Sea Sick: A Horror Novel

“I feel well rough, innit,” said Conner, necking back his first beer of the morning. “We must have drank a brewery last night, man.”


Steve nodded his head, his eyes half closed. “Tell me about it! My head is banging.”

“Well, you know what the best thing to do is,” Mike said. He dug into his luggage and produced a full bottle of tequila. “Hair of the dog, baby!”

Conner grinned wide. “Sound. We need to go get Claire later, though. She’ll probably be sunning herself by now.”

Mike sucked his teeth. “I don’t even know why you brought her along, man. We could be knee-deep in * by now.”

Conner flicked the back of his hand against Mike’s head making his friend wince. “She’s my bird. You just hatin’ ‘cus you ain’t got no fine bitch of your own.”

Mike shrugged. “Maybe, but all I know is that me and Steve are players for the next two weeks while you got a girlfriend dragging you down.”

Conner stood up from the sofa and went and opened the cabin’s curtains. The morning sunlight hurt his eyes and he had to look away. “Way, I sees it. I have sex on tap and a woman looking after me. You two probably won’t even manage to get laid.”

“We’ll see about that,” Steve protested. “Although, if I don’t shake this cold, I’m gonna end up spending the week in bed.”

Conner nodded. The burning in the back of his nose felt as if he had inhaled glass during the night. His skin tingled and released beads of sweat like a factory. All three of them had it; they all looked like shit.

Steve probably stuck his dick in something dodgy and passed it on.

“I feel rank, too,” said Mike. “But it’s nothing a bottle of Mexico’s finest won’t sort out.” He took a long drag from the bottle and let out a satisfied sigh. He passed it to Steve.

Together, the three of them finished off the bottle in less than an hour.

***

Conner left Mike and Steve and arranged to meet them for hotdogs in twenty minutes. He needed to go find Claire to let her know. He’d checked her room and she wasn’t there. The most likely place she would be was by the pool sunbathing.

All she thinks about is how she looks. She’s got a man so why does she need to be so concerned with looking hot?

Sure enough, he found Claire sunbathing on the upper deck. What really pissed Conner of was that she was lay, chatting with some older guy.

What the fuck is she playing at?

Conner stomped up the steps and marched towards his girlfriend and the stranger.

He tilted his head at the man suspiciously. “How you doing, mate?”

The man looked up at him and nodded. “Good, I was just chatting to your friend….?”

Claire introduced herself. “Claire.”

“She’s my bird, not my friend.” Conner corrected, extending his hand to the man. “My name’s Conner. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Jack.” The man shook his hand hard, trying to intimidate.

I’ll fuck you up if you ain’t careful, blood.

“Jack was just telling me he’s a police officer,” Claire explained.

What the fuck! Bitch are you crazy?

Conner pulled his hand away and took a step back. He snorted back a wad of snot and moved his attention to Claire – he was so mad with her, but that could come later. “Come on, babes,” he said. They’re about to start serving up hotdogs. The lads are already down there.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

Conner clicked his fingers at her. He was feeling too ill to put up with her shit right now. “Get moving.”

Claire got up reluctantly and seemed to flash an awkward glance over at her new friend. She reached down and pulled on a long t-shirt that covered her down to the knees. Then she shuffled into a pair of pink, jewelled flip flops.

Conner sneezed. Then sneezed again.