SPACESHIP ZOMBIE CRUISE

FILE ENTRY 15.0

Bella Starr

Onboard the Celestial Sea, as I hide behind the towel counter, more sick people find their way to the Sea Breeze Deck. An elderly woman collapses to the floor next to the pool and vomits, her gut retching deep heaves that make me wince as if I could feel the woman's misery in my own stomach. The woman passes out or dies, but doesn't stay that way. Within sixty seconds—less than a minute—the woman's limbs stiffen and her body shudders, and then her head jerks up and peers around. Her eyes cast a maniacal gaze across the pool, searching for someone to attack. I sense it. I know what the woman is looking for, flesh to devour like the other infected passengers before her.

To the right, the door to the cafe slides open. A man with short hair darts outside wearing a white coat and black pants. From the food staining his clothes, I realize he's a cook from the kitchen, and his arrival on the pool deck is perfect timing.

The elderly woman scrambles to her feet and bolts in his direction. The cook skids to a stop, his face twisted and eyes wide and round. Before he can turn to run, the boyfriend and girlfriend I saw moments before, storm from the cafe, their chins smeared with blood. They have to be the reason the cook fled. The young couple bull-rushes the cook, overpowers him, and forces him to the deck. After that, the elderly woman jumps on top of the pile and bites into the cook's arm. The man cries out, but in a matter of minutes he's dead, a gruesome meal for the mindless cannibals.

All I can think about is my friends. I have to get to them and see if they're safe.

I peer around the towel counter, the thought of Halo, Astra, and Caprica urging me to move. I imagine them hearing a commotion outside their staterooms and venturing into the hallway to investigate.

The second I peek around the corner, the elderly woman whips her head in my direction.

My body tenses, staring eye to eye with the infected passenger, her face covered in blood.

The woman staggers to her feet.

The only choice I have is to launch myself down the length of the deck between the pool and the curved glass wall that rises into the air and becomes the roof. As the other two infected passengers gorge themselves on the lifeless cook, the elderly woman pursues me, taking a parallel path down the other side of the pool's edge.

I screech to a stop and so does the woman.

I start toward the elevator, but halt my advance. The woman stops too, mimicking my movement. We observe each other, predator and prey.

In need of a different tactic, I dart back toward the towel counter. The woman does the same, but quickly; I change directions back toward the elevator. The trick buys me a short lead as the woman throws on the brakes, falters, pivots back to give chase but loses her footing and crashes to the deck.

I sprint full speed, reach the end of the pool, and angle between the pair of hot tubs.

The elderly woman hobbles after me, injured from the fall to the deck.

At the elevator, I slap the down sensor but the doors refuse to open. I should've taken the time to wave my hand over the arrow, but considering the circumstances... proper protocol for opening an elevator is the furthest thing from my mind. The deck numbers on the wall above me reveal the elevator is moving down, away from me. It might take minutes for the steel box to reach the desired floor before it begins its journey back up to me. I don't have minutes to spare; I have seconds.

I glance behind me. The woman limps toward me, favoring her left foot.

She closes the distance between us. Twenty feet... ten feet...

I dart left for the stairwell. In my haste, I choose the wrong set of stairs. This one doesn't lead down toward my room but up to a higher level where guests can enjoy a view of the pool and get a look at the stars.

Behind me, the woman thunders up the steps after me. The injured foot doesn't seem to slow her down that much.

This is unbelievable. The passengers of the Celestial Sea have lost their minds, becoming vicious and bloodthirsty. They're sick, infected, but they appear to die before my eyes and come back to life with a vengeance and an appetite for flesh.

I race around a ping-pong table, dig my heels in and stop. The elderly woman on the other side growls like an animal.

I fake to one side, get the woman leaning in that direction, then reverse the other way, gaining a slight lead. Chills rush over my arms as I flee from the woman and her animalistic sounds. I angle toward an alternate stairwell on the other side of the elevated deck. As I near the stairs that lead down, the woman catches me by the hair and yanks me to the floor from behind.

My hands fly up to protect my face as a set of teeth snaps at me.

Blood dribbles down the woman's cheek and nears the point of trickling on me. I twist my neck away, grab the woman by the collar, and throw her headlong down the stairs. The woman crashes and tumbles until she comes to a rest on the first landing. A fall like that would have killed or incapacitated most people, but not this person. She shakes herself, grumbles, and stands, glaring up with glazed over eyes.

I push to my feet.

The woman barrels up toward me but doesn't raise her foot high enough. She trips on the next rise and falls, her temple cracking on a step.

I see my chance to escape and spin on my heels and run for the other stairwell. This time, I don't dare look back.

As I plod down the stairs, I come across a young woman hunched over, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the Sea Breeze Deck.

I don't pause, not for one second.

Back on the pool deck level, I try the elevator again and this time the doors open to a middle-aged man with dark hair staring at me, his eyes, bloodshot and white. He lunges for me, but I sidestep him, grab him by the arm, and sling him toward the hot tub, where he splashes into the water.

Inside the elevator, I call out the floor to my room.

The elderly woman is still coming, but the doors close and seal shut a split second before she reaches me.

As the elevator begins its descent, I breathe a sigh of relief, but I know this night is far from over. On the crew floor, the doors part and I rush into the long hallway leading to my room. I skid to a halt at Caprica's stateroom, remembering that she had gone to bed after drinking too much.

My bio signature won't open Caprica's door, but the metal frame probably won't hold up if I throw my shoulder into it. But first, I bang on the door to see if I can wake her. Unfortunately, I get no answer.

Listening from the hallway, the room is quiet. Maybe Caprica is okay? Maybe she's unconscious? Passed out drunk? But with all that's going on, I have to check on her.

I back away to the other side of the hall and storm forward, lowering my shoulder and slamming into the door. It gives way, and I burst into the room, landing on the floor on my hands and knees. In the heated rush, all I can think about is my friend.

Caprica isn't in her bed. In fact, she isn't in her room at all, but a light glows from the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door.

I catch my breath, my heart beating like a drum. I have a terrible feeling that Caprica went to the bathroom to throw up like the other infected passengers. On the other side of the door, a low grumble builds into a maddening growl—and the knob—it turns slowly back and forth as I wait for the inevitable to happen, to see my friend and her glazed over eyes.