Noah's Ark: Contagion (11 page)

“Afternoon, old boy! And a lovely afternoon for it too. I must say, all this popping up above the surface is giving me the appetite for the life of a surface skimmer. One forgets one’s love of the ocean when one is stuck beneath it for weeks on end!”

“No offence, Captain Coote, but I don’t think I’ll be swapping places with you any time soon. But if you decide a change of career is in order, I’m sure we could find you all sorts of interesting options on board the
Arcadia
,” Jake said, grinning.

“Well yes, maybe one day, when I retire. Gosh, that makes me sound old. I don’t suppose any of us will retire now, will we? All pulling our weight. Eric, ready with the boat hook?”

Eric nodded; he was deep in concentration. Another submariner that Jake didn’t recognise was on duty too, and between them they skilfully hooked the orange canopy of the raft just before it slipped beneath the makeshift walkway.

“Oh, bravo!” Coote gave a little clap. “Very well done. Bring her over to the side, same drill as before.”

“No armed welcoming committee this time?” Jake asked, happily noting the lack of guns.

“Well let’s be honest, after last time, I don’t hold out much hope of finding anyone inside. It doesn’t look like there’s any sign of life in there, does it?”

The submariners manoeuvred the raft into position, making it easily accessible from the hull of the
Ambush
.

“Hello? Anyone in there? I’m Captain Coote, of HMS
Ambush
. Terrible name.
Ambush
, not Coote, I mean. Well, I suppose Coote as well, but anyway, I digress! If you’re in there, do come out and say hello!”

The greeting was met with silence. Coote signalled to Eric, who used his boat hook to pry open the canopy. “Sir, there’s nothing inside!” He looked puzzled.

“You mean nobody inside.”

“No sir, there’s nothing inside, look!”

Eric pulled the open side of the raft around to face the two captains. They both scanned the interior. Not only was there no sign of life, the very bottom of the raft itself had gone.

“It looks like someone just cut it out,” Jake said. “I mean, they didn’t do a great job, look, there are some rough cuts near that side.”

“Who would launch a life raft and then cut out the middle? And did they erect the canopy before or after they cut out the floor? It’s a mystery, that’s for sure!” Coote hooted. “Well, I guess we tie her up with the other one, Eric, if you would be so kind. We seem to be assembling quite the collection!”

“That’s no bad thing,” Jake said. “With no life boats, it’s reassuring to have some other means of escape should anything happen to the ship.”

“Yes, but escape to where exactly?” Coote asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ll ask Martin’s team if they can salvage something from it, or even better, if they can repair it,” Jake said, ignoring the question. “Coote, there are a few matters I think I need to bring you up to speed on. In private?”

“Of course, of course. Well there was some coffee brewing when I left, it should be ready by now. Let’s go and partake of a cup and we can have a bit of a chin wag.”

• • •

Mandy Chalmers had had better first days at work. For one thing, she’d been dropped into her new position in the ship’s medical team without so much as an introductory chat, much less any kind of formal interview. She had been waiting for it, of course. Ever since the committee had announced that everyone was expected to work or contribute to the community in one way or another, she knew that her experience as a nurse would be called upon. She hadn’t imagined it would happen quite so suddenly though.

Then there had been the fact her first patient was another nurse. Kiera was probably a very nice person, under normal circumstances, she thought. But trying to help a sick nurse was like trying to tell a chef how to cook his own dinner. Kiera criticised everything Mandy did. The bandages for the sores that were appearing on her legs weren’t the right kind. Then they were too small. Then they weren’t applied correctly. And so it went, on and on. When Doctor Lister found her muttering to herself while writing up notes, he assured her that it was just cultural differences, and that they would all get along just fine in time.

Kiera was just the tip of the iceberg. Once she’d got her sorted out and sedated, there had been an influx of other patients all suffering the same bizarre symptoms: paralysis starting in the feet and working its way up the legs. Sores appearing, usually accompanied by a lot of pain. They had filled the little treatment room in an hour, and had been obliged to move up to a passenger suite on deck eight. The room smelt distinctly of death, but Mandy was a professional and she didn’t complain. She hardly had time to; there were more patients arriving every hour. They had commandeered the suite next door as an overflow, such was the number of people arriving.

Her colleagues, David and Grau, were too busy to offer much help or guidance. She wasn’t sure there was much they could have said anyway; the doctor seemed to be as baffled by the mystery illness now sweeping through deck eight as anyone else.
 

Now Mandy was attending to the very unpleasant task of changing the dressings on Scott, the patient in the most advanced stage of the disease. He had been unconscious since her arrival, and that showed no sign of changing.

She pulled back the sheet that covered his body. The huge red sores that she’d seen breaking out on others, had covered him entirely. There was no longer any clear skin; the sores had joined together.

Mandy began to remove the old dressings. They were soaked with fluid, and as they came away they pulled putrid flesh with them. The stench was overpowering, causing her instinctively to retch and pull back, covering her face with her gloved hands. For a moment she remained there, motionless, unable to approach Scott because of the noxious odour of his decaying body, but unable to just walk away. While she tried to find the courage to move, Scott stirred.

At first he just emitted a low moaning sound. But it quickly grew in intensity, becoming a groan, and ultimately a howl. His eyes opened, clear blue discs against a red and blotchy face. He looked right at Mandy, and she understood at once: he knew the end was near. As intense pain gripped him, Scott gave one last scream. His back arched off the bed, every muscle going into spasm. What remained of the surrounding tissue couldn’t cope with the stress, and with a sound like old bed sheets being ripped, his chest tore open. The bones in his legs snapped like twigs. They were the only thing holding him in the arched position, and as they cracked and split, the little flesh that covered them sagged and fell away. Blood flooded into his mouth and throat, the scream became a gurgle, and then there was silence. A heap of twisted blood, fetid organs, and flesh covered the bed.

Mandy threw up what little food she had eaten that day, and passed out.

• • •

“Here, drink this, it will make you feel a lot better.”

“Thanks, Doctor Lister. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never fainted before. The sight of blood never normally worries me.”

“It was more than just blood, Mandy. Nobody should have to see something like that. And please, call me Grau.”

“If the other patients go the same way, we’re all going to see a lot more of exactly that.”

Lister nodded gravely. He knew she was right.

“I have called Janice. We need to get Scott—what is left of him—down to her quickly so she can perform the post-mortem. I will take him myself. There is a goods lift that very few people use. It is a risk, but one I feel we have to take.”

“Has she said if the post-mortem on the first body has given her anything to go on?”

“A little, but a second body will provide confirmation of some of her theories. It is a sad truth that more bodies improve our chances of beating this, as they will provide more data. We have struck gold with Mrs Hanson; it appears that she had some training in infectious diseases before turning to forensic pathology. She downplays her experience, but she is much better equipped than I to solve the mystery of this unusual illness.”

“What do we do about space? We’ve almost run out again, even with the other cabin.”

“I am rather hoping the captain will put out a message soon, informing everyone aboard of why deck eight has been quarantined. Then we will be able to freely treat people in their rooms. Speaking of the captain, he was supposed to bring our patient’s daughter to us. In the chaos it slipped my mind. If the girl is not here, then…oh my, I have to find her, now!”

Grau ambled to the telephone where he dialled the number for the bridge. “Lucya? Grau. Captain Noah was supposed to bring a girl to us, do you know where she is? It is most important…What? She is with you? On the bridge?” Grau sat down slowly, his hand on his forehead. “Lucya, this is very important. Nobody is to enter or leave the bridge, do you understand me? Nobody, under any circumstances, until I give the all clear. The girl’s father has just passed away. The disease is spreading fast, and she is most likely infected. I am sorry, Lucya, but Jake’s actions have endangered you and anyone else who is up there. As much as I respect him for what he has achieved, his actions here have been most foolish. If you start to suffer any symptoms, please contact us immediately…Yes, the girl’s father, he is dead. Perhaps it is best left to the captain to explain that to her, as he thought she was better off with you than with us. I am sorry, Lucya, I have to go.” He replaced the receiver, his face a mixture of anger and disappointment.

Twelve

I
N
C
OOTE
’
S
QUARTERS
, the two captains were enjoying their third cup of coffee. Jake had finished explaining the medical situation, as well as the problems with food.

“Listen, we can pull back my chaps onto the
Ambush
if it helps. Our rations will see us through for some time. I know it won’t make much difference, but at least it’s fewer mouths for your boys to feed. As to the bigger picture, I am hopeful that we will find more supplies at
Neptune
.”

“
Neptune
?”

“HMS
Neptune
, the submarine base we’re headed for.”

“I thought we were headed for Faslane?” Jake looked confused.

“Same thing, old chap, same thing. The Admiralty like to give their bases a few names, keeps everyone on their toes.”

“Coote, you seem very confident that this base will still be there. We’ve sailed past the Faroe Islands, the Outer Hebrides, and we’ve seen some of the west coast of Scotland. It’s all the same, it’s all been destroyed. It’s Longyearbyen all over again. What makes you think
Neptune
—or Faslane—or whatever you want to call it, will be any different?”

“Well like I said, old chap, it’s a submarine base. Us submariners are good at hiding things. Not all of the base is above ground.”

“You mean there is an underwater entrance?”

“Naturally! It would be no good having a base if the enemy could watch us coming and going on a live feed from their little satellites, would it? Of course, sometimes we sail right in there in plain view. But leaving? That’s another matter. They never know when we leave. It is my hope that the more private entrance, and the associated parts of the base, remain accessible. It’s true that the majority of supplies are stored in warehouses above ground, but I remain hopeful we can perhaps salvage something.”

“And if it’s not accessible? If it’s all gone?”

“That is a bridge to be crossed if and when we happen upon it.” Jake noticed that Coote couldn’t help but glance at the safe in the cabinet as he spoke. “Now, I suggest we go and see Vardy and you can tell him what you know about this strange malady that is causing so much bother.”

• • •

The body laid out on the table was not in good condition, but it was better preserved than that of Maryse Wernström. It had already provided some additional clues about the disease to Janice Hanson, but she wasn’t done yet. Having photographed the external signs of tissue damage using her own digital camera that had been destined to be filled with holiday snaps, she was at the stage where she would normally open up the torso. But Scott’s body had done that all by itself at the moment immediately preceding his death. So Janice adjusted her mask, tightened the elastic strap in an effort to block out more of the foul smell, and proceeded to peel back his chest.

She stared inside for a long time. In more than twenty years of forensic pathology, she had never seen internal organs as badly damaged, apart from in Maryse. In the woman’s case she had put it down to decay post-mortem. She had assumed, reasonably in her view, that Maryse had been dead for anything up to two weeks before being discovered, and that this elapsed time accounted for her condition. Seeing Scott in a similar state changed everything. A tiny suspicion that had been lurking in the back of her mind, an idea she had tried to suppress for fear of its implications, sprang forward and filled her head.

“No, it can’t be,” she said to herself under her mask.

But she knew that this idea wasn’t going to go away. She needed to make a closer examination of Scott’s lungs—what remained of them at least. On the small table she had set up next to the main working bench, she selected a butcher’s saw. It wasn’t the kind of thing Janice was used to using, but the saw, kindly supplied by kitchen staff who didn’t ask too many questions, looked sturdy enough. Janice took a deep breath, and began to cut her way through what remained of Scott’s rib cage.

• • •

The knock at the door to suite 845 was so polite and quiet that to start with, nobody heard it. The second was a little more insistent, but still went unnoticed. The third was better timed; Mandy was passing and realised somebody was trying to get their attention.

“Hey there, what can I do for you?” She held the door open just a crack; the groaning patients squeezed into the cabin were not a pretty sight, and the smell was getting to be a problem too.

“Hi. Um, can you help me? It’s my mum. She can’t walk anymore, and she’s crying a lot. I think she needs a doctor, and Mrs Rogers said that the doctors were here?”