Convulsive Box Set

by Marcus Martin

  “Don’t worry about that,” said Lucy.

  “Did it hurt?” said the girl.

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?” said Lucy, climbing the companionway.

  She took a deep breath of the fresh air on deck. The sea was flat, and the dawn quiet. Ruth was busily winching a sail into place.

  “Things will be better in DC. My father-in-law will take care of us. He’s a senator,” said Lucy.

  “We’re not going to DC,” said Ruth, briskly, returning to the helm.

  Lucy registered the angle of the boat in relation to the rising sun. They were tacking west.

  “Are you crazy?” said Lucy, grabbing Ruth’s arm.

  “Touch me like that again, and I’ll slit your throat in your sleep and dump you overboard. Understood?” said Ruth.

  Lucy released her abruptly and backed away.

  “You come onto my boat, my home, and tell me where I’m going? No way,” said Ruth, rotating the wheel.

  “Ruth, I’m truly sorry for what’s happened, but we’re victims too. Fliss didn’t mean what she-” began Lucy.

  “Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the oldest and the only surviving member of a family that should be spanning three generations?” said Ruth.

  The woman’s cheeks were contorted in sorrow; her eyes narrow with pain, and glazed with tears. She turned away abruptly and wiped her eyes clear, then trained her fierce stare on the sextant.

  Lucy sat on the bench adjacent to Ruth and stared at the water. She felt numb. She knew she owed a debt to each person on board.

  “Open that cupboard,” said Ruth.

  Lucy stood up, realizing the bench was a container. She undid the lock and peered in. A coiled yellow rope lay inside. It was badly frayed. Attached to it was the remains of a diamond-shaped cone. The yellow plastic was riddled with burn marks. One side had peeled away from the main body and hung on by just a few strands.

  “Is that-” began Lucy.

  “The storm drogue, yes. It was like that when I reeled it in a couple of hours ago,” said Ruth.

  She fixed Lucy with a grim look.

  “I don’t know what did it, but if it can get through that thing in a night, then what do you think it’s gonna do to the hull over five days?” said Ruth.

  ***

  “You gotta clamp it in place,” said Jack, gently, as Lucy let the index arm of the sextant swing out of position. Her stomach panged, painfully. She’d not eaten in over two days.

  “Every damn time. Thanks,” said Lucy, forcing her exhausted mind to take the reading. Even with the process licked, the calculations themselves were still complex, and varied between day and night.

  As she took the reading, the late-morning sun disappeared behind a swathe of clouds, sensitizing her once again to the cool Atlantic breeze. She sighed and refocused, glad of Jack’s company. Jack had been the first to master the device, partly because his sickness was the least advanced. He was a significantly more patient teacher than Ruth, whose teaching style reminded Lucy of her own father’s back on the ranch; you got told once, and if you did it wrong, you got hurt, and learned the hard way from there.

  Lucy peered through the telescope and frowned, trying to align with the horizon. It was the last task of their shift before they could wake the others.

  “A ship!” gasped Lucy, handing Jack the lens excitedly.

  “What?” said Jack, urgently scanning.

  “We’ve gotta get its attention. Quick, tell the others – light a flare!” cried Lucy.

  “Lucy, I don’t see any ship,” said Jack, scouring the waves.

  “Are you kidding? It’s right there!” said Lucy, grabbing the tool back and refocusing.

  The horizon was blank. She passed the sextant back to him, too confused to even feel disappointed.

  “Maybe you should rest a bit. I don’t mind finishing the reading, if you want to wake the others,” said Jack, looking at her with concern.

  Lucy agreed, and headed below deck, puzzling over the vanishing ship. Her eyes itched with fatigue, and her head felt light. She craved the leaves they’d eaten in Boston.

  She made tea for Ruth and Fliss, then roused them for the handover. When she finally flopped onto her berth, the couch was still warm from where Ruth had been sleeping. Lucy fought the urge to scratch the lesions burning across her body.

  “Forgot my shoes,” muttered Fliss, shuffling back in and out of the saloon. She looked groggy.

  Lucy lay on her back and stared at the low ceiling. Her hand moved to her stomach, where the broken skin had crusted over. She flinched as she touched it, remembering the feeling of her own liquid flesh engulfing her fingers as she clawed out the alien growth.

  “Man overboard!” came a cry.

  Lucy swiveled out of her berth, disbelieving her ears. The cry repeated – it was Ruth’s voice. She rushed through the galley and onto deck. Jack was pointing portside at Fliss’s floating figure.

  “Keep pointing, don’t let her out of your sight!” yelled Ruth, grabbing the life ring from the stern and hurrying along the side.

  “Fliss, grab the ring!” shouted Ruth, tossing the yellow inflatable out to the girl.

  Fliss pushed it away with a confused look on her face as she treaded water. “No, that’s not him, he’s different,” cried Fliss, swimming in circles. Her waterlogged clothes hung heavily off her limbs.

  “Fliss, swim towards the boat,” shouted Jack.

  Fliss dived beneath the surface, kicking her legs as she went.

  “Help her!” cried Jack, pointing to where she’d disappeared. A sling kept his broken arm held tightly against his chest. Ruth watched in dismay as the yellow life ring floated further away from the boat.

  “I’m going in,” said Lucy, pulling off her boots and pants, revealing her pockmarked red legs.

  “No way,” said Ruth.

  Fliss burst through the surface, gasping for air. She was a dozen feet away from her last position. She spun around again, searching the horizon for something, then took a deep breath and dived once more.

  “We have to get her now. Tether me – you can reel me back in. Hurry!” insisted Lucy, pulling a life jacket over her torso.

  Ruth grabbed the harness and clipped it around Lucy’s waist, fastening a rope to it, with a winch at the end. Lucy grabbed the railings and leaped into the water, plunging several feet below the chilling surface before the buoyancy aid dragged her up. With a gasp she took her bearings. Jack’s trembling arm was pointing to a blank stretch of ocean. Lucy cast her eyes around, desperately looking for bubbles or some trace of the girl.

  Water rushed over Lucy’s head. Something had gripped her ankle, pulling her under. She kicked away but the grip had doubled, and was shifting. A pair of hands were clawing their way up her calves. The cord around her waist tightened and Lucy gasped for air as her face momentarily ebbed above the surface, only for her to be swiftly dragged down once more.

  The hands climbed up her thighs to her back and shoulders. She could feel Fliss’s legs wrapping around her waist as the deranged teenager climbed Lucy’s body like an island.

  Lucy could see the air bubbles draining from her lungs as Fliss clambered on top of her. Fliss repeated her calls above the surface, seemingly oblivious to Lucy’s panicked gurgling below. Lucy felt her way up Fliss’s arms, past her shoulders, until she reached the girl’s neck. She seized it and squeezed.

  At once Fliss’s legs jerked out in shock, releasing their iron grip on Lucy’s waist. Fliss’s hands instinctively wrapped around Lucy’s and prized them away from her neck. Lucy seized the opportunity and kicked the girl away from her. The pair split apart and their eyes locked across the surface.

  Lucy spat the rancid sea water from her mouth and registered the wild, incoherent look in Fliss’s eyes.

  “Stay away from me, you’re not him!” cried Fliss, looking upon Lucy as a total stranger.

  “Fliss, you need to get back on the boat. You’re not safe here,” splutt
ered Lucy, trying to untangle the cordon which had become wrapped around her leg

  “No you don’t understand, I’m supposed to meet him here, that’s what we said,” moaned Fliss, spinning in circles.

  “Jack’s on the boat, Fliss, look up there, he’s waiting for you,” said Lucy, pointing to Jack, who called out to his sister desperately.

  Fliss looked at him with fear, then turned away from the boat and began to head for the open water.

  “Grab her,” yelled Ruth.

  Lucy hastily freed her leg from the rope and swam after Fliss, grabbing the girl in a headlock. Fliss wailed in shock, and tried to pull Lucy’s arm away.

  “Reel us in!” cried Lucy, feeling the cord around her waist tighten immediately.

  Fliss spluttered and flailed, reaching behind her head to claw at Lucy’s face. Lucy dipped the girl’s head below the surface momentarily, shocking her out of the fight reflex.

  “Stop struggling, you’re nearly there Fliss,” urged Lucy, as the girl strained against the headlock.

  Ruth winched them in to the stern of the boat, where she extended the ladder. She clicked the metal gate open and knelt down by the water.

  Lucy swiveled and shoved Fliss against the rungs as the girl ceased struggling and went floppy.

  “Help us up,” cried Lucy, thrusting Fliss’s limp body as far out of the water as she could.

  Ruth and Jack hauled Fliss onto the deck. Sea water spluttered from her lungs as they rolled her onto her side.

  Lucy climbed up after her, shivering with cold. She pulled off the rescue equipment and threw a towel around her diseased shoulders while the others tried desperately to rouse Fliss.

  “Pass me the ropes,” said Ruth, pointing to an open box.

  Jack hesitated, looking from Ruth to his half-drowned sister.

  “Do it now, boy, or she’ll throw herself back in the sea,” Ruth insisted.

  Jack complied, bringing Ruth the box. The sailor pulled out a sturdy length and wound it around Fliss’s ankles, then repeated the same above the girl’s knees and elbows. Fliss’s eyelids flickered open as she saw the water and strained towards it.

  “Fliss, stop it, why are you doing this?” begged Jack.

  “Let’s get her below,” said Ruth, gesturing Lucy to help.

  They lowered Fliss’s delirious, wailing body below deck and into the cabin, where they strapped her into a berth.

  “Her clothes are soaked, she’ll freeze to death,” said Jack, anxiously shifting from side to side.

  “So dry her out, kid. We don’t have time for you to freak out again, get to work,” ordered Ruth.

  Lucy looked down at her own shivering body and for the first time noticed the patterns made by the swirling lesions.

  “Hey, guys, are yours moving?” said Lucy, staring at her sopping leg.

  “What are you talking about?” said Ruth.

  “Your skin – patterns – are yours?” began Lucy.

  She looked at the pair of them. She didn’t remember Dan being on board. But he looked worried.

  “Lucy? Lucy, look at me,” said her partner, with concern in his soft, beautiful eyes. Major Lopez stood next to him, fully uniformed, and shaking his head as Lucy swayed to the side.

  “Damned rookie,” said Lopez, as Lucy’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she fell to the floor.

  ***

  “Run,” cried Dan, tearing off his mask and visor. He ripped the cupboard door open and grabbed a baseball bat, spilling their clothes and other belongings onto the apartment floor. Loud bangs sounded from the hallway; someone was pounding against the door. “I’ll hold them off. Go, Luce, you gotta go now,” begged Dan.

  Lucy’s visor was misting up, obscuring her vision. She could feel the plastic hazmat suit rubbing against her sore knees.

  “Come with me,” she implored, her legs straddling the shattered window sill.

  Golden spores drifted into the apartment on a mild San Franciscan breeze. With an almighty crunch, the door began to splinter.

  “Lucy, go!” cried Dan, tightening his grip on the bat, and widening his stance, ready to strike.

  The door crunched again, as an axe smashed its way through the wood, spraying chunks across the floor. Through the gaps Lucy saw a sweeping white garment, and the swinging metal blade. A red droplet landed on her thigh. She looked up at the leaking AC unit. A curfew siren sounded outside.

  “Lucy!” cried Dan, as the door burst open.

  ***

  Lucy stirred. Her eyes were heavy and crusty with sleep. She tried to sit up but her torso and limbs were bound by ropes, over which a blanket had been draped. She tilted her head sideways and the saloon came into focus. Jack was in the berth opposite, tied into place. He had no blanket, and was sweating feverishly beneath his jumpsuit. His brow was furrowed, and he muttered in his sleep, rocking his head but unable to open his flickering eyes wider than a slit. Lucy examined the patterned lesions covering his emaciated body. They were different to hers, and paler, too. Footsteps approached from the companionway.

  “You made it,” said Fliss, hurrying over and grabbing Lucy in an embrace.

  Lucy stared at her in surprise; the girl’s skin was clear.

  “Ditto,” croaked Lucy, her throat dry.

  Fliss peeled back the blanket and released the ropes binding Lucy. She grabbed an enamel mug from the galley then knelt down and gently tilted Lucy’s head up, bringing the cup to her lips. Lucy drank, thirstily.

  “Take it easy, you’re gonna feel rough,” counseled Fliss, helping Lucy to sit up.

  Lucy stared at her own bare shins and forearms in astonishment; the lesions had disappeared. Only the faintest of shiny scars remained here and there, looking more like blisters from chickenpox or shingles than anything else. Fliss tenderly swiveled Lucy’s legs off the berth, bringing her up further.

  “How does that feel?” she said, offering Lucy more water.

  “How are you – are we?” began Lucy.

  “Cured? I don’t know. I woke up yesterday and the rash was gone,” said Fliss.

  “How long was I out?” pressed Lucy.

  “Three days, I think. Jack went down on day two, apparently. Let me get you some food,” said Fliss.

  “You found leaves?” said Lucy.

  “No need – we can eat normally again,” said Fliss, beaming.

  Lucy shuffled to the edge of the bed and placed a shaky hand onto Fliss’s shoulder. With the girl’s help, she stood. A soiled towel fell from around her waist onto the floor. Lucy slowly processed what it was.

  “Oh god, I’m so-” she began.

  “It’s OK, I’ll clear it up. You need to eat first, so you can start recovering,” soothed Fliss.

  She aided Lucy to the chart table and sat her down on a plastic sheet. She produced a tin from the galley cupboard, and cracked the ring pull open.

  “Eat,” she said, handing Lucy a spoon, with a smile.

  Lucy took the tin and shoveled kidney beans into her mouth, while Fliss went to clean the berth. In less than a minute, Lucy had devoured the lot. She gingerly rose to her feet and shuffled to the toilet cubicle. She stared at herself in the mirror. There were dark rings around her eyes, and her face was thin, but other than that she looked normal. She cleaned and changed quickly, then stumbled back to the galley. Lucy blushed as Fliss passed by and headed up the companionway with the soiled towel in a bucket.

  Lucy grabbed a second tin of beans and necked it just as quickly as the first. As she went to set the empty tin down, the boat halted sharply with an almighty crunch, knocking Lucy out of her seat.

  “Shit,” cried Ruth from above.

  Fliss and Ruth’s footsteps clambered across the deck as they hurried to the front of the boat. As Lucy climbed back into her seat, nursing her bruised pelvis, a babbling sound caught her attention. She peered past the saloon and into the fore cabin. Water was rising through the floorboards.

  Lucy staggered to her feet and hurried forward. A huge
curved sheet of grey metal had pierced the hull, destroying most of the berth. The metal was studded in jade-colored barnacles. Beneath them, painted in italics, Lucy could just make out the word Calypso. The barnacles began to detach and drop onto the flooding cabin floor, revealing pink fleshy lumps inside each shell.

  Lucy rushed above deck to warn the others. A sweeping shoreline of sand, cliffs, and forest greeted her, stretching as far as Lucy could see. Ruth and Fliss were at the bow, taking in the damage.

  “We’re taking on water below – fast,” said Lucy.

  Ruth thumped the hand rail and hurried back to the hatch, hastening below deck.

  Lucy peered over the edge, into the foaming sea. The wreckage wasn’t visible above the surface, but foaming waves sloshed around them, buffeted in all directions by the rocks below.

  Ruth reappeared looking white as a sheet. Her shins were soaked.

  “We’re abandoning ship. I’ll prep the life raft, you two get Jack onto a stretcher,” she said.

  “Where’s the stretcher?” said Fliss.

  “Make one!” snapped Ruth, disappearing below.

  Lucy and Fliss followed swiftly.

  “This could work,” said Lucy, pulling the cushions off the empty berth and revealing the wooden board beneath. She tried to lift it up but the board was nailed in.

  Fliss crouched down and braced her back against Jack’s berth, allowing herself to be soaked by the rising water, which lapped at her chin. She placed her heels under the lip of the wooden berth opposite and kicked upward, striking it hard until the board broke free. Lucy grabbed a tin and hit the exposed nail tips, loosening them and plucking them out.

  Ruth dodged past them with a first aid kit and bagful of tins, which she shoved onto the deck. The water level was just inches from Jack’s comatose mouth. Lucy and Ruth hastily untied his limbs, then heaved him onto the makeshift stretcher, and refastened him in place.

  With a crunch, the boat’s fiberglass hull tore further, throwing Lucy and Fliss off-balance as their center of gravity shifted twenty degrees. They caught Jack just in time as the stretcher slid towards the water.