Ship of the Dead
By Overactive Imagination
A middle-aged gentleman boarded the Titanic from Cherbourg, not feeling well, but not thinking much of his illness. He attempted to stay in his second class accommodations for the majority of the voyage, so as not to be quarantined on the ship. Most of the trip he laid in his room, trying his hardest to control the disease that was taking over him, but on the night of April 14th, his body gave in.
Frederick Fleet sat in the crow's nest, rubbing his hands together and shivering due to the freezing April air. He could hear the sounds of somebody staggering up the ladder. His coworker and friend, Reginald Lee, went to go use the bathroom about a half hour ago. Fleet began to wonder why his friend was taking so long to climb the ladder and why his steps were uneven. Perhaps he had snuck a drink or two before returning? he thought.
Fleet watched as Reggie appeared. "Blimey, where have you been all this time? I'm almost certain it doesn't take that long to piss." Reggie growled in response and Fleet knew something wasn't right as he stared into his friend's eyes. To his horror, one was missing, and his skin was sickly pale. His clothes was hanging off him and torn.
Before Fleet could say another word, he found himself pinned to the floor and screaming as Reggie tore at the flesh of his neck.
William Murdoch, the Titanic's First Officer, was on the bridge, watching a young couple embracing on the deck. He couldn't help but smile at them, thinking about how much he missed his wife.
In the distance he could see a large shape directly ahead of the ship. He squinted to try to figure out what it was. "Ice…" he muttered to himself and ran to the wheelhouse. "Iceberg! Right ahead!" but as he yelled that, he saw the wheel was abandoned and there was a broken tea cup on the floor near the phone. "What the hell?" he then took control and turned the wheel until it was hard over. He signaled the engine room to slow down. The ship glided past the iceberg, until a submerged section cut a long gash into the side. He was frozen at his spot.
The Captain, hearing all this, appeared there. "What's going on, Mr. Murdoch?"
"We hit an iceberg, sir. I did what I could as soon as I saw it. The lookouts never alerted us, and Mr. Moody and Quartermaster Hichens all seem to have abandoned their stations. I'm very confused."
"As am I." Captain Smith saw Officer Murdoch staring at the ground and he looked to see a puddle of blood beneath where his arm hung at his side. His sleeve was soaked and dripping. He covered it quickly with his hand, "It's nothing." Then he retreated back to his quarters. Murdoch walked off to find Mr. Andrews.
They began to uncover the lifeboats, and the noise coming from the funnels was deafening. Nobody seemed to notice that a few people were suddenly disappearing from the deck, nor did anybody hear their screams of terror that filled the night.
"Mr. Wilde!" Thomas Andrews tried to yell over the sound. "Where are all the passengers?"
Chief Officer Henry Wilde looked around to see only a few people mingling, "There were just a whole lot of them up here a moment ago. I haven't a clue where they've gone off to. Possibly inside?"
Mr. Andrews walked off towards the First Class entrance.
Upon entering, he heard a small roar coming from the dining hall. "Hello?" he called out, "Are you alright?" he asked, and waited for a response.
He walked around a table and saw a woman in a torn, blood-stained nightgown. Her left arm was hanging off by a few threads of flesh and she was feasting on a poor young steward. She turned to him with entirely white eyeballs and hissed at him before lunging towards him, knocking him to the floor. They struggled as he tried to push her off and tried to stop her from biting his face.
He was able to flip her over and hold her down on her back. He jumped up, and as she attempted to stand, he fled until he ran straight into Captain Smith.
"Oh, thank God, it's you. I just encountered some sort of monster in the dining saloon. She tried to kill me, sir, and-", he noticed the Captain didn't look right either. His eyes were turning white as well and he walked with a bit of a limp.
Mr. Andrews backed away until he hit a wall. His muscles tensed up as he pressed his back against it, hoping he could sink through and escape.
The Captain came towards him and grabbed onto his shoulders. He continued to dig his teeth into the ship designer's shoulder, not paying any attention to the fist punching him in the chest, or to the screams echoing off the pristine white walls.
Down in steerage, many immigrants were confused and stood behind a metal gate.
"Are ye ever gonna let us out of 'ere?" a tall man asked the stewards on the other side.
"Eventually. Just wait your turn. The important people up top will be served first, and then they'll be coming for you all."
A man came running down the hallway screaming at the top of his lungs. People all turned with puzzled looks on their faces until they saw the seven creatures behind him. They all were missing various bits of flesh and were soaked in blood. The passengers all began to scream and cry and press against one another to get to the gate. People were being crushed into the metal and people panicked for their lives.
"Open the gate! Now!" a woman shrieked.
The steward was fumbling with the ring of keys, trying to find the correct one.
"Hurry!" people screeched.
Looking back at the crowd, people were being attacked left and right. A gnawed arm flew into the mass of people and blood was now staining the carpet.
"Help us!" a woman screamed in a high pitched voice.
The steward stuck the key in the keyhole and the people forced it open. A few unlucky souls were being trampled to death as everyone ran for their lives. Four of the undead went after them, and three stayed behind, chewing on the remains of at least twenty passengers, some of which were beginning to come to life again.
On the boat deck, Second Officer Charles Lightoller was attempting to load lifeboats. More people were there by now, all patiently waiting or emotionally saying their goodbyes.
"Step lively!" he said and helped an elderly woman to the boat. He noticed she looked very pale and was breathing unevenly. "Ma'am, are you alright?"
She didn't reply. She just entered the lifeboat, and nobody noticed the large bloody wound on her forearm, as she kept it hidden by a coat draped over it.
The boat was lowered shortly, and as soon as it hit the water they rowed away.
"Excuse me, are you alright? You don't seem well." a young man in a tuxedo turned to the woman and asked. She looked up at him with white eyes. She proceeded to push him back onto other people sitting behind them and tear apart his torso.
The sailor in charge screamed, "Everybody for themselves!" and jumped overboard. Many more followed suit, hoping to swim to another nearby boat.
The elderly woman, or at least what once was an elderly woman, let out a loud screech through the night.
Back on the deck, things got a bit more chaotic. Rumors of cannibalistic monsters onboard were spreading quickly, and also with the ship listing more and more and the boats all going away, people were going insane. To say they were panicking would be a complete and utter understatement.
A tall man in an officer's uniform came towards the boat. "Officer Moody?" Lightoller asked, trying to see his face underneath the shadow of his hat. He was also one of 'them', it appears, and began to come at the Second Officer.
Lightoller lifted his pistol and shot the body of Sixth Officer Moody right between the eyes. He crumpled to the deck and lay there lifeless.
Wiping a tear from his eye, Mr. Lightoller yelled "We must have order and cooperation if we're going to evacuate the ship and save as many of you as possible!" but nobody seemed to be listening. Any hope at taming this insanity and calming this terrified mass was lost.
Whenever anybody attempted to push towards the boats, he'd fire a shot at them, not caring who he killed. He, himself, was scared out of his mind.
A large group of the undead creatures found their way to the deck and began to wreak havoc. They were having a feast of the passengers. Many people began to jump ship. Some leapt towards the ropes left hanging from the davits and used those to lower themselves towards the water. It was complete chaos.
The light color of the wooden deck was now dyed reddish-brown from all the blood.
The stern of the ship rose up higher and the bow suddenly dipped under, causing many people down there to be washed off the deck, and they ended up struggling in the freezing North Atlantic with more of the beasts.
Hundreds of people still left on board all made their way up to the stern, screaming and panicking. A few people were holding onto a priest and reciting prayers so that their souls would be saved.
The undead creatures were following, holding on to the railings to climb towards their soon-to-be late night snacks.
The Titanic started to creak and moan from the inside, and all of a sudden cracked in two, just aft of the third smoke stack. Bodies had fallen off from the forces of the fall back down and even the living dead stopped their search for new bodies to rip apart and feed off of.
The descent down to the ocean was a slow agonizing one, as what was left of the ship seemed to screech and cry. It disappeared at two-twenty in the morning, and hundreds of bodies froze to death in the freezing water, although some might find that to be a bit of a better fate than they would have had with the hungry undead.
The land would mourn the losses, but the sea would welcome to souls, the truly dead and the living dead.
*cue 'Thriller' by Michael Jackson and dance*
Thank you for reading this. I got bored and I got this random idea of zombies on the Titanic. Haha. Anywho, please let me know what you think. I love reviews. And I love anyone who reads my stuff. Thanks again. Love, Kell.