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A small group of passengers cowered in the lifeboat nearest to Moody. They were shouting at him and the few other crew members he had assembled on the boat deck, pleading with them to lower the boat into the still, dark water below. A few of the infected had already broken out onto the promenade, lured by the scent of fresh meat, and were steadily making their way towards his inadequate band of defenders gathered around the lifeboat’s davit.
“There’s only a few of them. Don’t panic and make your shots count.”
Moody was thankful for the revolvers issued, at the captain’s orders, from the safe in the master-at-arms’ office. Not that the order had come in time to save him or the rest of his search party, but it gave the surviving crewmen a fighting chance of defending the boat deck long enough for help to arrive.
A fresh-faced able seaman in front of him raised his weapon. With shaking hands, he pointed it in the general direction of the nearest plague-carrier, a tall, lanky woman with what looked like a bundle of rags clutched to her chest. He paused, staring at the advancing woman with pain and indecision in his eyes; he had not come to sea to shoot women, even if they were already dead.
“For God’s sake, shoot her, boy!” The shout came from one of the passengers huddled behind the defensive semi-circle formed by the crew.
“I ... I can’t. It ain’t right to go shooting people.” The able seaman’s voice was breaking under the strain as two large tears raced down his smooth cheeks. The woman with the bundle was only a few yards away, her eyes just dark, lifeless voids below her high forehead. The foul reek of death surrounded her like an invisible shroud.
“Move aside!” Callahan stepped up next to him, his arm extended towards the approaching corpse. A loud gunshot filled the air, and the creature toppled over backwards, a large hole in the back of its head. A cloud of white smoke hung in the air, and for a while, the distinct smell of cordite proved a pleasant alternative to the smell of rotting decay that had become so prevalent in such a short period of time.
The bundle the dead woman carried rolled free from her grasp as her body slumped to the deck, the rags unravelling enough to reveal the mangled remains of a baby. The woman, or someone else, had already taken several large bites out of the tiny body and ripped one arm out of the shoulder socket like they were pulling a succulent drumstick from the Sunday roast.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” muttered Callahan as he looked down at the child’s remains. The young able seaman gagged violently and rushed to the ship’s side, barely reaching it before his stomach turned inside out, hurling its contents into the sea below. Several women in the lifeboat, able to see what had just occurred, started screaming, their delicate dispositions already frayed far beyond the norm.
“I say, this is most distressing.” The well-spoken male voice came from the lifeboat. “I order you to lower this lifeboat this instant. I have some important friends at White Star, and I can assure you I’ll see to it you never work for them again.”
Moody looked at the man with contempt. “I do not expect to live beyond tonight. If the undead don’t take me, the sea will. So, you see, I’m not worried by your pompous threats. He lifted his revolver, pointing it at the man huddled among the women in the lifeboat. “Now if you’d be so good to vacate your seat and make room for a lady, I would be most appreciative.”
The man huddled lower in his seat, the bravado of a moment ago, gone. He stared back at the gun in Moody’s hand, his eyes wide with fear. Moody didn’t know if the man was more scared of the gun or the thought of staying on board the ship with the insane victims of a plague that rots the flesh from your bones as you walk. And, truth be told, he didn’t much care. His instructions were to secure the lifeboats; women and children first.
Officer Moody pulled the hammer back with his thumb and hoped he looked like he knew what he was doing. He had never even fired a gun before and certainly never pointed one at someone in anger.
“Don’t make me repeat my request, sir.” The last word stuck painfully in his craw but his hand remained steady, the barrel pointing at the petrified man’s exposed head.
“If I give up my seat in this boat then I’m agreeing to die, you pretty much said so yourself.” The man’s gaze flicked nervously between the revolver’s cold steal and Moody’s steely cold eyes.
“And if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.” Moody’s calm tone belied his anguish. Inside, the responsibility of his decision wracked him with guilt, but he stood resolutely behind it. “Not much of a choice I’m afraid, but that’s where we are.”
Another shot roared from Callahan’s weapon, the sound reverberating in the cold night air, the smoke drifting down the promenade like a ghostly apparition. A few yards away another passenger, his darkly lined skin peeling away from his face exposing a subcutaneous maze of muscles and tendons, dropped to the floor; a clean circular hole in the centre of his wide forehead.
“Just shoot the motherfucker in his smug face and have done with it.”
Callahan expertly flicked open the chamber of his revolver and inserted two bullets he fished from the pocket of his massive overcoat. Then, with a flick of his wrist, Callahan clicked the drum back into place, quickly scanning the promenade for nearby threats. He only lowered the gun when he was satisfied their position was, for the time being at least, secure.
“One last chance before I let my impatient friend here shoot you in the leg and leave you at the mercy of those creatures.” Moody nodded towards a small group of the infected lurking around an open doorway close to their position. “I’m sure you would prefer to take your chances on your own terms?”
After a few moments of indecision, the man stood up and began to climb unsteadily from the lifeboat. A woman Moody assumed to be his wife began crying hysterically, her thin hands clutching at his leg, preventing him from leaving. He kissed her on the cheek then firmly pushed her away, deliberately not making eye contact as he swung his leg over the gunwale and jumped down onto the Titanic’s slippery deck.
“I’m entrusting my wife’s safety to your hands. Please see that she gets off this cursed ship before anything evil can befall her.” Without a second glance, he set off up the promenade in the opposite direction to the group of infected passengers. “I think,” he shouted in a proud, strong voice, “I might like a drink and perhaps a fine cigar.” With that, he disappeared into the gloom, leaving his wife crying uncontrollably on the shoulder of the stout mature woman squashed into the seat next to her who, in turn, valiantly tried to console her.
Moody turned to the ashen-faced able seaman who still clung to the railing, the front of his company issue overcoat splattered with his own vomit. “You are no bloody use to me here. Go to the bridge and inform the captain we have secured the lifeboats, but we won’t be able to hold them for long. Take your revolver and bloody use it, on yourself, if you have to. Now hurry!” He watched as the frightened young man scampered away like an errand boy with a bright new penny.
“Good luck lad,” he muttered under his breath before turning his attention to the white tunic emerging from the darkness. A steward jostled a small gaggle of women towards the protective cordon as Callahan watched them suspiciously, revolver at the ready.
“Good evening, sir,” he said in a soft Scottish accent, addressing Moody. “Mr. Guggenheim directed me to escort these ladies to the lifeboats as the saloon, and indeed much of the ship, is no longer a safe refuge.”
“Well done.” Moody couldn’t remember the steward’s name so he quickly added, “Will there be more joining us?”
“Mr. Guggenheim and some of the men are holding those ...” He paused, searching for the right word but evidently didn’t find it, “things at bay; although, I doubt they will be able to hold out much longer, they have already suffered several losses.” He delivered this news in the same measured tone he informed diners of the choice of soup of the day.
“They are protecting several ladies whom I shall return with shortly, God willing.” Having safely delivered his charges into Moody’s protection, he turned on his heel and walked briskly back in the direction from which he had come, leaving Moody and his men to help the new arrivals into the nearest lifeboat.
