Face-to-Face with Death

(estimated 11 minute read)

Previously - Nick and Sydney used the dark interior passageways of the cruise ship to head toward the lifeboat muster stations. They found one lifeboat that wasn't deployed, but it was already occupied.

    "We need to find that lever." He points to the picture on the diagram while slipping into the life jacket. "It should be attached to the crane...er...davit is what it's called here." They explore the area until Sydney finds a red box connected to a huge coil of wire nearby. "Yes. See, on this one, this pin is removed and the lever raised. That should free the wire." He points to the coil, then follows it back along the I beam and around the pulley. "What's in there?" he asks as she puts on her own jacket and slings the bag back over her shoulder. 
    "Safety supplies. You know, flares and bandages and stuff." 
    He dives toward the nearest stowage bin and flings out life jackets until he finds three more bags. "Syd, you're a genius!" he cries. She smirks, deciding not to tell him that it was laid out on the floor waiting for her. "Can you carry a second one?" He gives it to her before she responds. Pausing for an instant, searching the area visually, he cackles when his eyes fall upon a large fire axe. It's mounted like a trophy on the ship's wall and he takes it reverently, imagining himself slicing through the mass of zombies with this baby. "Just like in the movies," he marvels softly. He passes it to Sydney, unaware of the concerned expression on her face, and tracks down a second axe nearby for himself. 
    "What am I going to do with this?" Sydney asks, unable to visualize herself as the monster slayer. 
    "These creatures are slow," he says. "As soon as you see one, lift the axe onto your shoulder so all you have to do is bring it down on the monster's skull. Don't hesitate; have it ready long before you need it, otherwise you won't be fast enough." She nods, swallowing her doubt. "Ok, here we go. Ready?" She nods again, this time because she can't find her voice. 
    They plod toward the remaining lifeboat. Nick points to the lever at the far end, through the carnage spreading from the boat's open door. When Sydney shakes her head, his shoulders droop slightly. Something begins pounding inside the lifeboat and they both jump, staring wide-eyed toward the sound. It is the rhythmic beat of a death march, obviously not from a panicking survivor. As Sydney stares, her shoulders twitching at every echoing thump, Nick picks his way toward the hand brake. A prickling rush of terror flows through her upon seeing him walking away. Without him at her side, she has the unrelenting urge to curl up on the floor and wait for death. As he slips farther away from her, so too does her sanity. 
    Somehow, she digs into the far recesses of her soul to find the courage to manage her way through the horrid scene before her. Her knuckles are white as she holds the axe tight against her, a cold, heavy security blanket. The stench isn't overwhelming yet; death occurred too recently during the cold night for decay to have taken a foothold. That doesn't stop her mind from frantically spinning with visions of what happened. Her legs start wobbling as she weaves her way between gnawed upon body parts. It is enough to throw her off balance and, when she doesn't notice the pooled blood, her foot slips. She collapses on top of two legs and a few hands.
    She's freezes, surrounded by death. When time begins to flow once more, she digs her hands underneath her, fingers sinking into soft tissue. She gags and her eyes tear up; at least that makes it harder to see what's around her. When she's finally up on one foot, she tugs at the other to push herself upright, but she's stuck. Yanking harder, she's knocked off balance again and finds herself lying in the gruesome leftovers.
    After blinking the tears from her eyes, she finds her scream. She lets it out loud and clear, right into the face staring at her. A wide vacant eye is level with her own, but the second eye is merely a grisly, gaping hole. There is no skull directly above the missing eye, instead a portion of gray matter with chunks bitten from it protrudes from the head. When the creature reaches for Sydney, she scrambles away, sliding on the shifting shins. The creature falls on its face, as the only limb it has is the arm holding it upright. 
    Sydney screams again; now that she's started, she can't stop. She desperately battles to get on her feet, but she can't. Rolling over, she sits up and screeches anew. A second monster, this one with two arms, has a hand wrapped around her ankle. Its eyes ravage her hungrily as it toils to drag itself up her leg. She can't wriggle free. Even with half its body missing, the weight of the thing and the uneven ground makes escape impossible. 
    Nick's voice breaks through the maelstrom in her mind and her own hysterical cries. She can't understand what he's screaming at her, but it's enough to remind her that he'd given her a weapon. Now, where is that weapon?  Shoving through the carnage, she reaches for what she believes is the hickory handle of the axe. Her panicked mind initially registers it as a bone stripped of muscle, and she yanks her hand back with a repulsed yelp. Glancing back at the creature climbing up her leg, almost to her waist, she decides that a bone is better than nothing and stretches for it again. When she's able to wrap both hands solidly about the handle, she swings it like a backhand tennis stroke, roaring as if this single shot will win the tournament. The axe sinks solidly in the monster's skull with a crawump, slicing its ear in half horizontally. Time stops again. She stares at the creature as it pauses and grasps at the unseen object in its head. It is confused more than injured, distracted as if it believes this new thing may be easier to eat than the wriggling, kicking human. When it grasps the handle, it yanks at it to dislodge the axe, and its head wobbles to and fro from the effort. Sydney can't rip her eyes from the surreal sight of this near-human thing trying to yank an axe from its own skull. There is no blood, no screaming, just that vacant, near-dead stare that's, at least, no longer focused on her.
    She's dragged through the butchery and to her feet. Whirling around, she screams again in the face of yet another unreal monster. "Sydney, stop!" It's Nick's voice, but she can't stop. "It's me! Stop screaming!" It takes a long while for her wails to fade to whimpers as recognition coalesces. She falls against his bulky, life-jacketed chest, spurting nonsense. He holds her and attempts words of comfort, but nothing can make this easier. 
    Her eyes are drawn by movement in the entrance of the lifeboat. Three monsters clamber for escape. Actually, not for escape, but for food. One of them releases a cry like a screaming frog. Nick lifts his head toward the sound. 
    "Release the brake!" Sydney shouts and shoves him away from her. Nick gives her a surprised stare, then recovers and jumps to action. A fourth creature crawls over the pile, using the hair of the others as hand-holds. It pisses them off, and they claw at the newcomer's face. The thing on the bottom, the one who roared at them, stretches a handless arm in Sydney's direction. 
    Suddenly, the lifeboat shifts. There is a jolt and it begins swinging more violently. Then it is gone. Sparks fly as the cables race through the pulleys on the davit. Soon after the lifeboat disappears, there is a crash like an automobile pile up as the craft bounces against the side of the ship repeatedly, ending in an enormous splash of water. 
    "Are you all right?" Nick is at Sydney's side, but she is absorbed in the sound of that creature's scream echoing in her ears. "Syd, are you hurt?" Nick touches her arm and she whirls on him, her eyes crazed. He resists the instinct to back away. Recognition dawns slowly and her body seems to deflate.
    "I'm all right," she says, "but one of them has an axe now." Nick scans the bloody mess until he finds the zombie. It yanks at Sydney's axe protruding from its head, holding its torso up with the other arm and twisting its neck into an extremely uncomfortable looking position. Nick shoulders his axe and makes his way toward the thing that tried to eat his spouse. He flattens its chest to the ground with a stomp of his foot then hacks its head off with two swings of his axe. When he picks up Sydney's axe, the head is still attached, its mouth working as if asking, what happened? He swings the axe against the wall of the ship and slices the skull in half like a melon. 
    "Just like chopping wood at the cabin when I was a kid," he says, "and to think how much I hated the old man for making me do it." He titters at the memory, then gestures at Sydney. "Come over here. Let's get that life raft deployed." Her face is pale and her arms hang limp at her sides as she gazes at him without comment. She is covered with blood that he hopes is from the dead and not her own. That thought makes him shudder; neither of those options are pleasant.
    "I'm not going back that way," she hisses, hugging herself. 
    "Syd, you have to," he gestures with the axe toward the life raft capsule. "That's our escape." She turns her back on him and walks steadily away. Nick fights the urge to argue as he steps through the carnage, beginning to understand her ordeal. It's one thing to wade through the snake pit; it's completely different to be covered in them. 
    Neither of them are quick to take another interior hallway to the starboard side of the ship. They happen upon a lounge not far aft of the lifeboats. Stepping over the occasional half-eaten, headless body, Nick trudges toward a nearby bar. Sydney follows numbly and pulls up a seat as if waiting for a margarita. Nick places the axes and one of his packs near the headless bartender slumped over the bar. After staring dumbly at the dead body for a moment, he nudges it so it slides behind the bar, leaving a trail of blood behind. Satisfied, he places a bottled water in front of Sydney. He takes a slug from one himself before shoving a few more into the pack. When he reappears from rummaging behind the bar he sets a bottle of champagne down heavily. 
    "For the after party," he says, although Sydney hasn't even noticed the water in front of her, let alone the green bottle. He shoves it into the second pack. "Syd, we're going to get out of this." At the sound of her name, her dull eyes shift from nowhere toward him. "Stay with me, love." 
    "There's so much death," she whispers, lifting her hand from her lap, "so much blood." He makes his way to her, takes the bottled water and pours some on her hands. He grabs a nearby rag and wipes her hands as clean as possible, then takes them in his. 
    "Focus on surviving." He squeezes her hands, staring deep inside her. "Think about living." She nods, swallowing hard. He gives her the water and nods back. "Let's find another life raft."

Continued in Part 4 - A Strange Smell 
Thank you for reading!

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©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.

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