Exhausted, I went through to my cabin and crawled into my bunk. Within seconds, I dropped into a fitful sleep fractured by recollections of the previously unimaginable images I’d seen in the last few days. I woke twice in the night. The first time I heard someone pacing around the cockpit, while on the next, I heard Mike screaming in his sleep. Jimmy was trying to rouse him, reassuring him that he was okay and that he was safe.
Just before daybreak, even the vestiges of sleep deserted me, and I left my bunk no more rested than when I’d climbed in. I made my way up to the cabin and through to the cockpit, where I found Bill. He was either already up or, more likely, had been up there all night.
‘Hey.’ I tried to smile at him, but couldn’t.
‘Hey.’
We sat there in silence watching the sun come up. It was amazing: the cloudless sky was still a deep midnight blue to the west, while the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon in the east. The wind had dropped and the shallow, crystal-clear sea was as flat as a millpond. It was one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen but I was in no state to appreciate it.
After a few minutes, Bill spoke. ‘So what d’you think about all this?’ He didn’t look round. He just carried on staring out towards the horizon.
‘If things are really as bad as they seem, I think we’re well and truly screwed.’ I regretted saying it as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Until then, I’d felt that if I could just have kept it locked inside I might have been able to ignore it, to somehow prevent it from being real. Now I had to face the truth.
‘I know things are bad, very bad, but I was just thinking, there’s a lot worse places we could be.’ Bill finally turned towards me.
‘What d’you mean? We’re stuck out here on this goddamn boat. If we try and set foot on shore, we’ll get ripped to shreds by people driven mad by some virus that was cooked up in a biotech lab. And even if they don’t kill us, we’ll get infected and become just like them.’ I wasn’t feeling in the most optimistic of moods and I took it out on Bill.
He remained calm. ‘Think about it. Yeah, going ashore might be difficult, but we can travel around with relative impunity in comparison to those stuck on land, assuming there’s any one left who isn’t infected. We can get food out of the sea; not everything, but enough to keep us from going hungry, and a boat is pretty much a self-sustaining system, especially this one. It’s got all the mod-cons. And with sails, it’s not like we need to worry too much about having to find fuel to move around.’
Bill had a point, but I felt he was ignoring one crucial element. ‘Yeah, but have you forgotten that none of the electrics work? Nor do the engines. Our rigging is half-shot and our sails are barely holding together.’ I was angry at Bill, at his failure to grasp just how bad the situation was.
‘I think most of it’s fixable. We couldn’t sort it when we were out on the ocean, but now we’re somewhere we can anchor up. All we need is the time and if there’s one thing I think we’re going to have a lot of it’s time. I say once everyone’s awake, we see what we can get working. Anything that’s beyond repair, we can cannibalise for spare parts.’ Bill looked out towards the horizon again, ‘Given what’s happened, I’d much rather be on a boat at sea than holed up on land, cowering in my house, or in some suburban shopping mall, waiting for the food to run out or the infected to break down the doors.’
By the time the others were up, I’d been mulling over what Bill had said for some time, and I’d come to realise he was right. There was food in the sea and if we could get the electrical system sorted, we could use the reverse osmosis machine to make as much fresh water as we needed. While we couldn’t live on shore, there was no reason we couldn’t go there to look for supplies every now and then, as long as we were careful.
As Bill outlined his plan to the others, I sat back and watched to see how they’d take it. While Jon, Mike and Jimmy still looked tired and run down, as Bill had predicted, a good, long sleep seemed to have been just what CJ needed. Jon seemed pretty keen on Bill’s plan and he, like me, seemed to appreciate the fact that it gave us something to work towards. CJ was happy to go along with it, not because she necessarily thought it was a good idea, but rather because the work would help keep her from thinking too much about what had happened. Mike and Jimmy were more reticent, but then again they’d been living with this for longer than the rest of us. They’d also been ashore and had dealt with the infected first-hand; they knew more about what we were up against.
We spent the morning inventorying everything on the boat, separating out the things that looked repairable from those that were clearly not. The good news was that much of it was salvageable. By the end of the day, Bill had even managed to get one of the engines to turn over. Although it still wouldn’t run, it was a start. Jon and Mike spent the last couple of hours of daylight spear-fishing and came back with a couple of groupers and some lobsters, so there was plenty for supper. We even broke out a bottle of wine to go with it.
By nine o’clock, I was pleasantly full of food. I was also surprisingly drunk given how little wine I’d had, but then again I’d not had any alcohol since leaving South Africa. In my rather inebriated state, I looked round the table at those I’d been thrown together with and I thought about how they were dealing with the situation. CJ still seemed to be taking it worst, and had teetered on the edge several times during the day. I’d seen it suddenly well up from deep within her, like a bubble trying to escape. When this happened, her eyes would start to brim with tears and her breath would stutter. She was no doubt thinking about her family and friends back in England, wondering if they’d survived or not, and, if they were alive, if they remained uninfected. It was the uncertainty that seemed to get to her most; the fact she couldn’t find out what had happened to them, or let them know what had happened to her. It was as if she didn’t know whether she should be grieving for them or not, or even how she should feel. Yet each time it seemed like she was just about to lose it completely, she managed to pull herself back from the brink, focussing on the work at hand until it passed.
Jon was trying his best to make it seem like he was taking everything in his stride, but I could see it was an act. Earlier in the day, when he’d thought no one was looking, I’d seen him wiping tears from his eyes. Another time, I’d seen a blankness spread across his face as his thoughts wandered off and he started to dwell on what had happened to the world. He was estranged from his family but he still worried about them; still wondered about what had happened to them. When he’d caught himself doing this, he’d shaken himself out of it, pushing the thoughts from his mind and had gone back to work.
I shifted my attention to Mike and Jimmy. They were just children, yet they’d survived when most others had not. This meant they’d already become hardened to the new world, that they’d already found a way to cope with it. Maybe it helped that they still had each other and that, bad as it was, they knew with some certainty what had happened to their family. Maybe it was just that they were young and so better able to deal with whatever the world threw at them.
Bill seemed to be coping better than the rest of us, but then again he was probably the best placed to do so. He had no family as such, and his nomadic life meant he had few true friends to worry about. He was adaptable by nature and had a lifetime of experience dealing with unexpected, difficult and dangerous situations. This wasn’t to say he was unaffected by it all, he was as shocked, scared and uncertain as the rest of us, but he knew better how to deal with it. Given my assessment of the others, I was just drunk enough to be overconfident, to think that, as a group and with Bill in charge, we might just be able to cope with this new world. If we all worked together, we might actually be able to survive, despite everything that had happened.
By ten o’clock, the others had sloped off to their bunks, but I could feel the effects of the wine starting to wear off and I wasn’t ready for sleep quite yet. I sneaked out to the cockpit where I lay back, staring up at the stars.
I had a joint I’d been saving to smoke at the end of the voyage, and I figured I might as well have it there and then. Within a few minutes I was well and truly stoned, my mind wandering off into the darkness.
As I relaxed, the thoughts I’d been doing my best to keep buried for the last couple of days finally surfaced. I wondered about the world I’d suddenly found myself in, about what had happened to people I’d once known: to my brother, his wife, their kids, my friends, people who I’d gone to school with, and who I hadn’t thought about in years. Their faces drifted through my mind, frozen at the point I’d last seen them. Long-forgotten memories bubbled up in my head. If things were as bad as they seemed, I doubted any of them would’ve survived. As I drifted off to sleep, I remember thinking it was only by chance I’d survived when they hadn’t. If we’d not run into the storm, if I’d not had to put into Cape Town for repairs, if the world’s economy hadn’t collapsed leading to my redundancy, if I’d stayed in Scotland rather than following my dreams, I would probably be dead, or infected, just like them.
***
I woke around one in the morning, and lay there with my eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the sea. I could hear the main halyard slapping against the mast and wavelets washing against the side of the boat. The anchor line creaked quietly as the boat pulled gently this way and that. Somewhere off in the distance I could hear the rasping breathes of a dolphin swimming in the inky waters. I concentrated on this sound, listening to it getting closer and closer, wishing I had the energy to get up and look for it, it seemed so close.
Then something bumped against the front of the boat and the breathing grew quicker and louder. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but for some reason it no longer sounded like a dolphin, it sounded more sinister. I sat up and looked around but couldn’t see anything. I heard the bumping noise again and peered over the side, straining my eyes to see what it was. There, just visible in the darkness, bobbing gently alongside the right-hand bow, was a life raft. I stared at it for a second, wondering where it had come from, then something stirred within it.
I crept as quietly as possible into the cabin.
“Bill, Bill,” I hissed down the companionway that led to the bunks in the left-hand hull.
A sleepy and disgruntled Bill replied with a shout of ’What?’
‘Get up here now. I think we’ve got trouble.’
I saw the flare gun lying in an open drawer beneath the chart table. I grabbed it, a couple of flare cartridges and then the hand-held spotlight from its peg by the cabin door before running back outside. I loaded the first cartridge, snapping the gun shut before leaning over the guard rail as close to the back of the boat as possible. In the time I’d been gone, the life raft had floated half-way along the boat and was drifting slowly towards where I stood at the stern. As I shone the spotlight onto it, the raft exploded into life.
I jumped, stumbling over one of the cleats and losing my balance. As I landed heavily on the deck, the spotlight slipped from my hand. It clattered against the table and went out. I lay there with my heart racing, listening to the infected as they tried desperately to get on board. I did my best to regain my composure and felt around in the darkness for the spotlight. When I found it, I clicked the switch but nothing happened. I banged it against my hand and clicked the switch again. This time it came on. I leant over the guard rail once more and refocused the light on the raft. It revealed two figures scrabbling frantically at the side of the boat.
Both were men but somehow neither of them looked quite human. One was thin and wiry, clothes torn, covered in dried blood. The other was stockier, but equally dishevelled. Wet hair clung to their skulls and their eyes burned with anger. They snarled and snapped, incensed that they could see me, but not get to me. Their hands clawed at the boat until their fingers bled, leaving red streaks down the white sides, but they didn’t stop. A sense of panic gripped me as I struggled to think of what to do.
Then I remembered the flare gun and a plan emerged. If I could puncture the inflatable raft, it would sink, taking the infected with it. I levelled it and pulled the trigger. The red flare shot through the night and buried itself deep into the stocky man’s body. I could smell his flesh blistering yet he showed no sign of pain. Instead, the force of the impact caused him to stumble backwards and fall over the side. He flailed for a second, churning up the water, before sinking from sight.
I scrabbled to load a new flare, my hands shaking at the thought of what would happen if the other man made it onto the boat. With disbelief, I felt the cartridge slip from my fingers and fall onto the deck. Before I could pick it up, it rolled into the scuppers and disappeared from sight. A small splash told me it had dropped into the water.
‘Shit!’
I search the cockpit with my eyes, looking for anything I could use as a weapon, but I found nothing. Fear bubbled up inside, threatening to overwhelm me. I fought it as hard as I could, knowing that if I let it win, I wouldn’t survive. Try as I might, I couldn’t formulate any kind of plan. As I watched, frozen to the spot, the man finally scrambled onto the deck. That was when I spotted the foot-long winch handle in its pocket beside the helm. I dropped the flare gun and lunged for it just as the man sprang into the cockpit. I felt my hand close on the cold metal and turned to find the infected man was almost upon me. I lashed out, smacking him across the side of the head, stunning him momentarily. Knowing it was him or me, I fell upon him, smashing him with the heavy handle. As I hit him, I heard the dull thunk of metal on flesh. Thinking this would be enough I stopped and tried to get up. As I did so, his hand shot up and grabbed my throat. I struck him again and again, bringing the winch handle down on his head with all the force I could muster. Finally I felt his grip loosen and his body go limp.
While it seemed like a lifetime, it must have all happened in seconds. As I sank back into the corner of the cockpit, Bill emerged from the cabin. One look at the battered body and the blood seeping slowly across the deck and he was wide awake. He did what I should have done, grabbing the foghorn, blowing it loudly. The others appeared almost immediately. They gathered in the cabin entrance, staring with disbelief at the bloody scene that lay before them.
‘What the hell happened?’ My head was reeling and I couldn’t focus on who was speaking. Questions seemed to be coming from all sides.
‘Is that one of them; one of the infected?’
‘Where did it come from?’
‘How the hell did it get on board?’
‘Are there any more of them?’
I thought about what I’d just done and I felt the bile rise in my throat. I’d just beaten a man to death. I knew I’d had no choice, but I never thought I’d have been capable of being so brutal. Then again I’d never imagined I’d find myself having to fight for my life against a person infected with some mutant virus that made them want to kill me. I looked at the man’s body. His hair glistened with the blood seeping from his shattered skull. I could see fragments of bone sticking out in several places and there were grey flecks that I presumed were parts of his brain. A moment later, I was on all fours, retching uncontrollably.
‘Are you okay?’ My head was finally starting to clear and I could tell it was CJ who’d asked the last question. My stomach muscles gradually stopped contracting and I was left kneeling there, breathing deeply and noisily. I wiped away the last of the vomit from my mouth and I glanced down at my blood-spattered clothes. I thought about how I must look to the others and was about to tell CJ I was okay when I heard someone else speak.
‘Move!’ The voice was deadly serious. ‘Did he get bitten? If he did, he’ll be infected. He’ll become one of them. We need to kill him now before that happens.’
I stared over my crewmates’ shoulders and saw Mike standing there with the rifle aimed straight at me. His voice was cold, his hands unshaking.
I realised what he was thinking and struggled to get to my feet. ‘I’m fine. He never even got close to me. I bashed his head in, that’s where
all the blood came from.’ I could see Mike didn’t believe me and his finger started to tighten on the trigger. I tried again, ‘I’m okay, honest ...’
Mike fired just as CJ tackled him. A few inches from my head, the fibreglass of the transom exploded as the bullet struck home. CJ wrestled with Mike and the gun slipped from his hands. Jimmy started forward as if to grab it but Bill got there first, scooping it up and holding it out of Jimmy’s reach. By then CJ had Mike pinned to the deck and he stopped struggling.
I looked across at her. ‘Thanks.’
‘You didn’t get bitten, did you?’ CJ eyes flicked over my body as she spoke, looking for any injuries. She was concerned she might have done the wrong thing.
‘No, I’m fine, or at least I will be in a few minutes.’ I tried to clear my throat but it felt too raw. ‘Could you get me some water?’
CJ let Mike up and went inside, reappearing a few seconds later with a glass. I rinsed out my mouth and spat over the side. Next, I drank some down, trying to settle my suddenly empty stomach.
‘Where did it come from?’ This time it was Bill who was speaking.
‘There were two of them in a life raft. It floated against the side of the boat and when they realised we were here, they attacked.’ I could feel myself babbling as I explained what happened. ‘I got one of them with the flare gun before he got on board, but the other one moved too fast. I can’t believe how fast he moved.’
‘How’d they get into a life raft?’ CJ’s question gave us all pause for thought. We would never know with any certainty, but the implication that there may be infected drifting around out there sank in as Bill and I carefully threw the man’s body over the side and then hosed down the cockpit. Once this was done, I stripped off my blood-soaked clothes and pitched them into the sea.
During all of this, Mike and Jimmy held back, not wanting to get too close. They’d heard people talking on the radio, saying the infection was spread through bodily fluids, blood, saliva getting into a wound or a cut, even a tiny nick; anything that would let it through your skin. The most common way of infection was being bitten by someone with the disease, but if you had a cut already, even a spot of blood on it could be enough.
For Those In Peril (Book 1): For Those In Peril On The Sea Page 6
