Adrift (Book 1)

by K. R. Griffiths

  Mark waited patiently for Herb to finish the thought, and seriously considered punching him again when it appeared that the man considered that a good moment to stop talking.

  "Unless what?" Mark hissed.

  "Unless we sink the ship ourselves," Herb said brightly, and Mark's mouth dropped open in astonishment.

  "Are you insane?"

  "I'm starting to think I might be."

  "Look, if you're that set on suicide, why don't you go back there and throw yourself overboard? Go on, I won't stop you."

  "Believe me, I've considered it. But I'm not talking about suicide. I'm talking about sinking the ship."

  "And how is that any different?"

  "It's different because the people out there are under strict instructions to allow no harm to come to the vampires. That's rule number one. No matter what happens, they get off the ship in one piece. So if we sink the Oceanus before dawn, there'll be a lot of panicking on my father's ship, and a whole lot of debate, but the cavalry will come. They'll have to."

  "To save the vampires."

  "That's right."

  "But not us."

  "No."

  "So, that helps us how?"

  "It doesn't help us particularly. But there will be a helicopter here, and maybe boats, too. And you've got a gun, haven't you? Sinking the ship might not help us at all, but it will give us a chance, which is more than we have right now."

  Mark felt his shoulders slump. The guy was insane. He had to be. If it hadn't been for the look he had seen in Steven Vega's eyes before the head of security killed himself, Mark would have believed that Herb's story was lunacy, nothing more.

  But he had seen Vega's eyes in the soft glow of the lighter's tiny flame. He'd seen the haunted, broken expression in them, and Mark knew that no matter what, whether they were called vampires or something else entirely, something was on the ship, and it was killing everybody.

  "Sink the ship," he said slowly. "Have you got any idea how difficult that is? How impossible? This thing is the size of a goddamned skyscraper. It's not like I can shoot a few holes in the hull and down we go."

  "True," Herb said. "But the ship's got fuel tanks, hasn't it?"

  "Yeah."

  "And you've got a lighter, haven't you?"

  30

  Edgar had been watching the man and woman for several minutes, from the moment that he first noticed them approaching the restaurant. The benefit of the nightvision goggles: where they stumbled blindly in the dark, Edgar was able to move silently and accurately past ruined bodies and toppled furniture.

  At least, as accurately as his damaged leg would allow.

  His right leg had become a searing, white-hot lance driven into his hip, the already-considerable pain left by the bullet that had torn through his thigh now twinned with a newer, even more belligerent brother.

  When he had lost his grip on the ladder, he had expected the long fall, and the icy waves, and even as he felt the rope slip from his grasp he had resigned himself to his death, comforted in the knowledge that at least he had done his duty.

  The human pact with the vampires would hold. The sacrifice had been made. Once the night of terror was finished, the vampires would return to their metal cage, and would be delivered back from whence they came; back into the bowels of the Earth. It might be centuries before another sacrifice was demanded of anybody, let alone the Rennick family. Edgar had died to save millions. A hero.

  He had that, at least. That, and the knowledge that the crippling guilt he felt about leaving Herb, and about watching Seb and Phil fall to their deaths, would be mercifully short-lived.

  But the fall hadn’t been long, and it hadn’t terminated in the freezing Atlantic.

  Instead, he had landed heavily on the rail that ran around the Oceanus’ top deck, driving that right leg into the implacable metal.

  It wasn’t broken; at least, he didn’t think it was, but he had to concede there was a possibility that he had dislocated his hip.

  It took him several minutes to pluck up the courage to unwrap the twisted limb from the railing, and he damn near bit his tongue off as the agony blossomed in his mind, but once he was upright, he discovered that he could walk. Just.

  Nothing broken, and probably nothing dislocated, either. An onlooker might have said he had been lucky, but nothing about finding himself back aboard the Oceanus struck Edgar as fortunate.

  In the distance, he heard screaming, a great chorus of wails that echoed and multiplied throughout the ship.

  The feeding frenzy.

  He still had the radio and the spare pair of goggles he had stuffed into his pockets, and he tried the former vainly, begging the static and the silence to send the chopper back for him.

  His father was listening, Edgar was sure of it. He was also sure that Charles Rennick was a man of his word. The chopper would return at sunrise, and it would return for the sated vampires alone. Nothing else would be considered, not even Charles’ own sons. The pact was too important.

  Edgar was on his own.

  He considered suicide, of course.

  Didn’t have it in him.

  He even considered offering himself up to the vampires, while they were still satisfying their centuries-old hunger. They might even give him a quick death.

  Not an option.

  For once in his life, Edgar Rennick, the born leader, the man of singular purpose who always knew what to do next, drifted aimlessly around the top deck of the dark ship, wracked by indecision. Only when it dawned on him that Herb might still be alive down there somewhere, locked up in the security suite, maybe, did Edgar decide that he had a purpose after all.

  He would find his little brother.

  Hell, maybe Herb would know what to do next.

  If it hadn’t been for the inferno blazing in his right leg, Edgar thought he might have laughed at that.

  He descended toward the park warily, occasionally stepping into the deep shadows to let some runners rush by him. Escapees from the massacre at the park, fleeing to find somewhere to hide.

  They were merely prolonging their agony. Better to encounter a hungry vampire than a satisfied one. The satisfied ones, well, they tended to pursue their darker urges.

  When he reached the restaurant level, Edgar made his way to the kitchen of Les Aventure, one of the Oceanus’ more pompous dining areas, and sought out blades, though he held little hope of being able to defend himself. The only way to deal with the vampires was to evade them. If you got close enough to swing a knife, they had almost certainly already shredded your mind.

  There was every chance Edgar would end up using the knives on himself, instructed to mutilate his own body, just as the woman in Brighton had been. It didn’t matter. Holding a weapon was better than the alternative. And if he ran into security—the man who fired so accurately at the chopper, perhaps—he might be grateful that he was carrying a knife or two.

  He was still in the restaurant when he noticed the man and the woman heading toward him uncertainly, and it seemed like maybe Edgar had received some good fortune, after all. The woman wore a security uniform, which made her his best chance of finding Herb.

  So Edgar watched, and waited, until finally the time came to speak to them.

  He ran through a number of options; different stories he could fabricate to get their help, each one escalating in implausibility.

  In the end, he settled on the truth.

  After all, revealing the great secret to these people would hardly matter. Not when their life expectancy could be measured in hours at most.

  *

  In the end, Dan simply went along with it because he was too damn weary and frightened to ask the questions that crowded in his mind.

  Vampires. Sure. So what? It made as much sense as any other explanation he could conjure up. The truth was that it didn't matter what the creatures stalking the ship were. It might matter later, but for now the only thing that mattered to Dan was getting to Elaine and the limping man—whet
her he had answers or not—was getting in the way.

  They had moved through the restaurant quickly, and that was mainly down to Edgar's intervention. The candles, it turned out, were largely unnecessary. Edgar was wearing a pair of nightvision goggles, and he had a spare.

  That raised a whole lot more questions in Dan's mind, not least about the design of the goggles: they didn't look anything like the bulky, straight-from-a-secret agent-movie versions that he'd seen on television. The goggles that Edgar passed to Dan looked more like they were designed for swimming. Just regular old safety glasses to keep the chlorinated water out of your eyes.

  Yet the picture they delivered was clear. Bathed in shades of green, Dan suddenly saw the restaurant as if it were lit by floodlights.

  Dan had heard that the military had access to technology that could be decades in advance of the stuff available to the average consumer. Which would make Edgar a government official of some sort. Maybe he was a secret agent, and this is what spy equipment actually looked like.

  More questions, and no time to ask them.

  The goggles were a huge help, but actually being able to see...well, in some ways Dan could have lived without that after all.

  The restaurant had been turned into a slaughterhouse. Strewn across the tables and piled on the floor he saw chunks of meat that had very little to do with the ex-TV chef whose name was above the door. Not unless the guy's specialty involved matted hair and teeth.

  Dan guessed that the restaurant had been full, and nobody had made it out. The floor was slick and dark with blood, and the parts of bodies that he was able to recognise indicated that a lot of people had died there.

  Some of them—the ones whose bodies were still mostly intact—looked like they had killed themselves. Dan saw a ghostly green image of a smartly dressed elderly lady, who appeared to be sitting quietly at her table, with a plate of food undisturbed in front of her. From Dan's viewpoint she looked unharmed, and for a moment he thought that maybe she had survived somehow, and was sitting there in shock.

  When he moved in front of her, he saw the cutlery that she had buried deep into her own eye sockets. The handle of an ornate fork, plunged so far into her head that Dan thought the tines were probably embedded in the back of her skull.

  His stomach wanted to retch again, but there was nothing left in there to bring up.

  They left the dining room and entered the kitchen, which featured the same bloodstains, but little in the way of actual bodies. Just a single severed head, sitting in a frying pan, as if it had been deliberately placed there. Some sort of twisted joke.

  Dan snatched up a hefty-looking cleaver from a magnetic chrome rack that held numerous blades, and headed back out into the dining room, carefully avoiding looking at the obscenity in the pan.

  Edgar and Katie followed him seconds later, both brandishing huge knives, and they picked their way across the corpses littering the dining room in silence.

  He was glad when they left the restaurant, heading out into a wide corridor lined with expensive-looking artwork. Even the hallways on the Oceanus had been given luxurious purpose: this one had been turned into a gallery of sorts.

  It was, thankfully, almost devoid of bodies.

  They paused there for a moment, Katie clutching a trembling candle to stave off the darkness, while Dan and Edgar used the goggles to see further afield.

  "All clear," Dan said.

  He watched for a moment as Edgar pushed a bench up against the doors they had just used to exit the restaurant.

  "We need a plan," Edgar said, when he was satisfied that nothing could attack them from behind, and he sat heavily on the bench, clutching at his injured leg.

  "We have a plan," Dan said. "I’m going to find my wife."

  Edgar nodded.

  "I’m here to find my brother," he said, and turned to Katie. "Did you see him in the security suite? A little shorter than me, rarely shuts up. Goes by the name of Herb?"

  Katie shook her head.

  "We were the only people left in security," she said.

  Edgar’s shoulders slumped.

  "Then we have to go to the engine room," Edgar said. "There’s a good chance he’ll still be there."

  "I said I'm going to find my wife," Dan said stubbornly, and was surprised to find he meant it. Edgar was far larger than Dan, and even while the big man was sitting down, Dan felt like Edgar towered over him somehow. He looked athletic, and exuded the sort of confidence that had always made Dan shrivel, but apparently not anymore. More than anything, what Edgar represented, was an obstacle.

  "Your wife is dead," Edgar said flatly.

  Dan balled up a fist, and wondered if he had it in him to swing it. Almost.

  "You don't know that," he barked.

  Edgar sighed.

  "You're right," he said. "There is every chance she is still alive, but she won't be for long. You've noticed how the screaming has stopped?"

  Dan nodded.

  "That's because the vampires have cleared the park, and probably the decks around it, too. There will be a few people left, hiding, but right now those things are moving through the ship and tearing through everything they find. They'll be in the cabins, or in the lower decks. There will be plenty of screaming going on down there, I think. Once they are done with that, the fun will begin for them. Hunting down the stragglers. Like us."

  Edgar paused, letting his words settle for a moment.

  "Things are going to get a lot fucking worse when they've finished feeding," he said. "They've been in hibernation for a long time. Got to wake up starving from that, I'd say. So, step one would be feeding, right? Step two, well, I'm thinking that might be entertainment."

  Dan hated that word as it left Edgar's lips; despised it for the way it managed to open up a new well of horror and fear inside him.

  "I'm just letting you know the reality of the situation," Edgar said with a shrug. "My brother is here somewhere. Same as your wife. But look around you. This is far worse than I imagined. It might be for the best if they are both already dead. Because the ones left alive won't get quick deaths, not when these things have got full bellies."

  Dan stared at Edgar, and said nothing, but his mind was full of the sudden certainty that Edgar was hiding something. The conviction in the man’s words, which hadn’t shaken once when he talked about vampires existing, wobbled, just a little, and Dan caught it.

  Edgar was not a man to be trusted.

  "We can't fight them," Edgar said in a low voice. "So how can we possibly save anybody?"

  "Bullshit," Dan said quietly. "These things are animals. You can call them vampires, but I'm betting if they catch something like this," he hefted the cleaver, "in the neck, they'll die just like anything else."

  Jesus Dan, would you listen to yourself? Have you lost your mind?

  "Maybe," Edgar said with a thin smile. "If you could get close enough. But there is a lot more at stake here than you know. Getting off the ship is one thing, but if we actually harm any of the vampires, well...it could have severe repercussions. For the whole world."

  Dan shook his head slowly. Edgar was talking in riddles, and eating up valuable time.

  "I don't care about the world," Dan said bitterly. "The world stabbed me in the fucking head for the price of a Burger King. The world doesn't need me. My wife does. I'm going to her."

  Edgar's brow creased in confusion, and he shrugged.

  "And if it's the wrong move?"

  "Then I'll be wrong," Dan snarled. "It won't be the first time."

  "Might be the last."

  Dan waved a dismissive gesture with his free hand and turned to Katie.

  "I still need a guide," he said quietly. "Are you still with me?"

  Katie nodded, her eyes wide, and Dan smiled gratefully.

  "Then it's settled," Dan said. "Edgar, thanks for your help, and if you're here to save the world or to find your brother, then good luck to you. We're going to the cabins, and you're welcome to come along. W
e get Elaine, and I'll give you all the help you need to find your brother, no questions asked. Deal?"

  Edgar stared at Dan for several seconds, and chuckled. He stood with a wince, and began to limp forward.

  "We're headed in the same direction, for now. So, sure, why not? Let's see how you feel by the time we reach the stairs."

  31

  It knows I'm in here, Elaine thought. She wouldn’t have believed that five words could possibly be so terrifying, but the realisation that the creature pursuing her was searching the cabins left her feeling dizzy and disorientated.

  She had run for what felt like an eternity; blind in the darkness, but the entire sprint had probably only totalled fifty paces. Panic made the seconds stretch out like chewed gum, until each one became an ordeal that she had to endure. With every step, her head filled with gruesome images of the creature giving chase, tearing those terrible talons into her flesh.

  When she saw the faint light throbbing through the open doorways of a hallway of cabins that had sea-facing windows, she bolted down it, and halted halfway.

  If she kept going, she would hit another darkened hallway, moving away from the exterior of the ship and the feeble light streaming through the windows. As much as her fear implored her to keep running, some part of Elaine understood that the darkness would be her downfall, and so she darted into the third cabin along the hallway, wishing desperately that she could close the door behind her, and cursing the ship.

  Everything these days had to be technological in some way, everything had to be smart. Even the damn cabin doors. Motion activated, electronic and utterly useless if you needed to shut one while being chased by a murderous animal during a power cut.

  Not an animal.

  Elaine crouched down behind the sofa in the living room, and hoped to hear the creature continue straight past the cabin.

  It hadn't happened.

  Instead, the creature was methodically entering the cabins, one by one, searching for her.

  It knows I'm in here.

  Elaine felt like she was losing her mind. Maybe, she thought, she was still unconscious at the foot of the stairs. Maybe the fall had done serious damage to her brain.