Richard Brown - Titanic With ZOMBIES

One of those questions would be answered immediately, the other in time.

The boy snarled and then scampered fearlessly full speed at Lightoller. A second later, he was falling to the ground, dead blood running from the bullet shaped hole in the center of his forehead. There was a snapping sound as the boy’s head whipped forward and then thudded against the floor.

Dead. For good.

Lightoller took a deep breath and wiped away the sweat from his brow. Then he stepped over the boy’s body, walked to the end of the hall, and put a couple of shots into the head of the mother. As he walked back, he met eyes with Murdoch, unsure of what he wanted to say. He needed rest.

“I’m sorry,” Murdoch said.

Lightoller nodded, gathering his emotions.

Many in the crowd were stunned by the young boy’s sudden rage, wondering if the second officer had been right about the boy being infected with something terrible. Others were too overwhelmed with grief to think about anything beyond crying.

“What now?” asked Murdoch.

Lightoller filled his lungs again with another deep breath, trying to settle the electric tension that ran from his chest to his fingertips. His heart hurt in more ways than one.

“Get these people back to their rooms,” he finally replied. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

Murdoch began pushing the crowd back down the hall, ordering everyone to return to their staterooms. Lightoller went to the main hospital beyond the second-class dining saloon on the starboard side of the ship.

The main hospital mid-ship was much larger than the third-class hospital at the stern. It contained six patient rooms (each with two beds), a waiting and exam room, and a full bath on each end. Two of the patient rooms were designed specifically for infectious cases, but weren’t nearly large or sturdy enough to contain this ugly plague. Either Murdoch had been conservative in his estimate of a dozen infected, or the number had grown in the last ten minutes. Lightoller’s count was closer to twenty. Luckily, no one had turned yet, but many were close to death. Most had been bitten on their hands or arms when they had tried to defend themselves. By now, all had reached the final stages of the virus, becoming docile, looking drugged.

Two of the junior officers, Fourth Officer Boxhall and Fifth Officer Lowe, had found their way down to the hospital having already cleared the upper decks. Lightoller asked Boxhall to assemble a crew of hospital and cleaning staff to begin clearing and disposing of the bodies down deck. Then with the help of Lowe, he gathered the sick passengers into the second-class dining saloon, where they would wait for Murdoch to return before making any more decisions. Family of the infected stayed to comfort their sick loved ones, unaware of the coming quarantine.

Murdoch returned a few minutes later.

“We can’t keep them here.”

“I know that,” Lightoller said. “But the hospital won’t work. We need a room large enough to accommodate this many people.”

“Where?”

“I was thinking the third-class general room.”

Murdoch frowned, considering the idea. “I don’t know. There’s got to be something better.”

“We don’t have a ton of options here.”

“Say we put them in there, then what?”

“Then we make sure they stay there until we arrive in New York,” Lightoller answered. “I don’t have to tell you what this virus is capable of, you’ve seen it. We don’t have much time before these people get their second wind.”

Murdoch sighed.

“It can get much worse. Whatever we do, we need to do it now.”

“Okay, okay. The general room. We’ll put them there.”

The general room was located at the top of the third-class stairwell on C-deck, beside the third-class smoke room. Decorated like a lounge with white pine paneling and teak furniture, the general room was one of only a few places for passengers in steerage to gather indoors. Thus, the room was usually bustling with activity; reading, writing, and swapping stories the most popular. Since Sixth Officer Moody had successfully cleared out the few night owl occupants earlier, the general room was empty when Lightoller and company showed up with the caravan of infected passengers, many in such bad shape they had to be held up by family members.

Officer Lowe helped sit the infected along one of the two long benches, while Lightoller stood by the door dreading his next move—telling the families the truth. Murdoch had left for the bridge to confer with Captain Smith, lest he have any misgivings with the plan, and left Lightoller to deliver the bad news. Thankfully, most were from second-class and spoke English as a first language.

“Listen, I need everyone’s full attention, as I won’t be repeating myself,” Lightoller began. “What I have to tell you won’t be easy to accept. You’re here because you don’t abandon your friends and family when they get sick or injured, and you pray for them to get better. I admire that. I really do. Unfortunately, I’m the person who has to tell you that sometimes prayers aren’t answered.”

Many of the non-infected gasped at the bold statement, while the infected amongst them heard nothing, their minds too absorbed by the deadly virus that would soon terminate and then reanimate them.

“I—I don’t understand,” a young woman said. She held her infected daughter’s head against her bosom, running her fingers through her hair.

“I know you don’t, miss. You see, your daughter contracted a virus when she was bitten, a virus that is already responsible for five deaths on board the ship.” Lightoller glanced down at the bloody markings on the child’s arm. “I wish it could just end with those five. I wish I could tell you that your daughter will pull through this—that maybe she will be the exception, but I won’t lie to you. The virus acts extremely fast and for it there is no known cure. I only hope that all the carriers of the virus are either dead or in this room, for the sake of everyone else on board. That’s why we brought them here, and that’s why they can’t leave.”

“You expect me to just abandon my little girl here all alone,” the young woman said, sobbing. “She’s all I have, and I’m all she has.”

“Where is her father?”

“Her father’s dead.”

“Well, I won’t tell you to leave your daughter, that is a decision only you can make. I can only warn you of the outcome if you stay. And that goes for everyone. Should you choose to stay behind and watch your loved ones die, know that you will fall to the same fate. Once these doors close, there is no coming back out. Your friends and family did not choose to die, I recommend you don’t either. That’s all. I’ll give you a few minutes to say your final goodbyes, and then times up.”

Lightoller paced around the room, watching the non-infected passengers hug and cry and tell their sick family and friends how much they loved them. The whole scene made him nauseous. He couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. He had, after all, been left in charge to secure the hospital, and allowed O’Loughlin to break through his defenses. All he could do now was wallow in his regret, while sad eyes tore at his heartstrings. He had delivered something akin to the last rites to eighteen people, and had felt more like their executioner.

Murdoch returned from the bridge, nodding at Lightoller across the room.

Lightoller strolled over. “What did he say?”

“He was very stressed. I don’t think he quite expected it to be this bad.”

“None of us did.”