“No offence, Captain Coote, but I don’t think I’ll be swapping places with you any time soon. But if you decide a change of career is in order, I’m sure we could find you all sorts of interesting options on board the Arcadia,” Jake said, grinning.

“Well yes, maybe one day, when I retire. Gosh, that makes me sound old. I don’t suppose any of us will retire now, will we? All pulling our weight. Eric, ready with the boat hook?”

Eric nodded; he was deep in concentration. Another submariner that Jake didn’t recognise was on duty too, and between them they skilfully hooked the orange canopy of the raft just before it slipped beneath the makeshift walkway.

“Oh, bravo!” Coote gave a little clap. “Very well done. Bring her over to the side, same drill as before.”

“No armed welcoming committee this time?” Jake asked, happily noting the lack of guns.

“Well let’s be honest, after last time, I don’t hold out much hope of finding anyone inside. It doesn’t look like there’s any sign of life in there, does it?”

The submariners manoeuvred the raft into position, making it easily accessible from the hull of the Ambush.

“Hello? Anyone in there? I’m Captain Coote, of HMS Ambush. Terrible name. Ambush, not Coote, I mean. Well, I suppose Coote as well, but anyway, I digress! If you’re in there, do come out and say hello!”

The greeting was met with silence. Coote signalled to Eric, who used his boat hook to pry open the canopy. “Sir, there’s nothing inside!” He looked puzzled.

“You mean nobody inside.”

“No sir, there’s nothing inside, look!”

Eric pulled the open side of the raft around to face the two captains. They both scanned the interior. Not only was there no sign of life, the very bottom of the raft itself had gone.

“It looks like someone just cut it out,” Jake said. “I mean, they didn’t do a great job, look, there are some rough cuts near that side.”

“Who would launch a life raft and then cut out the middle? And did they erect the canopy before or after they cut out the floor? It’s a mystery, that’s for sure!” Coote hooted. “Well, I guess we tie her up with the other one, Eric, if you would be so kind. We seem to be assembling quite the collection!”

“That’s no bad thing,” Jake said. “With no life boats, it’s reassuring to have some other means of escape should anything happen to the ship.”

“Yes, but escape to where exactly?” Coote asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ll ask Martin’s team if they can salvage something from it, or even better, if they can repair it,” Jake said, ignoring the question. “Coote, there are a few matters I think I need to bring you up to speed on. In private?”

“Of course, of course. Well there was some coffee brewing when I left, it should be ready by now. Let’s go and partake of a cup and we can have a bit of a chin wag.”

• • •

Mandy Chalmers had had better first days at work. For one thing, she’d been dropped into her new position in the ship’s medical team without so much as an introductory chat, much less any kind of formal interview. She had been waiting for it, of course. Ever since the committee had announced that everyone was expected to work or contribute to the community in one way or another, she knew that her experience as a nurse would be called upon. She hadn’t imagined it would happen quite so suddenly though.

Then there had been the fact her first patient was another nurse. Kiera was probably a very nice person, under normal circumstances, she thought. But trying to help a sick nurse was like trying to tell a chef how to cook his own dinner. Kiera criticised everything Mandy did. The bandages for the sores that were appearing on her legs weren’t the right kind. Then they were too small. Then they weren’t applied correctly. And so it went, on and on. When Doctor Lister found her muttering to herself while writing up notes, he assured her that it was just cultural differences, and that they would all get along just fine in time.

Kiera was just the tip of the iceberg. Once she’d got her sorted out and sedated, there had been an influx of other patients all suffering the same bizarre symptoms: paralysis starting in the feet and working its way up the legs. Sores appearing, usually accompanied by a lot of pain. They had filled the little treatment room in an hour, and had been obliged to move up to a passenger suite on deck eight. The room smelt distinctly of death, but Mandy was a professional and she didn’t complain. She hardly had time to; there were more patients arriving every hour. They had commandeered the suite next door as an overflow, such was the number of people arriving.

Her colleagues, David and Grau, were too busy to offer much help or guidance. She wasn’t sure there was much they could have said anyway; the doctor seemed to be as baffled by the mystery illness now sweeping through deck eight as anyone else.

Now Mandy was attending to the very unpleasant task of changing the dressings on Scott, the patient in the most advanced stage of the disease. He had been unconscious since her arrival, and that showed no sign of changing.

She pulled back the sheet that covered his body. The huge red sores that she’d seen breaking out on others, had covered him entirely. There was no longer any clear skin; the sores had joined together.

Mandy began to remove the old dressings. They were soaked with fluid, and as they came away they pulled putrid flesh with them. The stench was overpowering, causing her instinctively to retch and pull back, covering her face with her gloved hands. For a moment she remained there, motionless, unable to approach Scott because of the noxious odour of his decaying body, but unable to just walk away. While she tried to find the courage to move, Scott stirred.

At first he just emitted a low moaning sound. But it quickly grew in intensity, becoming a groan, and ultimately a howl. His eyes opened, clear blue discs against a red and blotchy face. He looked right at Mandy, and she understood at once: he knew the end was near. As intense pain gripped him, Scott gave one last scream. His back arched off the bed, every muscle going into spasm. What remained of the surrounding tissue couldn’t cope with the stress, and with a sound like old bed sheets being ripped, his chest tore open. The bones in his legs snapped like twigs. They were the only thing holding him in the arched position, and as they cracked and split, the little flesh that covered them sagged and fell away. Blood flooded into his mouth and throat, the scream became a gurgle, and then there was silence. A heap of twisted blood, fetid organs, and flesh covered the bed.

Mandy threw up what little food she had eaten that day, and passed out.

• • •

“Here, drink this, it will make you feel a lot better.”

“Thanks, Doctor Lister. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never fainted before. The sight of blood never normally worries me.”

“It was more than just blood, Mandy. Nobody should have to see something like that. And please, call me Grau.”

“If the other patients go the same way, we’re all going to see a lot more of exactly that.”

Lister nodded gravely. He knew she was right.

“I have called Janice. We need to get Scott—what is left of him—down to her quickly so she can perform the post-mortem. I will take him myself. There is a goods lift that very few people use. It is a risk, but one I feel we have to take.”

“Has she said if the post-mortem on the first body has given her anything to go on?”

“A little, but a second body will provide confirmation of some of her theories. It is a sad truth that more bodies improve our chances of beating this, as they will provide more data. We have struck gold with Mrs Hanson; it appears that she had some training in infectious diseases before turning to forensic pathology. She downplays her experience, but she is much better equipped than I to solve the mystery of this unusual illness.”