HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2) (28 page)

Whenever she heard a noise, she waved the Marines forward. Once they cleared the way, their procession began again.

Not far now.

Erin sped up a little.

It was a mistake.

She froze.

She’d heard a sound.

The sound wasn’t coming from a cabin ahead this time. It came from a cabin right beside her.

Erin had stopped right outside the open cabin door.

She gripped her baton tightly.

The group stopped, sensing something wrong.

Coleman moved fast and silent, taking a look through the cabin door. Erin looked too.

A woman sat on the bed. She sat facing the door. Her dark, messy hair concealed her face and age. Gold rings covered her fingers. She wore a long-sleeved denim shirt over jeans.

She held a toothbrush.

She stared at the toothbrush.

She turned the toothbrush slowly in her hands, carefully touching the bristles as though trying to fathom their purpose.

Coleman whistled barely loud enough for the woman to hear.

She surged from the bed.

She’d suddenly discovered the toothbrush’s purpose.

It was a weapon.

Something to be shoved into a person’s eye socket until the bristles tickles their eyelashes.

Erin raised her baton, but the woman never reached the hallway.

Coleman must have judged her height while she was sitting on the bed. As her bare foot reached the cabin threshold, Coleman swung his rifle through the doorway.

Crack!

She crumpled onto the carpet.

Coleman waved everyone forward.

Erin’s heart thumped uncomfortably. She had never witnessed or committed so much violence in her life. In fact, before today she had never committed
any
violence. Her first truly violent act was hitting her cousin’s wife with a laptop.

Charlie is dead
, she reminded herself. Her cousin lay with his brain crushed in cabin 630.

And Aunt Margery wanted to have the wedding here
, Erin remembered.

W
hen Charlie’s mother saw the ship’s incredible wedding chapel, she tried to convince Charlie to have the wedding on the ship.

Thankfully Charlie and Erin had talked her out of it.

The honeymoon should be just the two of them
, Erin remembered saying over the phone.
They’ll want to be alone.

Erin had assured her aunt that Charlie and Monica would have the most fantastic cruise of their lives.

Instead, Monica had transformed into a psychopath and murdered her new husband on their honeymoon.

Imagine if my entire family had come
, Erin thought.
All of them. My brother. My parents. Everyone I care for would have been trying to kill each other.

It was too horrible to contemplate.

Erin halted again.

Coleman had her arm. He pointed to one of the painted codes on a cabin door.

‘What do these codes mean?’ he asked.

Erin nodded over her shoulder. ‘They were Neve’s idea. We used the fire teams to rescue people from their cabins when the first sick passengers began attacking their families. We locked the sick passengers in the cabins and marked the doors with a code. ‘V3’ means there were three violent passengers inside.’

‘You did a good job,’ said Coleman.

‘I hope so,’ replied Erin. ‘We were lucky Neve was on board to start a response plan.’

‘You saved lives,’ said Coleman. ‘What you did mattered.’

Erin appreciated Coleman’s words. She hadn’t stopped to think about how she had helped save lives. She had just been running from one problem to the next.

‘Thanks,’ she said before noticing the others lagging.

Neve had stopped in her chair to study a bald man lying dead in the hallway. One hand still clenched the jagged shaft of a broken walking stick.

Like the woman earlier, he was barefoot.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Coleman.

‘Another one,’ pointed Neve. ‘I’ve seen dozens of them. He doesn’t have a wound on him. He died on his feet. Running.’

‘How do you know he was running?’ asked Coleman.

Forest pointed. ‘Carpet burn. On his forehead. He died on his feet, tumbled forward and then slid along the floor.’

Neve nodded. ‘He probably died from a massive heart attack or a stroke.’

‘Is that important?’ asked Coleman.

‘It’s a clue,’ replied Neve. ‘This sickness is changing people’s bodies. It’s not just sending them crazy. It’s making older people fast and strong, but it’s not improving their hearts or brains. The older people are dying from physical exertion.’

‘Let’s get to the hospital,’ prompted Coleman.

‘It’s just around this corner,’ said Erin. ‘This is the back entrance. It’s closer to the pathology lab. All the waiting rooms and offices are on the other side. This side should be quieter.’

Coleman looked around the corner. ‘The sliding doors are open. Is that normal?’

Erin thought about it. ‘They must have all opened during the evacuation.’

‘I don’t want any more surprises,’ said Coleman. ‘Everyone wait here.’

Neve watched Coleman approach the door and draw a knife from his belt.

‘Let’s see if anyone’s home.’

Clank!

He rapped the metal knife on his rifle, sending a metallic sound echoing through the hospital.

Nothing happened.

He tested again.

Clank!

When no crazies came surging toward the sound, he waved the group inside.

‘Looks clear, but stay alert.’

Ben Bryant wrapped a handkerchief around the fingers on his left hand that were cut by the glass.

He tightened the impromptu bandage with his teeth.

The bleeding has stopped.

When the helicopter crashed, Christov had dashed straight over to the surveillance monitors.

He was checking the Marines.

‘They didn’t hear it,’ he said. ‘They’ve got no idea.’

Christov spoke into his radio. ‘Secure the stern helipad and start unloading.’

‘Yes, sir,’ came the reply.

Christov raised his radio again. ‘And do it carefully. Get them on the cushioned trolleys as quickly as possible.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Ben got to his feet again.

He heard someone shouting through the hole in the ceiling.

‘Last crate!’

This was a new voice.

Ben watched the last crate lower to the deck from the helicopter.

Someone was standing on it, riding down the tether line from the helicopter.

Ben hadn’t seen this man yet. Of all the intruders, this man was the only person not wearing a military-style blue uniform and gray protective vest.

He wasn’t carrying a weapon either.

The man leaped nimbly off the crate as it reached the deck.

He looked like someone who’d spent his entire life working on the decks of ships, and those years of toiling in the sun had leached all the natural color from his body. His skin looked brown as beef jerky. His hair was all gray. Even his eyebrows, facial stubble, and the thick hairs on his arms were gray.

He must be at least sixty
, thought Ben. But his hands looked strong enough to crush rocks.

Tiny bumps covered the man’s face and neck like small pox scars. They looked like the scars a welding professional would accumulate over a lifetime of shunning safety equipment. Tool pockets covered his dirty, blue, sun-bleached overalls. Burn marks scorched his boots, too.

Working on cruise ships, Ben met thousands of people from all over the world, but he’d never met a man who looked like this.

The man pointed to the blood splatter around the broken glass on the bridge. ‘Did the captain need a swimming lesson?’

Christov stood studying the surveillance monitors. ‘Not yet. But it’s on my list.’

The man shrugged and kicked a crate. ‘This is all of it. I’m ready.’

Christov spun and checked his watch.

‘Good. We’re on schedule. You need to keep it that way, Bolton.’

The man, Bolton, picked up a welding mask and waved at the trolleys. ‘I’ve got everything I need. You just tell me when.’

Christov nodded and approached Ben.

He pointed at the pilot’s chair. ‘Sit.’

Ben complied quickly.

Two men grabbed his arms.

‘I’m sitting down,’ said Ben.

But the men weren’t pushing Ben into the seat. They were making sure he couldn’t get out of it. In seconds they had cable-tied his wrists to the armrests.

Christ, what now?
thought Ben.
Are they going to torture me? What the hell do they want?

Ben avoided looking at Karen.

‘Listen,’ started Ben. ‘I’ll take the ship anywhere you want. I’ll tell you anything you want. Just don’t hurt anyone else.’

‘He seems tame,’ commented Bolton. ‘But this bridge is overcrowded.’