, if you can believe it.  I got hurt pretty bad, though, before I ever got the chance to…
belch!...
to really make it.  I could have maybe made a comeback, but my girl – my family – was against it.  In the end I just did what made them happy.”  Donovan shook his head and sighed.  “Then my girl up and leaves me a year later anyway and both my parents pass on within the same decade.  If it wasn’t for shit luck I’d have no luck at all.”  He took another swig on the bourbon.  “Anyway, started doing private security when I hit twenty-five-or-so and been doing it ever since.  Black Remedy is just the latest in a long line.  The pay is good, but not as good as if I’d been a professional fighter.  Don’t that just suck?”

“Yeah, that sucks,” Jack admitted.  “Still, least you were good at something.  My whole life has been the epitome of average.  Average kid, average teenager, average police officer, and not much else.”

Donovan looked at Jack bleary eyed.  “You…you’re a cop, man.  That’s not average.  That’s honourable.  You p-protect people.”

Jack shook his head which unsettled his vision for a moment.  His view tilted to and fro before finally centring again.  “That’s American cops you’re talking about.  British cops spend most of their time dealing with drunks and bad drivers.  They never let us do anything to make a difference.  Goddamn justice system protects the criminals more than it does the public.  It’s become cool to be a thug in the UK.”

“Then why…why don’t you…why don’t you do something about it?”

Jack laughed.  “You think it’s that easy?  I’m just a sergeant.  No one listens to me.  Anyway, I
did
do something,
once
.”

Donovan leant forward.  “Oh really?  What did you do?”

“I killed a bunch of drug-dealing scumbags, that’s what.  Took ‘em out while they were lying around stoned.  One of them even started giggling while I slit his throat.  Never seen anything like that in my life – not even in the army.  Drugs make people so screwed up that they laugh at their own murders.”

“Hell, man, that’s stone cold.  You just rolled up and killed them all?  What the hell got into you?”

“My partner was shot to death a year before. She was trying to help a family against a bunch of yobs in the area.  Kid called Frankie Walker shot her in a goddamn hospital while she was checking on one of his victims.  When I got there she was lying up against the wall in a pool of blood.  Her face had gone all grey, like it was made out of ash or something.  She was a beautiful person and Frankie just snuffed her out like a cigarette.  The only positive out of the whole thing was that he was dead on the scene too when I got there – shot by his own brother no less – but his gang was still on the streets, intimidating people and acting like they owned the place.  I dealt with it.”

Donovan didn’t say anything.  He just looked at Jack and shook his head sympathetically.  It was the first time Jack had spoken about his actions outside of the force.  To speak about such things freely would have sent him to prison.  His superiors had found out what had happened from a not-yet-completely-dead witness at the scene, but they covered it up.  Most of his colleagues who knew were just glad that a prolific street gang had been taken out of action. There was no sympathy for the victims.  But the men and women Jack used to consider his friends were suddenly very afraid of him.  He had become isolated and alone, and then, later, a loose-cannon that had nobody to remind him of the rules.
The decision to protect Jack by covering up the crime – and keep the damning truth from the already police-hating public – had proved to be a mistake.  Jack had only gone off the rails further and had become untouchable by the secret that he and his superiors kept.

“You must have loved her a lot,” said Donovan.  “A man doesn’t feel that much rage unless he’s failed to protect the woman he loves.”

Jack nodded.  The cowboy was astute.   “We’d been together a while,
but had been hiding it – had to really.  We were saving enough money to get a house and then Laura was going to quit the force to have a child with me.  I lost everything.”

“And someone had to pay?”

Jack nodded.  “I don’t regret it.”

“Well, I don’t blame you, pardner.  Seems that the world gets worse and worse
each day.  Bout time some good folks started fighting back.  Still, how the hell did you get away with such a thing?”

Jack shrugged and sighed.  “I didn’t.  I got suspended from the force – under the guise of bereavement – having my partner killed and all – and
they stuck me in therapy for six months. I started drinking far too much and stopped looking after myself in any way that a human being should.  Eventually, after a couple years of watching me self-destruct they authorised the budget to send me on this cruise to try and relax and break out of the emotional tailspin I was in.  I get the impression that it’s their final gesture of kindness before they finally discharge me.  Tell you the truth, if things ever go back to normal, that’s just what I want.  I can’t do that job anymore.  I’ve seen how little justice there is in the world and I can’t be a part of it any longer.”

“I hear ya.  Ain’t no place left that hasn’t witnessed the evil of man.  Bad guys all over.”

Jack gave Donovan a surprised look.  “Yeah, and you’re one of those bad guys.”

“What’s that now?”

“You’re delivering bribe money to a corrupt politician,” said Jack.

Donovan seemed to think about it.  “Well...yeah…I guess now that you mention it, I am one of the bad guys.  Maybe I’ll rethink things if this nonsense ever ends.”

Jack laughed heartily.  “This
nonsense
?  That’s one way to put it.”

Donovan swigged the last drop of the whisky and leant back in his chair with a satisfied grin on his face.  “Hell, that’s the only way to describe it, far as I’m concerned.  I’ve never known anything make less sense in my life.”

“You’re right,” said Jack, laughing.  “This is all a big load of nonsense.   I still need to get to the bottom of it, though.”

Donovan stood up, disappeared for a moment, and then returned with another bottle of bourbon.  “You sure do,
but there’s no need to rush, pardner.  You came on this cruse to relax.  So relax.”

Jack took another swig and did just that.

Day 215

Two whole weeks had gone by in a daze of whisky-fuelled madness.  Jack and Donovan had started the week playing cards quietly in the cargo hold, but had eventually progressed to full-on hell-raising in the ship’s various clubs and casinos (where they had used their situation to regularly beat the odds at Blackjack.).  Donovan had also taken to late night dalliances with any women he could find that were as drunk as he was.

One night, recently, the American cowboy had confided to Jack that he’d been close to losing his sanity at the time Jack and Tally had stumbled upon him.  Learning that he was not alone had changed everything for Donovan – had made him see the fun to be had with the situation.  Jack was beginning to get concerned with the man’s reckless pursuit of entertainment, but could hardly blame him, really, after being cooped up for six months. Jack just had to keep reminding himself that anything Donovan did was inconsequential.  The day always reset regardless of what he got up to.

Tally had been missing since the night Jack
took a bullet to the chest.  He’d checked her cabin
several times and many areas of the ship, too, but she was nowhere to be found.  Whatever Tally was doing with herself,
it was clear she did
not want his company.  Jack just hoped that she was okay.

It was currently 5PM and Jack was in the
Voyager’s Lounge.
  It was the quietest drinking venue on the ship and therefore the least likely place to run into Donovan.  Jack had nothing against the over-zealous American – in fact he liked the guy – but he needed a break from the all the partying tonight.  It was time to get his thoughts back in order and focus on the things that mattered.  Things like the virus onboard that still slaughtered everybody each night.

Jack didn’t have the luxury of hiding out in some single woman’s cabin each night, like Donovan, while the massacre ensued.  He’d been resigning himself to spending several hours each night cooped up in the cargo hold waiting patiently for midnight to wipe clean the slate.

There was only one person that frequented the
Voyager’s Lounge
that displayed symptoms of the deadly illness.  It was a respectable-looking gentleman in an evening jacket and spectacles.  He was alone and reading a magazine, constantly sneezing.  One time he sneezed so hard that his spectacles fell clean off his head.  In just a few hours’ time
,
the man would begin to bleed from the eyes and tear into the flesh of anyone unlucky enough to be within sight of him.  Right now, though, he was just an ordinary man trying to relax.

It was hard to humanize the eyebleeders once they had turned, so irrational and brutally insane they were, but it was important to remember that prior to their conditions they were human beings also;
people with families, like Ivor and his girls.  Jack was trapped on this boat, forced to relive the day over and over, but so was Ivor.  The poor man had to watch his family die every night. 

Jack was beginning to realise that his situation was actually better than most,
which was why he’d decided that he was going to find some way to put a stop to whatever was happening.  It was selfish to spend his time drinking with Donovan or moping around in the cargo hold.  Jack still had the benefit of free-will while a thousand people onboard did not.  It was up to him to end their suffering. Whether they knew it or not, all of the people onboard were relying on Jack to save them.

Joma was behind the bar, as he always was at this time.  His shift
started late and would continue until the eyebleeders arrived.  Jack had never seen whatever fate befell the friendly waiter each night, but it was a safe assumption that he died a grisly death with everybody else.

“Hello, Mr Jack,” said Joma from behind the beer taps.  “I hope that your room is to your liking.”

Jack had to think for a minute. Then he realised that to Joma understanding he’d only entered his cabin for the first time yesterday.  “Yes,” he replied.  “It feels like home already.”