Donovan smiled at him. “Go get a flu shot.”
***
“So how long have you worked for Black Remedy?”
“Not long.” Donovan’s voice was approaching a full-on slur now. “I was a promis-promis…promising young boxer once, if you can believe it. I got hurt pretty bad, though, before I ever got the chance to…belch!...to really make it. I could have maybe made a comeback, but my girl – my family – was against it. In the end I just did what made them happy.” Donovan shook his head and sighed. “Then my girl up and leaves me a year later anyway and both my parents pass on within the same decade. If it wasn’t for shit luck I’d have no luck at all.” He took another swig on the bourbon. “Anyway, started doing private security when I hit twenty-five-or-so and been doing it ever since. Black Remedy is just the latest in a long line. The pay is good, but not as good as if I’d been a professional fighter. Don’t that just suck?”
“Yeah, that sucks,” Jack admitted. “Still, least you were good at something. My whole life has been the epitome of average. Average kid, average teenager, average police officer, and not much else.”
Donovan looked at Jack bleary eyed. “You…you’re a cop, man. That’s not average. That’s honourable. You p-protect people.”
Jack shook his head which unsettled his vision for a moment. His view tilted to and fro before finally centring again. “That’s American cops you’re talking about. British cops spend most of their time dealing with drunks and bad drivers. They never let us do anything to make a difference. Goddamn justice system protects the criminals more than it does the public. It’s become cool to be a thug in the UK.”
“Then why…why don’t you…why don’t you do something about it?”
Jack laughed. “You think it’s that easy? I’m just a sergeant. No one listens to me. Anyway, I did do something, once.”
Donovan leant forward. “Oh really? What did you do?”
“I killed a bunch of drug-dealing scumbags, that’s what. Took ‘em out while they were lying around stoned. One of them even started giggling while I slit his throat. Never seen anything like that in my life – not even in the army. Drugs make people so screwed up that they laugh at their own murders.”
“Hell, man, that’s stone cold. You just rolled up and killed them all? What the hell got into you?”
“My partner was shot to death a year before. She was trying to help a family against a bunch of yobs in the area. Kid called Frankie Walker shot her in a goddamn hospital while she was checking on one of his victims. When I got there she was lying up against the wall in a pool of blood. Her face had gone all grey, like it was made out of ash or something. She was a beautiful person and Frankie just snuffed her out like a cigarette. The only positive out of the whole thing was that he was dead on the scene too when I got there – shot by his own brother no less – but his gang was still on the streets, intimidating people and acting like they owned the place. I dealt with it.”
Donovan didn’t say anything. He just looked at Jack and shook his head sympathetically. It was the first time Jack had spoken about his actions outside of the force. To speak about such things freely would have sent him to prison. His superiors had found out what had happened from a not-yet-completely-dead witness at the scene, but they covered it up. Most of his colleagues who knew were just glad that a prolific street gang had been taken out of action. There was no sympathy for the victims. But the men and women Jack used to consider his friends were suddenly very afraid of him. He had become isolated and alone, and then, later, a loose-cannon that had nobody to remind him of the rules. The decision to protect Jack by covering up the crime – and keep the damning truth from the already police-hating public – had proved to be a mistake. Jack had only gone off the rails further and had become untouchable by the secret that he and his superiors kept.
“You must have loved her a lot,” said Donovan. “A man doesn’t feel that much rage unless he’s failed to protect the woman he loves.”
Jack nodded. The cowboy was astute. “We’d been together a while, but had been hiding it – had to really. We were saving enough money to get a house and then Laura was going to quit the force to have a child with me. I lost everything.”
“And someone had to pay?”
Jack nodded. “I don’t regret it.”
“Well, I don’t blame you, pardner. Seems that the world gets worse and worse each day. Bout time some good folks started fighting back. Still, how the hell did you get away with such a thing?”
Jack shrugged and sighed. “I didn’t. I got suspended from the force – under the guise of bereavement – having my partner killed and all – and they stuck me in therapy for six months. I started drinking far too much and stopped looking after myself in any way that a human being should. Eventually, after a couple years of watching me self-destruct they authorised the budget to send me on this cruise to try and relax and break out of the emotional tailspin I was in. I get the impression that it’s their final gesture of kindness before they finally discharge me. Tell you the truth, if things ever go back to normal, that’s just what I want. I can’t do that job anymore. I’ve seen how little justice there is in the world and I can’t be a part of it any longer.”
“I hear ya. Ain’t no place left that hasn’t witnessed the evil of man. Bad guys all over.”
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,” said Jack.
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 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,” said Jack, laughing. “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 had gone by in a daze of whisky-fuelled madness. Jack and Donovan had started the week playing cards quietly in the cargo hold, but had eventually progressed to full-on hell-raising in the ship’s various clubs and casinos (where they had used their situation to regularly beat the odds at Blackjack.). Donovan had also taken to late night dalliances with any women he could find that were as drunk as he was.
One night, recently, the American cowboy had confided to Jack that he’d been close to losing his sanity at the time Jack and Tally had stumbled upon him. Learning that he was not alone had changed everything for Donovan – had made him see the fun to be had with the situation. Jack was beginning to get concerned with the man’s reckless pursuit of entertainment, but could hardly blame him, really, after being cooped up for six months. Jack just had to keep reminding himself that anything Donovan did was inconsequential. The day always reset regardless of what he got up to.
Tally had been missing since the night Jack took a bullet to the chest. He’d checked her cabin several times and many areas of the ship, too, but she was nowhere to be found. Whatever Tally was doing with herself, it was clear she did not want his company. Jack just hoped that she was okay.
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 tonight. It was time to get his thoughts back in order and focus on the things that mattere
d. Things like the virus onboard that still slaughtered everybody each night.
Jack didn’t have the luxury of hiding out in some single woman’s cabin each night, like Donovan, while the massacre ensued. He’d been resigning himself to spending several hours each night cooped up in the cargo hold waiting patiently for midnight to wipe clean the slate.
There was only one person that frequented the Voyager’s Lounge that displayed symptoms of the deadly illness. It was a respectable-looking gentleman in an evening jacket and spectacles. He was alone and reading a magazine, constantly sneezing. One time he sneezed so hard that his spectacles fell clean off his head. In just a few hours’ time, the man would begin to bleed from the eyes and tear into the flesh of anyone unlucky enough to be within sight of him. Right now, though, he was just an ordinary man trying to relax.
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 human beings also; 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 or moping around in the cargo hold. Jack still had the benefit of free-will while a thousand people onboard did not. It was up to him to end their suffering. Whether they knew it or not, all of the people onboard were relying on Jack to save them.
Joma was behind the bar, as he always was at this time. His shift started late and would continue until the eyebleeders arrived. Jack had never seen whatever fate befell the friendly waiter each night, but it was a safe assumption that he died a grisly death with everybody else.
“Hello, Mr Jack,” said Joma from behind the beer taps. “I hope that your room is to your liking.”
Jack had to think for a minute. Then he realised that to Joma understanding he’d only entered his cabin for the first time yesterday. “Yes,” he 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 went to hand over his passenger card to add the drink to his account, but Joma waved it away. “I give this one free of charge. You give me good tip and I look after you.”
Jack couldn’t even remember how much he’d given the man now, all that time ago. He took his free pint and nodded his thanks. He decided to remain at the bar on one of the stools, feeling it would keep him more alert than if he went and slouched on one of the sofas.
“There’s a bad cold going around today, no?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, there sure is. “It’s real bad. Don’t think anyone else has noticed though.”
“I have. 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 nodded and seemed a little embarrassed that the focus of the conversation had suddenly turned to him. “I am fine, Mr Jack. I just work long hours. Lots to be done, many drinks to be served. It is tiring work.”
Jack looked at Joma and placed him a little over forty, which was strange because when they had first met, he probably would have placed the guy at a little under.
He must have had a rough day, Jack thought as he sipped the crisp, golden liquid from his pint glass.
“So how long have you worked on the Kirkpatrick, Joma?”
“Almost four months now. I work aboard another ship before that.”
“Why did you change?”
“Change of scenery.”
“Oh, okay,” said Jack, not expecting such a short reply. “Guess one of the perks of the job is being able to travel the world.”
Joma smiled and seemed to look off into the distance. “That is true, but I miss home very much, too. The most beautiful place is where people love you. The Mediterranean cannot compare to that, or anywhere else. Do you agree?”
Jack drank from his pint and placed it down gently on the bar. “Perhaps I would have once.”
“But no longer?”
“Well, where do you find beauty if nobody loves you?”
Joma thought about it while scratching at his chin. “I guess you find it in hope; hope that one day somebody will love you. I pray that you do find love, Mr Jack. A man is always stronger with love. It’s the only thing that truly separates us from the cavemen we used to be.”
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.”
“I have no doubt that you will, my friend. Now, can I get you another drink?”
Jack looked down at his near-empty pint glass and was shocked to see that 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 its measured amount. He handed the glass to Jack and smiled. “I will have to charge you for that one, my friend. I lose job otherwise.”
“No problem.” Jack handed over his card. “Say, do you know a girl called Tally? She usually works the Lido Deck during the day.”
Joma raised an eyebrow at him. “You make a friend already? Yes, I 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.”
“Honestly, I do not know, but some of the day-staff sneak off to the Sports Deck at night. It is closed to passengers then, and some of them go there to have a drink together privately. Perhaps you will find her there.”
A coughing fit from behind Jack made him swivel around on his stool. He thought back to the last time he was on the Sports Deck. It hadn’t been locked up then. In fact it had been full of children (stuck inside that Perspex enclosure like sardines).
He turned back to Joma and asked him, “Are you sure it’s locked up? 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 gentleman in the corner, who was still coughing and hacking, then looked back at his watch. It would only be an hour or so until the Sports Deck was overwhelmed with eyebleeders again. If Tally was there, as Joma suggested she might be, it would not be a great time to talk to her. Jack needed to get back to his cabin, for now, where it was safe. He would visit the Sports Deck earlier tomorrow. Then at least he would have enough time to see what was going on with Tally and try to convince her to start helping him again.
The thought of seeing her again sent a shiver through his tummy. He really hoped she would be there tomorrow. But he’d have to wait to find out.
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 (to be subsequently attacked by eyebleeders at 8:20.)
Right now, there were still lots of people milling about. Young couples batted tennis balls back and forth, while the older generation played bowls on a small green in the far corner. Up 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 t
wo teenage girls. They seemed very competitive and were even donning appropriate athletic skirts and nondescript white panties underneath.
The sea beyond the deck shone gold beneath the wide rays of the setting sun. Once it went down completely the ship would be surrounded by the featureless black of night, but right now it was pleasant.
Jack shivered at the thought of approaching darkness creeping towards the ship, ready to engulf it. He hoped Tally would turn up soon. There was something about the Sports Deck that sapped the strength from his soul. All the young life and joyful energy made him miss the world even more. Jack realised that what he wanted more than anything was to go back to his old life; he wanted to go back to where his actions truly mattered. Jack might have been 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 was less than a mayfly.
Sitting there alone, surrounded by obliviously happy people, 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 came charging at him like a trainload of grief, crashing through his barriers and forcing their way into his consciousness.
His partner, Laura, was only just past thirty when Frankie Walker had shot her in the stomach. There was no need for him to kill her; he just did it for kicks. The decline of young morals in the United Kingdom seemed unstoppable. They fucked each other indiscriminately, snorted drugs, attacked each other, and robbed old ladies from as young as ten years old. It was chaos. 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 thought, but he sometimes 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 he did.
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