The Final Outbreak

by M. L. Banner

  There was an immediate response. “This is T.D.—ah, Ted Williams, consultant to Captain Christiansen. Are the staff captain and Mrs. Williams up there, on deck 8?”

  That was the passenger-author, she thought. What’s he doing on the ship’s private radio?

  “Mr. Williams? This is Intrepid Security,” she chimed back, a little miffed that he was using their radio for unofficial business. “I haven’t seen the staff captain or Mrs. Williams up here. And I recommend you don’t come to deck 8 either. There’s a wild monkey up here.”

  A shuffling sound in the room.

  “In fact—”

  A moan, followed by the sound of an object clattering to the carpet, sounded from behind her.

  She spun around, held up her flashlight up and clicked it on, sending a cone of light to the floor midway through the cabin, toward the sound. Only a few feet from her, at the foot of the bed, was the body of a man—she could tell by his shoes.

  She moved the light up, illuminating his body, and then gasped.

  The chest and stomach were gone, emptied. It was like his trunk had exploded outward and his gore was everywhere around him. And... she caught the epaulet on his shoulder. Three bars. It was Spillman.

  Another noise and Lutz moved the light up farther, casting it on the whole room.

  What she saw shocked her so badly she dropped her flashlight. It bounced twice and went out.

  35

  TJ & Jean Pierre

  “Did you hear that?” TJ asked. She shuffled over to the door on bare feet, putting an ear to it. “I swear I heard something out there.”

  “What? I didn’t hear anything. Come back here,” Jean Pierre pleaded.

  She paused to wipe the sweat from her face with her palm, miffed at how hot this interior cabin was. All because the door was closed, so that no one could hear them from the hallway, or accidentally wander in, forcing them to explain what they were both doing there.

  She glanced again at Jean Pierre, feeling guilty about being here and not with her husband. Her hand brushed against her Orion necklace, causing her body to shudder.

  She just realized how late it was. She had missed Ted’s talk, completely. “I’m going,” she announced.

  TJ marched over to the bed and collected her personal belongings. “I’m tired and I need to go, now.”

  He finally glanced up at her. “But what about, you know...?”

  “I really don’t care at this point. Look,” she squeezed his shoulder tenderly, “I really appreciate all you’ve done, I just can’t do this cloak and dagger bullshit anymore. And the not telling Ted everything kills me, especially since he trusts me implicitly.”

  “You think he would still trust you if you told him that you were in a cabin, sweating with a single man?” He smiled at his rhetorical question.

  She slapped his naked dome. “You’re evil. But yes, he would still trust me, even after that!”

  “You Americans are so—”

  “—Hey, wait. Holy shit! Did you see that?” TJ pointed at Jean Pierre’s laptop screen.

  He turned back around to look at it. “I know, that’s what I’ve been trying to show you.”

  ~~~

  Ted bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time. When he cleared the deck 7 stairwell, he saw another man coming up from the other side, matching Ted’s pace.

  “Flavio?” Ted huffed, ascending more stairs.

  “Mr. Villiams.” Flavio exhaled, still countering his pace.

  Each rounded deck 7 and, now side-by-side, were vaulting up the next set of stairs to the half-deck.

  “What are... you doing?”

  “Kill monkey. Same as you,” the Romanian head waiter declared.

  They turned to their separate stairwells, Ted on the left, and Flavio to his right, and made way for deck 8. They cleared the last step at the same time, but Ted turned right this time and Flavio turned left, crisscrossing each other to different sides of the deck’s two hallway entrances. “I think monkey this way, Mr. Villiams,” he whispered, while withdrawing a large cooking knife from a sheath with his right hand. It was polished to a mirror finish. He held up at the port-side hallway entrance.

  “How do you know?” Ted whispered. He bent over, grabbed some breaths and shuffled back across the hall to Flavio.

  “I do not know. I just think it this way.”

  “I’m not here to get the monkey. I’m here to get my wife, before the monkey gets her.”

  “I’ll lead then.” He turned right and stridently marched down the hallway, stopping only occasionally to consider each and every sound.

  It was the same hallway Ted had walked down earlier with the All Access Tour group, leading to the bridge all the way forward. The tour’s route began at the forward stairwell versus their mid-ship start. Now, they needed to walk halfway across the span of the Intrepid just to get to the bridge from here. TJ was nearby in cabin #8511. It felt like an impossibly long walk, with a crazed monkey on the loose. And now he remembered, based on the cabin numbers, the cabin he was looking for was on the starboard side of the ship.

  Ted tried hard to moderate his breathing, but it was difficult because he was winded from the stairs and he feared for his wife’s safety. He concentrated on taking long and deep inhalations, one for every five footsteps.

  Almost every doorway they passed had a green sticker on its handle and several were still propped open, as all the passengers had been advised to do earlier. Their occupants were either away or had forgotten it was okay to shut their doors now that they’d been cleared. Worse, each open doorway presented another opportunity for a hiding, crazed monkey to leap out and kill them.

  When they made it to the forward stairwell, without any sight or sound of the wild monkey, Ted bit his lip and turned right. Flavio seized him by the shoulder. “Why?” he whispered.

  “My wife is in 8511.”

  “Dat’s your cabin?”

  “It’s not ours... But she’s there now.”

  “Vait.” Flavio swiftly withdrew another knife from a sheath on his other hip, flipped it around with precision, and handed it to Ted, handle first. “In case you see monkey. I come around by bridge and meet you at room.”

  Ted nodded and pointed the shiny knife blade outward, almost more afraid now of cutting himself than getting attacked. Almost.

  He studied the starboard hallway, looking in both directions. There was no movement or noise, other than an indistinguishable voice or muffled cough. But there was the blood. A lot of it.

  A line of blood led from one end of the hallway to the other. It looked fresh. Leaning over, he touched a forefinger to the wetness and pulled back, his fingertip coming up red. His thumb rubbing the crimson around his forefinger confirmed it. And no coagulation meant it just happened. He shuddered just a little and clutched the knife handle even tighter. Then, he turned the corner, immediately coming upon cabin 8511, which abutted the stairwell.

  He contemplated whether to knock or holler. Either would make too much noise, and he suspected if the monkey was somewhere on this floor, the noise would attract it. Deciding a short double-rap would be best, he raised his clenched fist.

  Then the door opened.

  It was TJ, who looked as surprised as he. Behind her was Jean Pierre.

  “Ted? What are you do—”

  Ted put his hand over her mouth and forcibly pushed her and the staff captain back into the room.

  As Jean Pierre backed up, he caught a glimpse of the very large knife Ted was nervously brandishing. “Ah, Mr. Williams, Theresa Jean—I mean Mrs. Williams—and I were doing nothing wrong. In fact—”

  “Shhh.” Ted glowered at the stammering officer as he let the door close softly behind him.

  Ted glanced quickly at the room and its occupants: pages of papers taped to the walls, including schedules with times and dates; two laptops, his and TJ’s; the staff captain, his bald head and face glistening with sweat, one tail of his shirt untucked. Then he noticed the bed behind
him had been hastily made. For just a moment, his mind wandered, until he glared at TJ.

  “Before you think anything further, I’m gay. I have no interest in her.”

  Ted ignored him and wrapped his arms around TJ, and hugged her tight. Upon release, he said, “I’m sorry for being such an asshole. I’ve been taking things out on you because of my own guilt with my first wife and son dying, and I’ve been shrinking away from you, and that’s wrong. Please forgive me.”

  She hugged him back. “Of course, I forgive you.”

  A smile grew on Ted’s face. “Also, I no longer suffer from enochlophobia.”

  They kissed for a long moment, while Jean Pierre waited uncomfortably.

  Jean Pierre continued to scowl at both of them, before he finally shook his head and said, “Oh, you already knew what she was doing here and you knew it the whole time?”

  “Yeah, she confessed to me about the whole... Affair?” Ted snickered at his pun. “I know this cruise is an FBI setup, so that TJ could work undercover—though I thought it was all about me—to catch Eloise Carmichael, because the rich son of one of her victims has a Senator uncle who pushed the FBI to send someone on this cruise, before she killed her seven-hundredth husband.”

  “We may be too late on that one,” TJ cut in. “We were just about to open her cabin when you arrived. We were watching video recordings from her living room, when we caught a glimpse of... So did you come here just to apologize and tell me you loved me?”

  Ted’s face became grim. “I don’t want you to freak out, but one of those damned Barbary apes got on board and was spotted on this floor. I came up to warn you both.”

  “Oh shit,” she breathed. Her features tensed, then relaxed. “But I thought that the aggressive behavior passed after so much time.”

  “Me too, but the guard I spoke to on the radio said that a crazed monkey was on this deck, that it had already killed someone. There’s a long blood trail just outside, spanning much of the hallway. Someone or something has been seriously injured.”

  Jean Pierre broke out of his gaze and grabbed his radio from his belt. It had been turned down the whole time, while they were monitoring Carmichael’s cabin, in an effort to be covert. He turned it up and they heard a flurry of voices.

  “Come on, let’s get this over with,” TJ said and bounded out the door, with the two men following.

  Only a few steps later, they arrived at the Royal Suite, cabin #8500. The blood trail appeared to lead right up to and under the door, and a puddle of vomit lay off to the side of it.

  Jean Pierre tentatively opened the door using his key-card, revealing the slaughter.

  ~~~

  It hit TJ like a shot to the head—the carnage and the knowledge that this gory mess was from an animal attack. At that moment, TJ recalled the scenes of the blood and gore from Chicago, when her actions led to a partner’s death, and then to the more vivid moments from the day she was attacked.

  They popped into her head in rapid succession: the vicious dog coming out of nowhere; her hand pressed against her damage; doing 180’s, watching and bracing for the next strike she knew would come at any moment; the shock and dizziness from the blood loss; the extensive pooled blood and gore just inside the stables; the attack that followed.

  The fear she felt from those moments ate at her every day.

  It was now overwhelming.

  She steadied herself on the doorjamb, reflexively snapping her head back to make sure the monkey wasn’t there, before returning her gaze to the gore before her. She squeezed her eyes closed before opening them again, trying with all her will to ignore the terror that wanted to consume her. She didn’t want them, most especially Ted, to see this. They needed her.

  ~~~

  “Good God, what the hell happened here?” TJ whispered, her voice scratchy. She didn’t wait for an answer and stepped over the pool of blood and muck.

  “Do you think that’s wise?” Ted asked as he carefully navigated the large puddle of red soup: a mixture of blood and other unrecognizable organic material in it. A disgusting human bouillabaisse, Ted thought. Bile rose up in his throat.

  Each of their steps into the cabin splish-splashed, indicating it too was swamped by the tsunami. Jean Pierre pulled open the sheers and curtains, to let in some light.

  TJ yelped, startled as someone popped out of the bedroom. “Flavio? What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Mrs. Villiams... Mr. Villiams... Staff Captain.” Flavio nodded at each, stopping in the reception area, where the gathering group held up. “Monkey not here. Also, dead man in bedroom.” Flavio pointed.

  They all rubbernecked, and then one by one made their way through the thousand-square-foot cabin, complete with grand piano, full-size living room, office, and giant bedroom. On the bedroom floor, among some debris, were the bloody remains of an elderly man.

  Pulling a tissue from her pocket, TJ crouched beside the body and pressed it against the dead man’s face. “Based on the body’s morbidity, I’m guessing he’s been dead more than a day.”

  “Just as the dark video confirmed.” Jean Pierre stated while hunched over the other side of the body. He stood up and addressed the others, “We’ve been keeping an eye on Mrs. Carmichael during the cruise. But the video had gone dark, like much of the ship. Then we had just seen a flash of what we thought was Mrs. Carmichael. That’s when we had decided to enter the cabin.

  “I’m no expert, but these sure don’t look like claw marks.” Ted pointed to the man’s stomach and chest.

  TJ used her tissue to examine one of the cuts, pulling at the sliced clothing surrounding one of the stab wounds. “You’re right. Eloise is probably responsible for both murders.”

  “I only see one body,” Ted murmured, searching the shadows of the room. “How do you know all the blood at the door wasn’t the husband’s?”

  “Besides the trail of blood in the hallway, the gore in the entrance is... fresher.”

  Jean Pierre moved to the living room and used his walkie to call security to find out where his guards were, including the guard who was supposed to be posted in front of the bridge. He also wanted someone posted here, to protect the crime scene, and to get an update on their crazed monkey.

  “Come here. Now,” Flavio said from the hallway.

  They trotted out of the cabin, again carefully stepping over the gore in the entry, and found Flavio pointing down the hallway with his knife. “I think monkey drag second body this way.” He didn’t wait for them, stalking along the side of the corridor, just outside of the blood trail.

  “How can one of those little monkeys drag an adult down a hallway?” Jean Pierre asked.

  “That little monkey is many times stronger than you or me,” Ted answered. His exasperation was growing. “So I guess now we’re searching for both a woman serial killer and a crazed monkey?”

  “It would seem so,” Jean Pierre said.

  “Even you wouldn’t make something like this up in one of your stories.” TJ turned to Ted and kissed him. “I forgot to thank you for coming up to warn us.”

  “Gee, shucks. Here.” He handed her Flavio’s knife. “You know how to handle this better than I do. And I have a feeling we’ll need it where Flavio’s taking us.”

  They caught up to Flavio, who had stopped outside of a cabin door. “Blood trail goes this way. Different blood here, into this cabin.”

  Flavio was right. The long blood trail almost appeared to fork a few feet from cabin 8531, with one prong, mostly blood droplets, at the threshold of the cabin and the other, more pronounced, going into a restricted crew-only doorway.

  Flavio put his head to the cabin door, and then announced, “I hear nothing.”

  Jean Pierre had opened the restricted access door that led into the crew’s mid-ship elevator and stairwell. From below, they heard distant screams.

  Flavio brushed past his staff captain through the door, the others reluctantly following.

  Once inside, they froze. />
  36

  The Monkey

  “His name is Catur. He’s one of the room attendants,” Jean Pierre said softly to the group.

  “I see no knife wounds though, just bites and ripped flesh.” TJ once again had another tissue out, while Jean Pierre held a flashlight on the body.

  “So the monkey killed this one and Eloise—” Ted was interrupted by a terrified scream from downstairs. All heads turned.

  “Enough talk,” Flavio whispered and then quickly proceeded down the stairwell, using the scream and the monkey’s small bloody footprints as his guides. The other three followed close behind.

  They tracked the bloody marks all the way down to deck 1. When they opened the door onto I-95, everything was quiet. This was an oddity, since even during early morning hours, the area was normally abuzz with activity. It should have been bustling right now.

  “Look, blood goes there,” Flavio said, and then he continued his pursuit, leaving the others to ponder their next move.

  “Is it just me, or is Flavio a badass?” Ted tried to crack a joke, but it fell as flat as his others earlier today.

  TJ just scowled at him and then caught up to Flavio, clutching the knife Ted had given her.

  “That looks like the crew’s break area,” Jean Pierre whispered to Ted and pointed down I-95 to where the gory impressions stopped, collected and then continued on. “It’s where they can smoke and get some fresh air, outside of the view of guests.”

  As they continued, several crew peeked out of doorways, fearful of coming out any farther. Jean Pierre motioned for them to stay where they were. Ted would have preferred to have been in any of those places, rather than out here tracking a crazed killer-monkey. But if TJ could be tough, tracking a wild beast when she was terrified of most animals, he figured he should at least back her up on it. He had fallen behind and scurried to catch up with the group.