The BIG Horror Pack 1

by Iain Rob Wright

  Jack gave Donovan a surprised look. “Yeah, and you’re one of those bad guys.”

  “What’s that now?”

  “You’re delivering bribe money to a corrupt politician.”

  Donovan seemed to think about it. “Well, yeah, I guess now that you mention it, I am one of the bad guys. Maybe I’ll rethink things, too, if this nonsense ever ends.”

  Jack laughed heartily. “This nonsense? That’s one way to put it.”

  Donovan swigged the last drop of the whisky and leant back in his chair with a satisfied grin on his face. “Hell, that’s the only way to describe it, far as I’m concerned. I’ve never known anything make less sense in my life.”

  “You’re right,” Jack said. “This is all a big load of nonsense. I still need to get to the bottom of it, though.”

  Donovan stood up, disappeared for a moment, and then returned with another bottle of bourbon. “You sure do, but there’s no need to rush, pardner. You came on this cruse to relax. So relax.”

  Jack took another swig and did just that.

  Day 215

  Two whole weeks went by in a daze of whisky-fuelled madness. Jack and Donovan had started their friendship playing cards in the cargo hold, but had eventually progressed to full-on hellraising in the ship’s various clubs and casinos. Donovan often ended his nights with drunken dalliances involving any women as wasted as he was. Jack would often retire with a bottle of Scotch as his companion.

  One night, Donovan confided to Jack that he’d been close to losing his sanity by the time he and Tally had stumbled upon him. Learning that he was not alone had changed everything – had made him see the fun that could be had with the situation. Jack was beginning to grow concerned with the American’s reckless pursuit of hedonist distractions, but could hardly blame him after being cooped up alone for six months. Jack kept reminding himself that anything Donovan did was inconsequential. The day always reset regardless of what they got up to at night.

  Tally had been missing ever since the night Jack took a bullet to the chest. He’d checked her cabin several times and several areas of the ship, but she was nowhere to be found. Whatever she was doing, it was clear she did not want company. Jack just hoped that she was okay and would seek him out when she was ready.

  It was currently 5PM and Jack was in the Voyager’s Lounge. It was the quietest drinking venue on the ship and therefore the least likely place to run into Donovan. Jack had nothing against the over-zealous American – in fact he liked the guy – but he needed a break from the all the partying for one night. It was time to get his thoughts back in order and focus on the things that mattered. Things like the virus onboard that still slaughtered everybody each night.

  There was only a single person who frequented the Voyager’s Lounge that displayed symptoms of the virus. The victim was a respectable-looking gentleman in an evening jacket and spectacles. He was always alone and reading a magazine, constantly sneezing and wiping his nose. In just a few hours, the man would begin to bleed from his eyes and tear into the flesh of anyone unlucky enough to be within sight of him. Right now, he was just an ordinary man trying to relax on vacation.

  It was hard to humanize the eyebleeders once they had turned, so irrational and brutally insane they were, but it was important to remember that prior to their conditions they were ordinary people – people with families, like Ivor and his girls. Jack was trapped on this boat, forced to relive the day over and over, but so was Ivor. The poor man had to watch his family die every night.

  Jack was beginning to realise that his situation was actually better than most, which was why he’d decided that he was going to find some way to put a stop to whatever was happening. It was selfish to spend his time drinking with Donovan. Jack still had the benefit of freewill, and it was up to him to end everybody’s suffering. Whether the passengers knew it or not, all of them were relying on Jack to save them.

  Joma tended bar, as he always did at this time. His shift started late and would continue until the eyebleeders arrived. Jack had never seen whatever fate befell the friendly waiter, but it was safe to assume he died a grisly death like everybody else.

  “Hello, Mr Jack,” Joma said from behind the beer taps. “I hope that your room is to your liking.”

  Jack had to think for a minute, then realised that, to Joma’s understanding, Jack had only entered his cabin for the first time yesterday.

  “Yes,” Jack replied. “It feels like home already.”

  “That is very good. Can I get for you a drink?”

  “Yes, I think I fancy a pint of lager, please.”

  Jack handed over his cabin card for the drink to be added to his account, but Joma waved it away. “One free of charge. You give Joma good tip and he look after you.”

  Jack couldn’t even remember how much he’d given the man now, it was so long ago, but he took his free pint gladly and nodded his thanks.

  Joma picked up an empty wine glass and began polishing it. “There’s a bad cold going around today, no?”

  Jack nodded. “Real bad. Didn’t think anyone else had noticed.”

  “Joma noticed. Many people sick today. Sneezing, coughing, very bad.”

  “You don’t look so hot yourself,” Jack commented as he examined Joma’s face. “You look exhausted.”

  Joma seemed a little embarrassed that the focus of the conversation had suddenly turned to him. “Joma is fine, Mr Jack. He just work long hours. Lots to be done, many drinks to be served. It is tiring work.”

  Jack looked at the man and placed him at a little over forty, which was strange because when they’d first met, he probably would have placed the guy at a little under.

  “So how long have you worked on the Kirkpatrick, Joma?”

  “Almost four month now. Joma work aboard other ship before.”

  “Why did you change?”

  “Changing of scenery.”

  “I supposed one of the perks of the job is being able to travel the world.”

  Joma smiled and seemed to look off into the distance thoughtfully. “That is true, but I miss home very much. The most beautiful places are where people love you. The Mediterranean cannot compare to home. Do you agree?”

  Jack sipped from his pint and placed it down gently on the bar. “Perhaps I would have agreed with you once.”

  “But no longer?”

  “Where do you find beauty when nobody loves you?”

  Joma thought about it while polishing another glass. “I think you find it in hope, Mr Jack. Hope that one day somebody will love you. I pray you do find love, my friend. A man is stronger with love.”

  Jack thought about what Joma was saying and actually found himself smiling a little. “I hope I get the chance one day to see if you’re right.”

  “Joma has no doubt. Another drink?”

  Jack looked down at his near-empty pint glass and was shocked he had drunk it so quickly. “Yeah, make it a whisky, please. Cheers.”

  Joma got to work, thrusting a low-baller glass against the base of the optic and pouring the brownish-gold liquid in a measured amount. He handed the glass to Jack and smiled. “Joma have to charge you for that one, my friend. He lose job otherwise.”

  “No problem.” Jack handed over his cabin card. “Say, do you know a girl named Tally? She works the Lido Deck during the day.”

  Joma raised an eyebrow at him. “You make a friend already? Yes, Joma know Tally. Pretty girl. You like her?”

  Jack felt his cheeks blush and then wondered why he’d had that reaction. “Yes, I like her, but not in that way. I was just wondering where she goes at night.”

  “Unsure, but some of the day-staff like to sneak off to the Sports Deck at night. It is closed to passengers then and they like to go and have drink together. Perhaps you find her there.”

  Jack thought back to the last time he had visited the Sports Deck. It hadn’t been locked up then. In fact, it had been full of children, trapped inside the Perspex enclosure like sardines.


  Jack turned back to Joma and asked him a question. “Are you sure the Sports Deck is locked up at night? I’m sure I saw children up there a few months…uh, late last night.”

  Joma nodded. “They have an under-twelve football match between eight and nine, but other than that it is locked up tight. Too dark for people to be running around outside on deck. Dangerous.”

  Jack glanced back around at the bespectacled gentleman in the corner, who had gone from sniffling to coughing and hacking up phlegm. It would only be an hour or so until the Sports Deck was overwhelmed with eyebleeders. If Tally was there, as Joma suggested she might be, it would not be a great time to talk to her. He needed to get back to his cabin, for now, where it was safe. He would visit the Sports Deck earlier tomorrow and hope to find Tally. He would then at least have enough time to see what was going on with her and try to convince her to start helping him again.

  The thought of seeing Tally sent a shiver through Jack’s spine. He really wanted to see her again. Maybe he would find out what had made her disappear.

  Day 216

  Jack checked the ship’s newsletter that came under his door every day and learned that the Sports Deck was open until 6PM. He decided he would get there an hour before. If what Joma had told him was correct, he’d eventually be asked to leave, and the deck would then remain empty until the children arrived at 8PM and were attacked a short time after.

  Arriving at the Sports Deck now, in the mid-afternoon, it was full of people milling about. Young couples batted tennis balls back and forth gently, while an older generation played bowls on a small green in the corner. Ahead was the enclosed football pitch that would later play host to a monstrous siege. It was a place of fun and hijinks, which made its eventual fate even more tragic.

  Jack took a seat on a spectator bench beside one of the tennis courts and watched a game being contested between two teenage girls. They seemed very competitive and even donned the appropriate athletic skirts and nondescript white panties. If only they knew how little their game meant.

  The Mediterranean Sea shone gold beneath the wide rays of the setting sun. Once the sun disappeared, the ship would be surrounded by featureless night. The pleasantness of day always gave way to the horrors of night.

  Jack shivered at the thought of approaching darkness creeping towards the ship, ready to engulf it. He hoped Tally would turn up soon, for there was something about the Sports Deck that sapped him of strength. All of this young, vibrant life and joyful energy made Jack miss the world terribly. What he now wanted more than anything was to just go back to his old life. He wanted his actions to matter again. He may have become jaded by his impotency as a police officer, but at least there was always the hope that he could do some good. But onboard this damned ship his actions were useless, his effect on the world less than a mayfly.

  Sitting there alone, surrounded by obliviously happy souls, Jack found his thoughts turning to Laura. He didn’t want his mind to go there, but he was powerless to stop it. His memories charged forth, a trainload of grief crashing through his emotional barriers and forcing their way into his consciousness. His partner, Laura, was only just past thirty when Frankie Walker shot her in the stomach. There had been no need for him to kill her, and he did so just for kicks. The decline of young morals in the United Kingdom seemed an unstoppable force. They fucked each other indiscriminately in every hole, snorted drugs from A to Z, attacked each other, as well as robbing old ladies from as young as ten years old. The United Kingdom was anarchy. And it was getting worse.

  But Laura had always seen the best in people. She believed in the inherent goodness of society and that people would generally make the right decisions if given the chance. It was a naïve outlook, Jack used to think, but he had often envied her. It must have been a great comfort to see the world in such positive colours instead of the bleak black grime and sodden greys that Jack did.

  Jack missed Laura’s smile – the one she showed only in private when the two of them were alone. But he knew that he would never get to see it again. It’d been erased from the world by the ills of a sick, decaying society. Laura had died because she’d made the mistake of showing compassion for a husband who was trying to protect his family. The husband’s wife and child had been tortured and stabbed by a local gang. Then the husband had gone and murdered one of the thugs in revenge. Laura and Jack had been given strict orders to take the husband in – and they had the chance to – but he had begged them for one more night to finish what he’d started. Laura had said yes, and despite his better judgement, Jack had gone along with it. They had let the husband go. Jack knew it was crazy, and the only reason he went along with it at all was because he loved Laura. That love had made him weak – not strong like Joma suggested – and he had been unable to do his job the way he knew he should. He should have been angry with Laura for that, but it was just who she was – and that was something he could never blame her for. He wished more than anything that he could go back to that evening and arrest the husband. No one else would have died that night. Frankie Walker wouldn’t have ended up cornered with a gun and Laura wouldn’t have been trapped inside a hospital room with him. She’d still be alive. And jack’s hands would be clean of blood.

  Footsteps behind him.

  Jack’s eye caught movement to his side and snapped him of his daze. Tally had entered the Sports Deck, copped one look at Jack, then turned back around and tried to leave. She wasn’t quick enough, though and Jack caught up with her in in the corridor.

  He placed a hand on her shoulder and spun her around to face him. “Why have you been hiding from me?”

  She shrugged free of his grip and looked angry. “I haven’t been hiding from you. I’ve been coming here every night. You just haven’t seen me.”

  Jack tried to stay calm. His heart was beating fast for some reason. “Why have you been coming here instead of coming to see me? I thought we were friends.”

  Tally laughed, a cruel sound. “We are not friends, Jack. We are just two lost souls floating aimlessly in the abyss.”

  “But you were the one that said there was a reason for all this, that there was a way to stop it. We haven’t found the pathwalker yet. We can still find a way to end this.”

  Tally rolled her eyes. “We have not found the pathwalker because he does not wish to be found. Whatever is happening on this ship is nothing to do with me, Jack. I wasn’t chosen; you were. The only reason I’m even in this mess is because of my heritage. If I was not Romany then I would be as ignorant as everybody else. I wish I was.”

  “Me too,” Jack said, “but that’s not how life goes, is it? When it starts raining shit, it’s not always up to us whether we have an umbrella.”

  Tally looked at Jack like he was mad, but then she cracked a smile and shook her head, obviously irritated at him for getting past her shields but powerless to hide her feelings now.

  Jack grinned. “See? It’s easier to face all this with company – I mean, company who still remembers you in the morning. We shouldn’t be alone in this, Tally.”

  “We’ll soon get sick of each other, Jack. Doesn’t matter how much I like you, I don’t want to spend the next thousand years with you.”

  “You admit you like me then? Here I was, thinking you were avoiding me.”

  Tally rubbed both her eyes with the palms of her hands. “God, Jack. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I just want it to be over. I want my life back. I have a daughter back home.”

  Jack felt his jaw tighten. “Shit, Tally. You never told me that. What’s her name?”

  The tears came quickly and unexpectedly so Jack went forward and held his friend, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head. If only there was something he could say…

  “Her name is Delilah, and she is my little angel. I miss her, Jack. I feel like heart is bleeding out into my chest and only seeing her face again will stop it. Damn it, I need a drink. Can we go get one?”

  J
ack agreed. “We’ll go to the bar.”

  Tally shook her head adamantly. “No! I can’t be around people at the moment. They just remind me of what I’ve lost. Do you have anything to drink in your cabin?”

  Jack chuckled. “Hope you like Scotch.”

  “I suppose it will do. Long as it will get me drunk.”

  “Oh, it’ll do that alright.”

  Jack took Tally to his room.

  ***

  Half the bottle of Glen Grant was gone and Jack’s vision was bleary. He’d been drinking alcohol most days now, for a couple of weeks at least, but his tolerance never increased. Every night at midnight the day reset and Jack’s constitution reverted back to how it was the day he’d first boarded. When you considered the fact he was still aging, it seemed a little unfair.

  Tally was as drunk as he was, lying on the bed and staring, transfixed by the television. Toy Story 3 was playing and a big pink bear was stomping around a playroom like a tyrant while the other toys cowered. Jack wondered if the film would make Tally miss her daughter, so he pressed a button on the remote and switched the channel to something else: an infomercial about Cannes – their ever unreachable destination.

  “So are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked her. “Why did you disappear on me?”

  Tally rolled onto her side and faced him on the bed. “I just needed some time alone. Some of the crew go to the Sports Deck for a drink at night so I thought I would join them, try to forget about things for a while. It worked the first night, and I even started to have fun. It was only staff members and none of them were sneezing or coughing. I thought it would be a good place to stay during the attacks. But…”

  Jack nodded. He knew the story already. “At 8PM a bunch of children showed up?”

  Tally seemed to recall the memory in vivid detail. Wrinkles appeared across her brow. “Yes. A couple of them were under the weather, so sat on the sidelines with their parents. A lot of the adults were also very ill. I knew then that things were going to go bad.”