Sargasso

by Russell C. Connor

  A thick glass door offered another exit to the left. It was caked with dust, but when Lito wiped it off, he found ‘PORTSIDE SECURITY CORRIDOR’ stenciled on the glass.

  “I think we’re headin the right direction,” he said. “We’re finally gettin to the passenger areas.”

  The flashlight beam swung away from him.

  “Hey,” Eric said. “Take a look at this.”

  He turned to find the younger man bent over the desk. He’d put the flashlight down so that its beam fell across a dusty ceramic paperweight in the shape of a Christmas tree. Lito moved around behind the desk, shoving aside an office chair whose leather seat cushions were dry and cracked open. He figured this was some ruse to get back the statuette, but then Lito spotted what was written along the base of the tree.

  Merry Christmas, 2027.

  “What the hell…?” He picked the paperweight up and turned it over in his hands. There was no writing anywhere else on the object besides the ever-present MADE IN CHINA stamp on the bottom. “What does it mean?” he asked.

  “The same thing this means.” Eric slapped a hand against a wall calendar dangling next to the desk. It was turned to the month of December, and it claimed, in bright digits striped to look like a candy cane, that the year was 2027. The theme of the calendar must’ve been something to do with cars, but the picture above the weekly grid was of a sporty little car called the ‘Chrysler Dumala,’ which looked like some hybrid muscle car.

  Lito felt the conscious, thinking portions of his brain try to shut down. “No. No, it’s impossible.”

  “Impossible? Shit, this is the first fucking thing about all this that actually makes sense.” Eric’s eyes gleamed in the darkness on the other side of the desk. “It kept bothering me, how all these ships could’ve gone missing in the Triangle and I’d never heard of any of them.” He grinned wickedly. “Well, we’ve never heard about any cruise liner disappearing because it hasn’t happened yet.”

  8

  Amber didn’t struggle as Justin pulled her away. She couldn’t risk one of the others getting shot, as hard as it was to imagine Justin opening fire like a desperate criminal. But this wasn’t him. This fever was affecting his judgment, she was sure of it. So she would wait until they were away from the others, then try to reason with him.

  But all that ended when the radiation detector she’d left on the ground went berserk.

  And then a shout echoed to them from up the mall. The beam of a flashlight bobbed into view.

  “They’re comin!” Carlos’s voice drifted toward them in the heavy air. He came running out of the darkness, tripped over debris, and fell into the circle of lamplight. “They’re goddamn everywhere!”

  Amber heard their screeches first, dry and raspy hoots. A cloud of stirred dust floated toward them, but in its heart was a gallery of blue glows, as though a collective of fireflies was buzzing toward them. The effect was almost pretty.

  Then they got close enough for the glows to sharpen and resolve into individual shapes, and she understood.

  From somewhere behind her, Cherrywine screamed.

  Unlike the pirates aboard the old wooden sailing ship, the creatures coming for them now held only the most tenuous resemblance to human beings. They were hunched, ghoulish nightmares, too disfigured to even be able to discern sex, scurrying awkwardly on crooked limbs joined to their torsos in the wrong places, dolls that had been anatomically rearranged by a hyperactive child. Arms sprouted from waists, legs had become cloven clubs, spines were twisted into grotesque curves, heads had migrated to various other locations, and they had a multitude of extra appendages that made her sick to look at. All of them glowing, their melted, leathery skin casting an aqua light and their eyes—those that still had them—shining like twin blue suns. And, in a final touch of horrid parody, some of them still wore the remains of their vacation clothes, bright floral prints stretched and shredded by the deformed shapes of their owners.

  This is what happens, Amber thought in horror. This is what happens when you get exposed to a hundred years’ worth of this radiation.

  “Run!” Justin barked. He dragged her away from the others as the creatures swarmed down on them. Amber heard gunshots behind them, another of Cherrywine’s high-pitched screams, and then Justin pulled her around a corner and they were running in the opposite direction.

  But the things came from everywhere now, as if the whole ship were waking up. One of them scuttled out of an aisle just ahead, a thing with so many appendages sticking out of its body, it looked more like a giant spider. Justin shot it twice. It spilled neon blue blood on the ground as it tumbled over backward and writhed. Justin took the next corner, leading her into the farthest avenue, where the line of stores met the ship’s inner walls.

  Amber stopped and yanked free of his grasp. She had to find a way back to the others. She could still hear their gunshots, the big blast of the shotgun and the repeated fire from the rifle, so they had to be alive. But every direction was blocked as more of the glowing things came lurching up the concourse.

  There was no way out. They were going to die.

  “Amber, over here!” Justin stood in the doorway of a little knick-knack souvenir shop, pulling at the rolldown security shutter from the inside. She ran in with him. Together, they got the rusted shutter yanked down. From somewhere out in the mall, the booming sounds of gunfire continued.

  The metal grating slammed into the floor, and a second later the creatures were at the other side, rattling the mesh, reaching through the wide slats to swipe at them. Amber and Justin leapt away from their gnarled, grasping fingers. The shutter wasn’t even locked in place, but these things were too stupid to try lifting it. Even so, with all that weight against the ancient barrier, she didn’t think it would last long.

  Amber had somehow managed to hang on to her flashlight amid all the chaos, but the mutated people outside cast such a bright light, she didn’t need it. She turned in a circle, examining the rest of the convenience store.

  The rectangular space was small, just a few overturned rows of ancient candy bars and shattered soda coolers, with a cash register kiosk against the back wall beside a heavy bulkhead door. She hurried over and tried to open it, but the metal was bolted solid and she saw no way to release the latches from this side.

  When she turned back, Justin was on the floor.

  9

  The situation turned to shit before Ray could scarcely comprehend what was happening.

  Carlos ran up and fell panting into their midst, and on his heels was a wave of glowing monstrosities that reminded Ray of the horrors from that old Kurt Russell flick, where the people devolved into all sorts of random, crazy-as-fuck abominations. There were hundreds of them, enough that their screeches and moans filled the cruise ship’s mall with a constant, hellish squall. Most of them couldn’t move very fast on whatever disfigured limbs they used for ambulation, but they would still be all over them in seconds.

  Ray forced himself up from the stretcher, ignoring the throb in his side. No time to be injured anymore. Jericho snatched the rifle from the ground, took a wide-legged stance, and opened fire into the oncoming horde. Ray took aim with his pistol, unconsciously moving deeper into the lamplight, as if it’s pure illumination could shield them. The bullets struck the freaks at the front of the pack, spilling geysers of blue blood that filled the mall with a tangy stench. They went down, but there were three to replace every one that fell.

  “We can’t hold dem!” Jericho cried out.

  “Need some help!” Ray shouted. Defending their position was useless, he knew it, but he wanted to stave off the inevitable as long as possible.

  Because once they started running, there would be no end to it until they were all dead.

  Carlos was back on his feet, pumping the shotgun like mad. The Vietnamese kid joined in with his AK, spraying fire in sweeping arcs, the muzzle flashes coming in shutterflash bursts. His bullets mowed down a large portion of the creatures, but the rest
just stumbled over their fallen brethren and kept coming as he pulled fresh clips from his jumpsuit to reload. Ray used the opportunity to throw all the gear he could in one of the backpacks, including the radiation detector and walkie, then slung it over his shoulders. Something wet trickled along his thigh during the operation. He looked down to find blood flowing freely from his gunshot wound, reopened once more.

  Behind them, Cherrywine shrieked and took off running into the darkness, away from the approaching horde.

  “Come back!” Ray yelled after her. “We have to stay together!”

  But that was proving impossible. The creatures came from other directions now, running, limping, bounding, and crawling; creeping out from the stores to their left and right and falling from the second level above to smash against the floor. A flabby, balding man with a stunted leg, a jawbone that showed through the waxy flesh dangling from his cheek, and a tumorous lump like an extra head growing from his breast (but still wearing the sun visor and Bermuda shorts he’d probably bought specifically for this trip through paradise) reached their small camp first and leapt at Ray, forcing him back against Tuan. He shot it in the face, but a flood of the things swept in and cut him and the soldier off from Jericho and Carlos. Through the glowing crowd of mangled limbs, he saw the other two crewmembers forced in the opposite direction.

  “C’mon!” Ray slapped the Asian kid in the shoulder to get his attention. “We gotta get out before they surround us!”

  He pressed a hand over the bloody hole in his side and the two of them fled in the direction Amber and Justin had disappeared, firing at anything that got in their way.

  10

  Carlos made sure to keep Jericho by his side as they backed away. If these things killed the others, that was a bonus, but he needed the mechanic alive. It wasn’t easy; Jericho had grabbed his bag of tools just before they’d been forced to retreat, and it was slowing him down. They inched their way along the new path, firing at the creatures as they bottlenecked in the cross aisle.

  “Wait, what about de others?”

  “Who fuckin cares, let those bitches die!” Carlos checked over his shoulder to make sure nothing was sneaking up on them, and spotted a recessed door set into the wall between shops. He turned his flashlight on it and, under the layer of dust and grime, made out the word ‘MAINTENANCE.’

  “In there, go!” Carlos left off the fight and sprinted for the door. It was locked, but he pointed the shotgun at the knob and blasted the lock, then held it open for Jericho. The dreadlocked moron hesitated, then plunged into the narrow, dark hallway with Carlos on his tail.

  11

  Lito was still trying to process the magnitude of what Eric had just shown him when a string of muted thuds came from the direction of the glass door, short and fast explosions that reverberated through the ship’s structure like fireworks in a tin can. He hopped off the desk and hurried over.

  The door wasn’t locked, but he had to push hard to break the seal of grime and dust around the jamb. There was just enough residual glare from the flashlight to see the security hallway beyond had a series of watertight bulkhead doors along the right side. The passage must’ve been for the ship police to get across decks quickly. When he stuck his head out, he could hear the thuds distinctly, just on the other side of the wall, and what sounded like a scream.

  “Those’re gunshots!” he said, pulling back inside. “It’s gotta be them, we have to—”

  He never saw the ceramic paperweight coming. The only reason it didn’t cave in his skull was because he was still in motion, and Eric misjudged his swing. As it was, the heavy base of the Christmas tree from the future glanced off Lito’s temple, causing a burst of twinkling stars across his vision. Lito fell back against the door, which swung open under his weight and dumped him into the hallway beyond.

  Eric was on him in a heartbeat, straddling his chest and arms and snarling in his face as he raised the paperweight over his head. The flashlight on the desk behind him threw light over his shoulder. He looked crazed, his face transformed from his usual smarmy, my-shit-don’t-stink smirk, eyes as empty as abandoned mineshafts in their shadow-covered pits. Lito yanked one hand out from under the guy’s knee and grabbed an elbow to keep the paperweight from coming down.

  “Give it back to me,” Eric muttered. Even though Lito could see his mouth moving, the voice sounded older, huskier. “It’s mine, you can’t stop me, I will fulfill my destiny, and fucking kill anyone that gets in my way…”

  Jesus, the kid wasn’t just an asshole; he was stone-cold nuts.

  The Walther Lito had taken off the speedboat was in the back of his waistband; he could feel it digging into his spine. And the statue—the one thing that might be capable of controlling this maniac—was out of reach in the pocket of his shorts. No help there. So instead, as Eric pulled his arms higher to free them, Lito bucked upward with all of his might, turning his hips to toss the other man off.

  Eric hit the floor and bounced back up, growling so fiercely his lips were dotted with flecks of foamy spit, like a rabid dog. Lito managed to sit up and pull the little pistol from the back of his pants. He had already decided that he wouldn’t pause, wouldn’t give the lunatic a chance, he would just plug him and be done with it.

  The kid must’ve known his intent, too. He scrambled backward, into the security office, narrowly avoiding a shot that spanged off the metal wall where his head had been. Lito crawled after him, entering the office in time to see Eric hurtling through the broken door they’d come through. By the time Lito could get to his feet, grab the flashlight, and peek around into the corridor, the kid was at the hatch leading back into the bowels of the ship.

  He glanced over his shoulder as Lito trained the light on him, a look of purest hate made downright terrifying by those dead, empty eyes. Then he leapt into the opening in the floor, disappearing all at once.

  Lito ran after him. When he reached the lip of the hatch, he fired two quick shots down, then carefully leaned over, afraid the kid would come shooting back out and grab him like a movie monster in the last reel.

  The tunnel below was empty. Lito moved the flashlight around and then shouted, “Yeah, keep runnin, you crazy dickhead! I’m gonna smash your fuckin action figure!”

  He wouldn’t, not really, but let the kid think that. What Lito really wanted was to go after him and finish this, but if the others were in trouble, he had no time. Those shots might’ve been Carlos making his move. Besides, Eric was in the pitch-black underbelly of the ship now, without even a light, and perhaps that was a far worse punishment than death.

  Lito closed the hatch, spun the wheel to seal it, and ran back toward the security corridor.

  12

  The disfigured tourists piled up on the other side of the metal shutter, howling in animal frustration as they rattled the barrier. Already it was bowed in the middle, and more rusted slats snapped under their relentless fists.

  But Amber didn’t have time to worry about that.

  She rushed around the check-out counter to where Justin flopped against the filthy tile, in the throes of a violent seizure.

  “Justin!” She yelled his name as she slid into the floor beside him. He had dropped the revolver as he collapsed, and she swept it up and stuck it back in her waistband almost without thinking, then cradled his head before his thrashing could crack it open on the tile. She trained the flashlight on his face, and saw his eyes were rolled up to the whites. Blue-flecked foam poured from both sides of his mouth.

  His eyelids fluttered as the irises—still ringed in blue—floated back into place.

  They focused on her, but there was no recognition in them.

  Justin’s mouth stretched open in a feral snarl.

  Amber jumped away just as he swiped out at her, his fingernails missing her by inches. One slash, and she knew she would end up no better off than him. Justin scrambled up, his back hunched so much his shoulders were almost level with his ears, and advanced on her. She backed away acr
oss the store as the glowing creatures beyond the threshold continued to screech their outrage and tear at the metal shutter. It was almost ridiculous; they wanted in here, and right now she would almost rather be out there with them.

  “Stop!” she pleaded, as Justin stalked after her. “Justin, it’s me!” He gave no sign that he heard her, let alone understood.

  She came up against the back wall. Amber pulled the revolver out and aimed it dead center at his pale forehead, but it was a half-hearted gesture. She couldn’t do it. She’d already broken his heart tonight; taking his life—such as it was—was more leeway than her morals would allow her.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He reached her, grabbed her shoulders, opened his mouth wide to tear into her throat. His face was twisted with rage, and, she thought, a deep, remorseful sort of sadness. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  There was a creaking squall to her left as the sealed hatch swung open, and Lito Porto’s head poked through.

  13

  Lito followed the shouts from the security corridor, found the door they were coming from, then took in the situation in a heartbeat. He grabbed the back of Justin’s shirt, ripped him away from Amber, and slung the boy away like a bouncer tossing a drunk. He flew across the store, coming to rest against the base of the steel shutter. The ghouls trying to bust through from the other side ignored him completely.

  That was enough for Lito.

  He pointed the Walther at the young man, ready to put him out of his misery.