Sea Sick: A Horror Novel(30)

“Shit! Be careful,” Donovan told her.

“It’s locked,” Tally said, thumbing the edges of the crate.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot,” said Jack. “Come check the guy’s pockets.”

Tally edged over to Donovan, obviously wary of the man trying anything. Jack kept the gun sighted at his chest the whole time. After searching several pockets stitched into Donovan’s jacket, Tally yanked free a key ring from a breast compartment. Donovan seemed irritated that she had found the keys, but he made no move to resist. She headed back over to the crate with them.

“You sure you wanna do this, pardner?” Donovan asked Jack.

Jack nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re gonna stir up a shit storm that you don’t wanna get caught in.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Holy shit!” said Tally. “Jack, look at this.”

Jack spun around to look at the contents of the crate and was shocked by what he saw. In that brief moment he was distracted enough for Donovan to leap up, skilfully take the gun from Jack, and fire two bullets right into his chest.



Day 201

Jack woke up breathless. He’d never been shot before and the pain had been blinding, yet mercifully brief. When Donovan had pulled the trigger, Jack died quickly. Now he’d woken up in his bed, ready to start another version of the same day. It felt like every time he got close to any sort of answers, something bad would happen and send him back to square one. But it was nothing more than a set-back (I have eternity aboard this goddamn ship, after all), but it was still frustrating. Plus, Tally had said something a couple days ago that worried him: We may feel like we have eternity, but we do not. Jack wondered if his ability to withstand bullets to the chest would eventually end. Eventually he would stop waking up in bed unharmed. He would just be dead.

Jack had to find out what the deal was with Donovan and his cargo. Why was the ship’s hold crammed with blue plastic crates full of American Dollars?

There had been only a brief second to see what Tally had discovered in the crates before Donovan shot him to death, but Jack managed to calculate that if all of the crates on all of the pallets were full of money, then he had been looking at millions of dollars.

Why the hell would a European cruise liner be carrying that much US currency? Jack shook his head in dismay. It’s a danger to the passengers, for one thing.

Jack hadn’t seen what became of Tally the previous evening – he’d been inconveniently dead – but he assumed Donovan would have dealt with her too. She’d probably woken up screaming in her own bed the same way Jack had in his.

I hope she’s alright.

He decided to hang around the pool area and wait for her. It was the most likely place she would go to find him and he wanted to make sure he was there if she needed him.

After performing his morning ritual of saying hello to the seagull at his window, Jack got in the shower. He took longer under the steaming torrent of water than usual, his tired, battered body keeping him there. He ran his soapy hands over his shoulders, kneading his trapezius muscles and the back of his neck. The pressure felt good and he moved his hand down along his shoulders and inwards towards his chest.

Ouch!

He hissed in pain as a dull throb erupted behind his ribs. Jack looked down at his own naked body and was taken aback. Below his left nipple was a patch of discoloured skin – a deep bruise spreading out in a ragged oval shape. It was exactly where the bullet had entered.

Jack had a realisation. My injuries aren’t completely healing. Does that mean I’ll be able to die soon?

The thought filled Jack with both fear and excitement. He wanted to die, to be released from his torment, but he also wanted to live – especially now that his investigations were finally getting somewhere.

He quickly dried himself, got out of the shower, and put on some clothes. He wore the same outfit he always did, seeing no reason to change from tradition: red t-shirt and cargo shorts. Then he headed for the Lido Deck and the pool.

Once there, Jack headed for the Sun Deck on the upper balcony. Although he was still eager to discover more about the cash in the hold, he needed five minutes to himself. Discovering that he could now be hurt permanently changed things – made it necessary to think things through a little more cautiously. Being mortal brought back all of Jack’s human flaws. He was vulnerable again, frightened. The fear of death had reasserted itself and had brought with it a certain amount of caution which Jack had been lacking since the whole thing began.

Claire was upstairs in her usual spot and Jack took the sun lounger beside her, not bothering to remove the green towel this time. He knew by now that no one was coming claim it, anyway.

“I’d move that,” said Claire.“It’s been there all day. Probably pretty funky by now.”

Jack smiled at her. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll let you know if I start to itch.”

“Okay, but if you get fleas don’t pass them on to me.”

“I promise.” He leant over and offered her his hand.“Jack.”

“Claire.”

“Good to meet you, Claire. You here with anyone?”

“My boyfriend and his mates.”

“His mates? None of yours?”

Claire shifted in her seat. “I don’t really have many friends. I spend all my time with Conner.”