Sea Sick: A Horror Novel

The boys turned a corner up ahead and disappeared from sight. Jack took in a lungful of sea air and instantly forgot about them. The fresh, unpolluted oxygen soothed his nerves and the feeling of saltwater on his face was invigorating. He strolled over to the railings and leaned forward, taking another, even deeper, breath. His experiences of being aboard a boat were few, but Jack was surprised to find that the rhythmic swaying of the vast sea had a placating effect on him. Looking out across the water, Jack felt completely alone. It was if society, and all its wretched ills, was far, far away. Suddenly the urge to vault the barrier took over Jack and he imagined what it would feel like to plunge into the salty depths of the sea, to disappear beneath its waves.

He quickly stepped back from the railing, unsettled by the thoughts his brain was presenting to him. While he’d contemplated suicide many times over the last several years, drowning was way down the list of ways he’d like to go. Struggling for oxygen and swallowing back lungfuls of stinging water while desperation set in was one of the worst deaths he could imagine. No, if he were to ever kill himself that would definitely not be the way.

Not that I’d actually ever do it.

A little disorientated, Jack headed in the direction that the two boys had run. It led to the rear of the ship, where the Lido Deck would be located according to the ship’s newsletter he’d read. At the end of the walkway the deck opened up into a large rectangular area spread over two tiers. On the bottom was a modest swimming pool inhabited mostly by children, while the top level seemed to be a sun deckSun Deck full of sunbathers and chairs and tables. Jack chose to head for the latter.

The sun deckSun Deck was occupied by a couple dozen people. Some lounged in the sun, while others sipped pints of beer and cocktails at the tables. Jack’s fondness for alcohol made itself known as the thought of a scotch and coke made his stomach flutter. While his meals were paid for, his drinks were not, so he intended to take it easy, but with his lack of hobbies and not being a smoker, there would be enough in his bank account to go wild if he felt like it. Whether or not he did, however, was the true test he would be facing this week.

To get shitfaced, or not to get shitfaced, that is the question.

Jack wanted to read his book and enjoy what was left of the sun so he glanced around for a lounger. There were none free. It was hardly surprising, considering the late hour, and he was just about to resign himself to one of the hard-backed chairs instead, when somebody spoke to him.

“You can have this one.”

Jack looked down at the young woman speaking to him. She was a teenager, with blonde curls framing the Nordic features of her face. She was pointing to a lounger beside her that was covered by a bright green beach towel.

“Isn’t it taken?” Jack enquired, nodding at the towel.

The girl shrugged at him. “I haven’t seen anyone near it for hours. I think someone must have forgotten their towel and left it there. Just take it.”

Jack smiled at the girl and nodded. He shifted the ownerless green towel onto the floor and plonked himself down on the lounger, letting out a sigh of pleasure as he eased into the backrest.

“The sun’s not that warm now,” the girl told him, “but it’s better than being in England.”

“Where abouts are you from?”

“Me? I’m from Leeds. Can’t you tell by my accent?”

Jack chuckled. “It’s not that thick for a northerner.”

The girl laughed back and her eyes seemed to sparkle. “Yours is, though. Birmingham, right?”

“Good guess,” Jack admitted. “I try to hide it. Being a brummie isn’t the most sophisticated thing in the world.”

“Hey, neither is being a northerner.”

The conversation seemed to fade out then, as it often did between two strangers making polite chitchat. During the silence an attractive brunette with striking, dark eyes came by to take their drink orders. Jack requested a cold beer, while Claire said she was good. He shuffled on the lounger until he was comfortable then opened the cover of his novel. Before he started to read, he gave his surroundings a cursory glance, more out of bored interest than anything else.

Leaning against the nearest balcony, which overlooked the pool, was an elderly couple kissing and cuddling like lovers half their age. It was romantic in many ways, but Jack couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable all the same. The cynical part of his mind told him that it was jealousy making him feel that way; resentment towards something he’d once wished to have for himself: a partner to grow old with.