The Final Outbreak

by M. L. Banner

He was glad for this, because he wanted to be completely focused on what was going on around him. He had a sinking feeling that he was going to have to use all of his experience and skills today.

  94

  The Island

  Salvadore “Sal” Calderon marched down the dock—his dock—alone. He wore his dress blues for this occasion and his reflective sunglasses, even though the sky was darker than normal.

  He stopped when he was halfway down the dock and glanced up at the giant cruise ship ported in front of him. He couldn’t help but smile. He was amazed at how his plan had worked out so well. He had hoped that he'd be able to snag maybe a freighter or at least a smaller cruiser or two. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect a cruise ship to fall into his trap.

  The food problem was getting bad and if this didn't work, they were going to have to take more aggressive actions and attack one of the neighboring islands. Of course, this was fraught with much risk, as they didn't know what to expect from the other populations, whether they were affected by the disease or unaffected. He had minimal manpower and few weapons. That meant his people could be wiped out in even a small battle, regardless of their capabilities. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the protection of his island, over which he at least had control. He just had to satiate his ravenous people before things got desperate. So he had to explore all options.

  With only a few men he could trust to carry out his orders, he had started the planning for an incursion into Ponta Delgada on IIha das Flores, the closest island to them. It was less than half an hour away by the only boat they had which could make the journey. They would pull up to the port and blast away any competition with their large weapon. Assuming it was then clear, they’d raid the port of what they needed and bring back fresh supplies to his island. If none of his plans worked, the final fall-back was to abandon his island altogether. Even though it was worst case, he had to still plan for this.

  But then they received the reply.

  A couple of days after Sal took complete control of the island, he learned the world around him had completely fallen apart. So he'd come up with the brilliant idea of setting up a beacon; a repeating radio broadcast that offered up the one resource they didn't need but had lots of, heavy fuel. Only big ships, like freighters and, of course, cruise ships ate up the stuff. The P-114 military patrol boat they had taken burned marine diesel. They had plenty of this already. So with his radio rig at the police station, he set up his broadcast and went fishing, using his heavy fuel as bait.

  After the tidal wave wiped out many coastal communities on this side of the Atlantic, along with many of the ships already at sea, he wasn't sure what was still out there. He figured there had to be other semi-protected ports or bays, like theirs, which weren't too badly damaged, along with their ships. And he knew it was possible to survive a big wave at sea.

  When he received his first and only nibble, claiming to be coming from a cruise liner, he thought maybe it was a joke. Or someone else’s subterfuge. But to hear that a giant cruise ship had answered their call was simply too much to expect. Although not familiar with this particular ship, he had seen other Regal European ships ported on Sao Miguel, plus he’d read enough about them to know there had to be at least 1000 passengers and crew on board. And that meant lots of food for his people.

  When he spoke to the captain of the Intrepid, Sal did his best to make it sound like a simple trade. “We just need a little food for our starving island, and you can have as much fuel as you want.” Sal suspected a captain of a luxury cruise ship would be naive and not expect anything other than what he had heard. Still, they would be ready if the crew of the Intrepid offered up any resistance.

  He heard a foot-shuffle coming up behind him, knowing instantly who it was. Sal turned to see Tomas hurrying up the dock in his direction, and he was happy to see that Tomas was following his instructions to the letter: his young agent wore his cleanest uniform and wasn’t carrying his service weapon. Sal knew he could count on Tomas setting up everything else as requested. He was a smart boy, who understood well the penalty for disobedience.

  “Everything is set, sir,” Tomas stated this like a private to his drill instructor, only without any exuberance.

  “Good boy,” Sal answered, turning back toward the cruise ship, waiting for its hatch to open, and for the fly to get completely ensnared in his web. He licked his lips with utter anticipation, savoring in his mind what his next meal might taste like.

  “You really think they will go for it?” Tomas asked, his voice stoic and professional, as always.

  “They're here, aren't they?”

  “Yes, but what makes you think they will make a deal with you?”

  Sal hadn't yet revealed the main goal of his plan to Tomas, much less the mechanics of it. It wasn't necessary and he was pretty sure Tomas would resist him if he understood their ultimate goal. His best agent only had to follow orders. And he was good at that. He had others, with far fewer moral impediments and unique skill-sets, like him, to do his dirty work. "Simple. I'm going to accept whatever they offer, in return for all the fuel they want."

  “Isn't that kind of craz—” Tomas stopped himself, obviously seeing the wisdom in not infuriating what he must have perceived as his power-crazed superior. “I mean, wouldn't it be better to hold back some of the fuel, out of the prospect of getting another ship to come here?”

  The poor boy was just as naive as everybody else in this world. That is, everyone who used to be in this world.

  Sal learned long ago, but it was made even more obvious very recently, that whole world was populated with naive people, who never would have conceived that something like the Rage disease would appear and change everything and everyone. People were like sheep, never able to think past their next latte, or their next sexual escapade, or even their next paycheck. The world’s population had been weak and ripe for conquest. And now it would be controlled by special people like him—those who had the abilities and weren’t weighed down by the moral entanglements to use them, for their own purposes.

  As much as he wished Tomas was of the same mindset as he, sadly he wasn't. And while Sal still needed the boy, he had to use care in not sending him over the top by telling the boy their ultimate plans. He knew Tomas wouldn’t be able to handle it. Besides, Tomas would find out soon enough what they’d planned to do with the cruise ship. And when that happened, he’d either be on board or Sal would kill him. It didn’t matter either way.

  “Look, there’s someone on that balcony, off the bridge. She’s looking at us through her binoculars.”

  Sal had already seen the woman. His eyesight was far better than the younger man’s.

  He looked in her direction and waved a friendly hello to the woman.

  95

  Wayfarer Lounge

  They had both been dumbstruck when the parasitic had leapt from its pod.

  It was 08:15 and just like the last attack, a lone parasitic dashed from the same pod, closest to that slightly damaged rear door. But unlike its dead predecessor, it slowed down before hitting the door, holding up right before its fallen brother, who lay lifeless a meter in front of the damaged door. With one arm, it effortlessly snatched and dragged the dead parasitic back to their pod, where it discarded the body at the pod’s edge and moved away. What happened next was horrific.

  The Americans had something called Shark Week on one of their TV channels that fascinated Deep and several other crew. It was supposed to be real-life, even though much of it felt professionally edited—something he understood quite well. What wasn’t edited were the videos of schools of sharks being chummed with fresh blood and guts. It was like this, but worse. And in a way, what they had watched seemed less real.

  Almost immediately after the body was dumped on its periphery, the pod buzzed as if it were an angry beehive. The pod convulsed and shimmied upward, at first moving amoeba-like slowly as a single form toward the body. Then the form broke apart into its many individual part
s, which swarmed their fallen parasitic. Each frantically pounded and tore at the body, separating limb from limb, breaking up their comrade into multiple pieces.

  Deep dared not blink for fear that he was going to miss the tornado-like blurs on the screen. Seconds later, all the parasitics rose back up from where the body had been and then rapidly regrouped until the pod was whole once more. The re-formed pod then finally settled back down, although it still seemed to gesticulate in an almost anxious anticipation of another feeding.

  Nothing from the dead body was left behind, except for an almost imperceptible stain that could have been easily mistaken as a normal part of the loud carpet.

  Both Deep and Dr. Molly sat in stunned silence and were so completely focused on the gruesome sight in the left-hand corner of the main screen, that they had forgotten about the parasitic that initiated the feeding of one of their own and then moved out of their way.

  But then they caught the flash of the lone parasitic, once again dashing off to the right. It was so fast, the camera couldn’t resolve its ghostly image, until it collided shoulder-first with the damaged door. It bounced off, falling to the floor.

  Both Deep and Molly waited breathlessly to see what the parasitic would do, paying no attention to the new damage done to the door.

  “Look Mr. Deep. He’s injured pretty badly.”

  Deep saw this too; its right arm was broken and bent at an odd angle. “But that’s on the other side of where he hit the... What’s it doing now, Dr. Molly?”

  Deep didn’t see her shake her head, keeping his eyes riveted to the same scene she was.

  The parasitic rose from the floor, seemingly unaffected by its injuries, only taking a second to examine its target. It then backed up farther and then sprang. It moved even quicker than before.

  This time they couldn’t see which part of its body hit first. Deep instinctively knew that it went for the door at its weakest point and this frightened him to his core. It struck the door with so much more force that the wall around it shuddered.

  Without the audio, they couldn’t hear the impact, but they could imagine it. The door was now bent far enough inward that they could see the emergency light, fixed to the wall on the other side.

  Like the first one, this parasitic collapsed to the floor, perhaps suffering a similar fate, after serving its purpose for its fellow parasitics.

  “Was he commanded to do that?” Deep asked, but he didn’t want to hear the terrifying answer. It was one thing to have a bunch of wild animals reacting to genetically innate desires and inner demons. If they were only like other wild animals, they could control them because humans were always smarter than wild animals. But if the parasitics were thinking, calculating and able to call up any one of their group to use their superhuman strength and sacrifice themselves, without fear or thought, humans were doomed.

  Deep stared at Molly, seeing her eyes darting around the monitor’s screen, as if she were some old computer using all of its processing power to calculate what the hell was going on.

  She obviously wasn’t ready to output, because she was still silent.

  “Look,” she whispered.

  He did, his eyes first searching the monitor and then finding them.

  “Ma'am, what are they doing?"

  Molly squinted to try and better see the two figures standing in the very back of the lounge. One was the older woman Deep had recognized as the one who was running around the ship naked, attacking many passengers and crew. She was the one they called Eloise. Standing beside her was Ágúst Helguson, their missing safety director.

  Wearing what appeared to be layers of other people's ill-fitting clothes, they were standing against the farthest corner wall of the lounge, almost completely hidden in the shadows. Eloise was telling Mr. Helguson something, as if she were commanding him to do something.

  Mr. Helguson nodded. Then the former safety director opened his mouth and appeared to scream something.

  "Mr. Deep. Warn our security now." She scooted up out of her chair. "Tell him not to go in!"

  It was too late.

  96

  Ted

  Ted flipped the channel selector to security channel two, or SC2, to make sure no one from their away team or Jessica was speaking. He had thought he’d seen the captain’s lips move. His radio speaker emitted nothing but staticky silence. With his eyes riveted on his video monitor, his thumb and forefinger tensed over the channel selector. His attention was elsewhere.

  He wanted to turn back to SC1 to eavesdrop on the conversations between the guards just as they were preparing for the feeding of their parasitics. Molly had told him that they were going to do this later than normal, because of the two attempted attacks on their feeding crews yesterday. Since it was a few minutes after eight, he was anxious to hear what would happen or what was happening.

  The split screen monitor in front of him flashed two video streams, which seemed to change little: one from inside of the deck 2 port-side gangway and one just outside of it. The outside view revealed maybe a third of the island’s dock, just outside of their hatch. Nothing was moving there, except the occasional gust of wind.

  The inside view showed the members of their ship’s away team, which included TJ. Everyone, with the exception of his wife, shifted weight between their feet or incessantly fussed over their clothing. Flavio checked and rechecked his rifle before slinging it behind his back once more. Supposedly the rifles were a show of force, which the captain said he didn’t believe they would need. Almost all of them seemed anxious.

  TJ, on the other hand, was a sculpted statue of patience. The only part of her moving was her chest, constantly heaving for air to fuel her racing metabolism. Otherwise, she carried the look of someone impatiently waiting for their number to be called at DMV. In other words, impatiently annoyed.

  All were waiting for the verbal thumbs-up from Jessica, who was watching from the port-side swing deck. He suspected this would happen pretty soon since she had already instructed them to put on their earpieces moments ago. That way, the team could silently listen to any alerts either Jessica or Ted gave them. Jessica was primarily the eyes for this trade, since she had a complete view of the whole port and what lay beyond it. Ted was a backup set of eyes on the cameras and to relay any relevant reports from anyone else.

  Three members of the team, TJ, Jean Pierre and Wasano, had inserted their earpieces. Then they had Jessica and Ted each do a system check to adjust their volumes. Then silence. The next word would come from Jessica, letting them know it was time to go.

  Ted was surprised when he had been told that their earphones didn’t have mics on them: they had to speak into the actual portable radio transceiver, which had to be inconveniently lifted from their belts to do so. It seemed silly to have inferior equipment such as this. Even the standard cell phone comes with ear buds and a microphone for hands free conversations. Of course, the away team would not be conversing with him or anyone else on the radio, unless everything went south, and then it probably didn’t matter if they had microphones in their earpieces or not. The captain, the security director and TJ would be listening in for one reason and one reason only: warnings. If Jessica or Ted saw anything that would be a threat, they would warn them. And the more Ted thought about it, the more that he was convinced that he was making more out of this than was necessary.

  The trade would happen, because it had to happen. So surely they’d figure out a way to make it happen. Their situation was that dire.

  When Ted arrived, after his meet with TJ, engineering head Niki announced to him that she was going to have to increase the temperature in the Wayfarer Lounge and several pre-designated cabins at least three degrees every fifteen minutes and that all electrical systems were off. Only their most critical systems were on and running on battery power. Further, if they left this port right now, they’d have less than one hour of propeller use, at ten knots, before they’d run out of fuel entirely. She said that was enough to maybe get them to
the next closest island and that was all. They had to make a deal and it had to happen now.

  Ted decided very little was going on in the two areas he was tasked to watch. And because he wasn’t expected to say anything other than if he saw something wrong, and that wouldn’t be until after they opened their hatch in a little while, he chose to switch back to SC1 and listen in on the chatter about the feedings. He would switch the radio back to SC2 the moment he saw movement from the away team. Until then, he wanted to hear what the parasitics were up to next.

  Immediately he heard the anxious guards, who sounded like they were sending in their feeding team right now.

  “—imple. You all ready, two?” asked a familiar sounding Brazilian voice.

  Ted suspected this was the guard named Paulo that he had run into a few days earlier, when trying to alert then Captain Jörgen to the dangers in Gibraltar.

  “Jes, one. We have your back.”

  Even though he was staring right at it, Ted was startled to see some movement on his monitor. The team must be getting ready to exit. He needed to switch back to SC2, even though the feeding was supposed to happen right about now.

  “This is Feeding Team One. I’m ready with my feeder to go in. Going silent.”

  “Two here. We’re silent.”

  Ted’s hand found the selector, while he focused on his wife, as she held up her portable to her mouth. He needed to switch now.

  “Attention!” a frantic voice hollered. “We may have a breach on the port-side—”

  Ted switched the channel.

  “—ed are you there?” TJ asked.

  “I’m here. I’m watching.”

  He could see a female security guard, operating controls on a small panel rising up to her belly. She flicked a switch and the hatch began opening.

  “I just wanted to thank you for meeting me earlier.”

  “You’re welcome. I—”