Doctor Who_ Ghost Ship - Keith Topping [25]
Another dawn from the same sky.
I vaguely remember shouting out in my anger and frustration, proclaiming in the gathering light that I was ready to surrender to whatever forces were present on the ship. My words echoed back to me from the relentless, cruel sea. I knew, finally, what I had to do.
It was what I should have been doing all along.
Facing my fear for real this time.
Searching for the heart of truth and messing around in things that did not concern me.
Being myself, in other words.
Following the apparitions in a twisting route around the ship, up stairs and down stairs, was relatively straightforward. It was clear that they wanted me to go in a particular direction, and it soon became apparent just which direction that was. Down.
Down towards the middle decks.
Down to Cabin 672. And to whatever destiny awaited me. Again I allowed myself to be drawn, this time willingly, to this benighted place.
I thought, as I went, about all the despicable people that I had met in my lives and on my travels. Not the real twenty-four carat lunatics bent on universal domination or all that nonsense, but everyday, common-orgarden evil. Lying, thieving people with poisoned minds, uttering cruel and hurtful words. Those who had no excuse with which to mitigate their spiteful, critical ways.
It was small evil, perhaps, but in many ways far more pernicious than something on a much grander scale. There was small evil at work in this place. I felt it. I knew its distasteful smell. Small evil, conceived by small minds.
Once more I felt the twin thump of nervous hearts, saddened and petrified, and the light-headedness of a breath being caught and then not released nearly soon enough. It felt odd and uncomfortable, yes; irritating like a wind catching a loose filling on a cold winter's day. I stopped in my tracks and turned around, starting to walk back in the direction from which I had come. But as soon as I turned the next corner, I realised that I had, unconsciously, doubled back upon myself and was still heading, relentlessly, for Cabin 672.
I considered the nature of ghosts as I walked. But, I do not believe in ghosts.
Once again, I heard the sound of a distant screaming carried on the ether for anyone who cared to listen.
My belief system took a considerable blow and, winded, squatted on the floor trying to make itself inconspicuous.
Was I the only one who could hear it? The only one who cared what was going on upon this ship?
Seemingly I was, as no-one else seemed inclined to accompany me on my inevitable path to Cabin 672.
I didn't touch the door this time when I arrived, despite the urging inside my head that I should do so. I had made that unwise mistake once already, and it was one that had cost a precious life that could not be replaced. A needless death. I wasn't prepared to repeat it no matter how much it might have seemed like the right thing to do. Instead, I moved to one side and knocked loudly on the door of the neighbouring cabin, 673. The sound of my knocking echoed down the corridor. I paused.
After waiting for an age, and receiving no reply, I knocked again, more urgently this time, my knuckles rapping in a quick, rhythmic staccato on the wood. Nothing. I put my hand carefully on the doorknob of Cabin
673 and turned. This time, at this door, there was no tingling sensation and no voices. Only silence.
The door opened, slowly, with a squeal of protest as rusted hinges and warped, damp wood rubbed up against each other and howled like fighting cats.
I entered the room.
Apart from long-abandoned furniture, stacked, mildewed towels on a rail and some thin cobwebs that disintegrated when touched, the room was completely empty.
I looked around the cabin with no little surprise. I cannot say for certain what, exactly, I had expected to find inside this room. At least, not with hindsight. But at that particular