The BIG Horror Pack 1

by Iain Rob Wright

  Once he felt clean and refreshed, he stepped carefully out of the shower and dried himself off with one of the towels provided, then then crept, naked, back into the bedroom. His clothes were still unpacked and he reached down to grab his luggage. As he did so, he paused, a strange feeling of déjà vu coming over. It was like he knew what he was about to do before he actually did it. He’d had a dream where he’d shifted his luggage onto the bed just like this. He couldn’t remember much else. What the hell was wrong with him?

  He chose to put on a pair of khaki shorts, nondescript red t-shirt, and a pair of tennis pumps. Then he grabbed the Andy McNab paperback novel and headed for the door. On the carpet, he noticed a sheet of paper had been slipped inside. It was the ship’s newsletter, printed in cheap black ink. It was headed by the day’s date – 14.10.2012 – and the name of the ship in bold, SPIRIT OF KIRKPATRICK. He glanced over the day’s activities and decided he wasn’t interested in any of them, but was pleased to see that the poolside BBQ would be serving…

  Hotdogs...

  Jack loved hotdogs, but for some reason he didn’t want any right then. He almost felt sick of them, as though he’d eaten a load of them recently and now fancied something else. He decided to head for the pool anyway. He took the elevator upwards from B Deck and stepped out into the corridors of the Broadway Deck. To his right was a room service cart full of towels and bed linens. To his left was an exit leading to the Promenade Deck. He headed towards it and the floor tilted beneath him, sending him crashing against the wall. He waited for the ship to steady and then continued cautiously down the corridor, still feeling that strange sense of déjà vu the entire time. As he stepped out on to the Promenade Deck, he was almost knocked flying by a pair of sprinting children. The two boys raced down the side of the ship without any regard for other people’s safety and disappeared around the corner. Jack had been about to shout after them, but stopped himself when he saw it was useless.

  Jack headed after them, reaching the rear of the ship where it opened up into a large rectangular area spread over two tiers. On the bottom was a modest swimming pool inhabited mostly by children, while the top level seemed to be full of sunbathers. Jack stood for a while, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back and the invigorating sea air. It was the first time he’d set foot upon this part of the ship, yet for some reason it felt familiar. The people, too, seemed familiar.

  He decided to take the stairs to the upper deck. With any luck there would be a sun lounger free. If not, he would have to make do with one of the tables and chairs.

  “You can have this one,” a fair young woman said to him as he searched for a lounger.

  “You sure it’s free?” Jack asked her.

  “No one has been using it for the last few hours. I say they’ve given up any right they had to it. I think someone has forgotten their towel and left it here.”

  Jack thanked the girl for her help, but then found himself staring at her.

  “Something wrong?” she asked, shifting a little in her lounger. He was making her uncomfortable.

  Jack shook his head and broke his stare. He plonked himself down onto the lounger and lay back with his novel in hand. “Sorry, it just feels like we’ve met before.”

  “Ever been to Leeds?”

  “Not lately,” Jack replied. “You ever been to Birmingham?”

  “Nope.”

  Jack opened up his paperback. “Guess I’m just imagining things.”

  “I’m Claire by the way.”

  Claire…

  Jack didn’t answer the girl, so she took another turn to speak. “Wait, don’t tell me my name sounds familiar as well?”

  Jack laughed and suddenly felt silly. He was probably frightening the poor girl with his odd behaviour. “We must have met in a past life. I’ve just been having one of those days, you know? I keep getting…I don’t know, déjà vu, or something.”

  “Yeah, I get that sometimes. Think it’s just the mind playing tricks.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  A member of staff came over: a brunette with dark hair and eyes. She asked if either of them wanted a drink. It was exactly what Jack needed, so he ordered a double scotch, handing over his room card for payment. Claire ordered something called a mojito.

  “What’s one of those when it’s at home?”

  “It’s rum, lime, sugar, and some other stuff. Think it’s Mexican or Cuban. I don’t usually drink much, but I guess one won’t hurt. ”

  “Have you been to either of those places?” Jack asked. “Mexico? Cuba?”

  Claire laughed. “Nope. I had a mojito in Spain last year and thought it was nice. You ever been anywhere interesting?”

  “Not lately. Unless you count Tipton?”

  The waitress came back with their drinks and Jack eagerly took a long, eager swig.

  “You really are having one of those days, aren’t you?”

  He gasped, then told her, “I woke up this morning just feeling really…odd, I suppose. Maybe I’m shook up from a nightmare I had or something.”

  Claire took a sip of her mojito and was about to carry on with the conversation when someone appeared between them. Jack recognised the lad immediately, although he had no idea how.

  “Conner?” he asked tentatively

  The lad looked down at him with a surprised look on his face. “Who the hell are you?”

  “My name’s Jack. Have we met?”

  It was obvious the lad was confused, even though he masked it with aggression. “You don’t know me, mate. How’d you even know my name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Conner turned his stare at Claire and told her to get up. “The lads are waiting downstairs. Let’s get go-” A violent sneeze interrupted his words, followed by another, and another.

  Claire stood up and placed the back of her hand against his forehead. “You still got a cold, honey?”

  “Yeah,” Conner said, sniffling. “Me, Steve, and Mike haven’t stopped sneezing for the last hour. I feel well, rough, innit. My eyes are itching like buggery, as well.”

  Claire wrapped an arm around her boyfriend and started leading him away. “Okay, let’s go get some food inside you. I’ll look after you.”

  The two teenagers walked away, both nodding at Jack as they did so. Conner still seemed curious about their interaction, but seemed happy enough to forget it. Jack thought about following their lead by getting some food, but still didn’t fancy hotdogs. He would eat later. For now, he’d relax in the sun and enjoy his whisky.

  An elderly couple smooched in front of him like teenagers, making him feel a little uncomfortable. Jack looked past them down to the pool area and nosed the other passengers. There were kids swimming in the pool, adults drinking at tables, and lots of people eating the freshly served hotdogs. The one family that stood out, however, was a mother and a young boy. The mother was covering her son’s knee with a wad of plasters from her handbag, covering up a wound that was too far away for Jack to see clearly. For some reason, he was positive the young boy had slipped poolside. He thought this, not because it was a likely conclusion, but because it was a one-hundred-percent certainty in his mind – he just knew it for sure. Could almost picture it happening, despite haven’t not witnessed it.

  The next thing Jack noticed was a lot of people sneezing. It seemed like a particularly nasty cold had found its way onboard and infected a whole bunch of people. So much for the rubbing alcohol yesterday, little good it had done.

  Jack reached down and picked up his scotch, finishing it in one burning gulp. As if by magic, the brunette waitress reappeared to take another order from him.

  “Perfect timing,” he said to her.

  She replied in an eastern European accent that fitted her look well. “What is it I can get for you, sir?”

  “Same again, please. Where are you from?”

  “Romania.”

  Jack nodded, interested. “Most of the staff onboard seemed to be Filipino. You stand out.” />
  The waitress smiled politely and he noticed her name badge read TALLY. “They hired me because I speak many languages,” was he humourless reply.

  “Really? What languages do you speak?”

  “Russian, German, French, and, of course, English and Romanian. I speak a little Mandarin also.”

  “Wow,” Jack said. “That’s impressive. My name is Jack. It’s nice to meet you, Tally.”

  “I’ll be right back with your drink, sir.”

  Jack watched the waitress walk away and had the sense that, although she was faultlessly polite, she too was having a bit of a bad day. There was something about her curt, clipped tone that told him so. She seemed stressed. Working on a cruise ship was most likely a thankless job at the best of times.

  Within two minutes, the waitress returned. The double scotch he’d ordered was more like a double double. “I just charged you for one double,” she said. “You look like you need it.”

  “Is it that obvious I’m having such a weird day?”

  The waitress shrugged. “I can sense these things. You give me a shout if you need another.”

  Jack offered up his glass in thanks. “Will do, Tally. Thanks.”

  He lay back in his sun lounger and sighed. He was finally beginning to relax. Sun, booze, and pretty waitresses. Maybe the week wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  ***

  When Jack opened his eyes it was nighttime, not completely dark, for the deck was lined with spotlights, but dim enough that the sea and sky had become featureless black sheets beyond the illuminated boundaries of the ship. The Spirit of Kirkpatrick was sailing through a black Limbo, an endless abyss. Jack would be glad to see land again.

  The tingling heat in his chest told him he’d consumed more than a few whiskies during the afternoon and early evening, and would now be forced to pay the price. He’d intended to take it easy on the booze, but his problem was that trying to stop once he’d started was a battle he usually lost. He was on holiday, though. He could forgive himself for one night of indulgence. There was little wrong with drinking and falling asleep in the sun.

  Jack glanced at his watch and saw that it was a little after eight. There was still plenty of time left to enjoy the evening. He stood up from the sun lounger, bones clicking, muscles stiff, and had a quick stretch. From the deck he was standing on, there was an entrance leading back inside the ship. A plaque beside the door read: HIGH SPIRITS.

  He headed inside and found a cosy bar lounge, with a small stage and dance floor at the front and a long bar at the back. There was a chubby comedian currently telling jokes and doing his best to make the audience laugh.

  “The wife and I were sat, having a cup of tea, with my mother-in-law the other day when, out of the blue, she says to me, ‘I’ve decided I want to be cremated.’ I said…”

  …alright get your coat.

  Jack had heard the joke before and probably hadn’t thought it was funny the first time. A drink was in order, so he ordered one from the bar and chose to linger there on one of the stools. Another gentleman was already sat at the bar, nursing a pint of foamy lager, but his head was hanging limply from his shoulder, as if he lacked the strength to support it.

  “You okay there, pal?” Jack asked the man.

  The man turned his head slowly to face Jack. His face was a grim mask of perspiration. His eyes were bloodshot.

  Jack recoiled. “You really don’t look well, buddy. You want me to go get someone?”

  The man ignored him and turned back to his beer. The congestion in his nasal cavities made his every breath sound like a thunderous snort. Jack glanced behind the bar and caught the eye of the Filipino waiter, who just shrugged and continued polishing glasses. “Nasty cold on ship,” he said.

  “You’re telling me,” Jack replied. “Is something being done about it?”

  “Ship dock at Cannes in morning. Shuttle take people to local hospital if need. I think is nothing to worry about. It is what happen at sea.”

  Jack examined the sickly man slouching beside him and wrinkled his nose in revulsion. The man’s snorting breaths had lowered in pitch now and sounded more like growling. Jack put a hand on the man’s sweat-soaked back and leant in. “Hey, buddy. I think we best get you to the ship’s doctor. You don’t look good at all.”

  The man shrugged away from Jack’s grasp. His movements were erratic, aggressive.

  “Hey, calm down, mate. I’m just trying to help you.”

  The sick man swung an arm, swiping his pint of beer across the bar and onto the floor. He turned to glare at Jack. His eyes leaked dark fluid down his cheeks and snarled like a beast.

  Everything came back to Jack at once, like capsules opening up and leaking into his brain. He remembered the attacks, the crazed passengers ripping each other apart like cavemen and bleeding from their eye sockets.

  Jack shook his head. “No…”

  The sick man kicked his stool away and bared his teeth at Jack.

  “Oops, looks like someone’s drunk too much over there,” said the comedian from the stage. “Don’t worry, mate. Rehab is for quitters, anyway. Give my regards to the floor.”

  Jack put his palms out as the sick man took a step towards him. “Stay back.”

  But the man did not stay back. He rushed at Jack with his arms outstretched, his teeth bared. Jack sidestepped quickly and slid out his leg, tripping his rabid attacker to the floor where he landed in a heap.

  The sound of laughter ignited the audience as the comedian made another joke at the sick man’s expense, but then came the sound of screams. Someone else was being attacked.

  The man Jack had tripped started to climb up off the floor. Jack kicked the arms out from under him and sent him sprawling back down onto his face. The screams in the room grew in number.

  Jack spun around to see Conner attacking waitress, while bystanders fought to pull him off her. There were other pockets of the audience that erupted, too, as scuffles and fighting took over.

  Jack knew he needed to get out of there. Things were about to get very bad – he remembered. He’d seen it before.

  He ran.

  As confusing memories continued coming back to him, the layout of the ship started to become familiar. He knew that the corridor leading away from High Spirits would take him down a set of stairs to the Lido Restaurant. The young blonde girl, Claire, would be inside there, along with some other people. There was no way he should be able to know that, but he did. He knew it for sure.

  As fled down the corridor and took the stairs, Jack discovered that his innate knowledge of the ship was correct. He skidded to a stop in front of the Lido Restaurant’s doors and waited outside, wondering whether or not to go inside. Things inside the restaurant hadn’t turned out so well for him last night, if he remembered. Then Jack thought of the absurdity of remembering what was going to happen. He was living the goddamn same day all over again. The more he thought about it, the closer to insanity he verged. Without any other plan, he decided to barge his way inside the Lido Restaurant.

  He recognised every single person. They all looked at Jack anxiously, not knowing what was going on outside, other than it was causing a lot of screaming. Jack locked the doors immediately, then dragged the nearest table over and started building a barricade.

  “What are you doing?” asked a man dressed in a chef’s uniform.

  “We need to make sure this door stays closed,” Jack shouted. “There’s been an outbreak or something. People are sick, crazy.”

  Was he sick and crazy, too?

  The group of people inside the restaurant panicked. Jack remembered how they had refused to help him previously when he had needed their help. He’d been trying to help someone who was hurt.

  “Claire!” Jack shouted into the crowd, not seeing the girl but knowing she was there.

  Claire appeared at the front of the group. She looked afraid and confused, yet less panicked than the others. “You’re the man from earlier?”

  “Ye
s, I am. I’m a police officer and I need your help. We need to get every table we can in front of this door. We’ve got about two minutes before people start trying to smash their way in.”

  “What people?” the chef asked, looking at Jack like he was a madman.

  “The infected passengers. Whatever is wrong with them has made them psychotic.”

  “You’re the one’s that’s psychotic,” Claire shouted. Her opposition surprised Jack. “You were acting like a weirdo earlier, too. Going on about déjà vu and knowing Conner’s name without him even telling you. Who are you?”

  The chef put a hand up to Jack. “I think you need to sit down, sir, and allow us to get security.”

  The man moved toward the doors, but Jack stepped in his way. Despite being the smaller of the two men, he knew he could take the chef down if he had to. “If we don’t get this door secured,” he said slowly, “people are going to get hurt.”

  The chef leaned forwards and placed his face right up against Jack’s. “Is that a threat?”

  Jack thought about taking the man down but sighed instead. He put his hands up in supplication and said, “Just trust me, okay? Please.”

  “Sorry, I can’t do that, sir. Please move aside.”

  “No.”

  The chef made a grab for Jack, but quickly found himself twisted into a combined armlock and chokehold.

  “Do I need to put you to sleep,” Jack asked.

  The chef hissed with pain. “Let go of me.”

  “I can’t do that, buddy. I need that door barricaded. Claire? Claire, listen to me. Start dragging tables over here in front of the doors. Anyone who fancies being useful should help her.”

  Claire huffed but did as she was asked. The elderly couple Jack had seen smooching on the sun deck helped her and, together, they started sliding tables across the floor in front of the doors. The rest of the group stood frozen, doing nothing to help.