by Jon Schafer
***
The Reverend Ricky Rose looked down at the switches that controlled the watertight doors and suddenly had a change of heart. He still planned on flooding the ship with the living dead, only now he decided he didn’t want to die after doing it.
Considering the layout of the ship for a moment, he quickly came up with an escape route. He wasn't too worried about his Faithful trying to stop him since, with what he had planned for the ship, they would be too busy trying to save their own lives to bother. Ditto with the people from the sailboat. All he had to do was set his final plan into motion.
Ricky looked at his watch and saw it was one minute to show time.
***
Steve handed the bottle of water to Susan who opened it and took a long drink. Eyeing him, she asked, “Aren't you supposed to be in bed? You're looking a little rough. And besides, I just heard Heather say on the radio that she's on her way.”
Steve nodded, the thought of bed sounded enticing. While he felt like he still had a million details to go over, the idea of lying back on the mattress and relaxing was almost overwhelming. Combined with the fact that his other half would kill him if she found him up, he decided it would be in his best interest not be standing around when she showed up. He had gotten up to answer the call of nature and figured that while he was awake, he would take care of a few things, but as he looked around he realized that there wasn't anything that couldn't wait. Heather would be back in a little while and she could sort out who would watch the stairs. Together they could gather up their belongings so they could leave the Deal Calm the next day.
Steve nodded again to Susan and was about to agree with her when a metallic rattling sound coming from the area by the doors to the cabins stopped him. In the silence of the Centrum, the noise stood out.
Instantly alert, he motioned for Susan to stay where she was as he brought his rifle off his shoulder and held it ready at waist height.
Crouching slightly, he went to investigate.
***
Tim looked down at the discarded spray-paint cans he’d kicked and cursed under his breath. He thought he was home free as he moved toward the cabin doors to cut the chain off, but with his first step he’d blown it by kicking one of the canisters left lying on the carpet by whoever had painted the crosses on the doors. He knew the noise would alert Steve so he had to move fast.
He took another quickstep forward, opened the bolt cutters and closed them around the lock holding the chain together.
***
Steve circled the grand staircase and instantly spotted the shadowy figure standing in front of the doors leading to the cabin area. At first he thought it was Ricky and raised his rifle, then realized that the shape of the person was wrong. Shorter then Ricky, this person was slim where Ricky was fat.
In a flash he realized who it was. Holding his fire but not lowering his rifle, he barked out, “Whatever the fuck it is you're doing, Tim, you need to stop.”
Then the chain around the door handles rattled and Steve knew exactly what he was doing. At first he didn't believe it, but when Tim turned slightly, he saw the bolt cutters as the youngster pushed their handles together.
The chain parted.
***
Quite a few of the dead in the cabin area on deck four were attracted to the doors leading into the Centrum since they could sense food on the other side. With the scent of fresh meat being so strong for the past few days, the short hallway that led to these doors was now packed wall to wall with the living dead. They milled about, with the ones in the front constantly switching places with those at the back. Occasionally, when the urge struck one of the creatures, it would reach out and move the push bar to see if it could free itself and get at the food waiting beyond.
Up until now, the chain had always restrained them, but after hearing something rattling against the doors and the sound of a voice calling out, one of them tried again.
This time the doors opened.
***
Ricky's hands moved quickly as he activated the switches that opened the watertight doors on every level of the ship. He had originally planned on just opening the doors to decks five through nine but in the end flipped all the switches. Looking down at the rows of green lights that showed across the console, indicating that all sections of the ship were now open, he barely felt the slight lurch, as the Calm of the Seas seemed to settle at the stern.
The excitement of what he had just done bubbled up in him, insane laughter burst from his throat. Ricky quickly spun around and ran for the door leading from the bridge.
***
The engine compartment and deck one had flooded completely, leaving those dead inside to float weightlessly, trapped in a liquid prison. With the watertight doors shut, there was a benefit to the living on the ship that they were unaware of besides keeping the dead locked in. No more water could enter the ship so the pressure had equalized, effectively stopping the Deal Calm from sinking. Although this circumstance was only temporary, and with the pumps out eventually the ship would sink into the Gulf of Mexico, it gave the living on board at least two more weeks before they had to abandon the cruise liner.
That was, until Reverend Ricky opened the watertight doors.
With a pop and a roar, water rushed in from these flooded compartments at the rate of hundreds of thousands of gallons per second. The sudden change of pressure also caused the seals on the screws and the pumps to blow, letting in more water to add to that already flooding ship.
As the water surged in from below the hatches on the upper decks that kept the dead imprisoned in the cabin areas parted or swung open.
At first, only those zombies near the openings went through. Then the smell of human meat flowed into the cabin areas and the rest rushed forward.
Water and the dead flooded the Calm of the Seas.
***
Tim heard Steve's warning as he cut the lock. Turning around, he saw he was trapped. Steve stood with his rifle at the ready, blocking any chance of escape. His eyes darted around, looking for a place to hide but saw it was fruitless. There was nowhere to run. Behind him he heard the chain, as it pulled through the handles right before the door banged open.
Dirty hands reached out and grabbed him. Tim's last coherent thought before pain blotted everything out was, I did what Ricky wanted, so at least now he'll let my dad go.
This thought mollified him for only a second before the first set of teeth bit into the back of his neck. Twisting his body around and breaking free, in terror and confusion he saw who had bitten him.
He could only squeak out, “Mom?” before she fell on him.
***
Steve watched as the doors to the cabin area burst open and the dead pushed through. Instinctively, he fired at the first of the figures that came into the Centrum even as he saw Tim pulled down and torn apart.
Too many, his mind screamed, as he saw dozens of the dead stagger forward, with more crowding behind. Hearing rifle fire on his left, he turned his head slightly and saw that Susan had joined him and was shooting into the throng of dead. Maybe they could hold them, he thought as he resumed firing but immediately saw it was hopeless. The area between the cabins and the grand staircase already held over fifty of the dead with more pouring through the doors by the second.
For as long as he could remember, Steve had had the ability to consider numerous aspects of any situation and come up with a solution within a split second. Even as he fired a shot into the head of the zombie nearest him, his mind flashed to the last know location of all of his people. It was like he had the ships layout in front of him and he could see where Heather, Tick-Tock, Mary and Sheila were. He then flashed on Brain and Connie being in the sailboat and Cindy behind him. He instantly cataloged everything at their disposal they needed to get out of this deadly mess. In a split second, the solution to how they could escape came to him.
Firing into the head of a zombie, he shouted to Susan, “Give me your radio, mine’s in the clot
hes store.”
She unclipped the two-way from the waistband of her jeans and handed it over. Steve started giving out orders, “Get Cindy and head for the sailboat. Cast off and tell Brain to watch for us.”
Susan fired twice, taking off half the cranium of one of the dead coming toward her as she shouted, “We’re not leaving you.”
“You won't be,” Steve yelled back, his ears ringing from the noise of the rifle fire. “Tell Brain to sit off the stern of the ship and watch for us. We’ll be coming down that way.”
Susan started to open her mouth to object when the deck shuddered under her feet. Wide-eyed, she looked to Steve for an explanation but he was as clueless as she was. He had no idea what could make an almost one hundred thousand ton ship shake like that. The one thing he did know was that whatever it was couldn't be good.
Having been pushed back to the rear of the grand staircase by the oncoming waves of dead, Steve knew he would have to break off or he’d be trapped on deck four. He had to get to the upper decks right now, since in a moment the stairs would be cut off. Steve knew he had to reassure Susan or she would never leave, between firing into the heads of any zombie that got too close he briefly laid out his plan. By the time he was done, they had been pushed to the front of the grand staircase. He yelled at her to grab Cindy and haul ass as he started up to deck five, taking the stairs two at a time.
Susan fired into the center of the face of a snarling gray-faced woman who had gotten to within ten feet of her and turned and ran to where Cindy had been laying on the bench. Circling a planter that hid it from view, she hoped the little girl hadn't run off to hide. She didn't have time to search for her.
Relieved when she found Cindy huddled by the end of the bench, she saw that the sounds of gunfire and the screeching of the dead terrorized her.
Forcing a smile to reassure her, Susan crouched down and said, “Come on, we’ve got to go.”
As she looked at Cindy, she saw the girls eyes get wider and shift from focusing on her face to something behind her. Cindy's mouth opened to scream even as Susan spun around.
The dead thing wore a red T-shirt, signifying that it had once been one of Ricky's original gang of Ushers. Most of its neck had been torn away, causing its head to flop at strange angles as it lurched forward and grabbed Susan with both hands. Still in a crouch, she had no leverage to work with and felt herself being pushed back. She let the M-4 fall from her hands as she reached for the pistol holstered at her hip. Bringing it up with lightning speed, she placed the muzzle under the dead things chin and squeezed the trigger.
Blinded by the torrent of black pus and brain matter that sprayed her face as the bullet blew the dead thing's head apart, Susan pushed the body off her as she spit chunks of rotten flesh from her mouth. The reality of what had just happened and its consequences struck her like a physical blow. She felt her body freeze up as the knowledge washed through her that she was now infected. She fought the urge to pass out.
Distantly, she heard Cindy scream and focused on the sound. The thought that the little girl was in trouble energized her into action. Wiping slime from her eyes, she blinked rapidly to clear them.
Susan saw at once that a group of a dozen dead was advancing on them, the closest only a few feet away. Using her pistol, she fired as she lifted her body into a sitting position and put one hand down to heave herself to her feet. Blowing air out her nose to clear it of the black puss that blocked it, she continued to fire as she reached down and picked up her M-4. Emptying her .45 as she did this, she holstered it and opened fire with the assault rifle.
Without even turning her head, she screamed, “Move, Cindy, go. Head for the sailboat.”
She backed up and fired the final round from the magazine in her rifle then ejected it. Fumbling in the cargo pocket of her pants, she found her last remaining one and slapped it home. As she let the bolt slam forward, she saw that she had cleared some space in front of her. She took the respite to quickly check on Cindy but saw that the little girl hadn't run for the boat. She had started to but then stopped and was standing only twenty feet behind her.
Fear that Cindy would be killed turned to anger as Susan screamed at her, “Run, goddammit.”
Equally scared, Cindy screamed back, “Not without you.”
Understanding that if she stayed to cover them, Cindy wouldn't leave her, Susan said, “Then we both go,” and ran to the little girl, grabbed her by the hand and literally lifted her off her feet as she headed down the Centrum, the dead only feet behind them.
As they raced for the safety of The Usual Suspects, Susan contemplated her own death and how she would handle it. They had made it halfway down the Centrum, when she settled on how she would die. Then she noticed the water coming toward them. It was only inches deep but it was coming fast.
Susan realized that the ship was sinking, and it took her mind off the fact that she had been infected with the HWNW Virus. She sped up, urging Cindy on. Glancing behind her, she saw they had outrun the dead. The question now was; could they outrun the water pouring into the ship?
It seemed to be coming in fast and they had to make it to the hatch before it was submerged. With the dead behind them, they couldn't go back. She tried to judge how fast the water was rising as she ran through the passageway.
We'll either make it or we won't, she thought in a fatalistic way. And if we don't, I'll come up with another idea. I won't give up on Cindy until I'm dead.
By the time they reached the dining room, the water was calf deep. It slowed them as they tried alternately high stepping and wading through it. From the flow, Susan calculated they should make the sailboat before the hatch was under water.
Finally reaching the watercraft storage room, she wadded through thigh deep water as she literally dragged Cindy behind her. Filling her lungs with the scent of sea air pouring through the open hatch, Susan realized that this was something she wouldn't enjoy much longer. She would either be dead, or... No, she told herself, as she reached where The Usual Suspects was tied up. I won't let myself become one of them. I'll be dead. I've already made up my mind on that.
Reaching the hatch and looking through it, she expected to see the sailboat waiting to take Cindy to safety; Susan felt her heart drop as she saw that the boat was gone. Nothing could be seen except the dark water flooding into the Dead Calm.
Of course, she thought, Brian would have seen that the Dead Calm was sinking and cut the sailboat loose.
She looked behind her at where the jet skis were stored, trying to calculate how long it would take her to free one from its cradle when suddenly the hatchway was bathed in light. Shielding her eyes, she squinted out at its source. Through the blinding light, not thirty feet away, she could see The Usual Suspects.
“Susan,” Brain yelled to her. “What's going on? What's happening? Where is everyone?”
She replied, “Come and get Cindy. We don't have much time. Things got fucked up fast.”
Brain maneuvered that sailboat next to the hatch as Susan quickly filled him in on the dead getting loose on the ship. Steve could tell him how it happened later. She told him about Steve's plan but didn't bother to state the obvious. The Calm of the Seas was sinking.
When the sailboat was butting up against the hull of the cruise ship, Connie reached down over the gunwale to hoist Cindy up and over it as Susan fought to push the little girl forward against the rush of water coming through the hatch. Connie managed to grab Cindy's wrist and with a grunt pulled her on board. She reached out to help Susan, but she shook her head no then pointed to her face. It was then that Brain and Connie noticed the streaks of black goo running across it.
Connie didn't understand, but Brain did. They had found out from people calling into the radio station that if you had any contact with infected body fluid, if it got in your mouth, or nose, or eyes, it was a death sentence. You were infected.
Brain moaned, “Oh shit...”
Susan handed her M-4 up to Connie and said quietly,
“Take Cindy below.” To Cindy she called out in as much of an even voice as she could muster, “Go with Connie, sweetheart. I'll be there in a minute. I've got one more thing to do.”
When they were gone, Susan pulled the .45 from its holster and said, “You've got the M-4. Before this is all over you'll need it, but I need the pistol one more time. Please tell Cindy that I love her, and try to explain this to her. Tell Tick-Tock I'll miss him.”
Speechless, Brian nodded. He understood what Susan had to do. He turned his head for a second to give himself a chance to gather his thoughts and find something to say in farewell, but when he turned back the hatch was empty.
Susan had retreated into the Dead Calm.
She waded through the dining hall and into the Centrum, studying her surroundings in the dim glow of the emergency lights. Her heart ached for all that she had lost in a world that had passed on and for all she would never have. She prayed that the rest of the group made it to safety and that the dead would go back to whatever hell had spawned them so the survivors could live in peace.
Gratefully, she saw nothing of the dead. They seemed to have lost track of her and Cindy when they outran them and had gone in search of easier prey.
That's good, Susan thought, since she only had one magazine left for the .45. And besides, she could use some peace in her last few minutes.
A quarter of the way down the Centrum, she came across a statue of Neptune and decided that this was the spot. Sitting on one of the benches that faced it, she realized she didn't feel any fear at what she was about to do. In fact she was calm, cool and collected about it.
She raised the pistol, then switched out the empty clip for a full one before cocking the weapon and placing the barrel in her mouth.
I've done good and bad in my life. I hope the good outweighs the bad. God forgive me for what I have to do, she thought. Then she squeezed the trigger.
He did.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Dead Calm:
