Domain of the Dead (26 page)

“Well, it’s kind of good news,” Bates said.

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, shrugging off Nathan’s reaction.

“These W.D.’s have been dispatched…” Bates paused to let the significance sink in. “If we didn’t waste them, that bodes well.”

“You mean there are others still alive?”

“Look, it doesn’t mean they’re still alive, but at the very least there are—what—three, four less to deal with?”

“Are you always so pragmatic?” Sarah asked.

“It’s what’s kept me in one…” Bates stopped. “It’s what keeps me alive.”

Sensing the change in mood, Sarah pushed past. “Where’s this armoury?”

“This door down here,” Bates said, pointing the way. “You’ll need both hands to open it.”

“Won’t it be locked?”

Bates drew level with her at the door. “Nah, there’s a locker room inside and an anti-room like the brig.”

Sarah swung the door open. She had reacted even before she had consciously registered why. Her instinct had thrust her into a tight ball the moment the gun fired. A familiar ringing peeled through her head but she could make out shouts over the noise.

“Ustanovaka! Hold your fire, French, they’re uninfected!” Angel bellowed. “Don’t stand about get in, get in!”

The thick, east European accent stressed the vowels, stretching them, while her brusque consonants brought a harsh quality to the end of her words. All the same it was a voice Sarah was pleased to hear.

Inside the brightly lit room stood Angel and the two marines who had harangued them at the landing pad. Angel’s previously white plaster cast was now adorned with drawings and scribbles, most of which were friendly jibes at her misfortune.

Sarah looked around the armoury. It was a room only a few metres square. Against one wall was a cage like the one in the brig, but instead of holding captives there were racks of guns and ammunition.

“Thought my arm was bad,” Angel commented as Bates stumbled into the room.

“Yeah, I lost it,” Bates said mournfully.

Angel ignored his tone and slapped her comrade hard across the back. “You were always shit at gambling.”

“How come you’ve got lights?” Nathan asked as the door was shut behind him.

“What happened you?” Angel asked as Nathan stepped into the light.

“Huh?” Nathan said, then he followed her gaze down the front of his shirt. The whole thing was soaked in the blood from the cadavers outside.

“He fell over into your handiwork,” Bates said.

“He still looks like shit,” Angel said.

“He’s been seasick all night,” Sarah said in Nathan’s defence.

“And it’s been a rough night,” Bates added, holding up his bandaged stump.

Angel looked at the mutilated arm. “Does that not hurt?”

“No, it feels great,” he answered dryly. “I recommend it for everyone.”

Angel nodded over to a pile of equipment. “There is some Tramadol with my kit.”

“Thanks,” Bates said, walking over to the pile.

Nathan looked over to where Bates was heading. On the floor there was what looked like a car battery. Attached by crocodile clips and hung from the wall was a stark white bulb caged in an orange plastic housing.

Nathan nodded. “High tech.”

Bates addressed the room as he rummaged for the drugs, “Are we all that’s left?”

“Looks like it,” French said.

“Been quiet for some time. We heard shots about five minutes ago,” Angel added.

Sarah raised a hand as if she were at school. “That would have been me.”

“You know how to use gun?” Angel said more than asked.

“The answer’s no,” Bates said, brandishing the pistol. “Otherwise there’d still be bullets in this thing.”

Nathan continued his casual survey of the armoury. He turned round to look at the way they had come in. As he did he saw a figure slouched against the wall. The open door had obscured the body as he had come in and Nathan peered past the other occupants to get a better view. It was the body of a dead sailor slumped on the floor of the armoury.

“What happened to him?” Nathan asked nervously. The spray of red blood on the wall behind him had already told him his answer, but Nathan needed to hear it.

French pulled back the sailor’s collar to show a deep bite mark.

Sarah asked, “Did he kill himself?”

The marine huffed, “Good catholic lad, or something. Couldn’t bring himself to do it.”

Bates and Sarah looked at French. Angel had her eyes down.

Nathan covered his mouth and stifled his cough. His head pounded and his body ached. He felt asthmatic, unable to get enough breath and the wound on his arm burned. It burned through the muscles and down into the bone.

“Don’t you give me any crap,” French said. “Hey, if there had been a few more people like me when this all kicked off, things would be totally different.”

“God only knows,” Sarah blurted out.

French stepped closer to Sarah. “You got a problem, lady?”

Sarah gave him a trenchant stare. “Was it you who took the pot shot at us on the way in?” There was a lingering silence and a good few hard looks before Sarah continued, “If it was, I wouldn’t trust you to aim straight enough to shoot me.”

French surged forward, “Why you—”

“Shut up, Lawrence!” Angel said, pushing in front of him.

Bates stepped up to Angel, adding to the human barrier between the marine and Sarah. “So have you dogs got a plan?” he asked.

“Sure,” Angel said.” We wait here few hours, let things settle down before we make our way to radio room to send mayday.”

“We had much the same plan, but we need to get up to our cabin and rescue Jennifer,” Sarah added.

“If you going out there you better take precautions,” Angel said, throwing open the door to the armoury.

“How many vests do we have here, Angel?” Bates asked as he walked into the locker.

“Three. One I’m wearing and the spares.” Angel looked Bates up and down. “Can I assume yours in your bunk?”

“Sorry, I didn’t get an invite to this party,” Bates said, hauling out the vests.

“Yes, you were in brig again.”

Bates threw the first vest to Sarah. “Funny,” he said as he gave Angel a reluctant smile. “Seem to remember that the last time I was in there you had warmed the bunk for me.”

The second vest snagged by one of its straps. Bates yanked it free but his one-armed clumsiness sent it dropping to the deck. He bent down and picked it up, frustrated by his disability.

He thrust the second vest at Nathan. “Here.”

Sarah protested, “Bates, I don’t know what to do with this. Aren’t you guys better off wearing these?”

“The lady’s right, Bates,” French added. “What are you doing that for?”

Bates ignored him. “Sarah, these aren’t just ammo vests.” He poked at the material behind the ammo pockets. “It’s made from a stab-proof weave. We wear them in country ‘cause if they stop knives they stop bites.”

“Do you smell something?” the other marine asked.

“Smoke?” Angel replied.

“Cover me,” French said as he stepped up to the door.

French eased open the door to a trill of soft clicks as safety catches were disengaged.

A thick cloud of black smoke clung to the ceiling of the corridor and further down the ship the plumes were backlit with a rolling orange tint.

“Aw, shit,” French said as he slammed the door shut. “We’d better get out of here.”

“Isn’t there a fire suppression system?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah,” Bates said as he pocketed useful items. “But it’s linked to the power and the manual system assumes there’ll be more than six of us to deal with it.”

“What are we going to do?” French asked, anxiety rising in his voice.

“We need to abandon ship,” Angel said, her voice calm and steady.

“Not before we—” Bates fumbled a lump of yellow tinged plastic. Half out a pocket and left-handed he couldn’t stop it from falling to the floor. “Shit!”

Sarah could see he was annoyed at himself for the awkwardness he had working one handed. She bent down and passed him the wayward object.

Bates shown Sarah a sheepish grin. Sarah watched as his lips arched, plumping his cheeks as he smiled. She looked up into his eyes and realised that she was smiling back at him. His eyes were hazel, she noted.

Bates took in a sip of breath and broke eye contact, his cheeks a slightly redder hue than a few moments before. He cleared his throat and continued, “As I was saying, we can’t abandon the ship before we’ve sent that sitrep.”

Sarah turned and saw Nathan staring at her. His mouth was slightly open and his eyebrows were furrowed. His pale, clammy complexion stressed the hurt in his expression. Sarah cast her eyes down, suddenly ashamed. She had no reason to feel guilty; she had never led Nathan on, but she knew he had always carried affection for her. She had always brushed off his advances with excuses about their situation rather than the truth. Nathan was a nice guy, but not the type Sarah found attractive. Now she saw the harm of that lie in Nathan’s eyes.

“Do we risk the bridge or just go straight to the radio room?” asked a nervous looking marine.

“Radio room our best bet,” Angel said.

“Okay, Nathan and I will go get Jennifer,” Sarah said. “You guys make the radio call before abandoning ship and we’ll meet you up on deck.”

“I’m coming with you,” Bates said.

“But you’re wounded.”

“You’ll be quicker with someone who knows the ship,” Bates argued. “Besides, Angel can’t shoot straight right handed. I’m safer off with you two.”

A huge grin on her face, Angel flicked a slap across the back of Bates’ head. “Tool-up, people. Let’s get out of here.”

The soldiers quickly loaded guns and ammo, passing equipment to Nathan and Sarah.

“Shall I show them how to clear a jam?” the nervous marine asked Bates.

“No point,” Angel chipped in before Bates could answer. “If they have jam they won’t be quick enough to clear it. Give them two guns instead.”

“And no John Woo stuff,” Bates added.

“Take one of these so we know how we’re all doing,” Angel said, placing a walkie-talkie and headset into her hand. “I’ve set the channels so all you need to do is press this button on the headphone cable to talk.”

Sarah pushed the button and there was a hiss of static on the radio Angel still held.

Nathan and Sarah loaded their vests with ammunition and both slipped their spare gun into an integrated holster inside.

Bates handed flashlights around and asked, “Are we all ready?”

There was a muttering and a nodding of heads.

“Good. See you all on deck,” Bates said.

He nodded for French to open the door.

The door swung open and in the corridor a flaming zombie staggered towards them.

Angel stepped forward.

“Mine,” she said as she rested her pistol’s muzzle on her plaster cast and squeezed the trigger.

The ghoul collapsed to the floor, flames sweeping behind it as it fell.

“Happy hunting! See you on deck!” Bates called out as the two groups went their separate ways.

The beams of light swept through the increasingly deepening smoke.

Nathan rasped out a cough.

“Should have brought gas masks,” Bates complained.

Bates had mistaken Nathan’s cough as irritation from the smoke. Nathan chose not to correct him.

“Is this it?” Sarah asked, unsure of her bearings in the dark.

“This is it,” Bates confirmed.

Sarah reached out and tried the handle. It was still locked.

“Jennifer, it’s Sarah,” she said as she knocked on the cabin door. “You in there, honey?”

“Sarah!” came the muffled but excited reply.

Sarah smiled to the rest of her companions. “Yeah, it’s me, honey. Open up.”

From behind the door came some grunting and scraping.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked nervously.

Jennifer’s anxious voice came back, “I can’t move the bed! It’s stuck!”

Bates looked at Sarah with a puzzled expression. “The bed?”

Sarah called through the closed door, “Jennifer, what’s going on?”

Jennifer sounded close to tears. “I pushed the bed against the door, but I can’t move it. It’s caught on something.”

Suddenly shots rang out. The noise caused Jennifer to scream from inside the cabin.

Bates and Sarah spun round, guns at the ready. Before them, Nathan stood, his gun smoking, and on the ground a few feet down the corridor lay a motionless zombie.

“Whoa!” Bates shouted, cuffing Nathan’s arm a little too strongly.

“What?” Nathan protested.

“You scared the shit out of us!” Sarah chastised.