Dead Calm (42 page)

Susan fired into the center of the face of a snarling
gray-faced woman who had gotten to within ten feet of her and
turned and ran to where Cindy had been laying on the bench.
Circling a planter that hid it from view, she hoped the little girl
hadn't run off to hide. She didn't have time to search for her.

Relieved when she found Cindy huddled by the end of
the bench, she saw that the sounds of gunfire and the screeching of
the dead terrorized her.

Forcing a smile to reassure her, Susan crouched down
and said, “Come on, we’ve got to go.”

As she looked at Cindy, she saw the girls eyes get
wider and shift from focusing on her face to something behind her.
Cindy's mouth opened to scream even as Susan spun around.

The dead thing wore a red T-shirt, signifying that it
had once been one of Ricky's original gang of Ushers. Most of its
neck had been torn away, causing its head to flop at strange angles
as it lurched forward and grabbed Susan with both hands. Still in a
crouch, she had no leverage to work with and felt herself being
pushed back. She let the M-4 fall from her hands as she reached for
the pistol holstered at her hip. Bringing it up with lightning
speed, she placed the muzzle under the dead things chin and
squeezed the trigger.

Blinded by the torrent of black pus and brain matter
that sprayed her face as the bullet blew the dead thing's head
apart, Susan pushed the body off her as she spit chunks of rotten
flesh from her mouth. The reality of what had just happened and its
consequences struck her like a physical blow. She felt her body
freeze up as the knowledge washed through her that she was now
infected. She fought the urge to pass out.

Distantly, she heard Cindy scream and focused on the
sound. The thought that the little girl was in trouble energized
her into action. Wiping slime from her eyes, she blinked rapidly to
clear them.

Susan saw at once that a group of a dozen dead was
advancing on them, the closest only a few feet away. Using her
pistol, she fired as she lifted her body into a sitting position
and put one hand down to heave herself to her feet. Blowing air out
her nose to clear it of the black puss that blocked it, she
continued to fire as she reached down and picked up her M-4.
Emptying her .45 as she did this, she holstered it and opened fire
with the assault rifle.

Without even turning her head, she screamed, “Move,
Cindy, go. Head for the sailboat.”

She backed up and fired the final round from the
magazine in her rifle then ejected it. Fumbling in the cargo pocket
of her pants, she found her last remaining one and slapped it home.
As she let the bolt slam forward, she saw that she had cleared some
space in front of her. She took the respite to quickly check on
Cindy but saw that the little girl hadn't run for the boat. She had
started to but then stopped and was standing only twenty feet
behind her.

Fear that Cindy would be killed turned to anger as
Susan screamed at her, “Run, goddammit.”

Equally scared, Cindy screamed back, “Not without
you.”

Understanding that if she stayed to cover them, Cindy
wouldn't leave her, Susan said, “Then we both go,” and ran to the
little girl, grabbed her by the hand and literally lifted her off
her feet as she headed down the Centrum, the dead only feet behind
them.

As they raced for the safety of The Usual Suspects,
Susan contemplated her own death and how she would handle it. They
had made it halfway down the Centrum, when she settled on how she
would die. Then she noticed the water coming toward them. It was
only inches deep but it was coming fast.

Susan realized that the ship was sinking, and it took
her mind off the fact that she had been infected with the HWNW
Virus. She sped up, urging Cindy on. Glancing behind her, she saw
they had outrun the dead. The question now was; could they outrun
the water pouring into the ship?

It seemed to be coming in fast and they had to make
it to the hatch before it was submerged. With the dead behind them,
they couldn't go back. She tried to judge how fast the water was
rising as she ran through the passageway.

We'll either make it or we won't, she thought in a
fatalistic way. And if we don't, I'll come up with another idea. I
won't give up on Cindy until I'm dead.

By the time they reached the dining room, the water
was calf deep. It slowed them as they tried alternately high
stepping and wading through it. From the flow, Susan calculated
they should make the sailboat before the hatch was under water.

Finally reaching the watercraft storage room, she
wadded through thigh deep water as she literally dragged Cindy
behind her. Filling her lungs with the scent of sea air pouring
through the open hatch, Susan realized that this was something she
wouldn't enjoy much longer. She would either be dead, or... No, she
told herself, as she reached where The Usual Suspects was tied up.
I won't let myself become one of them. I'll be dead. I've already
made up my mind on that.

Reaching the hatch and looking through it, she
expected to see the sailboat waiting to take Cindy to safety; Susan
felt her heart drop as she saw that the boat was gone. Nothing
could be seen except the dark water flooding into the Dead
Calm.

Of course, she thought, Brian would have seen that
the Dead Calm was sinking and cut the sailboat loose.

She looked behind her at where the jet skis were
stored, trying to calculate how long it would take her to free one
from its cradle when suddenly the hatchway was bathed in light.
Shielding her eyes, she squinted out at its source. Through the
blinding light, not thirty feet away, she could see The Usual
Suspects.

“Susan,” Brain yelled to her. “What's going on?
What's happening? Where is everyone?”

She replied, “Come and get Cindy. We don't have much
time. Things got fucked up fast.”

Brain maneuvered that sailboat next to the hatch as
Susan quickly filled him in on the dead getting loose on the ship.
Steve could tell him how it happened later. She told him about
Steve's plan but didn't bother to state the obvious. The Calm of
the Seas was sinking.

When the sailboat was butting up against the hull of
the cruise ship, Connie reached down over the gunwale to hoist
Cindy up and over it as Susan fought to push the little girl
forward against the rush of water coming through the hatch. Connie
managed to grab Cindy's wrist and with a grunt pulled her on board.
She reached out to help Susan, but she shook her head no then
pointed to her face. It was then that Brain and Connie noticed the
streaks of black goo running across it.

Connie didn't understand, but Brain did. They had
found out from people calling into the radio station that if you
had any contact with infected body fluid, if it got in your mouth,
or nose, or eyes, it was a death sentence. You were infected.

Brain moaned, “Oh shit...”

Susan handed her M-4 up to Connie and said quietly,
“Take Cindy below.” To Cindy she called out in as much of an even
voice as she could muster, “Go with Connie, sweetheart. I'll be
there in a minute. I've got one more thing to do.”

When they were gone, Susan pulled the .45 from its
holster and said, “You've got the M-4. Before this is all over
you'll need it, but I need the pistol one more time. Please tell
Cindy that I love her, and try to explain this to her. Tell
Tick-Tock I'll miss him.”

Speechless, Brian nodded. He understood what Susan
had to do. He turned his head for a second to give himself a chance
to gather his thoughts and find something to say in farewell, but
when he turned back the hatch was empty.

Susan had retreated into the Dead Calm.

She waded through the dining hall and into the
Centrum, studying her surroundings in the dim glow of the emergency
lights. Her heart ached for all that she had lost in a world that
had passed on and for all she would never have. She prayed that the
rest of the group made it to safety and that the dead would go back
to whatever hell had spawned them so the survivors could live in
peace.

Gratefully, she saw nothing of the dead. They seemed
to have lost track of her and Cindy when they outran them and had
gone in search of easier prey.

That's good, Susan thought, since she only had one
magazine left for the .45. And besides, she could use some peace in
her last few minutes.

A quarter of the way down the Centrum, she came
across a statue of Neptune and decided that this was the spot.
Sitting on one of the benches that faced it, she realized she
didn't feel any fear at what she was about to do. In fact she was
calm, cool and collected about it.

She raised the pistol, then switched out the empty
clip for a full one before cocking the weapon and placing the
barrel in her mouth.

I've done good and bad in my life. I hope the good
outweighs the bad. God forgive me for what I have to do, she
thought. Then she squeezed the trigger.

He did.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Dead Calm:

Steve was halfway up the stairs to deck five when he
tried to call Heather on the two-way radio. Receiving nothing, he
realized that either the device was dead or that the batteries had
run down. After clipping it to his belt, he increased his pace. Now
he had to find everyone the hard way.

On reaching the landing that led onto deck five, he
immediately saw a large group of the dead coming toward him from
the cabin area. He estimated there were at least thirty. Not as
many as below but too many to shoot. Remembering what Susan had
told him about Heather coming back down to deck four, he by-passed
five and continued to head upwards in the hope he would run into
her.

The initial adrenalin rush had worn off by the time
he reached deck six, and now he could feel the pain from his
injuries. Every time he inhaled, it felt like someone was jabbing a
hot needle deep into his ribs and every time he exhaled, it felt
like the same was being done to his solar plexus. Steve pushed down
the pain as he drove himself on with the thought that he had to
find Heather.

When he passed deck six, he was moving so fast he
almost ran right into two dead crew members that were coming down
the stairs from seven. Realizing that Ricky had opened all the
watertight doors, which had kept the dead contained, while his
cohort Tim cut the chains on decks five and four, Steve cursed when
he saw that he might be cut off.

No time to stop now, he told himself.

Instead of slowing and shooting the two Z’s, Steve
thought of Heather being in danger and increased his pace, taking
the stairs three at a time. Ducking slightly, he dodged the dead
man on the left as it reached out to grab him then butt stroked the
one on the right in the face with his M-4. The zombie was knocked
back and landed with a thud. Steve looked up and saw at least
twenty of the dead staggering down the stairs between decks seven
and eight then decided it might be in his best interest to exit on
deck seven. He could warn Sheila and Mary before making his way to
the exterior staircase at the back of the ship. Those should be
clear, he assured himself. Ricky let the dead go from where they
were locked in cabin areas at the forward sections of the ship and
it'll take the Z's a few minutes to get to the rear.

At this, another thought struck him. The Faithful.
They would either fight to protect themselves and kill the dead or
run off and lead them away. If they ran away, he knew that person
being chased would instinctively head for higher ground so this
would lead the Z’s upward. Steve's final destination was deck
twelve and he hoped he could find the others and make it there
before the dead did. He slowed as he reached the landing for deck
seven but found himself confronted by three of the dead that he
took for business men who had died and come back while on vacation.
Each of them wore loud Hawaiian shirts, Bermuda shorts and sandals
with black socks. Sickened more by their fashion sense then their
torn, puss leaking faces; he shot each of them in the forehead.

Passing them before the last body hit the ground, he
dodged a pre-teen girl in a bathing suit with her lower chest
ripped open to reveal her ribs. She screeched as he dodged her. He
could see a few of the dead scattered on the walkway in front of
him and knew he could easily take them out. When he saw what they
were doing though, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

They were huddled in two groups over struggling
bodies as they fed.

Looking toward the first aid station, located thirty
feet away, his heart dropped when he saw the door was open. They
had gotten to Sheila and Mary before he could warn them.

Steve stopped and looked behind him to make sure he
had time to do what he needed and saw ten of the dead heading
toward him from the far side of the grand staircase. He wondered at
this small amount of flesh eaters compared to the hundreds flooding
the other decks, then saw the reason why deck seven wasn't over
flowing with the dead. The watertight doors leading to the cabin
area had jammed after only opening a foot. As he watched, he saw
four or five of the creatures fighting each other to squeeze
through the narrow opening.

Bathing suit girl caught his attention as the only
immediate threat so he shot her once between the eyes, spraying the
carpet behind her with black goo, white skull and gray brains.

He turned back to where the dead were feeding and
began methodically shooting each of them in the head, stopping only
once to insert a fresh magazine in his M-4. He noticed both of the
zombies’ victims were still alive so he stepped forward to get
clean shots which put them out of their miseries. This was when he
saw that one of them was a man. It was one of the Faithful he
remembered from the pool deck, one of the men who had cursed Sheila
out.