Sea Sick: A Horror Novel

“Huh? Why would Black Remedy be sending a load of US currency to North Africa?”


“Because the people there just overthrew their president. There’s a new guy in town that’s a little bit more with the times. He has plans to start a new Tunisian health service – much like your National Health Service. Black Remedy wants to ensure that they get the contract to supply said service. Tunisia’s currency isn’t worth a damn internationally, hence the US cash.”

“Sounds like the new guy is just as corrupt as the old one.”

“But at least this guy’s a corrupt democrat. That’s about as good as a country like that can hope for.”

Jack huffed. “I guess. So what then, you’re supposed to deliver the cash to someone?”

Donovan nodded. “After the ship finishes its itinerary of the Mediterranean, it’s heading to Algiers, and then on to Tunis where the cash will be collected at the docks. There’re a few pallets of pharmaceuticals as well to act as samples for the new health service, and some other bits and bobs, too.”

“So that’s it? All this money, the drugs, and you with a gun, is just down to a bunch of corporate corruption?”

Donovan set the bottle of bourbon down on the floor between his legs and leant his elbows onto his knees. He looked Jack in the eyes and grinned. “That’s about the gist of it, pardner. Truth be told, I don’t have any more of a clue about what’s going on than you do. I’ve been sitting down here, day after day, thinking this whole thing was about me; supposing maybe I was in a coma or something. I figured I was just stuck in some weird sorta dream.”

“I wonder why we haven’t been affected like everybody else.” Jack pondered.“Tally said that I was probably chosen by whoever cast the spell. Why would he choose you as well?”

Donovan shrugged. “Now that I’ve met you, my best guess would be that whatever Hoodoo this practical joker has been casting doesn’t extend to the cargo hold. I mean, why would it? There’s not supposed to be anybody down here. My being here is a secret. I figure it takes a lot of effort to cast a spell that messes with time itself, so why stretch it further than you have to?”

“You really think that the cargo deck is unaffected?”

“In actual fact,” said Donovan. “I can pretty much prove it.”

“How?”

Donovan picked up the whisky bottle from the floor and sloshed the liquid inside. “Because, Jack, every morning when I wake up, this bottle will still be empty and I’ll have to go upstairs to buy another one. The ship’s been sailing to nowhere for months now, but anything that happens down here stays the way I leave it.”

Jack stared down at the half-empty bottle and tried to put his thoughts in order. The more he learned about everything, the weirder it all became. If what Donovan was saying was true, then the lower decks of the ship were a sanctuary from the spell. Time existed here as it was supposed to. It didn’t make complete sense to him, but it was still one more valuable piece of the puzzle. Knowledge was power and Jack had a feeling that he needed to know everything he could to have any chance of getting out of this mess.

“What about the virus?” he asked Donovan. “Black Remedy has to be behind that.”

Donovan shrugged. “If it is, then it’s something I know nothing about. Seems kind of counter-intuitive, anyway, if you ask me. If the ship is overrun with a lethal biohazard, there isn’t going to be much chance of the cargo reaching Tunis. Whatever causes the outbreak every night is unlikely to have anything to do with BR Shipping.”

Jack sighed. “Then I’m shit out of answers again. I was hoping these crates would be full of diseased monkey parts or phials of glowing green liquid. Would have made things simpler.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, pardner.”


Jack waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I guess I just need to go back to the drawing board.”

“Perhaps,” said Donovan. “But not tonight. Tonight we drink and make merry.”