Tankbread 02 Immortal Read online

  “Where is my baby?” Else said again, sitting up straight and pushing away the musty smelling blanket that had covered her.

  “Up top, remember? But you can’t be worrying about him now.” Eric stood up and ladled beans and Spam onto a plate. “Here, you said you were hungry.”

  Else set the rifle aside and took the plate and spoon. She shoveled food into her mouth, barely tasting it as she answered her body’s need for nutrients.

  “How did you come to have two newborns?” Eric asked while watching her eat.

  “He was born in darkness. A storm of thunder and rain. I’ve not seen him in the light,” Else said softly.

  “And the baby girl?”

  Else ignored the question. “He looks like his father,” she continued, feeling a bolt of sorrow shoot through her.

  “It’s an evolutionary trait. Our primitive fathers were less likely to kill a newborn that looked like them,” Eric said.

  “He is dead. My baby’s father I mean.” Else put her plate aside and stood up, feeling the floor dip and sway.

  “Steady.” Eric took Else’s arm until her color returned.

  “Eric, I need to find my baby. I heard him, in a room on one of the upper decks.”

  “He’s very new.”

  “Yes. But he is strong and he will learn everything. Just like I did,” Else replied.

  Eric gathered up the plates and cutlery. “You don’t know if it was yours. The holders have a lot of babies down there in the dark. Not much else to do, I guess,” Eric said, the trace of a blush rising above his beard.

  “I need to leave now,” Else said.

  “Where will you go? D’you have people out there?” Eric fussed with empty cans while taking sidelong glances at his visitor.

  “No one except my baby. I’m going to find him and then we are going home. We will be fine. I’ve been on my own for a long while. I built a house in the bush,” Else added a little defensively.

  “How will you take care of him on your own?” Eric asked.

  “I’ve read books about it.”

  “People seem to have forgotten how to care about the young around here.” Eric sighed. “I couldn’t live on shore,” he shuddered. “I’d be afraid of some crazed dead person attacking me.”

  “They are spreading,” Else said. “Why are their evols on board this ship? Why haven’t you destroyed them all?”

  Eric glanced at the door. “You wouldn’t understand. They aren’t like those rotting, disease carrying, mindless things on land.”

  “They are now,” Else said.

  “You are a strange one, Else,” Eric smiled. “Doctor Clay would love you.

  “Why?” Else tensed.

  “Clay’s a smart evol. He likes to experiment with people. Conduct tests and stuff like that.”

  “Is he your friend?” Else asked.

  Eric laughed and immediately stifled it with a hand pressed against his mouth. “Oh hell no,” he said through the compress of his thick fingers.

  “I killed Doctor Clay. I rammed a piece of metal through his brain. Then I killed another evol and took his gun.” Else wondered why she felt the need to explain. It felt strange that no one here was killing every walking dead person they could find.

  Eric stopped pushing empty tins around and gave Else his full attention. “You killed Doctor Clay?”

  “Yes. He was already dead, though.”

  “Well yeah, but . . . damn girl. You are going to bring the shitstorm down on all of us.”

  “Good,” Else said.

  “Good for you maybe; you can fuck off back to where you came from. The rest of us have to put up with whatever punishment the Captain decrees.”

  “So do something about it,” Else replied.

  “We survive here by accepting the things we cannot change,” Eric insisted.

  “Who says you can’t change it?”

  “We live in peace here. We are protected. We have a safe place to live.”

  “But not a safe place to raise children.” Else straightened up as Eric flinched.

  “We all have to make sacrifices,” he muttered.

  “The children? All the children?”

  “Only the newborns, and they only take some of them. Maybe half. There are plenty of those. Not much else to do below decks, remember.” Eric tried to laugh and failed.

  “Do you know what they do with them?” Else asked. Eric couldn’t meet her eye.

  “They protect us, they let us live here.”

  “They let those people live in the dark. They let them live only so they can produce more children for the dead to feed on. Why don’t you fight back?” Else slammed a fist into her open palm. “Destroy every last fucking one of them!”

  “It’s not possible. You aren’t one of us. You can’t understand,” Eric said.

  “Oh and you are? Hiding out up here? Some bird-loving hermit living on tinned food and forgetting his own name.” Else stepped forward, getting in Eric’s personal space until he cringed backwards.

  “Just how . . . How do you think you are going to do anything?”

  Else shrugged. “Fighting these things is all I have ever known. They have taken everything from me. I’m going to take it back.”

  Eric stared at the floor and then nodded. “Okay, I want to show you something. But you have to keep quiet and don’t go running off.”

  “Sure.”

  “Another thing, that rifle. Leave it with me. If the crew sees you with a gun, they will tear you apart. Without it, they won’t look at you twice.”

  “I’ll be back for it. Don’t try to keep it,” Else said.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eric said. He exhaled with an exaggerated sigh as she laid the gun down on the small table.

  He closed and locked the door to his home behind them. Slipping under the hanging cans, they went back to the deck where the seabirds roosted. Else watched the birds circling and shrieking while Eric unlocked another door. “In here, quick,” he said.

  Behind the door was a shed that had once held pool cleaning chemicals and equipment. Now it was packed with an intricate-looking chemistry set of rubber tubes and glass beakers. Pots, pans, and scorched dishes were stacked on the floor. The air reeked of the acrid smell of chemicals.

  “What is this?” Else asked.

  “My lab,” Eric said with a tone of pride. “I’ve been experimenting with making explosives based on a mixture of nitric acid, glycerin, and lye.”

  Else nodded; her voracious reading appetite over the months included a range of science textbooks. “You get the nitric acid from guano, the glycerin from fish?”

  Eric nodded, brightening at the discovery of a fellow academic to talk about his projects with. “Yup, birds, fish, the occasional seal or dolphin. Depends on what I can scrounge from the fishermen.”

  “You burn wood for the lye?” Else asked, picking up a scorched pot in one hand.

  “Yes—scrounged timber panels, anything I can hook that floats in.” Eric opened an old refrigerator. “This is the result.”

  In an old bottle crate, nesting in padded sockets of cloth stuffed with bird feathers and foam cushion pieces, were bottles of oily looking fluid.

  “Boom,” Else whispered, peering closely.

  “Yeah . . . enough to blow this ship to pieces. I dunno why I bothered with it. Maybe cuz I figure they’ll come for me one day.”

  “Or because you know that what is happening here is wrong, and you want to bring an end to it,” Else said straightening up.

  Eric closed the fridge door. “Hell . . . I don’t owe those people in the hold anything.”

  “Except your life. How long do you think you would have survived up here without them?”

  The man’s brows furrowed. “I remember the Panic. I remember what people did to survive. I sure as hell remember what some of us had to do to friends, family members, and people we cared about.”

  “Then why have you stopped fighting? Do you call this victory? You a
nd all the rest, you’re just slaves.”

  “Fight? Fight for what? A chance to get chewed on? A chance to die on land instead of here? Fuck that. You can take your holier-than-thou attitude and jump overboard, lady.”

  Else scowled. “I’m getting my baby back. You do what works for you.” She yanked the shed door open and stepped out into the full glare of the afternoon sun. “You wouldn’t have made all that explosive without hoping you might, one day, have the chance to use it for something important.” She walked off through the scolding birds settling on their nests for the night.

  * * *

  The sea rose and fell with a rhythmic pulse against the rusting steel of the old cruise liner. Else stood at the rail, watching the swell and shivered. This could never be a sanctuary. People, it seemed, clung to irrational ideas. Always afraid to let go in case they found themselves alone. I know all about being alone, she thought and then wiped at her eyes.

  The flickering light of a fish-oil lamp brought her up short. The only way to escape was over the side or back the way she came.

  “I’ve been told to come and find you, girly.” Hob’s sneer carried in his voice. The priest wants to see you. But I reckon he might have to wait a bit. You and I, we have some unfinished business.

  Hob came closer until Else could see the slender form of Sarah watching from the safety of his shadow.

  “Rowanna was a good breeder,” Hob said. “Looks like you are going to have to take her place.” Hob grinned at Else, who wrinkled her nose at him.

  “You stink,” Else announced. Sarah gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

  “Smart mouth on you, bitch,” Hob sneered. He moved so fast Else didn’t have a chance to block the backhanded slap that cracked across her cheek. The force of the blow spun her face-first into the rough surface of the wall.

  Hob stepped forward. “Hold the light, Sarah.” He pulled Else off the wall, tilting her head back by the hair. “You can do what you are told, or I can beat you down,” he snarled in her ear.

  “I had a baby a few days ago. I’m not going to get pregnant. Not for a while. It’s just not possible.”

  “Well,” Hob breathed his foul breath in her face, “we’ll just have us some practice then.”

  “No, I don’t want you to touch me like that,” Else said.

  “Like I give a fuck what you want, bitch.” Hob slammed Else’s head against the wall so hard she saw stars.

  “I killed Rowanna because you made me do it,” Else muttered through the haze of pain. “I destroyed that thing called Doctor Clay too.” Somewhere off in the distance she heard Sarah whimper in terror. “Do you really want me to kill you too?” she added.

  Hob’s fist pulled back like a cocked gun ready to shoot Else in the face. She twisted her body, lifting her chin, looking him in the eyes and daring him to strike.

  “Hob!” A voice shouted down the deck, “Bring her to the church.” Hob dropped his hand immediately.

  “I’ll be back for you,” Else promised, stepping clear of Hob’s fists.

  “You’ve been chosen,” Sarah’s eyes were wide.

  “Chosen to become one of them?” Else gestured towards the upper decks.

  Hob spat on the deck. “Not if the church wants you. You are hardly deserving. But ours is not to reason why.” Hob walked past them along the deck, stopping at a door, which he indicated with a flourish. “In here. You go first, I’ll be right behind you.”

  Else hesitated. “Sarah, if you could get off this ship and live on land and never have children taken away again, would you like that?”

  “Come on.” Hob pounded on the open door with a flat hand. Sarah shrank back from Else as if she were a monster born of nightmares.

  Else went through the door and followed Hob’s instructions at her back; turn left, go down those stairs, along the corridor and then down another flight of stairs. He walked behind her, ready to stop her should she try and escape. They walked in the glow of electric lights until the murals painted on the walls morphed into themes of angels and flaming swords. Tiny stick figures were bathed in the yellow glow of crayon. Near the ceiling a crude painting of a figure with a blue hat spread his arms wide, bringing everyone into his embrace.

  “There is religion here?” Else wasn’t surprised. Religion was an oddly human thing. She had seen it put to good use by Sister Mary and the nuns of Saint Peter’s Grace. They were working hard to help people and keep order in a world gone to chaos. She was curious to see what kind of religion was being practiced on the ship.

  “Yeah, there’s those that worship the Captain and the Almighty and there’s those that worship the engines.”

  “Engines? Do they work?”

  “The engineers believe.” Hob pushed past Else and twisted a door handle. “After you.” She slipped past him and into a dark chamber hung with thick sheets of soft cloth. Her nose twitched; there was a smell here, like burnt flowers. Else stood still, waiting while her eyes widened in the gloom. A silhouette with arms spread wide hung on the far wall. Else stepped closer; it resembled the man, Jesus on the cross, that the nuns worshipped. This figure had been painted to resemble clothes. A white shirt, with gold-striped epaulettes, dark pants, and shoes painted over the wooden feet nailed to the beam. On his head he wore a faded blue cap instead of a crown of thorns. Else looked back as the door closed. Hob was gone.

  “Behold the Captain. Through his mercy we shall live forever.” The man speaking wore a suit of grey fabric, worn to a dull shine. Around his neck he had a white collar, stained to a nicotine brown with skin grease and sweat. His unshaven and rough-looking face bore stubble the color of cold ashes in a campfire. The eyes sunk deep in the sockets glittered like sparks struck from steel.

  Else took a step back. “I’ve seen this before. On the land, the sisters of Saint Peter’s Grace. They had a bigger church, though.”

  The priest raised his hands and his eyes toward the ceiling. “God is everywhere, child. But only on his blessed ark are his chosen children saved.”

  Else raised an eyebrow. “Saved?” she asked.

  “Indeed, child.” The priest warmed to his subject. “And the Lord God said, ‘I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them. And God looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted his way upon the earth.’”

  “I have to go and find my baby.” Else started for the door. The priest moved in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. Looking into her face as if searching for something, he said, “Thou shalt not sacrifice unto the Lord thy God any bullock, or sheep for that is an abomination unto the Lord thy God.”

  “Let me go.” Else struggled out of his grip.

  “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God! Your child is a gift from God and to God they shall return! This is the sacrifice the Lord asks of us. Through his immortal vessel, the Captain who walks above us we shall find the kingdom of heaven when the waters recede!”

  Else tugged on the door handle. The close press of the velvet curtains held a cloying stink that made her nauseous. A tight sense of panic swelled up inside. She flailed against the heavy fabric, trying to find the opening to the corridor.

  The priest’s hand pressed against her back, his other hand heavy and smooth against the top of her head.

  “I absolve you of your sins. You who have given the sacrifice of your newborn child. You are free to enter the kingdom of Heaven.”

  “No,” Else declared. “I won’t let you feed my baby to those things.”

  “You have been chosen. The grace of the Lord is upon thee.” The priest’s hand felt cool on her skin. Not as chill as the dry flesh of the dead, but somehow soothing. Else turned away from the smothering curtain and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, gasping for air. “I just want my baby back,” s
he managed.

  He went down on one knee in front of her. “My name is Jonah. The Lord speaks through me. He tells me there may be a way to save your child. But you must trust in him.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You must. You must place your faith and trust in me, the Lord’s vessel upon this ark of his covenant. Listen to me and know the truth of his word. You are the innocent lamb, the uncorrupted sword of his merciful justice delivered by the waters unto us. You shall go among the unbelievers and find the corruption in their hearts. Listen for the heresy of their lies and help me deliver them into the Lord’s light.”

  Else tried to make sense of the strange words the man used. “You want me to go and find out who has lied to you?”

  “Yes, child. Go among the heathen engineers and the lost fishermen. They plot against our Lord God and seek to bring an end to our sanctuary. But if we leave this ark, the Lord God will cast us out into the desert and we shall wander like the tribes of Israel, forever lost to God’s light.”

  “You sound a little bit nuts, you know that?”

  Jonah stood up and pulled Else to her feet. “Go, child. You now do his will.”

  “Will you help me get my son back?”

  “Yes, if you uncover the viper’s nest that lurks in the bowels of this ship, then I shall beseech the Almighty Captain for his blessing and the return of your boy-child.”

  “If you are lying to me, I will nail you to that cross.”

  Jonah smiled. “Those who do his work are truly blessed.” The heavy curtain was drawn aside and Else stumbled out of the close, dark chapel. The tainted air of the narrow corridor seemed fresh by comparison.

  Hob looked up from where he sat waiting on the stairs. “You get some of the Lord’s grace in ya?” He smirked when he spoke.

  “Fuck you,” Else replied.

  “Well, darlin’, let me explain how things work around here. The believers, they’re the priest’s people. They think this here is an ark. The Ark. They are waiting for Jesus to come back and fly them all to heaven. The ones who do all work of keeping us alive, they’re the fishermen. They live on the deck and go out in the boats, bring in fish and seaweed and other supplies. They run us and the crew ashore when we need some fresh population too.”