by M. L. Banner
“This large section here where we don’t have a sealed area. This further burdens our compressors. That means we’ll never get our temperatures low enough, even though our systems will fight to do so, until they fail completely.”
She paused and mumbled something under her breath, while air-pointing at each deck. She silently mouthed something else, like she was mentally calculating numbers. “I can return us to zone cooling in most other areas, and get us down to maybe sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit”—she enunciated this loudly—“within half an hour. Then I suggest we back off each area that’s been cleared by our three teams. This should give us more capacity to lower the temperatures even further.”
Niki folded her arms across her chest and waited for what Ted guessed was the order to move forward with her suggestion.
“Sounds like an excellent suggestion, First Officer Tesler. Ah, make it so.” He didn’t know what the normal ship command protocol was for a request to execute an order, and the only anecdote he could come up with was from Star Trek.
With that, she pivoted on a heel and marched back to her console. She mouthed a few words to Jessica, and then rapidly tapped on her keyboard.
They all turned their gazes to their feet when they felt the rumble below, as if they could see through the floor to confirm the engines had started. Then, like they’d been given a nudge, they were pushed forward, and then to their port side. Ted watched a small island off their port-side slip past their bridge windows, slowly at first and then more rapidly with each passing moment. They were now moving, in a circle.
“Thanks, First Officer,” Ted said.
She acted as if she hadn’t heard him.
Ted returned his focus to the group. “So, unless they’re all in one enclosed location, how are we going to get them into—”
The radio blared, “Bridge, we’re under attack.”
~~~
The two remaining officers in their group were following the staff captain’s orders: each monitored a blockade, so that if any other survivors showed up, they could easily let them in. It was what they added to his orders that led to someone’s death.
Not having a key card to the luxury suite, and not wanting to be stuck outside if one or both of them had to rush in, they inducted Boris into doorman service, and tasked him with holding open the cabin door. And being there if they needed their quick retreat.
“I have almost two hundred cruise days with this company, and you want to make me a blooming doorman?” he complained. But they ignored his complaint.
Boris wasn’t about to indulge these tossers, no matter what they commanded. What were they going to do to a guest? he reasoned. Besides, they had ample barricades to keep the nutters back. And unless they were stupid, they could easily retreat without his assistance. So while each officer was staring through cracks in their barricades, Boris snatched one of the cabin’s life-vests and wedged it under the door to keep it open.
He returned to a soft arm chair to continue watching BBC on the telly. The fact that their now deceased captain had lied to their ship about not getting satellite wasn’t that much of a bother to him. He was just glad they were getting the news, no matter how ghastly it was.
Penny couldn’t take the telly’s drumbeat about death and destruction. She preferred escape in fantasy stories over anything scary from the news, or the movies. She wouldn’t go with him to watch action-thriller pictures; he always had to call his mates. So while Boris was immersing himself in the news, she grabbed her new chum Evie, and they retreated into the master bedroom to lie down on the two sofas.
Al, the doctor, who was really a vet, bothered him once more to check on his wounds, which were itchy, but fine. Then Al excused himself to check on the ladies. That’s when Boris heard a commotion outside the cabin.
Holding the volume button, Boris waited for it to slowly cycle from 28 down to 5. He turned his head toward the door to see if he could tell what was going on. He certainly wasn’t going to get up out of his seat, if he didn’t have to.
One of the two officers burst into the cabin, ripped open the door to the loo, dashed in, and slammed the door behind him.
The volume was low enough now that Boris could hear someone yelling outside the cabin, “Bridge, we’re under attack.”
That’s when it went balls-up.
Boris bolted upward, his knee instantly buckling and shooting ice picks of pain throughout his body. With only one good leg to support all of him, he toppled in the other direction. His size and gravity worked against him, and he tumbled back onto the chair. And then over it.
When he came to rest, once more on the floor, head pointed to the ceiling, feet shooting straight up into the air, propped up against the overturned chair, he heard the only sounds which now completely terrified him.
“No,” he whined, flipping his gaze to the open cabin door.
From his sideways view, just like he’d experienced earlier in the cruise, he watched with horror as the same band of loony dogs, led by the same little devil-poodle, raced through the door and headed directly for him.
He closed his eyes and waited for more pain.
~~~
Al was much more at ease looking after his animal boarders than nursing humans: his animal patients did what he asked and were rarely fussy, whereas his human patients were impossible, with only one exception.
Boris complained loudly every time Al attempted to check on him. This was fine because his wounds were superficial. His wife, Penny, whined every time he checked on her, but she had an anxious stomach and excused herself once again, dashing back into the luxury suite’s bathroom. Evie was his third patent and the easiest to deal with, but there was little he could do with her. She’d cut her foot badly on some broken glass in their escape to this part of the ship.
Evie never so much as winced when Al bandaged her, even though he could see by her expression that it was painful. Al did the best he could with the supplies at hand. But her cut was deep and would require stitches when or if they could get out of this mess. All he could do was tell her to avoid moving and keep her leg elevated, which she did without complaint.
While waiting for Penny, he started again to wonder about his dogs: he didn’t know where they were; if they’d hurt anyone; and if they’d find them before they did. Ever since their last escape, he’d been a nervous wreck not knowing. But he was also exhausted and since he had to wait, he took up a chair near Evie, on the other side of the bedroom. Then he closed his eyes.
He wasn’t sure how long he nodded off, but some noise startled him awake. There was a click across the room and he watched Penny lumber out of the bathroom door, and walk his way. Her features were ashen: she was obviously sick. As he watched her lumber toward him, part of him started to wonder if she was infected. If she was, what could he do? They probably needed to isolate those who were infected, but hadn’t yet shown signs. That sure wouldn’t go over well. Another reason why he preferred dogs.
Al was about to instruct his patient to lie down when he heard a loud clatter outside the cabin. Then he heard their barks.
It was his dogs.
Seeing their bedroom door was open, and Penny was closer to the back slider, Al yelled to Evie to take Penny outside. Now!
Al dashed the other way, toward the bedroom door.
Penny scrutinized Al, in slow motion when he passed her. But when she heard the dogs, she became immediately animated, and raced for the back slider. Evie was already working on the latch.
At the bedroom entrance, Al first caught Boris, upended in a seat, on the floor. Then he saw the dogs bound through the cabin entrance. Boris would have no chance of getting away. So Al yelled and flapped his arms to attract their attention, knowing movement and noise would do the trick.
The lead dog—that awful little poodle called Monsieur—took the bait first, turned the corner and leapt through the door, right at Al. He turned on his hips and batted the pup away from him with his right hand, and the dog tumbled half
way toward the slider.
It recovered way too fast.
The little dog, who was now almost completely red and brown, must have caught the women's scent—they were still not outside yet—and dashed in their direction. The slider was open, but based on Penny’s slow speed, he knew they wouldn’t make it in time. Then all the dogs would get them and the two other passengers outside, who were staring through the windows wide-eyed. He couldn’t let more people get hurt from his animals.
He ignored the other dogs, which he knew were no more than two seconds away, and catapulted himself toward the poodle, who was getting traction on the blue and white carpeting. Last time he sprang for the poodle, he was too slow. This time he was quick enough.
He reached for and snagged one of the little poodle’s hind legs, and clasped onto it with all his strength, not worried about hurting the animal. But just then a giant weight hit him in the small of his back, knocking the wind out of him. He knew this was Max, the big German Shepherd.
Then a trumpet-sound of loud screeches and growls rang in his ears, right when he felt his neck explode. But he ignored this.
Al even ignored the poodle, who whipped around and bit him multiple times and then struggled against his unyielding grasp, shrieking from anger.
Al was focused on one thing: the ladies. When he finally saw they’d successfully exited the room and slammed the slider home, he let go of the vicious dog and accepted his fate. He turned his gaze to the poodle, right when it dove at his face; its little fangs found his eyes.
~~~
“It’s dogs!” Deep hollered breathlessly on the other end of the radio. “Someone attacked in hallway. Now in eight-zero-zero-zero.”
Ted reached down below the workstation where he was sitting, snatched the small footrest he’d been using, and pushed up from his seat. He hobbled to the bridge hatch, David already there clutching his table-leg club.
David snapped a curious glance at Ted’s clutched foot-rest.
“I gave my table leg to Flavio. Come on. Let’s go.”
David drew open the hatch and they slipped into the hall.
Ted scanned forward and then to the starboard side, along the long hallway, toward Eloise’s cabin and that blockade. One of the ship’s officers, was curled up in a little ball on the floor, whimpering. That must be the one Deep said was attacked.
“He’s just scared,” David whispered.
“So am—” Ted bit his tongue when he heard the growling and other unspeakable sounds coming from the Queen Suite.
They tiptoed, into the suite and saw Boris pulling himself up off the floor, using an overturned chair. His face looked tortured and paler than normal.
David caught movement outside on the balcony, and started in that direction. Ted limped over toward the bedroom, where the ghastly noises of dogs fighting and chewing were as loud as ever.
He caught a glimpse of a body on the floor and the dogs going at it, when one of the dogs turned in Ted’s direction.
Then a loud bang on the other side of the room distracted the dog, who turned toward the noise. That’s when Ted moved faster than he thought he could. He darted three steps forward into the bedroom, hurled his foot-rest at the far wall and reached inside the bedroom.
He grabbed the door handle as his foot-rest clanged off the wall, adding to the racket inside. Without even looking—he didn’t dare—he yanked so hard on the door, it slammed shut and sent him to the floor.
One or more of the dogs immediately banged loudly on the other side.
When he caught David escorting his wife and the others back into the cabin, Ted laid his head down. He was tired.
78
Deep Freeze
“Look, they’re already settling down,” David exclaimed, his head pressed up against the glass, hands cupped around his face so he could see.
“I know.” Molly didn’t need to look: she knew this would happen once they directed the cooling to that enclosed bedroom. Mostly she didn’t want to look: her stomach turned cartwheels every time she thought of the dead vet, all ripped apart. He was a nice young man she’d just been speaking with earlier. Just picturing his face sapped her of her remaining energy. Her back slid a little against the slider, the rest of her weight balanced on her cane. She even started to go wobbly, like she might fall over, and there were no chairs out here to sit down on. They had used them for the blockade.
“Are you all right, Dr. Simmons?” David asked, his firm hand grasping her arm at just the right time. “Let’s go in and sit for a moment.”
She wanted to say, “Yes that’s what I need, because I’m a tired old lady.” All she could manage was, “Yes.”
She remembered being led inside the luxury suite to a chair, although moments were starting to blur.
An open bottled water appeared on a table in front of her, as did David and Ted. They were all sitting at the dining room table now.
She snatched the bottle with a shaky hand and took a large gulp.
She heard her name mentioned a few times, but didn’t hear the context. And then a question, directed at her. She looked up.
David repeated his question. “Can we help you into the other room to lie down for a while?”
She felt better now, though chilly. A little uncontrolled shudder erupted inside of her.
“I’m fine now, David. Thank you. I just had to sit a spell. Please keep talking though. Hearing your voices helps.”
Ted had popped up out of the chair while she’d said this and put a man’s jacket around her shoulders, before he sat down again in front of her and beside David.
“Thank you, dear. Please stop making a fuss over me. I’m feeling so much better, just sitting and talking.”
She looked down for her cane and saw that it was resting against her chair. One of the boys must have put it there.
“That’s the Rod of Asclepius, the doctor’s symbol, isn’t it?” Ted asked, smartly trying to get her mental faculties regrounded on terra firma.
She picked up her carved cane and held it up so both of them could see it close. It was a gift from her son. Her mind wondered what happened to him with all of this craziness happening. He was a Doctor without Borders, now somewhere in Africa. And the cane was something hand-carved by a local African artisan. She hoped he survived this thing. A wave of sadness overwhelmed her then, when she knew there was a good chance he did not.
So much death right now.
“I’ve always wondered what the two snakes crawling up a pole had to do with being a doctor.” It was David, who was also trying to bring her back from now an emotional cliff.
“Well...” She wiped a tear from her cheek, and then gazed at both men and then finally the cane. She knew this story well. “Some say that these are not snakes, but Guinea worms.” She looked up again to see Ted had a slight grin—he obviously knew this story, but wanted her to tell it.
“You see there’s a parasite called a Guinea worm, a fascinating two-foot-long creature that escapes their host by punching through an ulcerous blister on the infected’s skin, over the course of a few days.” She was feeling better already.
“You couldn’t yank it out at one go-round, since the parasite would snap in two and the remnant inside the body would die and cause a fatal infection. So the thousand-year-old traditional treatment was to wrap it around a small stick, and then slowly turn the stick, winding it around the stick, until you were able to pull out the parasitic worm and kill it. So you see, these aren’t snakes, but parasitic worms.”
That’s when it hit her. She quickly turned in her chair and gazed at the outside. It was getting dark. She turned back to the men.
“I think we don’t have any more time. We need to recall the three teams and get them back before it’s dark.”
“Why?”
“Because parasitics love the night, and I have a feeling that ours will too.”
~~~
Jean Pierre held the door closed and waited. TJ was on the other side but had be
en gone for much longer than she had been previously. Usually she’d just stick her head in, sniff and say whether or not the area was clear. Although at this point he wasn’t sure if the longer time was good or bad.
Just previously to this, they’d found their first parasitic, but that was inside a cabin, on deck 7. It was then they decided to skip the cabins for now, and just focus on the public spaces. The cabins were secure, either keeping the parasitics inside or protecting the non-infected from any parasitics that might try to attack from outside. So they would make sure the “outside” was clear first. Then they’d work on the individual cabins.
Ted and the others had come up with a plan to air-condition the uncleared areas and the cabins and with each area cleared, they’d turn off the air. It was getting cooler inside, but it was not cool enough. They had to clear out more of the ship before turning the air on at max, or risk burning out their compressors.
Jean Pierre examined the colored printout of the deck plans, with his own markings, and saw they still had six more decks to go, including this one. At this rate, they’d be at this all night, even without the one-by-one cabin checks.
There was a triple-tap on the other side of the door. It was TJ.
He unlocked the door and pulled it open, and she slid out, still wearing her slinky outfit.
Her face told him the answer to the question he always asked. There were no parasitics there, or non-infected. He marked an “X” over Giovanni’s, their premium Italian restaurant. That left one final place in the stern of deck 6. The Wayfarer Lounge.
TJ was already headed there, marching ahead of him. She had quickened her pace.
