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

‘What kind of sickness?’ Charlie waved at the door. ‘What can we do? We need to help her!’

Erin shushed him quiet and then whispered. ‘Listen. She’s stopped.’

Charlie listened.

Monica had halted her assault on the door.

‘Maybe she passed out,’ Charlie whispered back.

‘Did you hear her fall?’

Charlie shook his head. ‘She’s small. She might have hit her head. We have to help her.’

Erin wasn’t sure.

‘We have to do something,’ insisted Charlie. ‘We need to cool her down. Let’s get her under the cold shower. I’m sure it’s the heat making her crazy.’

CRACK!

The bathroom door shuddered on its hinges.

‘What’s she got now?’ said Charlie, staring at the door in wonder.

Erin knew what she had. ‘It’s the sandstone toilet brush holder. She’s going to break through.’

‘Let’s wrap her up in a blanket,’ suggested Charlie desperately. ‘Then we’ll drag her into the shower.’

Erin thought they’d have more luck wrapping an angry mountain lion in tissue paper.

‘We’ll have to rush her,’ decided Erin. ‘You tackle her. Pin her down. I’ll tie her hands and then we’ll drag her into the shower. Okay?’

CRACK!

Charlie began rummaging through the bedside drawers. ‘She’s got a belt in here. We’ll tie her hands with it.’

Erin listened to the furious sounds coming from beyond the door. Her plan suddenly seemed ludicrous.

This won’t work. This is crazy!

CRACK!

‘Forget it, Charlie!’ yelled Erin. ‘Let’s get out–’

CRASH!

The bathroom door burst open.

Monica’s transformation shocked Erin. The delicate, young newlywed was gone. The woman who burst from the bathroom had leaped from a horror movie. Her black, sweat-soaked hair stuck to her neck and shoulders as though painted on one strand at a time.

Her face shone with psychopathic rage.

She looked possessed.

Erin had seen enough.

She’s insane. She’ll kill us both. We need to get out of here!

Monica leaped at Charlie.

Charlie was still kneeling at the drawers.

He looked up
just
in time to see Monica swinging the sandstone block down onto his forehead.

It sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a watermelon. Or a wooden mallet hitting a cooked crab.

Charlie’s spine compacted as his wife caved in his forehead.

His body toppled like slaughtered livestock. A silver belt snaked from his fingers.

Monica lifted the stone over her husband for a second pulverizing blow.

That’s when Erin reached her.

Erin tackled Monica sideways, knocking the sandstone from her hands. They hit the bed together and rolled.

Monica came out on top and instantly grabbed Erin’s throat.

Erin couldn’t breathe.

Monica slid forward in her black satin nightie, bringing her full weight down on Erin’s throat.

She’s strangling me! She’s going to kill me!

Erin pulled desperately at Monica’s wrists.

I need to breathe. I need to breathe right now.

Erin bucked her hips. Monica’s weight lifted for a moment.

Erin used that moment to tear Monica’s hands away.

Monica’s fingernails clawed across her throat.

Erin sucked in a breath -
Fwaaaah! -
and then rammed her shoulder into Monica’s ribs. The smaller woman crashed sideways off the bed.

As Monica fell one way, Erin rolled the other.

On her feet, Erin saw she’d never reach the door in time.

 Monica was already on her feet.

I need a weapon!

Erin scanned the bedside table, the writing desk, even the floor.

Nothing! There’s nothing!

It was too late anyway.

Erin was trapped in the corner.

Monica came scrambling across the bed, wild-eyed and teeth bared.

Erin grabbed the only object within reach.

She swung with all her strength.

The laptop struck Monica’s temple with a resounding
Crack!

Monica dropped like a charging predator felled at the last moment.

Erin lifted the laptop above her head, ready to slam it down again if Monica even twitched.

When Monica didn’t move, Erin raced around to Charlie.

Oh, God no....

The depression in Charlie’s skull overflowed with blood.

Erin searched his wrist and then his neck for a pulse.

No pulse
.

Her cousin was dead.

Erin slumped back against the bed, staring in disbelief at her younger cousin.

After a moment, she carefully covered Charlie’s body with the bed sheet.

A voice sounded from the radio clipped to her belt. Erin recognized her security manager’s voice.

‘Erin! Where are you? For Christ’s sake, we need help!’

Erin lifted her radio in a daze. Her own voice sounded strange. ‘What is it?’

‘Erin, you’re not going to believe this, but we’ve got people killing each other. It’s happening all over the ship!’

...thump...thump...thump...

Amy woke to the annoying sound.

Oh, God - why did I drink so much? Why do I keep doing this?

She pushed herself up on one elbow.

Where’s that stupid noise coming from?

The bathroom.
She could hear the shower running. Wisps of steam curled around the door.

...thump...thump...thump...

The sound repeated over and over, like a blanket stuck in a washing machine.

Are the girls washing clothes in the shower?

The whole idea of paying for a cruise was to relax.

She threw a pillow at the bathroom door. ‘Shut up in there. I need more sleep!’

The thumping stopped.

Then started again.

...thump...thump...thump...

Sharing a four-berth cabin kept the price low, but Amy decided it wasn’t worth it.

Living in each other’s pockets sucked. She would rather have stayed home this time.

This seals it,
she
thought.
This is the last trip I’m taking with the girls
.

Next year she’d be married and (fingers crossed) pregnant. She’d have an excuse to skip the next trip.

Amy listened to the noise again. It sounded like nothing she’d ever heard before. Across the cabin, the two empty bunks meant that either Shelley or Amanda was making the racket.

Last night Shelley had felt sick.

She’d come back to the cabin to lie down.

Amy kicked the bunk above her. ‘Kim, you awake?’

‘No.’

‘What’s that noise?’

‘Who cares? Go back to sleep.’

‘What are they doing in there?’

‘Just tell them to shut up.’

‘Hey!’ Amy yelled toward the bathroom. ‘People are still trying to sleep in here!’

The noise paused for a moment and then started again.

Amy rolled over and put her head under her pillow. The sound easily penetrated.

...thump...thump...thump...

She rolled over and grabbed her watch.
It’s not even 7am. For Christ’s sake!

She got up, walked over, and shoved open the bathroom door. ‘What are you guys doing in here?’

Amy peered through the foggy bathroom, barely believing her own eyes.

Amanda lay naked in the bottom of the shower.

Shelley squatted over her, still dressed in her clothes from last night.

The thumping sound was Shelley bashing open Amanda’s head with her aluminum toiletries case. Amanda’s thin body lay motionless in the shower enclosure.

The shower pelted steaming hot water over them both, washing Amanda’s blood down the drain.

Amy dropped her watch.

Clank.

Shelley stopped instantly.

She looked up and locked her mad eyes on Amy.

One second Shelley was kneeling, and the next she was running toward Amy.

Amy yanked the door shut in her path.

She wasn’t fast enough.

Shelley ran straight into the edge of the swinging door.

Whack!

Her face collided squarely with the narrow edge. She careened back onto the tiles.