Dead Calm Read online

  And it wasn't a one-way street either.

  Susan had seen Connie watching Brain's every move as he tied up the sailboat and came on board. At first, she hadn't understood the attraction, and it was only when she stopped and took a good look at the tech that she no longer saw the overweight slob she had pegged him for when she first met him. He was still a little heavy but nothing compared to what he used to be. Additionally, where before he would only shower a few times a month, he’d started cleaning up every day and even on the boat took pains to keep up his hygiene. Later, when she mentioned Connie and Brain to Tick-Tock, he sighed dramatically and commented, “Oh, to be young and in lust again.”

  Susan decided right then that Tick-Tock was something she needed to sort out. She had no doubt she was attracted to him, but to what degree she wasn't sure. Despite Steve's order, she had snuck up to the cockpit quite few nights while Tick Tock was on wheel watch and everyone else was asleep. While she still had feelings for Mary, she had come to realize that her former flame was too shallow and selfish for her.

  The HWNW virus and its aftermath seemed to bring out different qualities in everybody, she reasoned. As if reading her mind and showing her the bottom end of the spectrum, Steve asked where Mary was.

  Cindy spoke up, “She's looking for clothes. She said tomorrow she'd take me into the Centrum and teach me how to shop.”

  Steve thought about this for a minute and said, “We should put Mary's skills to use then. We’ll make up a list of the things we need for the sailboat and have her find them in the stores. Cindy and Tim can go along and help.”

  Heather entered through the doors from the dining room with Tim in tow. After a quick look around, she asked, “Anything I can do?”

  “We’re almost finished, but thank you,” Connie said.

  “We’re going to serve it buffet style, from here,” Susan told them as she flipped steaks in the broiler. “Everything's ready, so if you round up the rest of the crew we can eat.”

  Steve and Heather volunteered to go in search of the others, finding Brain first as he came toward them down the Centrum with a galvanized bucket of water in each hand and a lovesick look on his face.

  Steve told him the food was ready. After he hurried off, Heather asked, “Why don't you look at me like that?”

  “Like what?” He asked.

  “A love sick puppy,” she replied.

  Moving around so he could put his left arm around her waist and leave his right free in case he needed to un-sling his rifle, Steve let his mouth drop open and his tongue loll out. “Like this?” He asked and started panting like a dog.

  Heather laughed, “Sounds more like you're in heat, but I guess it’s close enough. Just don't let me catch you looking at Connie that way.”

  “I’m happily whatevered to you.” Steve said.

  “Whatevered?” She asked him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Attached, coupled, devoted, enamored, tied, living in sin, pan caked-.”

  “Pan caked?” Heather cut in.

  “It's something I saw in a porno movie once.”

  “Hmmmm, maybe we can try it tonight,” she said with a half smile.

  “Okay,” Steve said, “but first we need to find a live chicken.”

  Heather covered her face with her hands. After catching her breath when her laughter subsided, she held up a hand and said, “Enough. No barnyard guests in bed. I have a rule about that.”

  “Prude,” Steve said under his breath.

  “What was that?” She asked accusingly.

  Steve shrugged and mumbled just barely loud enough to be heard, “Tickle your ass with a feather?”

  “What?” She exclaimed with a laugh.

  Clearing his throat, Steve replied innocently, “I said particularly nasty weather.”

  “I heard what you said the first time, and the answer is maybe. But no live chickens.”

  They approached the end of the Centrum and still hadn't seen Mary, so Steve said, “I'll try the shops on the other side. You can go tell Tick-Tock that I'll be by in a little bit to spell him on stair duty, so he can eat and get some sleep.”

  Heather nodded and veered to where Tick-Tock had set up his observation post behind a square of planters with seats built into them, facing an ornate fountain. Steve headed toward the line of shops on the port side of the ship, but after taking only a few steps cut back to rejoin Heather.

  In a low voice, he said, “We're being watched.”

  Out of the side of her mouth, she asked, “Where?”

  “Near the top of the stairs. Looks like a woman maybe. She's set up in the entry to that 50's style diner. The one with all the chrome.”

  Heather nonchalantly gazed around as if taking in the sights before saying, “I see her. Just inside the doorway. You think it's one of Reverend Ricky's people down here spying on us?”

  “Gotta be. If it was one of the dead, it'd be coming at us by now.”

  Stopping just short of Tick-Tock's position, Steve said in greeting, “Jehovah's Witnesses selling time shares and Avon. Is your husband home, ma'am? Beautiful cave you have here Mrs. Flintstone.”

  “You're only funny to you,” Tick-Tock told him.

  Steve said, “We've got a visitor upstairs.”

  “Yeah I know. She's been there for about ten minutes,” Tick- Tock replied. “I spotted another one earlier, but he's been keeping a low profile.”

  “Another one,” Heather exclaimed. “Where?”

  “Behind the tipped over tables at the sidewalk café, right next to the sushi restaurant. The tables look like they got knocked over by accident but they're set up too neatly, and they're the only thing around that's out of place. Took me a while to spot him, but the chick's been pretty much in the open since she arrived.”

  “Setup?” Steve asked. “Get us to approach the woman and expose ourselves so the guy can snipe us?”

  “I don't think so,” Tick-Tock answered. “She hasn't been looking down here much, she's been checking out her own deck like she's worried about being spotted.”

  Steve thought about this before saying, “Think it might be someone like Connie and Tim who's trying to get away from Ricky?”

  “Might be,” Tick-Tock said. “It fits with the way she's acting.”

  “Then we need to help her,” Heather said.

  Steve considered their position and told Tick-Tock, “Draw a bead on the guy at the cafe. If he makes a move, take him out.” To Heather, he said, “Cover our rear. I don't think it's a setup, but we don't know for sure.”

  Heather turned as if taking in the sights of the Centrum spread out behind them and asked, “What are you going to do?”

  With a shrug, Steve replied, “Invite her down.”

  Hoping he was making the right decision, he looked directly to where the woman was hiding and raised his hand, beckoning her to come to him. Her attention was so focused on the area around her that it took a minute for her to notice him. Even then she didn't move, so Steve called out, “It's safe. No one will hurt you. Come down the stairs, but keep your hands in sight.”

  Hesitantly, the figure detached itself from the shadows and moved toward the stairs. The sun had set, and with the only illumination coming from the emergency lights, Steve could tell it was a woman by the outline of her hair. Beyond that, he had a hard time determining if she was young, old or in between.

  At the top of the staircase, the woman stopped and looked around again before suddenly uttering a small scream. Bolting forward, she took the steps two at a time in a headlong rush downward. Wondering what had set her off, Steve flipped off the safety on his rifle. Shouldering the weapon, he looked anxiously around for a target. When the woman reached the base of the stairs, he finally saw what had spooked her. Coming out of the shadows, at the top of the grand staircase, were a dozen shapes that moved in a staggering lope that was all too familiar to him.

  “Z’s,” he called out loud enough to warn the others before setting his sights on the l
ead figure. Squeezing the trigger, he saw the outline of its head disintegrate as his bullets smashed into it. Switching targets, he heard two quick shots from behind him that almost sounded like one. In rapid succession, two of the walking dead dropped in their tracks. He knew it had to be Heather adding her firepower to his because no one else in the group could shoot that rapidly or with that kind of accuracy.

  Steve shot another zombie, but before its body could hit the deck, more shapes materialized from behind it. Heather took down two of the newly arrived dead with head shots that painted the store fronts with black goo, while Steve hit one in the chest with a burst of high velocity rounds. Not even fazed by this, the zombie kept coming. As it stepped into the glow of the emergency lights, Steve could see the damage his bullets had done. Bone splinters and rib ends protruded from gaping holes in its chest as black slime oozed from the wounds. It paid no mind to what would be a fatal injury if it were alive.

  Adjusting his aim, Steve switched the selector on his M-4 to single shot and fired into the zombie's head. A chunk of skull and dead flesh flew upward and then dropped to the carpet with a wet plop. The dead thing staggered to its left and cart wheeled to land half way down the stairs.

  The remaining dead started down as Steve and Heather moved forward to deal with them. With alternating shots, more of the dead fell in sprays of brain matter and black sludge. One tripped over its own feet and rolled down the stairs to land at its base as they both fired into its body, missing its head. Heather moved to within two feet of it and pulled the trigger of her CAR-15. She was rewarded by a click as the firing pin fell on a dud. The dead thing reached out with dirty hands to grab at her, its nails raking the denim of her jeans on her lower leg. Cursing, she took a step back and ejected the dead round as the thing scrambled its hands and feet to get at her.

  Seeing she was in trouble, Steve drew a bead on the thing’s head and squeezed the trigger. The bullet entered just above its ear and whipped its head to the side, as it was about to lunge forward to bite Heather. Distracted by this, he suddenly realized that two of the dead were almost within arm’s reach. Too close to swing around and fire at the nearest one, he slammed the butt of his M-4 into the center of its face. This gave him the time and space to swing his rifle around and shoot it in the forehead, while Heather brought her rifle back into the fight by putting a round into the forehead of the other.

  Looking around wildly, Steve could only see the inert bodies of the dead scattered on the deck and stairs and the haze of gun smoke, which hung in the air.

  Pounding and rattling noises drew Steve and Heather's attention to the secured double doors leading into the cabin area, and they zeroed in on them with their rifles. The sound of gunfire had attracted the zombies trapped inside, and they were trying to break free. Steve watched the doors open slightly, as the chain securing them was pulled taut. Dirty fingers clawed through the gap and groped around furtively to see what was restraining them. Remembering that he hadn’t gotten the chance to check the chain securing the doors, Steve kept a close eye on the barricade to make sure it held.

  After a moment, satisfied that the walking corpses couldn't break out of their confinement and no more were coming from the deck above, he turned his attention to the woman. She had stopped dozens of feet away, gasping in fear as she tried to say something. Switching the aim of his rifle to her head, while out of the corner of his eye he saw Heather do the same, he asked in a harsh voice, “Are you bit?”

  Seeing the rifles pointed at her, the woman raised her hands and screamed, “Don't shoot!”

  “Are you bit?” Steve repeated louder.

  “What?” She asked.

  “Are - you - bit?” Steve enunciated each word.

  Finally understanding, her fear turned to anger, and she retorted angrily, “Fuck no! But I thought you were gonna shoot my ass when I came down those stairs.” Looking back at the bodies of the zombies, she added in a more subdued tone, “I guess I should say thanks.”

  “If you have any weapons, you need to drop them,” Heather ordered.

  “I had a knife, but I left it in the chest of one of the assholes who tried to kill me,” she replied.

  Heather gave her a hard look, so the woman added; “I don't have a goddamn thing on me, so quit pointing those guns at me.”

  Not sure who she was, they lowered their rifles but kept them pointed in her general direction.

  Turning his head, Steve called out to the still concealed Tick-Tock, “Where'd the guy who was watching us go?”

  From his spot hidden behind a row of planters, he replied, “When the first Z showed up, he took off like a candy-assed baboon. Haven't seen anyone move that fast since I saw Mary heading for the shoe store.”

  “Oh cool,” Sheila said sarcastically, “a talking bush.”

  Already not liking the new arrival, Steve brought his attention back to her and asked, “So, who are you?”

  Flipping her red hair back over one shoulder, she replied, “My name's Sheila Keiser, and I need your help.”

  Tick-Tock said, “That's all we’ve been hearing since we came on this shit bucket.”

  After making sure that none of the dead were still lurking about and that they hadn’t been sprayed by any infected fluids, Steve and Heather started toward the kitchen with Sheila in front of them. As they reached the entrance to the dining room, Brain and Susan met them. They hadn't heard the gunfire but were worried because it was taking so long for them to come back. Steve mentally filed away how the metal bulkheads dampened noises. He had to make sure everyone stayed in contact by radio from now on.

  Steve explained to them who Sheila was and how they'd come across her, and then said to Heather, “Take her in and give her something to eat. I’ll go find Mary.”

  “She came back a few minutes after you left,” Brain informed him. “She's in there right now whining about being hungry and asking when we're going to eat.”

  “Well, let’s not keep her waiting then,” Steve said.

  Once seated in the dining room, Sheila declined to join them for dinner but had no problem saying yes when some bottles of wine were passed around. Ignoring everyone's questions with a wave of her hand and an outstretched empty wine glass, she refilled it six times before asking, “How many people you got here?”

  “Nine,” Steve answered. “How many are there on the upper decks?”

  Without hesitation, she answered, “About a hundred, give or take. We lose some to the ... what did you call them?”

  “Z’s” Heather explained, “It’s short for zombie.”

  Steve had asked his question to see if he could catch Sheila in a lie. He wasn't altogether trusting of her and wanted to see if her answer jibed with what Tim had told them. It did, but he still wanted to keep a close eye on her.

  Sheila smiled at Heather and said, “We just call them the freaks or stinkers. We lose some people to the freaks every once in a while. And we also have some people who just can't handle it and open a vein or jump from the top deck.”

  “When God doesn't lift them into Heaven?” Steve asked.

  This took Sheila aback for a second, but she recovered quickly. “You seem to know a lot about what's going on for someone who just got here.”

  “God speaks to me,” Steve said dryly.

  “You and Reverend Ricky,” she shot back. “But he's full of shit. What's your excuse?”

  Seeing anger flash in Steve's eyes, Heather cut in and said, “Why don't you tell us everything from the beginning? You talk while we eat.”

  Seeing no sense in getting into a back and forth pissing contest with Sheila, Steve held his next comment to himself, about her dragging her sorry ass back upstairs if she had a problem.

  Knowing that the story would more than likely be obscene, since every other word out of Sheila's mouth seemed to be fuck, Connie had Tim and Cindy move to the other side of the dining room. While everyone was curious as to what Sheila had to say, Steve noticed that Mary seemed to be hangi
ng on her every word.

  Good, he thought. Maybe they'll hook up. Then she and Tick-Tock will quit being so pissy with each other.

  Sheila explained how she came with Ricky on the cruise and how he had taken control of the ship. She then related what happened on the bridge between she and Ricky. When she mentioned the fact that the ship would sink within the next few weeks, everyone around the table exchanged uneasy glances. Steve questioned her about the ship's position, and Sheila answered, “Fucked, completely fucked. That's our position.” She then told them about leaving Ricky on the bridge and going to the Masthead Bar to wait for him.

  “So, I'm sitting there minding my own business, waiting for like an hour for Ricky to drag his fat ass down there, when two of his Head Ushers show up. I figure they came to tell me that Ricky changed his mind or got distracted or something and couldn't make it.”

  “How many Head Ushers are there?” Heather asked.

  Sheila drained off the last of her wine and held out her glass for more. Brain looked at Steve who shrugged, so he refilled her glass.

  “Thanks, toots,” Sheila said before answering Heather, “Five. The two who showed up were Brother Seth and Brother Raymond. But anyway, back to my story. I knew I was in trouble the second they sat down on either side of me and started crowding in. I knew right away that I’d pushed Ricky too far, and the little shit was going to make me disappear just like the others.”

  “What others?” Steve asked.

  Sheila toyed with her wineglass before answering, “A lot of others. Anyone who threatens Ricky or stands up to him disappears. The crew on the bridge were the first, and I don't know how many others there's been since.”

  Entranced by Sheila's story, Mary asked breathlessly, “What happened to the crew?'“

  “The Captain found out that Ricky's people had locked a whole bunch of passengers in with the freaks when they were shutting off the cabin areas to quarantine them. By this time, some of the ship's officers were carrying guns, so the Captain sent two of them to escort Ricky to the bridge. Then he sent another group to free the people trapped in the cabin areas and disband Ricky's band of merry assholes. Ricky found out what was going on from one of the crew he'd converted to God, so he had a couple of his guys ambush the two officers and take their pistols. Then Ricky used their pass card to get on the bridge and shot everyone down like they were rabid dogs or something. He just walked in and opened fire, laughing like a loon the whole time.”