*Special* The Lady marina short story--

       Captain Charlie Mason could see the Ship’s overwhelming masts and rigging from the street. As he walked towards that general direction a crowd of people were swarming the dock like ants to sugar.

He had been anticipating this day since he was commissioned by the new owner of the Lady Marina two years ago to oversee the restoration before it set sail—or motor rather, since a propeller had since been installed.

This had been his dream since he was sixteen. He worked a lot of positions on a lot of boats and as much as he enjoyed being outside on deck, gaining the satisfaction of a freshly varnished cap-rail, or an acid-washed deck: bringing the proper color of teak back, his real passion was to be at the helm; in charge, just like his father, his father’s father and his great grandfather.

Now, at thirty-two years old, he would finally take the helm of this tall ship along with a skeleton crew including only his wife: Anita, engineer: Jack and green deckhand: Junior. Charlie would have liked to have had at least two more people to do the delivery with him, however many of the experienced, local shipmen had old hearts and were very superstitious: it was not just the hauntings that stopped them, but with Anita—a woman—on board, they did not want to take the job.

He looked at his watch: four thirty five. Three hours and they would be at least three miles off shore with nothing to see but the curve of the Earth and the moon taking it’s watch above their heads; the same view as one hundred years ago when the Lady Marina was first alive. Three more days and the new owner would finally have his baby at his private dock in Florida.

            Charlie got to the dock-ramp and waited for Anita and the provisions. He looked towards a small stage set in front of the ship, where a stout man with a dark beard, dressed in a period seaman’s costume pitched the over-told story of the Lady Marina and it’s assumed hauntings. Charlie wasn’t a believer in the ghosts, which is why he was the only one out of 6, highly qualified captains to accept this job.

            “Hey you.” Anita snuck up behind Charlie, her long dark hair blowing in her face. She tried to push it away with her shoulder, but her hands were full of grocery bags and the wind kept pushing it back.

It took two years of convincing to get Anita to do this delivery and three years since the accident on the last boat: that incident pushed her to become land-based for good. But she trusted Charlie’s skills and had a secret desire to cruise on this ship in which so many women—especially Spanish women—were not allowed on when it was used for pepper and spice trading in the Caribbean long ago.

Charlie spun around, “hey. Here, let me help you.” He grabbed all of the bags out of her left hand and the full dock-cart out of her right.

“Thanks.” She faced the wind to force her hair off her face and smiled fiercely with her brown eyes into his green Irish eyes. “Well, shall we? The dockhands will be here in fifteen minutes to help us untie. Jack and Junior are already on board getting her fired up and trying to hide from the crowd no doubt.”

“OK,” Charlie could tell Anita was nervous to be boarding another boat. “Don’t worry. I would never let you fall overboard again.” Charlie stood up straight and puffed his chest out,  “In fact, as your Captain, I order you to stay away from the railing. Period. and anytime you go past the mid-ship, you must don your life vest. If you go towards the bow, you must have your sea-survival gear on.”

This made her laugh and relax a little, picturing herself waddling around in the full red life-suit. Still, she would never forget what the ice-cold water of the north Atlantic felt like when she was swept over the port-side rail on a deep roll. One minute she was walking along the rail doing rounds for her watch and the next minute, the ice-cold water was forcing her to pull more air in to her already full lungs; the panic sinking in as the yacht motored on and Charlie’s face became more alarmed as it shrunk smaller. But, she owed her life to Charlie for being so quick to throw the life-ring and alert the other crew. She knew she could trust him with her life now just as much as then.

            As they neared the boat with the cart, Charlie was thankful he had on his epaulettes. The enormous crowd parted to let him pass, whispering: “The Captain” amongst themselves.

 No matter how many times he saw the Lady Marina, every time his breath was taken from him. The size was overwhelming and the wood hull was still in perfect condition; nothing had to be restored; only painted or technologies added. The masts were original and seemed to reach the clouds, every piece of metal sparkled in the sun. It was as if she was made by the gods and taken care of by the universe.

            Charlie and Anita walked up the gangplank with full arms of provisions. Jack and Junior were already on deck and made their way towards them. The Storyteller finished his last ghost tale and shouted: “It’s time folks. Stay near ye to see the magnificent Lady Marina leave Boston at last and set away into the sun on her voyage towards Florida.“

Jack grabbed Anita’s handful of grocery bags with one hand and hoisted her effortlessly onto the deck with his other hand. She was thankful of Jack’s strength, but something about the way he looked at her and the scar, like a U, crossing from his left temple, across his eyelid and back up his forehead, made her feel uneasy around him. His long, dark, slicked-back hair and days-old stench did not help either.

Junior nodded to Charlie and grabbed all of his bags to put them in the galley while the Captain prepared to leave. Even though Junior was young and new, he was keen and that’s why Charlie hired him.

***

            An hour after pulling away from the dock, Charlie called everyone up on deck. Very quickly he became aware of how small they were in comparison to the 170-ft Lady Marina.

“I am going to do the first watch tonight starting at seven pm, you guys get some sleep whenever you can. Because there’s only four of us, we’re going to have to do eight hours on, eight off. Anita will be with me and you two will be together. I can’t risk having only one person on at a time. Jack, I’m sorry, you’re going to have to be on call during your eight off too; I don’t know enough about the engines if something goes wrong.

Anita will cook and clean, but try and help keep this place tidy. Just like any private yacht: everywhere but the mess, galley, day-head and your bunk is off limits. For no reason should you have to go anywhere else. God forbid the boss finds a fingerprint out of place. You guys know what a stuck-up, rich guy he is.” Jack snorted through his nose and rolled his eyes, which settled on Anita. She instinctively moved closer to Charlie.  “Here,” Charlie passed out a radio to each crewmember and tucked one in his foul-weather jacket. “Keep these on and with you at all times. I don’t care if you’re in the ‘head; it’s on and strapped somewhere on your persons.”

“Just hang out, play cards, do what they would have done a hundred years ago with no TV or electronics. Anita, you’ll have dinner ready by about six?” She nodded.

            Anita plated Charlie’s food to take up to him.  Through the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow pass by the galley door and heard a small scream in the distance, it sounded like a small girl. I can hear the others talking way over in the mess, she thought, puzzled. She waited a minute to see if she could hear anything else, then climbed the steep stairs outside the galley, up to the helm to see if Charlie was playing a trick. As she reached the opening on to the deck, something wrapped around her ankle. She squawked. Jack laughed and winked at her with his bad eye,  “gotcha”.

Anita didn’t say anything and continued to the helm. “Sorry ma’am”, Jack said, “just thought I ‘eard you scream: came to check on ya.”

 Charlie was sitting in the chair with the binoculars. “What do you suppose that is? He pointed straight ahead “It looks like fog, but it’s been in the same position the whole time and it’s not on the radar”

“Maybe we’re just following it at the same speed and it’s not thick enough to be picked up?” It was getting close to November and the light was fading early and quick.

“Maybe.” Charlie said, unsure. He took the plate of pasta from Anita. “Thanks.” She sat next to him and curled into his jacket.

“What are the stories of the ship?”

“Don’t worry about that nonsense, “ Charlie replied with a mouthful of pasta, the red sauce filling the corners of his mouth.

“Humor me.”

Charlie swallowed and looked at her curiously. “You heard the guy on the stage: the boat was found adrift in 1902: 3 years after the captain’s last log entry. It was in perfect condition, but all 23 crew gone with no sign of struggle; defying the elements, currents and winds, headed south to what may have been the end of the Earth. It was supposed to be on its way to Boston.” He paused, “Then there’s the women: they don’t talk about that. ”

“I thought there weren’t any.”

“Not any that worked on board. The crew collected women from the islands they visited; promised them a better life in America. Often the men would get tired of feeding the extra mouths, or the women would get sick and someone would be voted to toss them overboard in the middle of the night. They suspect some would be tortured first though; there was a collection of teeth found in one of the bunks. They were from at least three different women.” Anita took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to tell you that.”

“It’s Ok, I wasn’t tossed overboard: I fell. Did no one stop them?”

“No, they would never want to stand up to the captain for fear of being humiliated, lashed, or worse: having the same done to them as the women.” He continued, “By the time they were near Florida, there were no more women on board. By the time the boat was found, near Cape Hatteras, there was no one on board. Except the ghosts.” Anita rested her head on Charlie’s shoulder.  “After that, they brought it to Boston and it’s been there ever since. No one wanted to sail it, so it had been used as a tourist attraction--”

“Until now,” Anita finished “I know that the National History Preservation Group couldn’t afford to pay the docking fees and employees anymore, but I wonder why the owner bought it.”

Charlie shrugged and resumed eating his pasta.

            ***                                               

            As the sun went down and the moon came up, they finally approached the fog.  It was so thick; entering it was like pushing the 300-ton vessel through cotton candy. Weird, Thought Charlie, this should have definitely shown up on the radar. He told Anita to keep an eye out and ran below deck to make sure everything was turned on. The radar was now showing a large yellow smudge above them. Satisfied, he started back up the stairs.

“Captain?” Charlie turned around to see whom the raspy voice was coming from. Jack was walking out of the guest accommodations in his boxer shorts.

“Don’ be angry: I hear’ someone. A lady. I saw ‘er too. She was headed towards the master cabin so I followed ‘er.”

“Go back to bed Jack.” Charlie assumed Jack was sleepwalking. “I’ll go check it out and we’ll worry about it in the morning.” Without any confrontation, Jack walked back towards his cabin. Charlie headed backup to the helm, ignoring Jacks vision.

            It was now past midnight and the moon was the only source of light struggling it’s way through the fog. The sea was getting increasingly worse. The ship was pitching and rolling. Every other wave caused the bow to shoot towards the sky and slide down the back of the wave, burying it’s bow the next. The tip of the wave would break over the bow and crawl towards the mid-ship before slinking out the scuppers on the next roll. They had been in it for hours now and Charlie was sure it would break soon but Every time he checked the radar, the yellow smudge was still above them and not dissipating.

Anita wished she had taken a nap earlier; her eyelids started fluttering as she watched Charlie pace back and forth. The rocking and groaning of the ship didn’t help her seasickness or her strength to stay awake. It was as if the Lady Marina was rocking her to sleep. Charlie spun around as both of them heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He looked at his watch, “It’s too early for Jack and Junior’s watch.” Anita sat up a little straighter and looked towards the stairs. The footsteps seized. They exchanged glances before Charlie headed towards the opening in the deck. Anita watched the top of Charlie’s head disappear.

***

            Below deck Junior was awoken in his bunk by the sound of his cabin door shutting. He rubbed his shaved head and then his eyes. He squinted his eyes and tried to focus, a figure was stood by the door.  “Anita? What time is it? Did I miss my watch?” The girl stepped forward revealing her Caribbean dress and head-wrap. She was holding a long nail. Oh no, one of the actors got stuck on board in Boston. Charlie’s going to kill me for not doing a proper walk-through. Junior thought. “I’m sorr—“ he blinked and the girl was now sitting on his chest. He tried to scream out but nothing came. She squeezed her legs against his torso and pressed on his chest with her hands. He could feel her nails digging in. He tried to move: to push this small Caribbean woman off his chest. He was paralyzed. The girl leaned in towards his face and revealed oozing sores and deep gashes on her face. Tears of blood were rolling down her cheeks, filling the fleshy gashes and dripping into her mouth. One tear rolled off her cheek and hit the side of Junior’s face.  He tried to scream, but she squeezed him tighter. He could feel himself passing out. She stopped crying and looked at the long nail in her hand. She dug it in to his chest and scratched it along his flesh in a horseshoe-shape. She smiled wide revealing blood-soaked teeth, which started to fall out, one by one, rolling off his face into his pillow. He faded to black just as he heard her whisper “at last”.

***

            Charlie went below deck and looked in the crew’s mess and in the Galley: No one. He headed back to check the radar one more time. He could see Jack sitting in the engine room watching the radars and fuel levels.

“Everything OK?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, yeah. Jus’ couldn’t sleep. I think them tales of the ghosts and women are gettin’ to me. I saw one in my cabin this time. Lucky I had my flashlight to scare ‘er away.” Jack was clenching his radio with shaking hands, his knuckled trying to break through the skin.

Charlie was disturbed by the way this large man was trembling. “Oh, I see. Well—“

A woman’s voice came through the radio: “Jaaaaaaackie,” then whispered “Oh, Jackie boy, where are you?”

Jack stared at the radio in his hand. As Charlie reached for his, the radios started squealing a high-pitched wail. They both covered their ears. Suddenly the engines stopped, leaving no sound other than the creaking of the boat and the water slapping against the hull. The lights flickered over to the emergency lights.

“What the?” Jack fumbled with some knobs and switches. He grabbed the flashlight and got up to check the engines.

Charlie looked at the blank radar screen. “Jack, I’m gonna go back up.” He shone the flashlight to where jack was. Jack waved back as his head was buried in the parts.

Charlie headed up the steps. He couldn’t see Anita. I hope she hasn’t fallen asleep. He checked the captain’s bench and there was no sign of her. He headed back to the steps to check below but dry footprints amongst the water-soaked deck caught his eye. He followed them. They went around the helm, heading down towards the mid-ship and over to the portside. He finally saw who they belonged to: Anita. Her hair was blowing in her face, twirling in the air like a black waterspout. It took a minute to register what she was doing. “NO,” he yelled and ran towards the port-rail. Anita was throwing her right leg over the side.  “ANITA!” He grabbed hold of her waist just as her left leg lifted from the deck.

“They’re calling me Charlie.” She said calmly.

Charlie looked towards the churning ocean below them; just below the surface were hundreds of faces of women peering back at him. Their dark eyes, like obsidian marbles were a contrast in comparison to their pale, bloodless skin. Blood was creating a pool of red around them from the gashes all over their body. Their long brown and blond hair was floating like sea kelp on the surface, tangling together; others had short, cropped black hair, which made it easier to make out their sad faces. They all looked at him angrily, stirring the water as they started to swim in circles. Anita struggled against Charlie’s torso “they’re going to save me Charlie,” her Spanish accent was stronger than he’d ever heard it. He pulled her back over the railing and fell on to the deck. As the boat rolled from port to starboard, so did Anita. Charlie glanced over the side again: the women smiled at him and sunk below the surface, swimming under the ship to the Starboard side. Charlie grabbed the now disoriented Anita and pulled her towards the helm and stairs leading below deck.  

“JACK…JUNIOR. ALL HANDS!” He screamed. He grabbed the radio from his jacket, engaged the talk button and yelled: “ALL HANDS”. He could hear the click of a cabin door and saw Junior wide eyed and with blood on his face stumble towards the stairs. “What the…?” Charlie looked him over and noticed ten puncture wounds and a U shape scratch in his chest. “What happened to you?” He shouted, still holding Anita. The ship was now groaning with every pitch and roll, growing longer and deeper.

“I had a dream, man, I couldn’t breathe, there was a woman,” He met Charlies eyes. Charlie could barely hear him through the wind whipping around them, but he could see Junior’s eyes were blood-shot with broken blood vessels sprinkling his eyelids.

“Good god. Please, take her, take Anita below.” He shuffled Anita feet first down the opening. As Junior reached for her the boat pitched and the wave dropped them just before the next one broke over the bow.

Junior fell back and Anita landed on him. “What’s wrong with her?”

“No time; put her in the crew’s mess and find Jack.”

“I’m here.” Jack shouted. He came up the steps to the deck. As he struggled to stand, he was overcome with shock; “Oh, my…”

Charlie spun around and noticed the fog had parted but was fighting to get at them, as if they were in a bubble. Charlie noticed Jack was not shocked by the fog, but by the enormous ship heading straight for them. From the books Charlie read, he knew it was a warship from the 1800’s. He ran to the helm and grabbed the radio, without any time to check the radar or knowing the name of the vessel, he yelled: “Three masted warship, approximately two hundred feet long, please alter course to starboard; we are directly in front of you, we will do the same. Charlie swung the helm to the right but the Lady Marina didn’t turn. And neither did the warship. They were only .2 miles away from the bow now. Charlie could even make out the Captain at the helm, he seemed to be staring straight at them with one eye in the telescope and the other behind a patch. There was a Boatswain standing directly to his side, in the same position Charlie was in.

“Brace for impact.” Charlie shouted. He and Jack dropped to fetal position. After a few seconds, the impact didn’t come. He got up and took a minute to look around. He noticed the large, square sails pushing his boat by the way of the wind, There is no wind, Charlie thought. As he looked past the stern of his ship, the stern of Lady Marina was motoring away from them. He looked towards the bow again and counted fifteen men mewing around on board. I’m on the warship. As he stood up, he noticed Jack getting off his knees too. He ran to the farthest point aft and peered over, where he saw lights coming through the stained glass of the master’s cabin. He also noticed that the water was smooth as glass with no wake coming off the stern.

“Jack? What’s going on?” He looked over to see Jack brushing himself off, a boy ran up to him to help dust him off: “Are you alright sir?”

“Fine boy, carry on with your duties.”

 Charlie now noticed he was wearing a dark uniform with epaulettes and gold ribbing. When Jack looked over at him, his bad eye was covered in a patch with the U-shaped scar neatly stitched up.

“Charlie? Are you there? Charlie?” It took a moment for Charlie to realize the voice was coming from his jacket. Anita.  He reached for the zipper of his jacket when he felt the round engraved buttons weaved through eyes made of gold rope. As he looked down, he was startled to see he was in full-blue uniform; the same as Jack. He looked back up at the Stern of the Lady Marina getting farther away, now barely making out the silhouettes of Anita and Junior.  He worked the radio out from underneath his jacket. “Anita, I’m coming for you. I love you!”

A hand grabbed his shoulder, sending an electric pulse through his body. He felt powerless as the hand alone had enough force to cripple him before he would know it.

“Well, Charlie boy,” Jack said “as my new boatswain, it’s time to give the orders, Great-great grandson.” Jack turned him back towards the waiting crew.

Charlie didn’t know what he was going to say until the words came out of his mouth “Turn the ship around men, it’s time to sink the Lady Marina once and for all.”

town rumor

“I, I, I,” stammered Mary-Anne. She looked like a proverbial deer in the headlights.

Katrina’s fear morphed into rage. “I asked you, what the HELL are you doing?” Chris remained halfway up the stairs. Katrina’s anger was so unstable, he didn’t want to get in the way.

Mary-anne straightened and brushed her jeans off. “Well, I saw someone sneaking in the gate and well, I’m just glad it’s you and not some burglar.”

Katrina straightened her hunched back and uncurled her fists enough to seem about as less hostile as a dog ready to playfully beat a rabbit to death. “Why didn’t you try the front door?”

“well, I did. It’s locked.”

Chris started down the stairs, “uh, sorry, that was my fault. Habit I suppose.”

Katrina looked at him, processing some information. She turned back to Mary-anne, “Why did you have to break the window?”

“Sorry, I’ll replace it. I just, “ she looked at Chris and back to Katrina. “I have something that I guess you should know. In private.”

“Well, if it has anything to do with the infection, Chris can know too. He is writing that article after all.”

“Right.” She walked towards the sofa behind chairs and sat, curled into the corner as if that was her normal spot. Katrina followed her and sat in her mother’s chair leaning over the arm to the sofa. Chris stood guard behind the couch. “well, ever since we got back there’s been things going on.”

“What kind of things?” Chris heard himself ask.

Mary-anne glanced at him and continued talking to Katrina. “People are going missing. And not being found.”

“Who?” Katrina asked.

“Well, the butcher’s son. He goes hunting in the woods. He went hunting a couple days ago. Well, you can’t really call it hunting. He goes shooting.” Mary-anne chuckled at herself. “They searched for him, but found nothing.”

“What’s his name?” Chris asked, remembering the young man he saw in the woods, licking the tree.”

“Foster Briant.” Katrina answered. Chris was relieved: Not the same guy.

“So, anyways, they’re still looking for him. But another person has gone missing. I don’t know their name, but it’s some guy who was last seen last night at the bar.” Katrina and Chris cringed at the thought. “There’s more people missing, but no one will give details. The rumor going around is that the infection is getting stronger now that we’re back.”

“That’s absurd, “ Katrina scoffed. “We’ve been treated. We still treat ourselves everyday.”

Mary-anne rolled her eyes, “yeah. I know.”

“So what does this have to do with you breaking and entering into my house?”

“Well, I afraid that one of the two of you was going to murder the other.”

“And you were going to what, apprehend them by yourself?” Chris asked.

“mary-anne glared at him. “No, that’s what the brick was for. Dual purpose.”

Katrina stood up and walked through a door. A couple seconds later she came back with a broom and dust pan. “well, there’s nothing we can do but clean up and get this window covered with plastic until I can get it fixed.”

Mary-anne jumped up and headed towards the door, “well, I’m glad that it’s just you guys and I didn’t have to kick any asses today. I’ll see you later, gotta meet Mary-jo.”

Katrina rolled her eyes and started brushing up the glass. Chris walked over to help. “Where can I find a tarp or plastic bag or something?”

CHapter 11, the mansion and mary-anne

....She relaxed for only a second before she took a step forward

The driveway curved to the left but they followed a narrower stone path to the front doors. The walk was so long Chris contemplated humming The yellow brick road. Once they got to the door, Katrina fiddled with her keys until she found the right one. She paused for a moment to think about what she was doing and unlocked the door. Chris pushed it open; it was heavy but smooth; not too creaky. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room. Katrina immediately noticed that everything was set up the same as it was left; even the plants were in their set positions—only dead-- as if they stayed guard for the house until the end.

“Woah,” Chris exclaimed. “This is amazing! You lived here?”

“Yup.” Katrina walked forward, taking her purse off her shoulder and setting it on the table by the staircase; it was a habit to put her things there, her mother hated it. She said it looked ‘messy’. Katrina remembered this and slung her purse back over her shoulder. She took a glance at herself in the gigantic—but dusty-- gold-leafed mirror that was hung above the table; she tucked her stray hairs behind her ears and fingered her jaw line—which seemed a lot more boney than the last time she looked in this mirror.

Chris had stopped and was staring towards the chairs in front of the fireplace. “So those are the chairs. That you…”

“Last saw them in. Uh-huh.” Katrina walked over to the one on the right, facing the fireplace; “This was daddy’s,” she turned and sat in the one opposite it; it was more round and stout than the tall stiff one, “This was mom’s,” she sat down. “She liked to curl up in hers, so it’s more comfortable. Daddy’s was always business as usual—no time for comfort.”

Chris sat on the hearth, only taking up an eight of the fireplace. He could feel the fraying rug under his toes but didn’t think twice about it. He took a moment to look around the room; there were doors almost everywhere it seemed and he wondered how easily it would be to get lost. Another thought flickered through his mind: of playing hide-and-go-seek with his brother in their family’s home.

Nothing in this home was done without extravagance; even the candlesticks were unusually large, it was like Thumbelina's palace.

Katrina stood up and started walking to the staircase by the front door. Chris followed.

All along the wall lining the stairs, were pictures of Katrina and other family members. There were ones of Clint and his wife; Emily and Katrina playing in the pool and Mama giving the camera a glare. Chris was eyeing the pictures with as much force as Katrina was trying not to.

After Chris’ calves started burning from what seemed like five hundred steps, they reached the second level. Katrina lead them to the right where there was a long hallway that lead to the library in the turret. Katrina ducked in to the room directly to the right. When she opened the door, Chris felt like he had walked in to a scene from a modern-day Romeo & Juliet; in the middle of the room was an overly large canopy bed draped in never-ending lengths of bright blue and pink, silk cloths; the dresser across from it was twice as tall as him with the filigree extending from the mirror; In the corner, next to the bay window was a dollhouse practically big enough for a five year old to play in and surrounding it on shelves were a hundred dolls all beautifully kept.

Katrina saw his eyes flickering over each doll. “My mom used to collect those for me. I wasn’t supposed to play with them but I couldn’t help it, so that trunk beside the house is filled—and locked—with the same dolls but in boxes.” She walked over to the corner with memories of each doll passing through her mind as quickly as her eyes could pass over them. “I suppose they’re probably worth a pretty penny now.”

Katrina sat on the trunk and Chris on the bed, careful not to mess up the 3 year old made bed. They seemed so far away from each other with the sheer size of the room. “Ok, well you got me in here can we go now?”

“not until I get to see the rest of the house.”

They heard a huge bang followed by shattering glass ricochet up the stairs from the foyer. Katrina became completely alert and jumped to her feet. Before Chris could get to the door Katrina was already on her way down the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing?”

As Chris rounded the corner he saw Mary-anne Dawes with a massive brick in her hand, half way through the front window.

Chapter 11, Katrina's Mansion

Emily turned her head towards Katrina one more time and lightly smiled with her lips pressed together.

Chris was looking at the family photos on Clint’s coffee table when Katrina came upstairs. He turned around and she smiled, “Shall we go?”

“Yeah. To your old house?”

“Not quite what I had in mind.” Katrina was gripping her purse rather tightly.

“Come on. You have to face you fear. I’m here. You need to go back sooner than later; get it over with. From what I understand, we’re right near by.” Katrina turned towards the front door while Chris followed out of the house.

11.

They walked to the right once out of Clint’s house and continued on down the street about two blocks. Katrina wasn’t interested in speaking to Chris but he figured that was due to her nerves; this would be her first time back to the house in over three years.

“I’m not happy about this Christopher.” She looked at him for only a split second.

“I know you’re not. And not even my mother calls me that.”

They ran out of blocks to continue walking on and when they made their last right, Chris looked at the properties on the left side of the road. They were lined with large fences which only allowed you to see the tops of the roofs, but that was a good indicator of the sheer size of the mansions. The over-sized rot-iron gates were just a minor touch to the significance of the property.

Chris could only see two houses—or roof tops rather--but knew there were more properties that lined the street; he remembered from when they were on Mama’s roof top the other night. They crossed the street and what had resembled forest, was actually a brick wall covered in over grown weeds and plants. They continued walking a few more steps until they came to the first rot-iron gate. The two intricately designed doors were at least twelve feet tall and were—together-- 20 feet across. Now looking at the house through the gates, it looked like a modern brick castle.

Katrina was trying to maneuver the chain locking the gates together so she could spread apart the gates enough to squeeze through. “Mama has the key to the gate’s lock, but I have one to the house too. She’s been taking care of the place a little. Can you squeeze through here?” Katrina was forcing the gates apart with her arms.

“I think so.” Chris sucked in and ducked under Katrina’s arm forcing his upper half through first then slithered each leg through like a snake. His right leg got caught underneath the gate on its way through and he stumbled forward. Katrina managed to catch the back of his shirt and restore his balance with one arm. “You’re not very good at this ‘getting around on two feet’ thing are you.”

Chris felt his face flush. “It’s never been a strong suit.”

They both stood staring at the house. Forty feet away from them was a two-story, modern Victorian-style home. Chris was astonished at the size of the wooden doors with rot-iron hinges the size of his head. On each side of the door were floor-to-ceiling windows Tradition burgundy drapes were blocking any peeping toms from looking in. The upper level had a balcony running the length of the home with white French doors in the middle. There were six foot, curved windows on each side. They didn’t have drapes on them and looked like they might be a seating area in a bedroom. On the left of the house was a large turret that ran from the ground to ten feet above the second level. There appeared to be an attic, but only two triangular windowa set out from the house and barely big enough to get more than a tunnel vision view from. Chris could see more peaks of roof popping out from the back and there looked to be another turret in the back right of the house. He was distracted by the sound of Katrina jingling her keys out of her purse. “Ready?” He asked putting his arm around her. She relaxed for only a second before she took a step forward.

What's in the basement? Chapter 11

....He turned and walked through the hallway into his bedroom.

They all waited for the door to close before anyone moved. Katrina grabbed her bag and headed for a small door just off the living room. She opened it quickly and lightly shut it behind her.

Chris stood staring at the closed door, like a lost puppy left in a stranger's house; unconsciously imagining what was going on downstairs. Mama startled him when she put her had on his forearm. “I’m gonna go now chicken. I’ll see you two later?”

“Oh, I don’t know what time we’ll be home. We have to go over to Mary-Jo’s for dinner tonight. That reminds me: do you want to come? She asked us to ask you.”

“Oh dear me, tell her ‘no, thank you’. I think I’ve enough of the rumor-mill today—- don’t tell her that part.”

Chris chuckled and smiled at Mama. “I won’t.”

Mama winked at him and continued towards the hallway. “Oh, and one more thing: her meat pie has nothing on mine— no matter what she says.”

*****

Katrina entered the basement slowly and quietly. It used to be a place where Emily and her would go to play away from the grown-ups. Emily used to talk about how she would decorate it like her own apartment.
Katrina looked to the left at the familiar shape of Emily sleeping; she would be so disappointed in the way Clint had tacked some ratty bed-sheets to the walls to cover the pink fiberglass insulation. Emily’s legs were tied together and then each was tied to the bottom corners of the bed. The same was of her hands; only the rope was tied strategically to a bar on each side of the bed so she wasn’t restricted to one sleeping position. She was laying in the position she was most fond of: her arms bent up beside her head—it reminded Katrina of when they used to dance around singing YMCA, spelling all the letters out with their arms. Emily’s head was turned to the left as if she was looking out the basement window. She looked almost normal.

Katrina moved even more cautiously towards her, carefully reaching into the small pocket on the front of her purse—never removing her eyes from Emily. Emily’s feet twitched to the right, stopping Katrina half way. She reached further in the pocket, feeling the shape of the needle and then the small bottle of liquid medication.

Once she got close enough to Emily to hear the pattern of her breath, she slowly pulled the utensils out of her bag. She removed the cap off the needle with her teeth and only looked away for enough time to pierce the needle through the lid of tiny bottle, and then again to make sure there were no air bubbles in the needle.

Katrina took another step closer to Emily. She grabbed the rope on Emily’s right arm and slowly slid it down the pole until it was straight. Katrina bunched up any loose rope and held it firmly with her left hand so Emily wouldn’t be able to move it. Emily inhaled deeply and turned her head towards Katrina, opened her eyes and formed her mouth into the shape of a smile. Only, this wasn’t a friendly smile; it was more like an efficient way to make a hissing sound, showing her displeasure at her current situation.

Quickly, Katrina stuck the needle into her upper arm and plunged the stopper until it wouldn’t go any further, all it’s contents emptied into Emily’s arm. Emily thrashed briefly, but Katrina did not waver; in a minute she would be calm.

Katrina disposed of the needle and the glass bottle in the trash beside the bed. She watched Emily for a brief moment, her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful again. Her face looked almost flush and her scar was a little more even with her skin tone. Katrina turned to leave just as Emily turned her head towards Katrina one more time and lightly smiled with her lips pressed together.

Going to Clint's

Outside of the police station, Chris and Katrina took a left turn and headed towards the church. Instead of stopping, Katrina announced that they were going over to Clint’s. Chris was excited, he desperately wanted to hear Clint's story about Emily. Once They walked through the headstones, past the bell tower and through the other-side of the church, they were in the residential area. Another few minutes of weaving through streets and ducking under over grown trees, they arrived at a smaller, one-storey brick house. Chris noticed the brush was grown out and the grass hadn’t been mowed in about a month. There were trees in the front of the house that were so big and full, they looked like ancient guards hovering over the front yard; scaring away any unwanted intruders.

Katrina walked up to the door and pushed it open with no hesitations. Chris tentatively followed, examining the interior walkway decorated with family pictures. Clint obviously hadn’t had the heart to take them down since his wife’s passing. Everything was neat and tidy, but Chris assumed Mama had a hand in that.

Katrina was sad at the appearance of Clint’s house; she could remember playing in the front yard with Emily. Now the front yard resembled a house that neighborhood kids all over would be afraid to come to on Halloween; afraid they would be gobbled up by little old witch.

She pushed through her feelings like a velvet curtain, walked up to the door and opened it like she was to be expected. She had already been inside since she’s been back, but it still surprised her how unchanged the house was. She would have thought Clint would have tried to re-decorate, renovate or even move out of the house when the chaos started to subside.

She walked through into the living room where Clint was sitting with Mama on the long, brown, faux-velvet couch. They were already looking up to see who had walked through the door uninvited. Both smiled at the sight of Katrina, but Katrina noticed the smile melt off Clint’s face when Chris came out of the hallway.

“Who’s this?” Clint demanded.

“This is Katrina’s friend Clint, all the way from New York.” Mama offered.

“I met him on the plane out here.” Katrina said. “We told you about him.” Katrina said excitedly, trying hard to diffuse the bomb that was about to explode.

“The one reporting on the infection?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Chris smiled the biggest smile he could muster and walked up to Clint to shake his hand— despite the fact Clint was still sat comfortably on the couch. Looking through Clint’s eyes into his angry and destroyed spirit made Chris feel sympathetic and intimidated all at the same time.

Clint didn’t shake Chris’ hand, instead he got up, excused himself and walked down another hall into what Chris assumed was a bathroom.

“Sorry,” Mama and Katrina blurted.

“It’s OK.” I’m an unwanted guest, trying to pry into his life again.

“Maybe just don’t ask any questions until he gets to know you a bit more around here chicken.” Mama warned.

“No problem.”

Clint came out of the bathroom and stopped in the entrance to the living room. “Look, I’m kinda tired. It’s almost two O’clock. I think I’m gonna take a nap. Katrina, if you want, go down to Emily quickly and then I’d appreciate it if y’all would leave.” He turned and walked through the hallway into his bedroom.

finishing the interview with Glen

We had to put him down.”

“You what?” Chris was amazed that the description used to terminate a human was as easily exchangeable as that used with a cancer-inflicted dog. He was silently writing down point-form notes.

“We had to take him in the back and shoot it.” Glen said, lowering his voice and talking out the side of his mouth so the walls couldn’t hear.

Chris wanted to leave this interview, but knew he was close to being done. “Is Doctor Stevensen a snitch for you?” He regretted the word as soon as it left his lips. He waited for Glen to retaliate.

“In a sense. He used his own discretion as to who he thought needed to be visited. But like I said, we stopped taking care of that a long time ago.”

“Yes, tell me: why did that leave the jurisdiction of the police department?”

“We had a whole unit dedicated towards the infection-- Voluntary obviously—But, once we went through three groups of twelve men, and Jerrid and Greg said they could handle it with their own volunteers, the sheriff decided that it would be best if the police department stuck to old-fashioned house calls.”

“Who was in the voluntary group that helped Jerrid and Gregory?”

“Mostly people that had lost loved ones, and some of the people that worked in the police department too, but then they were told they would lose their jobs if they continued.”

“Did you know anyone who was in that voluntary group; that was defeated, I mean.” Chris gave Glen a sympathetic look. He thought it might help to fish some more information out of him.

Glen studied Chris’ face before finding the ability to continue in Katrina’s.

“My captain.”

“Tell me.” Chris probed.

“He was in the first group that raided the old hotel on Second street. He survived. The second raid on the hotel was not so lucky.”

“This is the hotel you were going to stay at.” Katrina offered.

Chris looked at her, with nothing to say. A feeling of happiness towards Mama’s hospitality filled him with warmth.

“You were thinking of staying there?” Glen asked.

“Yes,”

“Oh, well I don’t think it’s even open anymore.” Glen stared at the paper he had in front of him briefly. “Where are you staying?” He probed.

“He’s staying with Mama and I.” Katrina said proudly.

“Oh, I see. Well.”

Chris was afraid Glen might have been turned off from the interview now, so he continued to push: “Did he tell you anything about the first raid?”

“Yes,”

“What happened?”

“They found out there were at least two rooms in the hotel that were being used as feeding grounds. People would come into the hotel, but wouldn’t check out—if you know what I mean. Soon the numbers of infected started to grow and the hotel staff started to notice a decline in personal checkouts, and a few of the maids weren’t clocking-out or showing up. That’s when the Hotel management called the police and a raid was set up for the next day. They closed the hotel, which made no difference to the infected, except making them more hungry.”

“What happened when the group went in?”

“They were too concerned about saving civilians.”

“Well that’s important. Isn’t it?”

“Not in a situation like that; no one’s going to survive a room full of the infected anyways. If they don’t become zombie food first, then they’ll be turned.

Chris made a circle with his pen, signaling Glen to continue.

“So, they went into the room, were taking to long to kill the infected. They didn’t know there was whole other room full of them, and they snuck up on the police raid, killing three of the officers and infecting a few more before they were finally terminated.”

“So did your Captain have to kill the infected police officers?”

“I honestly don’t know if they were killed by the infected or by the raid team. Sometimes, when the infected get hungry, they won’t just turn a victim and stop; most of the time they are eaten. Only the people that escape usually make it at all.”

“I thought that the infected didn’t eat each other.”

“If they get ‘em before they’re turned then it’s fine. It’s almost as if eating a steak before the meat goes bad: The cow has been shot, but needs to be diced up before the meat spoils. Kinda like that anyways.

Chris cringed at the visual he got, “What happened on the second raid?”

Katrina stood up and announced she was going outside for a cigarette. She had heard about the raids over and over again. She didn’t need to hear it a thousand and one times.

Both men watched her walk out the open door and go a few steps to the left before lighting up.

“She smokes when she gets stressed,” Glen shook his head. “Poor girl.”

Chris wanted to say that he already knew, and that Katrina wasn’t a ‘poor girl’, or someone that needed to be taken care of at all. He refrained in order to get on with the interview. “You were saying?”

“Right, the second raid. It was a few months after the first; they had already changed out the carpets and re-done the rooms. But this time they had gotten into an old storage room in the basement. No one knew they were there for days, because no one went down there,”

“How did they find out then?”

“Some persistent bitch—‘scuse my language—was adamant that her jacket was down there; one that she left months before-hand. Her and an employee went down to look and he got attacked as soon as he opened the door. She went running back upstairs, without a thought in the world for the employee. She was screaming bloody murder quite literally.

A raid was dispatched later that day.”

“Seems like that raid would have been easier to clear up than the other one. How come everyone died in that one?”

“Because of a hotel maid.” Glen paused dramatically and Chris stared at him, waiting.

“She was still in the building when the raid was going on—even though the hotel was required, and thought to be-- fully evacuated. She was walking around, looking for people. She walked by one of the open doors to the basement and heard a bunch of shots being fired. When she went down the stairs she saw, what she said was the officers being attacked. She claimed to have not seen anyone living, so she locked the door to the basement and came to the police department. That’s when she was informed that every officer down there was still living and was in contact with the department just before the door was locked on them. She was charged with at least four counts of murder.”

“I assume that the door only locked from one side and that’s why the infected didn’t get into the rest of the hotel?”

“Exactly.” Glen smiled at the air and Chris knew that Katrina must be back inside.

“I guess that’s all for now,” Chris said, standing up. “We can continue this another day if we need to.”

“I think I’ve told you pretty much everything that you would want to know.”

“Ok well thank you,” Chris extended his hand to Glen.

Glen gripped it as tightly as he could and shook. “So, when do I get that ice cream?”

Chapter 10; talking to Glen O'Toole at the police department.

...“So, what happened in the forest?”

Chris told her every detail he could remember down to how squished the truck was with all the men. She didn’t seem surprised, but interested. The only question she asked at the end was if he had fun.

“Yes. I think I did. It was exhilarating I suppose. Gets your adrenaline going, you know?”

Katrina’s smile dropped of her face and she nodded towards the door; “Incoming.”

Chris looked in that direction and saw Mary-Jo in a sleeveless, yellow, flower-print dressing weaving through tables to get to them.

“Good. I caught you. I heard you were here.”

“Ho—“

“Can you come over tonight for dinner, something came up and the dinner has been bumped to tonight,” She paused for a moment, looking between Chris as Katrina. “Oh, please tell me you’ll come.” She leaned on the table, pushing her chest forward as if to use her overly large breasts as a bargaining chip. The look on her face was sincerely concerned.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“Oh goody.” She bounced and clapped her hands. For a moment, Chris thought he felt the café shake. “Shall we say between five and six?”

“That sounds…good.”

“Great. Don’t forget your note-pad.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Chris said condescendingly.

Mary-Jo gave a wave and made her way out. Everyone in the Café was looking in their direction; intrigued at what just took place.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know. But should we get out of here?”

“Yes, I suppose.” They got up and moved through the tables of gawking people.

Chris lead the way out of the café, eyes following them like a Victorian portrait. He was feeling much more calm now, Katrina seemed to have brought him down to her level.

“Let’s go to the church’s park and talk; we won’t be disturbed there.”

“I would love to but I have to meet Glen. Can we meet in an hour?”

“Can I come?”

Chris smiled, “Even better.”

They walked around the block--the long way to the police station.

When they got inside it smelled of stale coffee and peppermint gum.

Glen was the only person to be seen; sitting behind a generic desk with a mound of neglected papers and a small bushel of mail in the corner. When he saw them, he looked as if he had just won the Publisher’s Clearing House grand prize.

“Hey guys, I was hoping you’d come in soon. There’s not much going on in the town right now.” He patted the stack of papers.

“So now would be a good time to talk to you?” Chris asked.

“Better than any.” He pointed towards the empty seats across the desk.

Katrina sat next to the wall and Chris next to her. “Great. Do you mind if I borrow a piece of paper and a pen?”

Glen looked at him with a furrowed brow.

“I kinda forgot my notepad. I’m new at this whole journalism thing.”

“No problem,” Glen dug around in his desk while Chris and Katrina stole a glance from each other.

Glen pushed a pad of paper and a pen towards him. “You can keep the pen.” He winked at Chris.

Chris twisted the pen between his fingers. Forest Hills Police Dept. “Couldn’t afford the whole word ‘Department’?” Chris asked.

“No, it just didn’t fit.”

“I was just kidding. Nevermind.” Chris swallowed uncomfortably and marked Glen O’Toole interview at the top of the page. “How long have you lived in Forest hills?”

“Born and raised.”

“And, how old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

“How long have you worked for the police department?”

“I started training about three and half to four years ago.”

“So you were an officer when the infection started to spread? Tell me about that.”

“I came after they banned the department from fighting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Too many officers died or something, so it was left up to those two bearded cavemen.”

“Glen,” Katrina shook her head.

“Sorry,” Glen glared at Katrina. “Forgot they were your best friends.” He searched the roof for something to look at.

“Jerrid and Gregory you mean?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.”

“What do you have against them?”

“I just don’t see why they should be allowed to continue to fight and guard the town while the police department are taking care of old Mrs. Mortgensen’s cat. I’d prefer the tree top too, if I was the cat.” Glen rolled his eyes.

“Okay, So, tell me about the first encounter you had.”

“Most of it was when I was a rookie; before they force was restricted to town duty. We were called to a spot over in the neighborhood—by Katrina’s house—where a group of dogs and cats were taunting an old shiatsu. By the time we got there, both of its ears were missing, bits of flesh were either hanging off or gone and the animals continued attacking.”

“Why do you think it was the only one being attacked?”

“Because it was the oldest, of course. It was most vulnerable.”

“Of course,” Chris said under his breath. “Has any of your family been affected by this?”

“Not my direct family, but when Katrina’s parents were…you know. They were like my family too.” Glen looked at Katrina like a puppy needing a home. She rolled her eyes. He turned his gaze back towards Chris, with quick flickers towards the door. “You do know what happened, don’t you?”

Katrina was appalled that he would use her dead family to try and one-up Chris.

“Yes, I do.” Chris gave him a warning glance; telling him not to continue on that subject.”

“So, what have you had to deal with in ways of human victims of the infection?”

“None really. I’ve been lucky that way.”

“You’ve never seen a human infected?” Chris had the feeling that this was a wasteful interview.

“I had to kill an infected baby once.”

Chris regretfully perked up in his seat.

“Just ‘bout bit the mother’s nipple right off.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Serious as a heart attack. I thought it was weird that a baby that was that old was still breast-feeding too. The only reason we knew the baby had the infection. The mother tried to cover it up, but Doctor Stevensen made us privy to that info when she came in claiming to have a serious infection. By the time we got to her, the baby was irate and his veins looked purple. When we tried to hold him. He would try and scratch and bite. We had to put him down.”

Going into Chapter 10; Cafe after the forest

“Come on kid, start searching.”

Chris jumped in to action at the thought of helping, kicking the brush with his feet looking for anything that might be dry. The matted leaves seemed to only be more damp underneath.

Covering the body with dried up grass wasn’t as lengthy of a process as Chris had thought. Jerrid took a lighter out of his pocket and set the pile on fire in six different places. They watched the flames flicker and spread leaf to leaf until they engulfed the entire body. Jerrid announced their departure: “We better get going before it starts to smell.”

“What about that wolf that you saw?” Chris asked Gregory.

“Well, I can only imagine it’s been eaten since it used to be right over there,” Gregory pointed to a spot to the right of where they were standing. “And it doesn’t seem to be there anymore.”

Jerrid and Gregory turned to walk back towards the truck and Chris followed. He was thinking of the events of the morning and it was only— Eleven O’clock? Shit, Katrina. He started to pick up speed, taking the lead of the group.

“Why in such a hurry kid?”

“You scared?” Jerrid and Gregory chuckled at each other.

“Not that this encounter wasn’t an event in my life that I’ll forget, but I was supposed to meet Katrina about an hour ago.

“You mean, you just saw the evidence of a bear that had been devoured by a zombie, and you’re worried about a coffee date?” Gregory opened his door and jumped in.

“Well, I just like to be punctual, that’s all. Beside, movies prepared us for things like this.” He said, making excuses for himself.

“Sure.” Jerrid laughed.

10.

Gregory drove Chris to the Café’s door. Jerrid jumped out, letting Chris through.

“Thanks for the ride-along. What are you guys going to do now?”

“Probably grab a burger.”

Chris nodded, and Jerrid hopped back into the truck.

The café door swept open and two children ran out in front of their mother, she gave Chris a sincere look of apology for her misbehavior. Chris smiled at her to show he felt impartial.

Katrina was sat in the same corner they sat on the first day. She was looking out the window towards the church at nothing in particular. Mary-Jo and Gerry weren’t anywhere to be seen; in the case of them being in the back kitchen, Chris hurried over to the table. The bell on the door would have already annoyingly given away his presence like a cough in the best hiding spot.

Chris pulled out the chair to sit, which gave Katrina a fright. She clutched at her heart for a moment and closed her eyes. “You scared me.” She let out a long breath through her nose.

“Sorry. Sorry I took so long. You wont believe what happened.”

“I figured something interesting must’ve gone on. Tell me.”

“First you tell me what happened at Clints.” Chris was tapping his fingers on the table and bouncing his knee as if playing with an invisible baby.

Katrina started but was interrupted by a young girl asking if they wanted anything.

“Do you have anything with the opposite effect of Caffeine; like a vicoden?”

“Excuse me?” panic and confusion washed over her face.

“Um, warm milk; that’s suppose to make you sleepy or something, right?” Chris looked at Katrina for confirmation. The girl opened her mouth to reply but Chris interrupted “Yeah, I’ll just have some warm milk.” The stunned girl nodded and started to walk away, “No,” Chris yelled; making heads turn in his direction. “Never mind, I won’t have anything.” He watched her turn again and disappear behind the counter. Katrina put her hand over his vibrating knuckles.

“Are you Okay?” Katrina knew that something had gone down in the woods. Whether it was between the boys or non-humans, she didn’t know.

Chris stared into her eyes, “Yes, I’m just a little amped up from the forest. It just hit me know.”

“I can see that.”

“Okay, tell me what happened.”

“Well, I went over there and Mama was arriving at the same time with Doctor Stevensen. We all went in and Clint was kind of surprised; he didn’t like having all these people in his house making a spectacle of his daughter.”

“But you’re family— except for the Doctor.”

“Yeah, I know.” She paused to take a sip of her cold coffee. “Emily was in the basement. Clint didn’t sleep all night-- aside from little naps against the basement door. We knew that in order to give her another shot, we would have to get her secured. Clint and Doctor Stevensen came up with a plan: something like using the Doctor as bait and then Clint jumped out and used his blanket-wrapping technique again. Then they both got hold of her and tied her to the bed.”

“How did she like that?”

“She didn’t. I came down while they were tying her feet, I think part of her recognized me because she softened her features and stopped fighting.”

“How did that make you feel?” Chris’ knee was slowing down to a reasonable rate.

“I don’t know. If she recognizes me, it means that the infection hasn’t completely taken over and started eating away her brain. Anyways, I gave her the second shot. She just laid there, staring at the ceiling. It was sad. But she passed out—or fell asleep--shortly after. Clint asked us to leave for a little while. I think he wanted a private moment with her; she’s as close to normal when she sleeps now. You know what the weird thing was?”

“What?”

“She still looked like she did three years ago, I don’t know if it’s just the infection or the lack of needing to grow. The Doctor is very impressed with her progress after just the one shot. He thinks that she should definitely make a full recovery.” Katrina smiled into her cup.

“That’s fantastic.” Chris looked at her longingly; he wanted her to look at him; he wanted to feel like they were sharing the moment.

“Yeah, it really is.” She smiled at him for a split second before turning towards the window; sharing her happiness with the open world.

“What else did the Doctor say?”

“Nothing really, he’s just amazed at the healing properties of the medication. He wants me to bring some to him so he can maybe find out what’s in it, or how it’s working.”

“Well, that’s very exciting. I’m happy for you. I hope that I will be able to meet Emily.”

Katrina looked at him, Chris could see she was looking at each of his eyes and he let her look until she looked away again. “So, what happened in the forest?”