Ship of the Damned

by James F. David

“Ready,” Elizabeth said.

  Wes nodded to Shamita, and she began to intercept Elizabeth’s brain waves, filtering out sensory information, convincing the brain that it was falling asleep. Elizabeth was semiconscious, however, able to communicate with those controlling her brain. When Elizabeth was in a state similar to a hypnotic trance, Wes took control, letting Anita’s brain waves flow into Elizabeth’s brain.

  “It will take a minute for your brain to adjust, Elizabeth,” Wes said.

  It took five minutes of adjusting parameters, but then Elizabeth’s brain wave pattern was a near-perfect duplicate of Anita’s. They were dreaming the same dream.

  THE DREAM

  Elizabeth found herself walking down a narrow corridor, Anita in front of her wearing a pink dress and patent leather shoes. The girl’s long hair was combed and curled. She was stepping through an oval doorway, all metal—it was a ship’s hatch, and she had to step up and over a metal flange to pass through.

  “Anita, I’m here,” Elizabeth said.

  Anita started, turning with wide eyes, mouth open. Elizabeth saw that the pink dress had an embroidered bunny on it, and that Anita had both of her front teeth.

  “You scared me,” Anita said, close to crying.

  “I’m sorry. I told you I would be with you.”

  “Can you come every night? I don’t like it here alone.”

  “I’d like to make it so you never have to come here again.”

  “Do it, please?”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Elizabeth said, taking the little girl’s hand. “That’s a very pretty dress.”

  “My grandmother gave it to me.”

  Now Elizabeth looked around, noticing the detail of the ship.

  “This doesn’t feel like a dream,” Elizabeth said. She slapped a wall, feeling the impact, but not hearing the “smack” sound. Then she ran her hand along it, feeling the cool of the metal.

  “Wes, can you hear me?” Elizabeth said.

  “We’re here, Elizabeth,” Wes said. “Are you sharing the dream?”

  “Yes. It’s amazing. I’m actually in her dream.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Anita asked.

  Squeezing her hand, Elizabeth said, “I’m talking to Wes. Wes and Len and Shamita and Monica can hear me when I talk.”

  “How come I can’t hear them?”

  “Wes, why can’t Anita hear you? She’s asking.”

  “Audition is virtually shut down during dreaming. If we feed it to her it could disrupt the dream.”

  Elizabeth paused, knowing that Wes’s explanation was too complicated for a seven-year-old.

  “Wes says your job is to dream and mine is to listen and talk. I’ll tell you everything they say. Except Len’s stupid jokes.”

  Anita smiled at that, saying, “I like Len, he’s funny.”

  “Okay, if Len tells me any jokes I’ll tell them to you.”

  “Tell us what you’re seeing, Elizabeth,” Wes said.

  “They want to know what I see,” Elizabeth said to Anita. “I’m in a corridor—a ship’s corridor. We’re standing in front of a hatch—oval shaped. There are two hatches in one direction along this corridor and a sealed hatch at the other end. There are two more in the other direction ending in another closed hatch. The detail is amazing. Textured walls, bolts, rivets, the lights in the ceiling are in wire cages. There’s a bell on the wall—like an alarm.”

  “What color?” Wes asked.

  “Red,” Elizabeth said.

  “Unusual,” Wes said.

  “Is it the wrong color for a ship’s alarm?” Elizabeth asked.

  “There shouldn’t be any color at all,” Wes said. “Most people think they dream in color but actually it’s rare.”

  Elizabeth thought about her own dreams, unsure if they were in color. Certainly there were no bright, high-contrast colors.

  “It looks different with you here,” Anita said, pulling on her hand.

  “In what way?”

  “I can see things better.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Shrugging her shoulders, Anita said, “I dunno, it just looks different.”

  “Tell me if you see anything different that you can point at.”

  Anita nodded.

  “Can you show me where the bathroom is?”

  “Maybe,” Anita said, then turned left.

  Elizabeth followed her, noticing that there was no sound, and when they pushed open the next hatch there was no hinge groan. The corridor continued on the other side, and they stepped through the hatch. They were in a long corridor, pipes running above them. At the end of the corridor was a steep ladder. Elizabeth followed Anita up and then along another corridor, pausing at a closed hatch. It had a name plate but there was nothing written on it.

  “It’s one of these doors, I think.”

  They had seen no one on the ship, but Elizabeth had a growing sense of dread, as if something unexpected could happen at any second. Opening the door, she found two bunks and a small desk. There were blankets on the bed, but they had no edges. Elizabeth looked closely, then ran her hand over one blanket. It had the right feel, but conformed seamlessly to the thin mattress. Now sensitized, she noticed other missing details. Screws were missing slots, the desk had no drawers, and there was nothing on top of it. There were pipes running along the ceiling but no joints or couplings. The lack of detail should have made it feel more dreamlike, but it didn’t.

  “Anita, have you been in this room before?”

  “I dunno. Maybe.”

  “You thought this was the bathroom?”

  “Sometimes it is.”

  “Have you ever seen a room like this one?”

  Anita looked around then said, “Yeah, but it didn’t have a bed before.”

  Elizabeth urged her to look for the bathroom again. Anita skipped the remaining hatches in the corridor, taking Elizabeth back the way they had come and down the stairs they had climbed. Then the girl turned, leading Elizabeth back in the direction they had come to seemingly the same door, but when she opened it this time there was nothing on the other side but darkness.

  “Isn’t this the same room?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I dunno. It changes.”

  Anita started forward and Elizabeth stopped her.

  “What’s in there?” Elizabeth asked.

  “The bathroom, maybe.” Anita walked into the room and faded from view.

  “Wes, are you still there?” Elizabeth said.

  “Of course,” Wes replied.

  “Are Anita’s vital signs normal?”

  “Len says everything’s nominal for Anita,” Wes said. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re looking for the bathroom,” Elizabeth said.

  Elizabeth stepped through the doorway into the room and suddenly found herself standing on the deck of the ship. Anita was a few steps away, looking over the side.

  “There,” Anita said, pointing. “That doesn’t look the same.”

  Elizabeth leaned over the side and saw a patch of ground sparsely spotted with sagebrush. It was a small area; a hundred yards away in all directions there was nothing—a wall of nothing. Above her, there was nothing to see but haze. If it hadn’t been gray, she would have called it a whiteout.

  “How is it different, Anita?”

  “There’s lots more green stuff.”

  Looking over the edge, Elizabeth understood why none of the dreamers had ever jumped off. It was a three-story drop to solid ground.

  “Are we going to jump, Elizabeth? Are we?”

  “Let’s find the bathroom first,” Elizabeth said, not sure now that she could leap.

  Turning, Elizabeth got her first full look at the ship, and it was overpowering, like no dream she had ever had. They were midship, looking up at the superstructure. There was a single large funnel with masts fore and aft. A variety of antennae were attached to the masts, as were other structures. There were crow’s nests on both masts. Forward of the funnel was the
largest visible structure, at least five stories tall. The bridge would be there, Elizabeth knew. Mounted forward of the bridge were two huge gun emplacements with a smaller gun and turret between the bridge and the first big gun. Smaller gun turrets were to her right and left, and toward the stern was another medium-sized gun and more of the smaller gun turrets. Mounted on the stern were two more of the big guns, and right on the stern Elizabeth could see a biplane mounted on a rail. Over the top of the big gun she could see another biplane on the far side. Never had she seen such a spectacle in her own dreams, yet as she looked closely she could see the lack of detail—the guns closest to her had barrels, but they blended into the steel of the turret where there should have been a joint. There was a life raft mounted to each of the turrets, but no ropes or fasteners holding them on.

  “Let’s go, Elizabeth,” Anita said, pulling her hand.

  Anita pulled her back through the hatch they had just left and into a corridor which looked exactly like the one Elizabeth had first found herself in. They walked the length of it to another corridor and up another set of stairs—identical to the ones they had climbed before. A few steps later Anita stood before the same door as before—at least, Elizabeth thought it was the same door.

  “It’s usually the bathroom after it’s outside,” Anita said.

  It was the bathroom—the head—this time, with a double row of sinks down the middle, toilets along one side, and a steel trough that served as a urinal along the other side. Looking closer, Elizabeth could see that there were no faucet handles, only spouts. The urinal had no drains and the toilets no flush mechanism. Over each sink hung a small frameless mirror.

  “It’s different in here too, Elizabeth,” Anita said. “Before there wasn’t no place for the water to come out,” she said, pointing at the sinks.

  Elizabeth hesitated, nervous about what she would see in a mirror. Holding Anita’s hand she stepped in and turned to face the closest mirror—she saw nothing.

  “Elizabeth?” Wes cut in. “What’s going on? Your heart rate and blood pressure are up.”

  “We found the bathroom, Wes. There are mirrors but they don’t reflect.”

  “Hold me up,” Anita said. “I want to see too.”

  When Elizabeth bent down, she saw something out of the corner of her eye—something in the mirror. Standing again she saw nothing but the glass. Eyes on the mirror, she bent again—she saw nothing. Assuming it was her imagination, she picked Anita up. Anita made faces in the mirror, and Elizabeth smiled. Then Elizabeth saw it again—a flickering face. Abruptly dropping Anita, she quickly looked behind her, but saw only wall.

  “What’s the matter, Elizabeth?” Anita said.

  Looking back, she stared deep into the glass, but saw nothing. Then she looked just left of the mirror, letting her peripheral vision do the seeing—there was movement. Glancing back, she caught sight of a face—no faces. Were there flickering faces in the mirror? It was a subliminal perception, just below the point at which her conscious mind could be sure.

  “Aren’t you going to hold me up?” Anita said.

  Elizabeth lifted the little girl again.

  “Your heart rate just took another big jump, Elizabeth,” Wes said.

  “I’m just a little nervous. We’re going to go outside now.”

  “And jump, Elizabeth?” Anita said. “Are we really gonna jump?”

  Elizabeth said yes, but wasn’t sure she would. Anita led them back along the their path and through the same hatch to the outside. They walked to the rail and looked over the edge.

  “I’m scared,” Anita said.

  “Me too. You don’t have to jump if you don’t want to,” Elizabeth said.

  “Hold my hand?” Anita asked.

  “I will.”

  “Elizabeth, both of your heart rates are up now,” Wes said.

  “We’re getting ready to jump,” Elizabeth said.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I know. We want to.” Then, to Anita, Elizabeth said, “Are you ready?”

  The little girl nodded, looking as if she was about to take her first roller coaster ride. Elizabeth sat on the rail and swung her legs over. Then she helped Anita up next to her, the little girl tucking her pink dress under her legs.

  “On three?” Elizabeth said.

  “Let’s just go,” Anita said, wiggling forward.

  Elizabeth wasn’t ready, but Anita was about to slide off, so she gripped her hand tight and jumped, pulling the little girl with her.

  When she was ten, Elizabeth had moved to a two-story house, and every night when she first started dreaming she would find herself standing at the top of the stairs, knowing she had to jump, but too afraid to. Finally, she would get the courage and leap off the top step, floating slowly toward the bottom, always drifting to other dreams as the bottom rose up to meet her. This was like that. She and Anita were falling, but very slowly and in fits and starts. They weren’t picking up speed, and occasionally they paused in midair as if gravity had taken a rest. A fall that should have taken a few seconds took minutes, but about ten feet from the bottom they suddenly lurched and fell in a normal fashion, landing with a very real and jarring thud.

  “Are you all right, Anita?” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes. I think so.”

  Elizabeth looked back up the side. It was a bizarre sight—the ship’s hull buried in the sand, but not deep enough to keep the great bulk from tipping. The brush around them was mostly sage. Looking closely she saw that the plant lacked detail and looked artificial. There was no smell.

  “What’s going on, Elizabeth?” Wes said.

  “We’re off the ship. The landing was pretty hard but we’re not hurt.” Then Elizabeth remembered that she was actually lying on a cot in Wes’s lab. “Were we hurt?”

  “Len says you and Anita are fine. Your heart rate is coming down, too.”

  “It’s just like they described it, Wes. The ship is in a desert. There’s sagebrush for about a hundred yards but nothing else.”

  “See if you can find a name or number on the ship,” Wes said.

  “Wes wants us to see if we can find a name on the ship,” Elizabeth told Anita.

  She took Anita’s hand, and they walked along the ship toward the bow. There were no markings of any kind, nothing but flat gray paint everywhere they looked. Finally, they reached the point where the anchor hung—except the anchor was attached to the hull instead of hanging from a chain.

  “There are no markings, Wes,” Elizabeth said. “I’m going to see how far I can get from the ship.”

  Still holding Anita’s hand, she walked across the desert, which ended about a hundred yards away. She stood there looking at nothing.

  “It’s just like the sky,” Anita said.

  Elizabeth’s eyes registered a foggy gray, but as she tried to focus on the nothingness her eyes began to hurt, then her head.

  “Wes, I’m going to try and walk out of the desert,” Elizabeth said.

  “Careful, Elizabeth,” Wes said.

  “It’s just a dream, right?” Elizabeth said. “Wait here, Anita.”

  Letting go of Anita’s hand, Elizabeth stepped forward until her toes were right on the edge of the desert. Then she reached forward until her fingertips touched the nothingness. Suddenly her body felt as though it was on fire, and with a deafening buzz and crackle Elizabeth was knocked onto her back.

  “Elizabeth, are you hurt?” Anita screamed. Kneeling next to Elizabeth, she took her hand. “Wake up, Elizabeth, wake up.”

  Unresponsive to Anita’s pleas, Elizabeth lay unconscious. Then, to the little girl’s horror, Elizabeth became transparent.

  “No! Don’t go!” Anita said. “Don’t leave me!”

  Elizabeth’s hand melted away, and Anita’s fingers passed through what had been skin. Now all Anita could see was an outline of where Elizabeth had been.

  “Don’t leave me alone, Elizabeth! Please don’t leave me!” Anita pleaded.

 
Then Elizabeth was gone.

  RALPH

  Worthington, Ohio

  Slurpee in hand, Ralph strode up High Street, headed for home. Ralph had a muscular upper body and long legs, and walked with oversized strides, arms swinging in a simian way. At the sight of his large protruding lips, overhanging brow, and serious look, passersby stepped aside, staring from the corners of their eyes. Ralph wore a Hawaiian shirt with baggy shorts and blue thongs. In his shirt was a pocket protector packed with pens. Ralph had no use for the pens, since he could barely write, but they were his pens, given to him by the owners of the shops along High Street.

  Ralph turned into the auto parts store, heading directly to the counter in the back.

  “Hi Roger, hi Meg,” Ralph said loudly, which was his only way of speaking. “How’s business?”

  “Business is fine, Ralph,” Roger said.

  “What kind of Slurpee do you have there, Ralph?” Meg asked.

  The two customers at the counter looked at the peculiar man, then turned away, pretending not to notice his oddities.

  “Lemonade. It’s pretty good. Want I should get you one?”

  “It’s too early for me, Ralph,” Meg said.

  “Not now, Ralph,” Roger said. “If you come by later, I might.”

  “Well okee-dokee then,” Ralph said. “See ya.”

  Then Ralph was out the door, loping up the street, long legs pumping effortlessly. The hardware store was next, and Ralph popped in, stopping by the checkout stands.

  “Hi Shirley,” Ralph said to the middle-aged woman at the cash register. “How’s business?”

  “Slow, Ralph. It will pick up after lunch.”

  “Want I should bring you a Slurpee?”

  “No thanks, but maybe Gaylord wants one.” Shouting to the rear of the store Shirley said, “Hey Gay, Ralph’s here. You want a Slurpee?”

  “Naw!” came Gaylord’s reply. “Maybe an Eskimo Pie when it gets hotter.”

  “Well okee-dokee then,” Ralph said, and left.

  The routine was repeated all along Ralph’s route; at the barber shop, the paint store, the Chinese restaurant, the beauty salon, and the real estate office. Meeting and greeting was a routine Ralph had used since he was a child and still living with his parents.