Awakenings

(estimated 10 minute read)

    "Good morning, beautiful," Nick smiles down at her, the light from outside gleaming on his well-toned shoulders.
    "Good morning," Sydney replies with a contented sigh. He rests his head in the palm of his hand and traces his fingers from her temple to the curve of her bosom, then leans in for a kiss. 
    "Care for another go?" He litters kisses down her neck, starting at her chin. 
    "What I would like is to wrap up in one of those snuggly bath robes with a cup of coffee on the balcony." She nibbles his bottom lip.
    He groans as he rolls away from her and sits up to stretch. "And so it begins," he mumbles. 
    "What's that supposed to mean?" She asks, following his lead. 
    "Married life," he smiles at her, gorgeous and naked in their bed. Not his, not hers; now it's theirs.
    She cocks her head and scowls at him, but instead of arguing, she leaps toward the bathroom in the suite. He barks a curse after her, as he also really needs to pee. As he waits for her, he dances a hold-it-in jig and explores the coffee maker with its selection of teas and brews.
    "Nick! The light doesn't work!" 
    "We'll find someone to replace the bulb. It's so cramped in there I'm sure you can find the toilet in the dark." As he selects a dark roast, she cracks open the bathroom door for light and he chuckles at the sound of her piddling. Ah, married life.
    Upon hearing the toilet flush, he leaps to the door and slides past her. She hugs her way into a robe from the closet, savoring the plush luxury of each fiber against her skin, then wanders to the coffee maker.
    "The coffee maker isn't working either," she whines. 
    "Huh," Nick appears at her side in a pair of boxers. "Funny." 
    "It's not funny at all." She explores the back of the machine. "It's plugged in. Isn't there any power?" 
    "Doesn't seem like it," he clicks a couple buttons on the TV's remote control, still to no avail. 
    "Maybe that's why it's so quiet," she shrugs. "I woke up once last night because it sounded like a block party in the hallway. I thought I even heard an air horn." Nick snickers, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear affectionately.
    "It is really quiet. Do you think the engines have stopped?" he asks.
    "I'm sure the engines have some type of back-up power," she scoffs. "Let's go check the back of the boat—"
    "It's the stern," he interrupts her. She stares at him, a crease deepening between her eyes. 
    "Really? You're going to argue nautical terms with me?"
    "I'm not arguing, I'm correcting. The back is the stern, the toilet's called the head, the kitchen is the galley..." He trails off at the dark storm raging in her eyes. 
    "And what's the biggest ass on the ship called?" She glowers. 
    "Wait, I need to google that one," he quips and makes his way clumsily toward his phone. She rolls her eyes. As he messes with his phone, she wanders through the stateroom and climbs into her own clothing, disappointed in shedding the cozy robe. After slapping on minimal makeup and a quick brush of her teeth, she takes a look at her phone charging near the coffee maker. The battery is at 68%. It was around 30% when she plugged it in. The power must have gone out not long after midnight. 
    "I don't have any bars," Nick tells her. Her own phone has the same problem. 
    "The ship has Wi-Fi, doesn't it?" she asks while he brushes his teeth.
    "I didn't see it in the settings. Guess that's out too." He shrugs, slipping on a pair of loafers after dressing. "Are you ready?"
    "Yes," she groans. "I'm starving!" The hallway is barely lit with emergency lights. There is a bright glow at either end, but in-between is an eerie, empty space that makes the hairs on the back of Nick's neck stand on end. Sydney hugs herself. "I think the buffet is this way." She takes the lead, disappearing into the shadow then reappearing in the garish white light of the emergency beacons. 
    "Where is everyone?" he whispers. The oppressive hallway makes it difficult to find his voice. Sydney shrugs, unseen in the darkness. He reaches for her hand and she gives him a smile over her shoulder. They pause in the light for a moment. 
    "Are you all right?" she asks. His smile is forced and, it may be the light, but he looks very pale. 
    "There's someone," he gestures with a nod of his head in the direction they were heading. Sydney glimpses the woman before she disappears into the darkness. 
    "Hello," she calls. Her voice is small and she clears her throat. "Do you know what's happening?" When the woman enters the light, Sydney shivers at the way her head is cocked to one side and her mouth gapes open. Then she shuffles back into the shadows, closing in on them. Nick sidles in front of Sydney, blocking her view. "Nick, what's—" The stranger interrupts her as she trips from the darkness and falls into Nick's arms. Sydney can't comprehend what's happening. While the woman hugs him, Nick appears to struggle against her. He grasps her by the shoulders and, with a grunt, shoves her hard across the hallway. There's a crash, then a dull thump in the darkness. 
    Nick whirls on Sydney and grasps her shoulders, forcing a short shriek from her. "Syd, did she draw blood?" She blinks at him. "Am I bleeding?" He gives her a gentle shake.
    She can't speak, but answers with a twitch of her head. He wipes his neck. "She was...licking me." He shudders. "Or trying to bite me. It was just...wrong..." He shines his phone's flashlight into the darkness where the stranger sits perfectly still. 
    Sydney's racing mind screeches to a halt. "Nick, I think she's dead," she gasps. Collapsing next to the woman, she searches for any sign of life. "I don't feel a pulse."
    "Wait, what?" The flashlight wavers as Sydney's words sink in. "You're wrong," he breathes. When the door across from him opens, he jumps in surprise, and shoves the phone into his back pocket. Sydney and the dead woman fade into the shadows. "It was..." He changes his train of thought, "this woman is hurt. Can you find help?" He gestures helplessly to the shadows, praying silently that the couple is helpful and understanding. 
    They are neither. Their eyes rove over his body, ignoring his pleas. The woman shoves the man out of her way as she lunges toward Nick. He backs into the hallway wall. The man grabs his mate by the hair and forces her back into the room, giving Nick a moment to think. It isn't thought, though, it's instinct that takes control. Nick grabs for Sydney in the darkness, pulls her to her feet and away from them.
    He drags her past their room, eager for the light at the end of the tunnel. The hallway has become a creepy death trap to him, and all his heart and soul desires is escape. That may not be the rational solution, but his mind is focused on the light; light will provide safety.
    Sydney stumbles behind him, her mind tripping even more than her feet. That stranger hugged him, the power's out, it's so dark, no one will help us, Nick killed her. NICK KILLED HER!!! That last thought gets stuck, tumbling over and over and over in her cerebral cortex. Behind it, much quieter but even more powerful, are all the consequences of this fact; imaginings that poke and prod at her sanity. 
    The hallway dumps into a lounge that's open to the outside. Nick releases Sydney, but doesn't pause for a moment. With adrenaline on his side, he runs to the nearest table, flips it on its side and rolls it toward the passageway they just left. Blocking the exit with the flat side, he drags two chairs over to hold it in place. He's returning for a third when Sydney finally finds her voice. 
    "What the hell have you done?" she screams. He shoves the third chair against the table and backs away, slowly. 
    "They're coming, Syd." He points to where they came from. 
    "She's dead!" It's the only thing she can comprehend. "You killed her, Nick. She's dead!" 
    He drops his hand to his side, staring at his spouse as if he's never seen her before. It takes great effort to steady his voice when he answers, "Sydney, she was already dead." 
    Her heart stops. He's in denial. He's gone mad, and he's going to kill her next. She tries to find the strength to run from him, but instead her knees give out and she falls to the ugly cruise ship carpet. This morning she dreamt of a future with her new spouse. Now, she fears death at his hands.
    She hears him coming toward her; his footsteps, his breathing, his vocal attempts to calm her. Every fiber of her being urges her to run, but her heart is already dead. She loves him. She will die at his hands rather than live with his betrayal. 
    "Sydney." He squats in front of her, but doesn't touch her. Somehow he knows better. "Darling, I didn't kill her. It's worse than that." She sobs harder. What the hell could be worse than that? "Look. I wish you didn't have to, but look. They're here." Sydney sucks in a shaking breath and looks, first at this man's face, then over his shoulder at the hallway he obstructed. More of her sanity yields to visions that can't be reality. Three people gather behind the table he rolled over to barricade the hallway. They stare in Sydney and Nick's direction and struggle to move toward them, unable to comprehend the table blocking their way. It would be comical to watch if her world hadn't so recently been completely shattered. "Ok, so Syd, we need to leave this room. We need to leave this ship. Are you with me?"
    Her eyes slide from the strange people to the stranger before her. The man she vowed to love and care for until death. 
    "Yes, Nick. I'm with you." She chokes on her own breath. He manages some type of grimace-smile and rises to his feet. He opens both of his hands to her, palms up, and she grasps them. She's reminded of when they took hands at their wedding before their vows. And just like that moment, their eyes meet and something deep inside is joined together, no, it was joined on their wedding day. Now it is tightened, merged, melded. 

Continued in Part 2 - Leftovers
Thank you for reading!

Images created by FreePik.com

©2024 Lauren K. Wells Do not reproduce or distribute without written consent from the author

This story was written with a human hand, a human mind and a human heart. Do not use this for AI.

Zombies prefer the taste of haters 3-1. I value your opinion and feedback, but let's keep it civil.