Sea Sick: A Horror Novel

“My name is Caleb Donovan, and that is all you are getting from me.”


Jack slapped the man with the back of his hand, feeling no remorse. Any bruises he caused would only be temporary. He knelt down and looked the man in the eyes. “Look, Caleb. My friend here can happily go and turn your cargo upside down right now, or you can just tell us what’s inside. It seems a lot less messy if you go with the latter option.”

“Why do you care anyway? Are you here to steal it?”

“Steal what?” Jack asked. “What the hell have you got here? Did you make everybody sick?”

“Sick? What are you talking about?”

Jack slapped the man again, but it seemed to have little effect. It seemed like Donovan’s square jaw was more than capable of absorbing a blow or two. If anything, Jack’s throbbing hand may have been worse off.

“Do not play ignorant,” Tally told the man. “Someone has infected the passengers with a virus, and surprise surprise, you happen to work for a company that specialises in medical research. Not to mention you’re holed up down here on your own, with a gun.”

“It’s my job. I’m paid to be down here with a gun. Ask the captain of the ship.”

“We did,” said Jack. “Doesn’t mean I trust what you’re carrying down here. Why do you need to protect it at all?”

“Why do you think? Pirates, terrorists, opportunistic passengers. The world is a dangerous place, pardner. It needs people like me to keep belongings with their rightful owners. Take this situation for example. Seems I was right to bring a gun onboard.”

“Pity you couldn’t keep a hold of it,” said Jack, waving the revolver in front of him. “But we’re no thieves. I just want to know what the hell is happening onboard this ship.”

The man scrunched his face up in confusion. “Why do you keep saying that? What’s wrong with the ship? It’s cruising along exactly as it’s supposed to be.”

Jack looked down at Donovan and tried to figure out if the man was lying. There were no obvious tell-tale signs that suggested he was being deceitful – no twitches or furtive glances – but, with an adequate amount of training, anyone could bend the truth effectively.

“What’s in the boxes?” Jack demanded.

Donovan sighed. “Look for yourself. I’d rather that then betray my employers.”

Jack nodded. “Fair enough. Tally, go check it out.”

Tally nodded and headed over to the pallet of blue, plastic crates. She clawed at the cellophane wrapping and gradually managed to wrench one of the boxes free. It fell to the floor as the weight came loose, too heavy for Tally to handle it.

“Shit! Be careful,” Donovan told her.

“It’s locked,” Tally said, thumbing the edges of the crate.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot,” said Jack. “Come check the guy’s pockets.”

Tally edged over to Donovan, obviously wary of the man trying anything. Jack kept the gun sighted at his chest the whole time. After searching several pockets stitched into Donovan’s jacket, Tally yanked free a key ring from a breast compartment. Donovan seemed irritated that she had found the keys, but he made no move to resist. She headed back over to the crate with them.

“You sure you wanna do this, pardner?” Donovan asked Jack.

Jack nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re gonna stir up a shit storm that you don’t wanna get caught in.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Holy shit!” said Tally. “Jack, look at this.”

Jack spun around to look at the contents of the crate and was shocked by what he saw. In that brief moment he was distracted enough for Donovan to leap up, skilfully take the gun from Jack, and fire two bullets right into his chest.