Rotting From the Head

“It was dim, it smelled salty, like fish. Jordan wouldn’t stop crying, and it was so cold.” The girl began.

Ellen knew it was going to be a long day. This girl wouldn’t stop shaking, even after they wrapped her in blankets, clothed her and fed her. She adjusted her note pad, and nodded politely. “Go on.”

The trembling girl spoke slowly. Her voice was soft, and shook almost as much as she did. “The only light was this pale yellow bulb above the door that hadn’t been replaced in years. We hadn’t heard the thing in awhile, but none of us were brave enough to look outside.”

“What was the thing?” asked Ellen. The girl made no sign of even hearing the question.

“We stayed there. We barricaded the door with what we had. Shelves, frozen fish, ice. Antonio and Claire were arguing, I remember that. The room felt like it was spinning, but that might have just been the boat rocking. There was this fan. It was very loud. There were icicles all around it, and nobody wanted to sit close to it, because it was so cold.”

Ellen listened closely, scribbling down notes as she went. “What happened next?”

“Claire told Antonio to shut up, and Antonio called her a bitch, then Jordan threw up.” The girl recounted. “It was steaming because of the cold. Claire and I told him to calm down. I said that we would all get through this. Jordan told us he didn’t want to end up like Rosie, or Curtis. We told him he wouldn’t.” The girl paused, looking down at the yellowing table. “We were all quiet for a long, long time. All we heard was the fan rumbling. Antonio apologized, and said he loved her. Claire said she forgave him, but I knew she was lying. Antonio tried making some jokes to lighten the mood. They were very bad, but we laughed anyways.”

“And then?”

“He had this joke. This one he always used to tell. He would ask what the difference between a guitar and a fish was, and we’d all groan, and he’d say that you can tune a guitar, but you can’t tuna fish. It was funny. Funny sometimes. Funny because it wasn’t. I think that’s why we laughed. Because we knew none of it was funny, but we had to laugh anyways.”

Ellen nodded, and spoke calmly trying to redirect the conversation. There was something about this girl, or her story, that writhed in the back of her mind.“I know this is hard, but I need you to focus for me. What happened next?”

“Antonio died.” The girl said.

“How?”

“We were sitting there for what felt like hours, but it must have not been very long at all. We were all freezing. Poor Claire was in shorts. Jordan was complaining about his fingers, and how he couldn’t feel them. I said we had to open the door, and Antonio said no, and Claire and him started arguing again. Jordan screamed at us, and I swear Antonio almost killed him right there. I said we had to work together, and they stopped.” She raised a finger, and began to pick at a crack in table. “We flipped a coin, and I won.” She said. “So we moved the shelves, and we moved the fish. I opened the door slowly.”

Ellen watched the girl, making note of the nervous pickings, and her glossy stare. “What did you see?”

The girl stopped, and looked up, her pale knuckles resting on the table uncomfortably. “It felt so warm out there.” She said. “The lights were off, and there were no windows. The galley was mostly the same. Cutting boards to one side, knives to the other. Rosie’s arm was there. I could tell it was hers because the fingers were still painted purple from the night before. I don’t know how it got down there. Rosie wasn’t killed there.” She took a breath. “There was blood near it. A trail of blood leading into the hall. I couldn’t see much. The hall was dark, and all I could see was the open door nearby, and this orb, like a reflector just sitting there.”

The girl paused, letting the tension hang in the air. “Then what happened?” Ellen asked.

“The orb blinked.”

Ellen shifted uncomfortably. The girl stared at Ellen, with a dumb, pained expression. Ellen took a deep breath, started a new page. “What did you do?” She asked softly.

The girl continued, stuttering as she went. She was out of breath, gasping in between words. She was like fish torn from the ocean. Choking on the air she used to speak. “I slammed the door shut. I heard this scuttering, or like a slithering, or something. I- I don’t know. Then it started pounding on the door. Scratching, and slamming itself into it. Antonio and Claire helped me hold it. Jordan just stood there. It got it’s head in and- and- Oh god. There was this claw, or tendril, or scorpion tail, or something, that stabbed Claire’s ankle. She- she just fucking screamed, and screamed and Antonio just kicked it until it was gone, and we slammed the door shut... Then it stopped. It just stopped. It was so fucking quiet. Antonio and I barred the door. Claire couldn’t stand. Her ankle was covered in blood, and there was this slime stuff, this black ooze that was leaking out of her leg, and I don’t know, but I swear there was something moving underneath.” Ellen let her breathe for a moment, scribbling down as many notes as she could. “Antonio tried to help. He made this tourniquet with some tape from a box, and kissed her. I tried to make a joke, but no one laughed.”

“What happened to Claire?”

“I don’t know.” The girl stopped, and for awhile, all that could be heard was the water outside, and the sighing of the rescue ship as it rocked with the waves.

“What happened?” Ellen asked.

The girl started again, hesitantly. “Antonio was besides her near the wall, his back was towards the fan. Then the fan stopped. We could hear this pounding, or rattling or like something was sliding through the pipes. Then these- these tentacles, or tendrils or- oh god, I don’t know. It just came out of the fan, like an explosion. Antonio screamed. It was inside his back, literally inside, and they just pulled, and pulled. I tried to grab on to him and pull back. Jordan just watched. Antonio was screaming. Screaming, and screaming and- I’m sorry.”

Ellen offered a tissue. “Take your time. I know this must be hard.” She said, trying to remain stoic and professional, but something still urked her. She wanted to believe this girl, but the story was just too wrong.

“Sorry.” Said the girl, after blowing her nose.

“What happened to Antonio?”

“There was this sound. Like, like a snapping. Part of it was him, I think, but part of it was the fan in the duct breaking too. The sound he made-” She wheezed. “Like the air was being forced out of his lungs. All that was left was blood, and skin stuck to the metal. “

Ellen tried to reach out across the table to comfort the girl. “I’m sorry.”

The girl shied away, continuing in a near whisper. “Claire was crying, and Jordan was just standing there… My grandfather fought in the war. Sometimes when he remembered too much, he would just stare off into space. My mother used to tell me that sometimes people see too much, they forget how to be sad. That’s what it was. He had forgotten how to be sad.” She recounted, as if from a script. “I knew we had to leave, so I started moving the barricade. I was panicking. Claire started making this sound. I didn’t know how to describe it. When I looked she was shaking. Convulsing. And her skin- there was something under it. Lots of things, just moving, and crawling up her legs- like- like tiny little mole crabs moving under her skin, and they burrowed. They just ate into her body. She was trying to say something, but all that was coming out was sobs.”

Ellen didn’t know how to react. Nothing about the story made sense to her. She would have discounted it entirely had she not been hearing it recounted so vividly. “So what did you do?” She finally uttered.

“We left her behind.” The girl replied. “I grabbed Jordan and we just- we just ran. We left the freezer, and ran down the hall. I could hear it behind us, It was skittering, and sliding, and the smell.” She recounted, wrinkling her nose at the mere thought. “It smelled so bad.”

“How did you escape?” Ellen pressed, dread working its way down her spine like a poison.

“I ran faster than Jordan.” Continued the girl. “I was at the stairs, and he yelled. It was- it was surreal. Have you ever heard a grown man cry?” She asked Ellen with a piercing stare. “Like really cry? He begged. Begged for help. Said he didn’t want to be an egg sack like what it did to Curtis, or living food like Claire, or- or- He just kept going. Screaming at me even while those tentacles, or claws, or stingers were pumping him full- full of something. He was shaking and trying to fight, and there were these blobs, these cysts or something just forming all over his body, and they got so big, that he couldn’t move, but he didn’t stop screaming. And- and you know I couldn’t help. I couldn’t, I swear. There was nothing I could do.” She stammered. “So I just ran. I got into a lifeboat and left.”

The ship rocked uneasily. Ellen had stopped writing notes. “Is that when we found you?”

“Yes.” Answered the girl. “It was out there though. I could see it in the water. When the moon was right, I could still see it there, I swear. The orb, the eye. It was watching me. Stalking.” There was a palpable silence after those words. Even the yellow water dripping from the ceiling sounded dim. Then the silence was shattered by a loud slap, and creak, echoing across the whole ship, followed by the thick smell of rotting fish.

“What was that?” piped Ellen.

“It’s here.”