by Joshua Grant
Gabe’s expression grew grimmer. “No, Malcom and I are the last people left. Everyone else…”
He trailed off. Aubrey didn’t have to fill in the blank. The kid’s tortured expression said it all. Something cold and creeping slithered through her stomach. “But you said your mom is still looking for you.”
Another shade of color drained from Gabe’s face. “She is,” he said in a hushed whisper, “And we had better be gone before she finds us.”
Aubrey swallowed hard as a pregnant silence settled over them. What the hell did he mean by that? This kid had obviously been through a lot. It was no wonder the trauma was playing with his brain.
Or is it?
Again, the haunting words of the Captain’s journal called out to her. She only had pieces to some great and terrible puzzle. She would need to figure out how they all fit together, and soon, if any of them expected to get out of this.
Gabe’s sad eyes told her she had better change the line of questioning if she had any hope of getting some answers. “Gabe, who is Malcom? Is he your friend?”
The boy slowly shook his head from side to side. “He’s one of the white shirts.”
“And who are they?” she pressed as gently as she could.
Gabe inhaled deeply. He sat there, swallowing for a moment. Aubrey waited patiently. Finally, he managed to clear whatever horrible memory was blocking his throat. “Most of the crew started out helping people. But then they…turned. Some of them started hurting people. They said we would never get off this ship alive. The rest of them tried to sink the ship. They’re all crazy.”
Aubrey stared hard at him trying to contain her need to pummel him with a million questions at once. “And Malcom? He’s crazy too?”
Gabe was trembling again. “He’s looking for me. He wants to hurt me. That’s what he was doing when you found me.”
Aubrey nodded her understanding, though none of this actually made sense. “And what were you doing when we found you? They said you were banging around up here. Were you looking for something?”
Gabe didn’t meet her eyes. Again he was trying to decide if he could trust her. Aubrey lowered herself to his level. “Hey, I’m not one of the badguys. I’m not going to turn. We’ll get off this ship together, okay? But I need you to trust me.”
Gabe met her eyes, and a silent understanding passed between them. She saw trust there, and pain not unlike hers, and something else too, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on—
Gabe suddenly nodded, a slight almost imperceptible jerk. “Okay,” he said quietly, almost inaudibly. “I was looking for the Captain’s card. The white shirts were passing it around for awhile but then it disappeared. Malcom kept coming back to the rooms up here by the bridge. I thought just maybe when the coast was clear, I could come up here and take a look.”
Aubrey’s pulse quickened. Could it be true? Could the very card they needed have been sitting right up here this whole time? Shit Aubrey! Who cares? It’s a lead and we’ll take it!
Sure, she was the sixteenth wheel on this trip, but she looked forward to seeing the look of utter shock on Konesco’s stony face when she produced the keycard that would save them all. She quickly stood up. “I see. Gabe, I need you to be brave just a little longer. Stick it out here on the bridge with Mac.”
“Whoa, where are you going?” the tech interrupted. He looked just as worried as Gabe.
Aubrey moved to the bridge entrance. “I’m going to take a quick look around. Don’t worry, I won’t go far. I’ll be right back.”
“And you’re leaving me behind with the Sixth Sense over there?” Mac protested.
Gabe looked just as concerned—no, more so. A million times more. “You can’t go out there! They’ll find you! They’re always hiding in rooms and they always find you!” he burst, yanking madly at her hand.
Aubrey felt his words like stabs to her heart. The poor kid had just found people again. He couldn’t lose that. She promised herself she’d be back as quickly as possible. This was too important to pass up. Slowly, she eased her hand out of his.
“I’ll be fine. This gal can take care of herself.” She patted the handgun Konesco had given her for emphasis. “Besides, I’m sure you need to tell Mac here about every Wii game you’ve ever played. He seems to think with his.” Mac sneered menacingly at her. “Just stay here and I’ll be back before you know it.”
Aubrey turned and was out the bridge door before either of them could stop her. She tried to feel as confident as she sounded. Then the door sealed behind her and she knew that would never be the case. Gone was the bright, foggy light that was produced by the large bridge windows. She was once again immersed in the cool murky dinge of the hallway. Its secrets lay in wait behind its many doors, eager for her to find them. The trick was to find only the right ones.
And pray to God Gabe’s mother doesn’t find me, whatever that means. She squared her shoulders and reached for the handle to the nearest door. Okay, let’s get that kid home.
Chapter 14
Deck 3, Aft
Julian had never been so scared in his life. He stared at the blank slate of door that barred the evils of the world, the true evils, from his dark little closet and for the first time truly felt like praying. What a strange thing that was. A hundred battle fields and bad situations and a strongly spiritual mother couldn’t bring him to this point. Yet here he was, staring at the doors of death—no, the gates of Hell—and he knew all too clearly that he needed someone to rescue him.
Guess it just takes a bunch of mutagenic monsters that want to play with your soul to do the trick, eh mama?
He snorted knowing full well he was in danger of cascading into an absurd laughter. No, now’s not the time to go crazy, he decided. People still needed him, whoever was still left. Whoever hadn’t been turned into one of those abominations. Besides, crazy hour had already come and gone. It had taken Harry with it and Julian had blasted it back to the dark pit it had crawled out of.
He didn’t know how long he had been sitting in the back of this murky closet staring at the door and waiting for whatever the thing was to bust its way in and devour his essence. Probably longer than he should have. In his line of work, the people that kept moving kept breathing. So he stood, every stiff joint and torn fleck of muscle tissue in his battered body protesting.
He didn’t care.
It was time to face the music. He moved to the door and held his breath, listening. The Prowler had stopped slamming into it some time ago. He suspected that probably wasn’t a good thing. If you wanted to find a kid in hide and seek, you simply stopped looking for them. They always abandoned their perch to find out where you went. Curiosity wasn’t just a Mars rover, and it was pretty deadly to cats.
Fortunately, this cat packed a machine gun and wasn’t too keen on losing any of his nine lives. Julian listened but heard nothing beyond that terrible veil of door. Even the roaring halon system had fallen to silence. If the Prowler was out there, he’d know soon enough.
He placed a sweaty hand on the door handle and gripped it tightly. It was cold, like the cold death that would pour down his throat if he wasn’t fast enough when the creature came for him. He winced at the terrible thought, but refused to retreat back into the confines of the closet. Staying here was certain death, and death wasn’t the simple end to life it used to be. He had no doubt the creature would slither in here eventually. At least survival out there was still a question mark.
He’d bust out there, shoot whatever tried to shove its phallus in his face and—
--and? And what?
It was the question he’d been wrestling with for the past half hour or so. The best answer he could come up with was to find whoever was left—and someone had to be left, Julian refused to even consider the alternative—and then jump off the ship. Better to take their chances on the high seas than to be Satan’s make-out partner.
He squared his shoulders. Okay, time to see what there is to see. You can do this.
; Julian flung the door back, its hinges squeaking all too loudly in the claustrophobic silence. If anything less than savory was in the vicinity, it knew he was coming. A light haze still hung in the air from the charred remnants of the observation window and stairwell. The swirling smoke was the only thing that moved. That was little comfort to Julian who was already moving into the open and exposed space.
The black hole that was once a staircase would be of little use to him. He needed to get up and as far away from the engine room as quickly as humanly possible. He glided through the smoke-hazed room, a seal cutting through shark infested waters. He was around the lobby corner instantly and navigating the side access corridor opposite to the piano bar he had seen earlier, what seemed like years ago.
Could still use that drink though.
He swept left and right but once again the space was a still tomb preserved in the formaldehyde of smoke. Julian did his best to regulate his breathing while simultaneously fighting off the urge to cough. His lungs ached with the effort. Light beams from wall sconces trickled through the milky air, illuminating his path to safety, if there was such a thing on this God forsaken ship. Two bathrooms interrupted the wall on his left and just beyond them—
Bingo.
Julian had never been so happy to see the radioactive green of an exit stairwell sign in his life. He rushed towards it hoping he wasn’t the bug and it the lamp—
--when somewhere in the piano bar far behind a glass shattered to the floor. Julian threw on a fresh burst of speed. He blew through the door and into the sterile white emergency stairwell, slamming the heavy door behind him, sealing the danger away in the lobby.
Did it see him? Was there anything there in the first place? He lay huddled against the door for a few seconds, the stairwell echoing the door slam back to him a dozen times over. Nothing seemed to move on the other side. If the creature was still there and still stalking him, it didn’t give any indication.
He exhaled slowly, turning to face whatever new threat might emerge. Luckily, thankfully, the room remained a blank slate of white. Unlike the intricate stairwell lobbies dotting the ship that were meant to be admired and gawked at, this room was utilitarian at best. Pipes and wires snaked along the base of the metal stairs above him. Intense halogen bulbs sprayed a painful white glare over it all. This was the ship’s real face beneath the makeup and glitz.
Julian stood at a landing between two staircases--up on the right, down on the left. He moved to the small gap between them. There he could see down into the depths below. Several staircases framed the thin opening giving a strange kaleidoscopic tunnel effect to his view of the lower levels.
The overbearing light died away two decks below yielding to almost total darkness. Somewhere at the very bottom he could see the reflected light dancing off the cold water that had claimed Deck 0. It was just one more vice on his already wrenched stomach and yet another reminder that this was not his boat and he should leave it as quickly as possible.
Julian was about to step away from the railing when his eye caught something a deck above the water line. He squinted to coax more deciphering power from his eyes. Something, a shape, flitted through the dark. Could it be Tom or Sasha? Julian knew deep down that that was probably too much to ask for.
As if suddenly aware it was being studied, the shape grew still. It merged with the shadows, bending them around it as camouflage in some dark cocoon. Julian knew he should keep moving but was too intrigued to look away. There was something definitely down there, just a few decks below. This could be his only chance to observe his enemy from a safe distance, if there was such a thing.
He stared hard at the obsidian magic eye and slowly coaxed the details out. It was round and mottled—
--and bloody—
Julian shrank back from the edge and his view of the darkness below. Cold sweat trickled down the crest of his back. It was a face! A hideous and grotesque face that was curled up towards him. Did it see? Julian hoped to God not. It was unlike anything he had seen in his life so far, the Prowler included. It was hell summed up in one portrait.
Jagged teeth peeled in a cruel smile. Eyes—tons of them--like a spider. How could it not see him? Julian’s idea of relative safety rapidly trickled away in another rivulet of sweat down his back. There wasn’t just one type of creature on this ship but two! Hell, there could be seventy! Every one of them designed to kill and to shame and to mock life itself.
Julian had to get away. He needed to go up and he needed to do it thirty seconds ago. He rushed up the staircase on his right, his boots smacking loudly on the metal steps. It didn’t matter. The thing had to know he was here. He had to gain some distance on it and quickly.
His fears were suddenly confirmed in a long, drawn out wail from below. Not a predator’s wail or that of any wild animal he knew. It was a baby’s cry, shrill and splitting. The thing wanted to get to him. It wanted him to hate it so it could drink his hatred just before it killed him. Whatever happened here had turned this place into a funhouse where the twisted denizens could play with their food.
Not this amigo, Julian decided almost violently. He quickened his already lightning pace. If Satan had indeed come up from the depths to play, he’d be robbed of at least one soul.
The baby cry became more sickly and guttural. A rhythmic thumping pounded its way up from below.
It’s coming!
The terrifying thought drove Julian’s pumping fists and legs harder than any whip or flying bullet ever could. He took mental stock of his remaining ammo. Maybe thirty or forty rounds? As far as Julian was concerned, it wasn’t enough. Fifty nukes wouldn’t be enough for the lithe form that clambered at the stairs beneath him.
He blew by the sign for Deck 5. He at least had to reach 7. The large dining rooms that spanned both decks 7 and 8 were his best bet at finding an unrestricted route to the front of the ship. These things, whatever they were, were herding him towards something. Julian didn’t intend to run blindly off the cliff into the hunter’s spikes. The monsters had a killer’s instinct, but so did he.
He tackled the next flight of stairs in seconds. Deck 6. One more to go.
Click—click.
The new sound, though artificial, was no less disturbing than the creature’s caterwauling and the thumping of its undoubtedly grotesque feet. Click. The sound came from both above and below. One by one, the stairwell’s lights were dying! First above, then below. Darkness was eating away at both ends of the stairwell. Julian could guess what was going to happen when the two shadowy worms met in the middle.
Click.
What the fuck!? Julian wasn’t afraid of the dark. He was well trained and experienced in nocturnal missions. He was, however, afraid of scary-ass monsters that could somehow manipulate the power of a cruise ship to their advantage.
Click.
There were only three decks of light left. The one above, the one below, and the one he was quickly trying to tear through. If he didn’t make it in time…
Just do it already!
Julian willed his tired and aching body up the final flight of stairs. An oppressive ceiling of shadow hung just feet overhead. Click. The stairwell was almost completely doused in darkness now. Deck 7 hung as the last bastion of light in a sea of black. The creature cried lustingly for its prey from somewhere not far enough below.
Julian slammed into the Deck 7 access door just as the final click killed the lights—
--but it didn’t budge.
Shit!
Julian could practically feel wet tendrils lapping at his back as he slammed against the door again. The crying suddenly stopped, the creature growing impossibly silent now in the great dark. Shit-shit-shit! It could be anywhere, a fact that made Julian wish he was anywhere but here.
He hoisted his machine gun up and aimed at where he knew the door to be though he couldn’t see it. Shooting through locks wasn’t as easy or safe as they made it out to be in the movies. If the bullets ricocheted, they could kill him.
Then again, if this didn’t work he was dead anyway.
No, worse than dead.
Julian squeezed the trigger and was bombarded with the echoing discharge of the weapon. Fire sprouted from the end of the muzzle, briefly illuminating his surroundings, briefly illuminating something wet and glistening that recoiled back and to his right.
God, it’s right there!
He chased his bullets into the door and threw his full weight against it. The bullets splintered it. His body slam did the rest. Julian crashed through the weakened barrier and crumpled to the plush hallway floor.
Thankfully, the lights were still on within the ship, something Julian didn’t want to put too much stock in. He rolled on his side and fired three bursts into the dark patch of doorway. The creature squealed its strangled baby cry and the doorway instantly fell back to silent dark. Julian lay there, aiming, hands shaking, waiting for the inevitable.
Get up Julian. Get up!
He rolled to climb onto his knees and froze. Mere inches from his face where the floor met wall rose dark, fleshy lumps. If Julian didn’t know any better, he’d say they were an impossibly large fungus, bulbous black forms of twisted spongy sludge.
The unnatural protrusions began to pulse like worms moving beneath a mat of skin, emitting the rattle of a venomous snake. Julian held his breath and didn’t move. Should the thing shoot a burst of spores into his unprotected face he’d be dead. If the creatures could take the form of a fungus and wiggle into every crack and crevice of the ship, they were all probably infected already anyway.
He closed his eyes and prayed that it would be quick, that he wouldn’t end up like Harry or whatever the hell that thing was in the stairwell--
--and snapped them open again when the fungus suddenly grew still. He stared at the glistening alien sculpture, its bulbs suddenly lifeless and dormant, its moist skin showing no sign it had even noticed him in the first place. Maybe it was motion activated? If so, Julian was completely screwed. Lying on his side, he’d have to move in order to get up, to get away from the menacing stairwell door that still gaped at him. His muscles tense, he started to ease away from the demon fungus—
