Sea Sick: A Novel of Horror and Suspense

by Wright, Iain Rob

  So much for getting some alone time. Hopefully tomorrow everyone will bugger off once we hit the coast of France or wherever it is we’re going.

  Something struck the glass.

  Jack leapt back from the window, his breath catching in his throat. He ended up laughing to himself when he realised it was just a seagull come to perch on the ledge of his porthole. The mottled bird stared in at him with beady black eyes, then flew away to pursue adventures elsewhere.

  Maybe he was just trying to tell me that waking up at 2PM is unacceptable for a grown man, even on vacation.

  Jack let out one final yawn and then decided he would indulge his sleepiness no more. A shower was the next order of business and something that could finally rid his eyes of their fuzziness. The small bathroom was cooler than the rest of the cabin and a breeze seemed to enter from somewhere and skim across the tiles. Jack hadn’t unpacked his things yet so he was pleased to see that, with the exception of a toothbrush, everything he needed was supplied. There was soap and shampoo in the shower cubicle and a roll of non-branded toothpaste sitting in a glass jar at the rear of the sink. Jack reached over into the shower and twisted the knob jutting out from the wall. The shower head hissed and let out a freezing cold jet of water. Jack yanked his arm back and tried to keep from swearing in surprise. His temper was part of the reason he’d been sent on the cruise in the first place, so he intended to try and gain some control over it if he could.

  After a few minutes had gone by, during which the use of the toilet had become necessary, Jack reached back into the shower to test the water. It was warmer now so he stripped off his clothes and stepped inside. The soothing heat immediately caressed his body and made him shudder. It almost lulled him back into a sleepy daze, so he turned the temperature down and made the water lukewarm. It was cold enough to bring back his focus.

  Just try and make the best of this, Jack. There’s nothing wrong with taking a little time off. The world doesn’t need you as much as you think it does.

  Jack took a few minutes to wash his aging body, getting soap into places he forgot he had. Then, once clean and sufficiently refreshed, he turned the shower off. He stepped out cautiously, not wanting to slip on the wet tiles, and dried himself with one of the provided plump towels. Then he crept, naked, back into the bedroom.

  His clean clothes were still in his luggage, which he hoisted up onto the bed. From inside, he dragged out a pair of long khaki shorts and a nondescript red t-shirt. For footwear he chose a pair of white tennis pumps.

  Once Jack was dressed and ready, he suddenly found himself reluctant to leave the room. Rather than exploring the ship, he could just as easily spend the day reading in bed and swigging from the unopened bottle of Glen Grant he had in his luggage – would prefer it in fact – but it would be ungrateful seeing as he wasn’t the one paying for the holiday. Like it or not, Jack needed to make the best of things.

  He grabbed one of the books out of his luggage (an Andy McNab Thriller) and prepared to leave. But, as he reached the door, Jack noticed a piece of paper had been slipped underneath it. He bent down to pick it up and saw that it was the ship’s newsletter. Printed in cheap black ink, as though from a photocopier, it was headed by the day’s date – 14.10.2012 – and the name of the ship in bold, SPIRIT OF KIRKPATRICK. Jack scanned the page and saw that it was indeed a day at sea as he’d earlier surmised. The afternoon activities included: afternoon bingo, a five-a-side football tournament, an ice sculpting display, and an audience with some magician he’d never heard of. The evening was scheduled with a production of Half a Sixpence followed by an obscure comedian. Jack didn’t fancy any of it, but when he looked at the lunch options he was pleased to see that there would be hotdogs served on the Lido deck at 3PM. His stomach mumbled at the thought of food, and rightly so. It had been over twenty-four hours since he’d last eaten.

  Jack folded the newsletter into a square and placed it in the pocket of his shorts. Then he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. There was a set of elevators a dozen yards down and he decided to choose a deck at random by pressing buttons without looking.

  It turned out to be the Broadway Deck, and when the doors opened it was much brighter than B Deck. Natural light flooded in from an exit at one end of the corridor. Jack’s view of the other end of the corridor was obstructed by a large room-service cart crammed full of stripped bedsheets and pillowcases.

  He decided to head for the exit door, the glow of sunlight beckoning him. Just before he got there, though, the floor rolled beneath his feet and sent him crashing against the wall.

  The rocking lasted another ten seconds or so, making his empty stomach churn irritably. When he was sure the unsteadiness was over, Jack peeled himself away from the wall and carried on down the corridor. October was obviously a bad time to be on the seas and he could see himself getting sick if the ship’s rocking was a regular occurrence.

  Let’s hope Poseidon is in a good mood.

  Jack pushed open the heavy, glass doors at the end of the corridor and stepped out onto the Promenade Deck. As soon as he did, he was forced to leap back into the still open doorway as a pair of giggling boys hurtled past without any regard for people in their way. Jack watched them race off recklessly down the side of the ship. He was about to shout after them but stopped himself.

  Keep calm. Not worth it.

  The boys turned a corner up ahead and disappeared from sight. Jack took in a lungful of sea air and instantly forgot about them. The fresh, unpolluted oxygen soothed his nerves and the feeling of saltwater on his face was invigorating. He strolled over to the railings and leaned forward, taking another, even deeper, breath. His experiences of being aboard a boat were few, but Jack was surprised to find that the rhythmic swaying of the vast sea had a placating effect on him. Looking out across the water, Jack felt completely alone. It was as if society, and all its wretched ills, was far, far away. Suddenly the urge to vault the barrier took over Jack and he imagined what it would feel like to plunge into the salty depths of the sea, to disappear beneath its waves.

  He quickly stepped back from the railing, unsettled by the thoughts his brain was presenting to him. While he’d contemplated suicide many times over the last several years, drowning was way down the list of ways he’d like to go. Struggling for oxygen and swallowing back lungfuls of stinging water while desperation set in was one of the worst deaths he could imagine. No, if he were to ever kill himself that would definitely not be the way.

  Not that I’d actually ever do it.

  A little disorientated, Jack headed in the direction that the two boys had run. It led to the rear of the ship, where the Lido Deck would be located according to the ship’s newsletter he’d read. At the end of the walkway the deck opened up into a large rectangular area spread over two tiers. On the bottom was a modest swimming pool inhabited mostly by children, while the top level seemed to be a Sun Deck full of sunbathers and chairs and tables. Jack chose to head for the latter.

  The Sun Deck was occupied by a couple dozen people. Some lounged in the sun, while others sipped pints of beer and cocktails at the tables. Jack’s fondness for alcohol made itself known as the thought of a scotch and coke made his stomach flutter. While his meals were paid for, his drinks were not, so he intended to take it easy, but with his lack of hobbies and not being a smoker, there would be enough in his bank account to go wild if he felt like it. Whether or not he did, however, was the true test he would be facing this week.

  To get shitfaced, or not to get shitfaced, that is the question.

  Jack wanted to read his book and enjoy what was left of the sun so he glanced around for a lounger. There were none free. It was hardly surprising, considering the late hour, and he was just about to resign himself to one of the hard-backed chairs instead, when somebody spoke to him.

  “You can have this one.”

  Jack looked down at the young woman speaking to him. She was a teenager, with blonde curls framing the Nordic features of her
face. She was pointing to a lounger beside her that was covered by a bright green beach towel.

  “Isn’t it taken?” Jack enquired, nodding at the towel.

  The girl shrugged at him. “I haven’t seen anyone near it for hours. I think someone must have forgotten their towel and left it there. Just take it.”

  Jack smiled at the girl and nodded. He shifted the ownerless green towel onto the floor and plonked himself down on the lounger, letting out a sigh of pleasure as he eased into the backrest.

  “The sun’s not that warm now,” the girl told him, “but it’s better than being in England.”

  “Where abouts are you from?”

  “Me? I’m from Leeds. Can’t you tell by my accent?”

  Jack chuckled. “It’s not that thick for a northerner.”

  The girl laughed back and her eyes seemed to sparkle. “Yours is, though. Birmingham, right?”

  “Good guess,” Jack admitted. “I try to hide it. Being a brummie isn’t the most sophisticated thing in the world.”

  “Hey, neither is being a northerner.”

  The conversation seemed to fade out then, as it often did between two strangers making polite chitchat. During the silence an attractive brunette with striking, dark eyes came by to take their drink orders. Jack requested a cold beer, while Claire said she was good. He shuffled on the lounger until he was comfortable then opened the cover of his novel. Before he started to read, he gave his surroundings a cursory glance, more out of bored interest than anything else.

  Leaning against the nearest balcony, which overlooked the pool, was an elderly couple kissing and cuddling like lovers half their age. It was romantic in many ways, but Jack couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable all the same. The cynical part of his mind told him that it was jealousy making him feel that way; resentment towards something he’d once wished to have for himself: a partner to grow old with.

  That’s one ship that’s certainly sailed.

  Jack turned his mind to other things and looked down at the pool below. It was still packed with children. It now appeared that one of them – a young boy – had slipped while exiting the water. The boy’s mother was currently nursing an injury on the boy’s knee by rubbing at it vigorously. It seemed to make him cry even harder.

  “Were you in the army?”

  Jack looked around and saw that the teenage girl was talking to him again. “Huh?”

  “Were you in the army?” She pointed to the Andy McNab novel in his hands. “Your book looks like it’s about war.”

  Jack nodded. “It is, and, yes, I was in the army. Six years in the Signals.”

  “Cool. I bet you saw some nasty stuff. Were you in Iraq?”

  “No. That was after my stretch. I was still in my mid-twenties when I left the service. The army wasn’t really for me.”

  “Don’t blame you. I couldn’t hack it, being screamed at all the time by some arsehole sergeant.”

  Jack was silent.

  “Oh God,” she said. “You were a Sergeant, weren’t you?”

  Jack laughed. “When I left I was, yeah.”

  “Sorry. What did you do when you left?”

  “I joined the police force. Been an officer ever since.”

  The girl’s eyes widened at that. People were always shocked when they found out they were talking to an off-duty police officer. It was as though people didn’t expect them to be actual human beings. It looked as though she was about to comment, but a third person arrived and stood between them before she had chance. It was the lad Jack had seen the day before on the docks, the one with all of the lines and squiggles buzzed into his hair. He was currently topless and displaying a perfectly carved set of abs.

  The lad tilted his head towards Jack suspiciously. “How you doing, mate?”

  “Good,” Jack replied, ignoring the macho attitude being fronted at him. “I was just chatting to your friend….?”

  “Claire,” the girl on the sun lounger replied. She sounded a little nervous.

  “She’s my bird, not my friend.” The lad extended his hand out to Jack. “My name’s Conner. Who the hell are you?”

  Jack took Conner’s hand and the two of them shook more firmly than either of them needed to. “I’m Jack.”

  “Jack was just telling me he’s a police officer,” Claire explained.

  Conner pulled his hand away and took a step back. He impolitely snorted back a wad of snot and moved his attention to Claire, acting as if Jack had suddenly ceased to exist. “Come on, babes. They’re about to start serving up hotdogs. The lads are already down there.”

  “I’m not really hungry.”

  Conner clicked his fingers at her. “Get moving.”

  Claire got up reluctantly and seemed to flash an awkward glance over at Jack. She reached down and pulled on a long t-shirt that covered her down to the knees. Then she shuffled into a pair of pink, jewelled flip flops and stepped up beside her boyfriend.

  Conner sneezed. Then sneezed again.

  Claire put the back of her hand against his forehead. “Your cold still getting worse?”

  “Yeah,” Conner said. “I’m starting to feel well rough, innit. Steve and Mike have got it too. We haven’t stopped sneezing for the last hour. That’s why I need you to stop lazing your fat ass about, so you can look after me.” He went in for a kiss but Claire dodged it.

  “Well, don’t give it to me, babe!” She instead planted a kiss on his forehead and wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll look after you, honey. Let’s go get some hotdogs inside of you.”

  “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.

  They both glanced down at Jack as they walked away; Claire with a warm smile on her face, Conner with an aggressive scowl on his. Jack kept his own expression plain – it wasn’t his place to cause a confrontation – if the lad wanted to treat his girlfriend like shit then that was his business. She’ll dump his sorry ass eventually.

  Jack lay back and closed his eyes for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. Then the smell of cooking sausage meat wafted up onto the upper deck and he was powerless to resist his growling appetite. He closed the book he had not yet started and hoisted himself up off the lounger.

  I’m so hungry I think I could eat a whole pig. Let’s hope there’s plenty to go around.

  Heading down the steps to the Lido Deck, Jack couldn’t help but notice something a little bit odd. It appeared that Conner and his mates weren’t the only ones with colds. There were several other passengers who were sneezing and coughing. Obviously there was a nasty bug going around.

  Hope I don’t catch it, Jack thought to himself as he joined the queue for hotdogs.

  ***

  The hotdogs had been good and plentiful. Once Jack had filled his belly with three or four, he decided to explore the ship, surprised to find that there was a Sports Deck and a casino. His initial plan was to find somewhere peaceful to read his book, but somehow he’d found himself unable to settle anywhere in particular. He visited the ship’s five bars, speaking briefly to Joma at the Voyager’s Lounge and ordering a double bourbon whisky at an American-style pub called Columbia.

  He’d eventually ended up at a place called High Spirits and that was where he was now. The barroom was immediately next to the Sun Deck where he had briefly sunbathed, but it was also, more importantly, right above the Lido Restaurant where they served a twenty-four hour buffet. It would not be long before Jack wanted to eat again, and when he did all he would have to do was descend a short flight of stairs to find a wide array of snacks waiting for him. Drinks upstairs and food below. Perfect.

  Looking at his wristwatch, it was ten-past-eight. Currently there was a comedian who would be performing on the room’s small stage until ten-o-clock. Jack would most likely get a bite to eat after the set was over and then retire to bed with the book he was still eager to finally get started on.

  The room’s waitress – another Filipino girl, as a majority of the serving staff seemed to be (apart f
rom the dark-featured poolside waitress that had brought him a beer earlier in the day) – brought over the drink he had ordered: another double bourbon, this time with coke. Jack took the drink and thanked the lady, before settling in to watch the rotund comedian ply his trade on the stage.

  “The wife and I were sat having a cup of tea with my mother-in-law the other day when, out of the blue, she says to me, ‘I’ve decided I want to be cremated.’ I said, ‘Alright, get your coat.’ ”

  Mother-in-law jokes. How original.

  Jack sipped his drink and glanced around the dimly-lit lounge. The attendance was high and nearly all of the seats and tables were occupied by passengers with their various drinks. Nearby, he spotted the family that had boarded just before him: the middle-aged couple and their daughter. Their little girl was not the lively spirit she’d been earlier and was now lying across her mother’s lap, her damp blonde hair matted against her forehead as she clutched her dolly against her chest. At first Jack assumed that the girl was just exhausted from the excitement of being on holiday, but the longer he looked at her the more certain he became that she was unwell.

  Periodically the girl would let out a hacking cough, followed by a pitiful moan. Each time it happened, the mother stroked a hand through her hair and looked at the father worriedly. The two parents didn’t look much healthier than their child, and as Jack studied the room he saw that quite a few people seemed to be under the weather. The sneezing fits Jack had noticed earlier on the Lido Deck had now been replaced by a chorus of harsh, chesty coughs. Everywhere around him sick people were rubbing at their clammy foreheads and bloodshot eyes, all looking extremely sorry for themselves. Jack’s most conservative estimate put the number of ill people in the room at about one quarter.

  Something isn’t right here. There’re too many sick people for this to be a simple cold virus.