Sea Sick: A Horror Novel

Two whole weeks had gone by in a daze of whisky-fuelled madness. Jack and Donovan had started the week playing cards quietly in the cargo hold, but had eventually progressed to full-on hell-raising in the ship’s various clubs and casinos (where they had used their situation to regularly beat the odds at Blackjack.). Donovan had also taken to late night dalliances with any women he could find that were as drunk as he was.

One night, recently, the American cowboy had confided to Jack that he’d been close to losing his sanity at the time Jack and Tally had stumbled upon him. Learning that he was not alone had changed everything for Donovan – had made him see the fun to be had with the situation. Jack was beginning to get concerned with the man’s reckless pursuit of entertainment, but could hardly blame him, really, after being cooped up for six months. Jack just had to keep reminding himself that anything Donovan did was inconsequential. The day always reset regardless of what he got up to.

Tally had been missing since the night Jack took a bullet to the chest. He’d checked her cabin several times and many areas of the ship, too, but she was nowhere to be found. Whatever Tally was doing with herself, it was clear she did not want his company. Jack just hoped that she was okay.

It was currently 5PM and Jack was in the Voyager’s Lounge. It was the quietest drinking venue on the ship and therefore the least likely place to run into Donovan. Jack had nothing against the over-zealous American – in fact he liked the guy – but he needed a break from the all the partying tonight. It was time to get his thoughts back in order and focus on the things that mattered. Things like the virus onboard that still slaughtered everybody each night.

Jack didn’t have the luxury of hiding out in some single woman’s cabin each night, like Donovan, while the massacre ensued. He’d been resigning himself to spending several hours each night cooped up in the cargo hold waiting patiently for midnight to wipe clean the slate.

There was only one person that frequented the Voyager’s Lounge that displayed symptoms of the deadly illness. It was a respectable-looking gentleman in an evening jacket and spectacles. He was alone and reading a magazine, constantly sneezing. One time he sneezed so hard that his spectacles fell clean off his head. In just a few hours’ time, the man would begin to bleed from the eyes and tear into the flesh of anyone unlucky enough to be within sight of him. Right now, though, he was just an ordinary man trying to relax.

It was hard to humanize the eyebleeders once they had turned, so irrational and brutally insane they were, but it was important to remember that prior to their conditions they were human beings also; people with families, like Ivor and his girls. Jack was trapped on this boat, forced to relive the day over and over, but so was Ivor. The poor man had to watch his family die every night.

Jack was beginning to realise that his situation was actually better than most, which was why he’d decided that he was going to find some way to put a stop to whatever was happening. It was selfish to spend his time drinking with Donovan or moping around in the cargo hold. Jack still had the benefit of free-will while a thousand people onboard did not. It was up to him to end their suffering. Whether they knew it or not, all of the people onboard were relying on Jack to save them.

Joma was behind the bar, as he always was at this time. His shift started late and would continue until the eyebleeders arrived. Jack had never seen whatever fate befell the friendly waiter each night, but it was a safe assumption that he died a grisly death with everybody else.

“Hello, Mr Jack,” said Joma from behind the beer taps. “I hope that your room is to your liking.”

Jack had to think for a minute. Then he realised that to Joma understanding he’d only entered his cabin for the first time yesterday. “Yes,” he replied. “It feels like home already.”

“That is very good. Can I get for you a drink?”


“Yes, I think I fancy a pint of lager, please.”