Sea Sick: A Horror Novel

“You’re going to have to. If we stay in here then they will eventually get in. Plus this dead waiter on the floor will be back on his feet again soon. I’ve seen it happen before.”


“You need to get them out of the lounge, Jack, and barricade the doors.”

“It will be easier if we just run.”

“I can’t take the risk, Jack. I can’t.”

Jack pushed the broken door as closed as possible and put his back against it. He looked across the small room at Joma. “Why not? Why can’t you leave?”

“Because if I die the spell is broken.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Then you want to be careful I don’t kill you myself. There’s nothing I want more than for this goddamn day to end.”

“If I die, then this is exactly how the day will end. Everyone onboard will become infected, and then it will get a whole lot worse. I’ve seen it, Jack. That’s what this whole thing is about. But if I die tonight then the spell is broken and there will be no hope left at all.”

There was no time for Jack to ask questions. One of the infected in the lounge had already spotted him peering out from the doorway and was coming over. It was an overweight man with a torn belly hanging out of his shirt like raw hamburger meat. He ran at Jack as soon as he rounded the bar.

Jack braced his back against the door, which shuddered as the fat man smashed against it. The door was broken, but secure so long as Jack stood up against it. He looked at Joma for answers. “So, what the hell should I do?”

Joma glanced around the room, but only ended up shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe, they will go away if we just keep them out of this room.”


The infected behind the door began to shriek like animals and Jack’s body was jolted as the weight against the door increased. The other infected passenger in the room had joined the fat man in trying to break in. Jack wouldn’t be able to hold the door against both of them for long. Joma ran up to help him brace it, but it was awkward for them both to find space and leverage.

“This isn’t going to work,” said Jack. “They’ll be in here as soon as we start to tire.”

“Maybe they’ll get tired first,” Joma suggested.

“I don’t think they’re like us. I think they can just keep going until something tears them apart. They won’t stop until we’re like them.”

The conversation became irrelevant when the dead waiter in the middle of the backroom floor began to twitch. The man’s fingers clawed at the carpet and a low moan started to escape his lips.

Jack felt his skin tighten up in terror as he realised they were about to be surrounded by infected on both sides of the door. “Your colleague is going to be on his feet any minute, Joma. We need to deal with him right now.”

“You do it,” said Joma in a voice so thick that it sounded as though he was on the verge of puking. “I’ll hold the door.”

“You sure you can hold it?”

Joma nodded.

Jack moved away from the door, fully expecting the two infected people to come crashing through it the moment that he did. Fortunately, Joma was just about able to hold it. Jack moved over to the waiter, who was beginning to clutch and kick at the floor in an awkward attempt to get to his feet. Blood dripped from the man’s eyes and merged with the dye of the carpet fibres. Jack did the only thing he could think of. He raised his foot and brought it down as hard as he could on the waiter’s head. The blow was met with a wet thud, but it wasn’t enough to do the job. Jack stamped again, crushing the infected man’s skull against the floor. Then he stamped again.

And again.