by Alan Spencer
Ram stopped where he was, and gave a deep gasp of defeat.
I can't keep going. I'm going to die here.
I should've burned to death on Earth. Why was I allowed to survive this much longer, if only to die like this?
That dooming question kept repeating in his mind.
What broke the cycle was the sound of rushing water. He felt a cold chill brush across his burning hot body. When the great wave of water struck him, Ram was a clog in a pipe that was about to be dislodged. The force of the water propelled him forward. He couldn't move, thrash, or fight the event. Ram was drowning in the powerful rush. He was a streak of increasing speed. Wherever the water was going to take him, he wouldn't have long before he drowned.
Show No Mercy
Mercy clutched the fish wire sticking out from in-between the dead woman's legs. He stood before his congregation ready to continue with the proceedings. Mercy tugged back on the string and made it taught, but he did not pull backwards on it. Soon, he thought, would be the time for that special part of the ceremony.
"The woman who lays on this alter," Mercy announced to his congregation, "is named Amber Larken. Her flesh, her body, her blood, her vessel, is the holiest of the holy. She is a lost descendent of Mary Magdalene. Her body is the closet to God we can get without actually crossing over to heaven. Being re-born in this womb shall bring your young ones closer to God. They will grow with love in their hearts, and the lord's blood upon their bodies."
Mercy pulled back on the fish wire. Out came two of the infant's feet, tied together by the wire. The wailing baby was covered in Mary Magdalene/Amber's blood.
Mercy raised the baby in his hands, prayed to the infant, and then returned the baby to his parents who were weeping in joy.
The next set of parents in line approached Mercy with their baby.
He tied the string around the infant's feet, and shoved the crying child through dead Amber's widened gash for a vagina, for the child to be reborn through the holy womb.
Mercy stared down the blade of his machete. The surface was a gory mudslide of pink gobs of tissue, half an eyeball, a severed toe, and a partial cherry of an intestine. How many had he relieved of their lives and sent to their maker for judgment?
Not enough. People still lived and breathed on this ship. They should've burned on Earth, and now, Mercy was the one who was going to make things right.
He was stalking through a restaurant whose tables had been swept up in a great current of water. Dead bodies lay like dying bloated husks on the floor. Mercy poked them with his foot to ensure they were dead and not just unconscious.
Mercy searched through the backroom kitchen to find a bloodbath. The cooks were dead. His followers must've seen to their deaths.
He searched the freezer and fridge and didn't find a soul. He did happen upon hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of smashed wine and spirits. The storage room was all broken glass. Someone was buried under that glass. The man was nothing but exposed skin. A glass porcupine.
"Serves you right, sinner," Mercy said. "You should've been praying for your soul instead of wetting your whistle. Now we'll see which master you'll be serving on the other side."
Mercy was disturbed from his search by a condemning voice. And for once, it wasn't a voice in his head.
"You're not fit to judge those around you. That's a job for God. You are obviously not God."
Mercy spotted the man standing across the kitchen. He was on the other side of a giant hole in the floor. The mystery man was hunched over and clutching his side. This man was injured, and the pain was evident in his voice. He was dressed in black from top to bottom with a white collar. He kept his face turned, so Mercy couldn't see his features.
"I am closer to God than many," Mercy argued. "I am not God. But I represent his wishes."
"Oh, do you?" The man was amused. "I thought that of myself once. I would lead the survivors to Second Earth and keep the word of God alive. I'm the ship's Chaplin. I delivered some award winning sermons when The Redeemer took off. I had non-believers eating out of my hands, and the believers, they were weeping idiots falling over in the pews. It's the kind of sermon that made me think I was God's mouthpiece. That God was channeling himself through me. It's all a lie. A damn lie."
"God is the word," Mercy growled. "You're supposed to be reverent."
"I know what I'm supposed to be! But what I've seen, it contradicts God. It contradicts everything!"
The man pivoted his body, so Mercy could see every detail of his face. Half of his features were normal. Nothing alarming there. He was a preacher in his sixties with bold white hair. But God in heaven! The other half of his face was soft skin melted down into waxberry trails. His mouth and eye slits were stretched back several inches. Along his neck, and down to his chest, were deep slits that resembled shark gills. The man was breathing through them, visibly and audibly. His inhales and exhales sounded like sick rheumy whistles.
Mercy wasn't ready for the grotesque sight. "What happened to you? Why are you—?"
"Why am I hideous, you mean? If you would've seen the others out there, you'd think I was beautiful. You haven't seen ugly, Mercy Lazar. Yeah, I know who you are. You're one of those crackpot religious terrorists from Missouri. You bring shame to the word of God. Judging by how your machete gleams red, you've been murdering the survivors on board. You're nothing but a cold-blood lunatic.
"Maybe nothing matters anymore, huh? God? Space? Second Earth? It's all doomed. I don't know what I am anymore. Human? Shark? Monstrosity? Who knows? But I do know one thing, and that's how I want to swim in water. I want to tear the flesh from my prey. I want to crack bones under the power of my jaws. I want to hunt, kill, and de-vour!"
Mercy threw the machete at the shark-thing that threatened him. The machete stuck him in the ribs. The man hobbled back three steps, leaned against the side of an oven, pried the weapon from his torso, and laughed in a sickening shrill.
"You'll have to do better than that, Mercy!"
The Chaplin bucked forward and winced in pain. "It's happening again! Oh, you'll see! Ah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-ha-haaaaaaaaa!"
Mercy was searching the kitchen for another weapon to finish off this cackling madman when out from between the Chaplin's flesh-gills exuded a pink gas. The gas sprayed with a sharp hissing sound. The pink haze obscured the room in five seconds. That gave little time for Mercy to escape. He backed up from the cloud, but he'd already taken in several breaths.
The gas stung his nostrils. It made his mouth tingle painfully and water to the point he was drooling constantly. His lungs expanded in his chest. It felt like fiberglass was cutting up his lung tissue. He buckled onto the floor and coughed. Soon, he was hacking up blood.
No matter what he did, Mercy couldn't remove that wrong feeling that was penetrating his body.
"It's about time you were judged, Mercy," the Chaplin laughed. "Look in the mirror when you're transformed, and then we'll see how you feel about the word of God. God's a funny joke we all love to tell!"
Mercy barely saw it through the pink haze, but he certainly heard it.
Through the huge hole in the floor, the head of the great white shark came forth and snatched the Chaplin's body. The incredible jaw power! It crunched him into three pieces before gulping him down loud enough Mercy could feel the concussions of breaking bones rattle the floor.
The shark fell back into the hole.
Mercy could only cough, and then shriek in pain as his body began to metamorphose.
Unbelievable!
Ram was a flaccid, helpless thing caught up in a surge of water pressure. Forward he kept moving. He was struggling to fight the urge to breathe. Soon, he would certainly take in water, aspirate, and die. Die anyway, he considered. There was only death in this trap.
Ram closed his eyes tight, heard the water bash against his body, endured his sides banging against the walls of the duct system, and hoped there would be an end to this assault.
There
was a loud POP sound. Metal crunched. He opened his eyes to catch the ducts ahead of him had come undone from the great water pressure. He was headed straight for that opening. Ram pointed his arms ahead of him, turned his body right, and angled out of the duct. He crashed down from a ceiling and hit the ground with a thud.
Ram rolled, then stopped. He lay there exhausted, breathing hard, and trying to make sense of the turn of events. Water was flooding from that hole in the ceiling. Then the flow ended. Whatever stroke of luck he'd received, that luck had quickly turned sour.
Once the water stopped, from out of the ceiling raged a bull shark. He had seconds to react. Ram wouldn't be able to run and escape. The bull shark was coming right at him. It had torn the sides of the duct system, the shark was so huge. Its sides bled from the process, the fishy flesh hanging in shreds. The bull shark's face was twisted in rage as it bore down on Ram's location.
He leaped up to his feet, leaned forward, put his shoulder into it, and bashed that shoulder into the bull shark's belly. The collision knocked them both in two different directions. Ram flipped twice, struck the wall, and landed on a soggy mattress strewn in the hallway.
When his dizzy head cleared, he was on his feet again and ready to take off running when he saw something very strange. The bull shark was on the ground writhing, bending its body, and choking on something. This was going on for minutes until the shark gave one more cough, and out it spit a human body. That body crashed through its clenched teeth, shattering them into porcelain pieces.
That body was Buffy.
Ram ran to her. She was a wadded up thing cast to the ground. He cradled her in his arms. She was covered in a red gelatin sheath, but Buffy was otherwise unharmed. Ram used the four inches of water pooling in the hallway to wash her body as clean as possible.
Buffy finally opened her eyes, saw that it was Ram, and hugged him close.
Words spilled out of her. "I was trapped in a duct, and then all I could hear was metal tearing, and then I was swallowed up, and I heard screams, and people were grabbing me, but they weren't alive, they were really pieces of people bashing against my body, and I knew I was dead, but then I open my eyes, and I see you, Ram, and thank God for you!"
Ram let her cry for a minute. She had survived a terrible ordeal. Ram took that time to scan the hallways. This area was very different than the rest of the ship he'd seen. The floors were solid concrete. The ceilings had lights inside of wire cages. This area was behind the scenes. Security clearance only.
Ram helped Buffy to her feet. She was still shaky and weak. Ram gave her that extra support, and they walked against the water in the room that was knee-deep. They moved carefully past the bull shark with agony on its dead face.
"Where are we going?" Buffy asked. "You act like you know where you're going."
"Listen."
Ram put his finger to his lips. Buffy trained her ear to any sound. Beyond the trickling of water, a voice could be heard.
The voice of Ernie Pine.
Catching Up
Ernie Pine was two lefts and a right from their position. Ram kept his ears keen to the evil bastard's voice. Ernie wasn't talking to any one person. He was talking to a machine. The device on the wall resembled an ATM. Ernie had both palms pressed on a screen, and he kept saying his name.
"Ernie Pine. My name is Ernie Pine! Let me in! Goddamn you, what's your malfunction? Ernie. Pine. Ernie Pine! ERNIE PINE! Ah, fuck you."
Beside the ATM-like device was a solid steel door marked SECURITY. As he guided Buffy towards Ernie, Ram wondered what the SECURITY room really entailed.
Ernie heard them tromping in the ankle-deep water and turned his head. He looked like a guy caught masturbating over a sink. "Ram? Buffy? You two made it."
"No thanks to you or your crew," Ram growled. "Now I want some explanations. Why are their sharks on this spaceship? And don't act like I don't know about your little plan with that bald weasel to kill me once we reached Second Earth."
Ernie jaw dropped. "I'm very sorry, okay? Everything's different now. I won't lie. Everything you say is true. But Bryce Saxon, and all the big shots from Globo Corp are dead, or about to be dead. I don't know why there's a bunch of sharks on this ship. I swear it."
"You lie through your teeth. Maybe it's about time I start busting some of those teeth, and maybe by the time you're all gums, some truth will slip out of your face. How about that idea?"
Ram grabbed Ernie by the front of his suit and threw him up against the wall. He cocked his fist back. Depending on what came out of Ernie's mouth, he might or might not bring five fingers across Ernie's mouth.
Ernie talked fast.
"Everything's gone to shit, Ram. Absolutely everything. I had nothing to do with what's happening. I saw those religious extremists—you know, the Red Revolution crackpots—carve up I don't know how many of our guests. They snuck onto the ship through the cargo hold. I got the report from the engine control room shortly before they too were attacked. They flooded the ship to keep us from being melted by that pink shit."
"Yeah, and what about the sharks? Did Red Revolution bring those on board as well? Last time I knew, terrorists don't use sharks to do their dirty work."
"Well, these extremists do." Ernie was exasperated. The man was limp in Ram's grip. "Actually, that's not true. Before Globo Corps believed the earth was going to set itself on fire and wipe out humanity, the company pumped hundreds of gallons of water from several coasts to fill The Redeemer. When the water mixes with our fuel, it turns into energy that allows our engines to run."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ram spat. "I don't need a lesson about your special space ship. I saw the video. Why are there sharks on this shit ship?"
Ernie's eyes stayed on Ram's cocked fist. "When they pumped that water from the ocean, the sharks survived the process. They've been marinating in that pink liquid. They didn't melt. They survived. And they're mutated and very hungry. They're eating everybody in sight. It'll be us next if I don't get into this security room."
"What's inside?"
"Besides four walls and a roof," Ernie quipped, "you've got the only thing that might save us."
Buffy asked, "And what's that?"
Ernie's eyes blazed with confidence.
"The Pathfinder 3000."
Entry
"I can't tell you what the Pathfinder 3000 is," Ernie quickly explained. "I have to show you. The only way to show is if we can get inside this room. The security panel won't accept my handprint identification."
Ernie pressed his palms against the flat screen.
"See? Access denied."
Buffy swiped Ernie's handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped the screen dry. "Maybe if the screen wasn't wet, that would help."
"Yeah right. We'll see about that."
Ernie tried his hands again.
Access granted.
The security door unlocked itself. When Ernie Pine opened it, from both ends of the hallway, they heard water rushing in towards them. Great tides of it were splashing in their direction. Sections of the walls burst open. The ceiling imploded and added to the speed of the tide.
"Get in NOW!" Ram urged Ernie and Buffy ahead through the door. "No time!"
Right when the powerful wall was about to sandwich them from each direction, Ram forced the door shut. Water clapped together outside and spread out with a strange fizzy noise. When the water settled, they heard multiple bodies sluice through the waters outside. Fins cut through liquid. Ram swore it sounded like sharks swarming around a piece of bloody meat.
Close call, Ram thought. Too close for his taste.
He studied the room they were in, and was surprised at the large size. There were muted red lights shining from single bulbs. The walls were bare concrete. Ram was surprised water wasn't getting into the security room.
Ernie seemed to read his mind.
"This room is sealed air-tight. We have limited air supply that's not connected to the outside of this room. We are secure...for
now."
Ram noticed Buffy leaning up against the wall. Her eyes were globes of terror. She was visibly shivering. Her hands hugged her body tight. Buffy's nails were digging into her skin and drawing cherry beads of blood.
"What's with her?" Ernie asked. "We're safe. There's no reason to turn into a flake."
"Shut the fuck up, you asshole. Don't talk for a second."
Ram put his hands on her arms and spoke softly. "What's wrong?"
Buffy's voice was soft at first, and then it hardened into something sharp and icy. "Before we came in her, they were out there. In the water, I mean."
Ernie laughed. "Sharks? Yeah. Obviously. Great observation, lady."
"Shut up, Ernie. I swear I'll break your spine. Let her talk. What did you see, Buffy?"
"They were hideous, nasty things. I just want to erase it from my mind. They were horrible. I still feel nauseous thinking about. Ram, they were beyond scary."
Before Ernie or Ram could ask what she had seen in the hallway, a new voice spoke from the other end of the room.
"What she saw was science fiction fantasy made real. Her reaction is perfectly normal. Fear is something you better get accustomed to on The Redeemer. This is no longer a fun space ship for the rich crème-de-la crème. This is a horror show. Everything on this ship either wants to devour us, or gut us for God. Terrifying as it is, if we're going to reach the emergency ships located in the bowels of the ship, we need our wits and our spines."
Ram scanned the room. Beyond the walls lined with storage lockers was a fenced in square with numerous shelves stocked with things he couldn't see from his vantage point. What Ram could see was the man in a plain button up shirt and army fatigue pants. His gray hair was put back in a long ponytail. It took a moment for Ram to recognize this man who had a strip of grenades strapped across his shoulder and chest.
