Brian Keene - Dead Sea

“Or maybe she got away from them,” Malik offered. “Maybe she made it up to the bridge and warned the chief.”

I could tell from the expression on his face that Mitch’s pain was growing worse, and when he spoke again, we heard it in his voice.

“I hope… that you’re right. But… we’ve got to assume… o-otherwise. So… here’s the p-plan. We’re going to… open that d-door, take care of Joan, and then… s-search the ship… Let me go into the passageway f-first… I’m already infected, so I s-should be… on point. Once we’re sure the… passageway is clear, we’ll… w-work our way f-forward… Lamar, if we get separated… we’ll meet back here. K-kids, once we’re g-gone, I want you to… s-shut the hatch behind us and don’t open it f-for… anybody.”

“Screw that,” Tasha yelled. “We ain’t staying behind. We’re going with you. Look at you—you can barely talk at this point.”

“Yeah,” Malik said, moving to her side. “Ya’ll are gonna need our help.”

Groaning, Mitch stumbled to his feet. “It’s n-not… open f-for… debate. Now Tasha, come… here and let me… t-teach you how to use this… r-rifle. When you f-fire it, it’ll… knock you… over if you’re n-not… careful.”

“No.” She stomped her foot. “We’re going with you. It ain’t open for discussion.”

“Tasha,” Mitch sighed. “W-we d-don’t… have time t-to… argue. Now d-drop it… and p-pay… attention, or I’ll have L-Lamar… lock you b-both… inside this… c-compartment.”

Tasha bit her lip to keep from responding. Her hands curled into fists.

Mitch went over the basics of the rifle, quickly taught her how to hold it and how to sight, showed her where the safety was and how to change the magazine. Then he handed me the shotgun.

“Th-think you c-can… handle that b-better… now?”

I nodded. “I’m the hero, remember? I’m just glad you had extra shells that would fit this, otherwise it’d be pretty fucking useless.”

“Me, t-too… Okay, hero… let’s d-do this… Malik, m-move… away f-from the… hatch.”

“Mitch. Lamar.” Tasha picked up the rifle. “Wait a second.”

We turned to her. I heard Mitch take a deep breath, prepared to argue more, but Tasha was done arguing. Even as we turned, she swept past us and ran toward the hatch.

“Open the door, Malik!”

He followed his sister’s order and flung the hatch open. Then he ducked behind the steel door. Only his feet were visible. Joan half-tumbled through the doorway. Tasha snapped the rifle upward, set it against her shoulder like Mitch had just taught her, and squeezed the trigger. Her aim was perfect. Joan’s head exploded, showering the hatch and the bulkheads with blood, hair and bone fragments. The rifle bucked, and the force of the blast knocked her backward. Tasha cried out in pain and surprise but kept her footing.

Outside, Carol screamed. Her voice was still muffled, which meant she had at least stayed inside her berthing area.

Malik slammed the hatch door shut again, carefully avoiding the gore. He and Tasha checked each other, making sure they hadn’t gotten hit by the splatter, and then they turned to us.

“You said we were a family,” Malik said, his tone serious. “You said we got to stick together.”

Tasha nodded, rubbing her shoulder. “Now let’s do it. Or Malik and I will lock you both in here.”

Mitch and I turned to each other in disbelief, and then back to the kids.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go. But you stay behind me and Mitch. Understand?”

They nodded.

Mitch and I both tried to stifle grins, but failed. The kids smiled back.

I readied the shotgun. Mitch unholstered his pistol with difficulty, but managed to hold it in his uninjured arm. Malik brandished the bayonet and licked his lips. Tasha’s arms sagged from the weight of the rifle. Nodding to each other, we stepped over Joan’s unmoving corpse, opened the hatch again, and moved as one into the passageway.

Alicia waited for us there—dead.

She was very hungry.

Alicia stood at the end of the passageway, leaning against the starboard bulkhead. Her head swayed limply in time to the ship’s rolling. Whoever had killed her—Basil or the professor—had done it brutally. One of her arms was nearly fleshless from the elbow down to her wrist. It looked like the skin had been chewed off. The only things left were tendons and bone. A few ragged scraps dangled from the bones. One side of her face had been stripped, too—not just of its skin, but the eye, ear, lips, and scalp, as well. Her torn shirt was so soaked with blood that it was impossible to tell what its original color had been. Now it was just a deep red. Beneath the shredded cloth were more gaping bite wounds. Her other hand was stained red. It was impossible for me to tell if it was from her blood or someone else’s. She stumbled toward us, leaving a scarlet trail along the bulkhead. Alicia raised her head. Her lipless gums and teeth worked soundlessly. She took a few tentative steps forward, almost tripping over her own feet.

Carol let out a muffled shout. “Lamar? Mitch? Children? Are you there?”

“Mrs. Beck,” Tasha called out, “stay inside your room. There’s another one out here.”

“What’s happening?” Carol yelled.

Mitch drew a bead and gunned Alicia down. The pistol jumped in his hand. She toppled over face-first. Her limp form smacked against the floor like a side of beef. Between the bullet and the impact of the fall, her head split open. All four of us jumped back as her blood splattered across the bulkhead and tiles. One of her broken front teeth skidded toward us.

“Oh my God!” Carol screamed from inside her compartment. It was hard to hear her over the echoes of the blast. “Who got shot? What’s going on? Somebody talk to me.”

I approached her hatch door and rapped on it with my free hand. “It’s okay, Carol. Come on out. The coast is clear.”

She opened the hatch and peeked outside. “Lamar, what is going on?”

“Hamelin’s Revenge jumped species again.”

“What?”

“It spread to the fish. The professor got infected this afternoon, but we didn’t know it. Now he’s loose onboard. Joan and Alicia were both attacked. We believe Basil might be one of them, too.”

“Professor Williams—that nice old man? And J-Joan and Alicia?”

She stepped out into the passageway, took one look at Alicia and Joan’s bodies and then screamed. Her fingers dug into her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and terrified. Her shriek seemed to have no end.

Mitch grunted. “W-we… d-don’t have… time… f-for this.”

His arm was bleeding again. It ran down his sleeve in rivulets and dripped onto the floor. Sweat plastered his hair to his head. His beard was matted with saliva.

“Oh no,” Carol gasped. “Mitch—you’ve been bit, too?”

Mitch nodded. “G-go… b-back inside your… c-compartment… and s-stay… there until… we come back… for you. It’s not safe… out h-here.”

Each word seemed to bring pain with it. His face was bathed in perspiration; the tendons in his neck strained.

“You okay?” I asked him, immediately feeling stupid. Of course he wasn’t okay. He was fucking dying.

“N-no.” Mitch doubled over, clutching his stomach with his wounded arm. “It s-spreads… f-faster than you… think. I can… feel it… inside… Like w-worms… c-crawling though my veins.”

He collapsed, falling across Alicia’s unmoving corpse. The gun slipped from his fingers and clattered across the floor. Both were slick with blood.

“Mitch?”

Tasha started forward, reaching for him. I pulled her back.

“Get inside with Mrs. Beck. Both of you. Right now.”