Dead Sea

by Aline Riva

  Just then the air filled with a sound like thunder, she looked skyward and saw the turning blades of a black helicopter and hoped for a miracle.

  In the skies above, Emma had raised the alarm.

  “Fishing vessel below us – two women trapped and two corpses closing in!”

  Marc turned his head sharply.

  “Oh, finally I have your attention!” snapped Greg.

  Marc shot him a furious glance and said shut up, then the world seemed to move in slow motion as he ripped free his safety belt, stood up and drew his gun. For one moment as he swore his heart stopped in his chest, Greg was sure he was about to be blown away. Then Marc ripped back the door of the helicopter as air blasted in, grasped a seat to steady his balance and took aim, firing a volley of shots below. One hit the larger creature in the chest, a second shot blew off the unexposed side of its caved in head, then the remainder took out the smaller, lunging creature, its body jerked back as its head exploded and the body hit the deck heavily.

  He holstered the gun and looked to Greg.

  “We need to get them out of there.”

  “Of course,” Greg replied, still shaken from the moment he had pulled the gun, “I was about to suggest that.”

  “I'll take her down slowly,” Emma called back, as she exchanged a glance with Marc that shared the sentiment, Like hell he was going to say that...

  As they descended, Marc freed a ladder and rolled it over the side. Now Greg had freed his belt and got up too, joining him by the open door, kneeling beside him as the chopper hovered and the women carefully made their way up the ladder.

  “I could have shot those creatures, I'm armed too.” Greg whipped aside his jacket to flash a holstered gun.

  “I know you can shoot, but I'm trained to protect.”

  Marc had replied without giving him a glance.

  “Or maybe you're just the better man,” Greg said quietly, but as the first of two shaken women were helped on board, Marc gave no reply. He pulled in the brunette first, she was pale and unsteady, then as the younger blonde woman reached up, she slipped and gave a shriek and Greg leaned over, grasping her wrist, then catching her free hand as she half clung on, pulling her up with ease.

  “It's okay,” he said, helping her safely into the helicopter, “You're okay now... Come on, this way. I'll look after you...”

  Marc had pulled up the rope and slammed the door. As he returned to his seat, the woman he had saved had strapped in beside him. The way her dark hair framed her face only served to make her pale face look even more bloodless as she looked at him with frightened eyes.

  “Thank you so much... I'm Amy, my sister is Vicki... we sailed out with our parents, they were lost in the storm and the ship was taking water... we found the fishing boat, thought it was safe...”

  “No where is safe any more,” Marc replied, “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head.

  As they spoke together, the helicopter rose and took flight once more. By now Greg had helped Vicki to a seat, fastened her belt then sat beside her, and on noticing the blood running down her face, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.

  “Let me help you, oh you poor girl...” he suddenly drew back, looking in alarm at the wound.

  “Are you bitten? Are you infected?” he said accusingly.

  “No, that thing had her by the hair!” Amy said sharply, “She's not infected!”

  He held up his hands in apology.

  “I was just making sure...”

  Then he turned back to Vicki.

  “Sorry about that misunderstanding, can't be too careful in these awful times,” Greg said politely, and folded the handkerchief and held it carefully against her wound.

  They had been flying for twenty minutes when Emma noticed the warning signs.

  “No, no...”she said, checking the controls and then turning back to the others.

  “What's wrong?” Greg asked.

  “Bloody fuel's dropping... either the instruments are wrong or we've been leaking thanks to those bullet holes!”

  “Sorry,” Greg said, and she looked confused.

  “It was your fault? They were firing at you? Why?”

  Marc shook his head.

  “Not now, Emma. But trust me, it's as bad as it can get.”

  He shot Greg another cold glance.

  Then Emma turned back to the controls, looked at the sea below and saw the oil platform looming in the distance.

  “I'll try and raise that rig on the radio,” she said, and opened the frequency and sent a mayday call. Nothing came back but static hiss, so she tried again.

  “Mayday.. can anyone hear me? Copter's damaged and low on fuel. We have no infected on board. Can anyone hear me?”

  The channel suddenly cleared.

  “This is Haven -117, the platform is not operational but yes, you may land.”

  Emma sagged in her seat as she breathed an audible sigh of relief.

  “Thank you so much, Haven!”

  “My name is Hayley Crawford and I'm the only one here, running a ghost ship,” came the reply, “But you're welcome on board.”

  “Thank you so much, over and out!” Emma said, then she turned back and looked to the others.

  “I think we've found the perfect spot!” she exclaimed, “What could be safer than an oil rig?”

  Then she turned back to the controls as the others waited uneasily – after the madness back on shore no where could ever be truly safe again, the land was crawling with the undead... But no one voiced those fears as they flew closer to land at Haven, a place they hoped would be safe – at least for a while...

  Chapter 2

  For Emma, touching down on the helipad had been a great relief – she didn't know if fuel was leaking or where the leak had gone to - until she took a look at the damage and did her best to assess it, she wouldn't know if taking the chopper back up would be something equivalent to piloting a flying bomb. But for now the engine was off, the blades had stopped turning, Marc had helped the girls out of the chopper and then Greg had also left, taking the heavy suitcases with him.

  As she stepped out of the helicopter, Emma watched as he struggled with the heavy cases, wondering what was so precious that he had to take them with him everywhere he went. It couldn't be clothing, he had a couple of spare suits hanging up in the chopper, still covered in their zip up bags and freshly dry cleaned. Besides, clothing wasn't that heavy...

  Greg finally caught up with the others as Hayley spoke with them and introductions were made. Emma watched leaning over the rail, then walked back across the helipad where she ran her hand over the bullet holes in the body of the chopper, wondering if her basic knowledge of maintenance would be enough to fix the problem. If it wasn't, they would all be stuck here for a very long time... Then as she listened to the sound of the sea and looked about at the view all round of the vast expanse of water looking blue as the sky above matched its shade and the sun shone down, she smiled. Maybe they would be safe here, and for a long time to come. Perhaps places like this were the only safe refuges left now...

  Hayley led the group from the platform, down walkways, past pipes and machinery, up a stairway and then through a door that led into a narrow corridor.

  “This,” she said, opening a second door to another corridor, “Is the residential area. The rooms are not big, but grab any one you like on this floor - except for Three C because that's my room. If you open that door at the end it leads to a recreation area, beyond that is the canteen. This is a small rig, it's not a floating hotel but there's plenty of food and water and the power's still on so we have heat and light too.”

  “Thanks,” Marc said, and she nodded politely, knowing the others were too exhausted and stressed to say much at all, but the warmth carried in his words certainly conveyed thanks on their behalf.

  “I'm going to go over to the canteen to get some food cooked later,”Hayley added, “We'll have to rely on the tinned and frozen stuff but there's a lot
of it – you all look like you could use a decent meal.”

  “Yes please,” Vicki said quietly.

  She was still holding Greg's handkerchief to her head.

  “Come with me,” Hayley said kindly, “I can find you something for that in the medical room.”

  Then she led her away and they left by the door at the end of the narrow corridor. The others stood together, looking about the small hallway where Greg's two tough exterior, bright red cases took up most of the room and no one could move without stepping over them.

  “Shouldn't you put your luggage away?” said Marc, and the suggestion was simply a remark and bore no trace of warmth nor malice, it was plain spoken words that left Greg feeling more alone than ever.

  “Yes, I'll do that,” he replied in a hushed voice, then he opened up the nearest door and picked up the cases.

  “I'm next door if you need anything,” Marc added, but then he went inside, closing the door firmly before Greg had a chance to answer.

  Greg hauled the cases into his own room, set them down next to a wardrobe and then closed the door. He cast a glance about the room :

  It had a single bed, a bedside cabinet, a small TV on a stand, the wardrobe was the only other furniture in the room, apart from a small area with a kettle and mugs and some tea and coffee. The door that led off from this room went to a bathroom area, he stepped inside and took a glance and stepped out again: An old shower unit, a sink and a toilet. He'd seen better bathrooms in caravans...

  He thought of his five bedroom home in the countryside with its tiled bathroom and gold taps and marble flooring and then gave a heavy sigh. This was not how he wanted to live, but at least he was still alive. He guessed his own place was crawling with stinking dead creatures now, they were probably lurking in the woods too. There was no going back. He sat down heavily on the bed and looked about the room in despair.

  “I didn't take all those chances with the law to end up living like this!” he said bitterly as his voice choked with tears, “I've lost everything...” Then he thought of Marc in the room next door, and guessed even though he was close by, he no longer had a close friend - not after finding out his secret. He had no one left and life felt utterly pointless...

  While her sister was gone with Hayley to get her wound cleaned up, Amy opened up the door to a small but comfortable room. It was basic and there was not a great deal of space – this room had bunk beds, and she wondered if Vicki would feel better sharing with her instead of having a room of her own because she was still so shaken up. She also felt sure that she would sleep better at night knowing her younger sister was close by where she could keep a protective eye on her.

  Then feeling exhausted, she laid back on the bottom bunk and closed her eyes, despite being on the rig, she could hear no sound of the sea nor smell the salt in the air. The room was still and peaceful and they were safe at last. That was her last thought as she welcomed the return of almost normality and slipped into an exhausted sleep.

  Out at sea a body floated, it was yet to be bloated by the water, its face was picked at by curious gulls leaving a disfigured, rotted mess. It had once been a man and his clothing was still intact but stained with blood from the bite to his shoulder that had turned fatal and infected and ultimately reanimated his corpse. Now that corpse lie on its back, bobbing along with the tide. It washed into a small but heavy slick of oil, coating the creature as the waves lapped and flicked at the oil that made the remains of its face glisten in colourful horror.

  The tide carried the undead creature out of the slick where it stayed coated, just then with a flap of feathered white wings a gull landed on the upper chest of the corpse and set beady eyes on the strange find and began to peck curiously at the rotted, oily face.

  A hand rose sharply from the water, grabbing the gull as wings snapped with a crunch and the corpse crammed the gulls head greedily into its mouth and bit down, tasting blood as wings flapped and the body jerked. The headless bird was hurled away, landing at a distance in the water with a splash.

  The corpse chewed on the head, then licked oil covered lips and turned watery eyes skyward. No more flying morsels were to be seen, so the creature simply lay there floating, letting the tide carry it, as in the distance the platform of Haven -117 loomed and the corpse drifted onward, bobbing ever closer towards the rig...

  Marc had used the time since arriving to shower and freshen up, then he had found a spare shirt in the wardrobe, it was a good fit, dark blue was not his usual choice but it was better than wearing the bloodstained white one. After getting dressed again, he left his room and hesitated at Greg's door, then he knocked, got no answer and knocked again. Still there was no answer. He turned the handle found it unlocked and quietly went inside.

  Greg was still fully clothed and lying on top of the covers, he had not bothered not freshen up and he was hugging the pillow and his face looked tear stained even as he slept. His jacket was off and his holstered gun was on the bedside table.

  Marc gave a sigh, feeling heavy in his heart. They had been close as brothers for so long, for almost their whole lives. He looked to the cases by the wardrobe and then looked away again, not wanting his anger to spill over. Then he sat on the edge of the bed with his back to Greg, who still lay sleeping. As Greg felt the bed shift, he opened his eyes, blinked away sleep and realised Marc was sitting there with his back turned.

  “I'm sorry I never told you,” he said quietly.

  Marc didn't turn around, instead he looked to the blank wall, trying to hold back his anger as he remembered theirs had been a lifelong friendship. It had changed now, it wouldn't be the same. But the old world was gone, Greg's days of his vile trade were gone, too. Everything was destroyed – but maybe their brotherly bond could still be saved. He hoped so, but knew it wouldn't be easy...

  “Just tell me why you did it.”

  Greg shifted on the bed, then sat up, but still Marc would not look at him.

  “It was a very hard life for me, when I was growing up. I wanted something better for my children!”

  “You didn't have a hard life, Greg! Your parents both had good jobs and you lived in the biggest house in the street! And as for kids, you don't have any – all you have is three failed marriages because you married gold digging bitches who wanted a slice of your cash! I warned you about each one of them, but you didn't listen!”

  “I just wanted a better life!”

  Marc still kept his back turned.

  “I'm now thinking about my cousin's funeral... Sixteen years ago, you stood next to me at that graveside and put your hand on my shoulder as I cried! He died from an overdose, Greg!”

  “Well I never sold anything to him!”

  “Of course not... there's a lot of people like you out there, flooding the market with shit that others pass on and sell to the desperate. You're sitting there lording it over them all while the suffering gets worse and worse all the way down the chain... Jesus, twenty years? I never knew, you never said a word?”

  “I couldn't,” his voice sounded broken, “You get mixed up with these people, start investing more and more and suddenly you're trusted and you get more power...and there's more risk. But it's not something you can walk away from. Not unless you want a bullet in your head.”

  “Did you honestly want to walk away?” Marc asked.

  Greg sounded on the brink of sobbing.

  “Yes! But if I'd told you, I might have put you at risk. The less you knew, the better it was for you!”

  Finally, he turned around and met his tearful gaze.

  “Just tell me one thing, Greg. I want an honest answer. Have you ever killed anyone? I mean, have you ever literally killed anyone in the course of your shitty career because they got in your way or threatened you? I want to know if there's any more secrets.”

  He shook his head.

  “I've never killed anyone...I swear!”

  He nodded.

  “Okay. I needed to know. Thank you.”

&nbs
p; Then he got up and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Greg sat alone, worrying and wondering if he still had a best friend or not. Then more guilt began to gnaw at him...

  Now it weighed heavier than before. Marc had asked him a question and he had lied, because he knew the truth would have divided them ...Of course he had killed someone, if Marc knew the circumstances he was sure he would have forgiven him, too... But not today, not when a simple yes would have severed the now fragile ties of their friendship forever...

  Over in another corner of the complex, one floor above the residential area, Vicki had sat in a chair for twenty minutes while Hayley stood over her, cleaning up her wound and then applying antiseptic cream.

  “It's got local anaesthetic in it, the pain should wear off soon. And you can wear your hair down and cover it. I know it was a mess, but at least you didn't get bitten.”

  “You know about the bites? About how they carry the virus?” Vicki sounded surprised.

  As she washed her hands then grabbed a paper towel to dry them she shot her a glance and smiled briefly, then her smile faded.

  “We're not cut off from the world, we did have TV and WI-FI here before the communications went down! I saw it all... They said it started with accidental contamination of a water supply and it took out a whole town. Then the dead came back to life and it spread fast. I know the virus sleeps for up to five days. They were talking about a theory that cutting out the wound where possible could halt the virus - but it was just a theory. If it didn't take so long to come out, maybe it could have been contained. But they started shooting infected people, so I guess you can't blame the rest of them for running. Nobody wants to die. Now it's up to us to get through each day. We're on our own. There's no help coming.”

  Vicki paused for a moment. In the time she had spent with Hayley, the older woman's company had been comforting. She had told her about her parents loss at sea and Hayley had listened. Now as Vicki looked at her, she need to ask something else, something she couldn't say in front of her sister or the others.