Sea Sick: A Horror Novel

Jack took a few minutes to wash his aging body, getting soap into places he forgot he had. Then, once clean and sufficiently refreshed, he turned the shower off. He stepped out cautiously, not wanting to slip on the wet tiles, and dried himself with one of the provided plump towels. Then he crept, naked, back into the bedroom.

His clean clothes were still in his luggage, which he hoisted up onto the bed. From inside, he dragged out a pair of long khaki shorts and a nondescript red t-shirt. For footwear he chose a pair of white tennis pumps.

Once Jack was dressed and ready, he suddenly found himself reluctant to leave the room. Rather than exploring the ship, he could just as easily spend the day reading in bed and swigging from the unopened bottle of Glen Grant he had in his luggage – would prefer it in fact – but it would be ungrateful seeing as he wasn’t the one paying for the holiday. Like it or not, Jack needed to make the best of things.

He grabbed one of the books out of his luggage (an Andy McNab Thriller) and prepared to leave. But, as he reached the door, Jack noticed a piece of paper had been slipped underneath it. He bent down to pick it up and saw that it was the ship’s newsletter. Printed in cheap black ink, as though from a photocopier, it was headed by the day’s date – 14.10.2012 – and the name of the ship in bold, SPIRIT OF KIRKPATRICK. Jack scanned the page and saw that it was indeed a day at sea as he’d earlier surmised. The afternoon activities included: afternoon bingo, a five-a-side football tournament, an ice sculpting display, and an audience with some magician he’d never heard of. The evening was scheduled with a production of Half a Sixpence followed by an obscure comedian. Jack didn’t fancy any of it, but when he looked at the lunch options he was pleased to see that there would be hotdogs served on the Lido deck at 3PM. His stomach mumbled at the thought of food, and rightly so. It had been over twenty-four hours since he’d last eaten.

Jack folded the newsletter into a square and placed it in the pocket of his shorts. Then he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. There was a set of elevators a dozen yards down and he decided to choose a deck at random by pressing buttons without looking.

It turned out to be the Broadway Deck, and when the doors opened it was much brighter than B Deck. Natural light flooded in from an exit at one end of the corridor. Jack’s view of the other end of the corridor was obstructed by a large room-service cart crammed full of stripped bedsheets and pillowcases.

He decided to head for the exit door, the glow of sunlight beckoning him. Just before he got there, though, the floor rolled beneath his feet and sent him crashing against the wall.

The rocking lasted another ten seconds or so, making his empty stomach churn irritably. When he was sure the unsteadiness was over, Jack peeled himself away from the wall and carried on down the corridor. October was obviously a bad time to be on the seas and he could see himself getting sick if the ship’s rocking was a regular occurrence.

Let’s hope Poseidon is in a good mood.

Jack pushed open the heavy, glass doors at the end of the corridor and stepped out onto the Promenade Deck. As soon as he did, he was forced to leap back into the still open doorway as a pair of giggling boys hurtled past without any regard for people in their way. Jack watched them race off recklessly down the side of the ship. He was about to shout after them but stopped himself.

Keep calm. Not worth it.