Zombie Shark Read online

  Drowning the warlock didn’t end things...

  The two young mages looked in horror at the mangled body lying on the docks.

  “We need to get out of Scaletown,” Arzu whispered to her lover. “Right now.”

  “What?” Nissa asked. “Why—?”

  “Don’t you remember?” Arzu hissed. “We’ve seen this before!”

  “Gods of Mercy,” Nissa gasped. She’d been so worried about Arzu’s illness that she hadn’t noticed the similarities; Belna the fisherwoman had clearly been savaged by some kind of huge shark. “But, that’s impossible! Umira killed that monster.”

  “I know,” Arzu replied.

  “We sealed the rift!” Nissa said, voice cracking with desperation.

  “I know,” Arzu repeated. “But maybe there was another one.”

  “Gods of Mercy!”

  “I don’t know how it’s happened,” Arzu said, “all I know is that we have to get out of here—right now!”

  “How?”

  Before the echo of Nissa’s question had died away, though, the town’s alarm bell began to ring again.

  All the people assembled on the docks, which must have been at least three quarters of Scaletown’s population, froze at the sound—even those tending to the dying fisher captain. Everyone looked puzzled.

  Then a little girl’s frantic cry split the air, drowning out even the peal of the bell:

  “SHARK!”

  …It only started the terror!

  * * *

  Stephen D. Sullivan

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  ZOMBIE SHARK

  ~ A Blue Kingdoms Novella ~

  Stephen D. Sullivan

  • Walkabout Publishing •

  Smashwords edition.

  © 2013 Stephen D. Sullivan

  I worked hard on this book, and I hope you enjoy it! I’m a real person trying to make a living, not some faceless mega-corporation. Your purchase of this book makes it easier for me to write more stories for you to enjoy. So…

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  *

  Walkabout Publishing

  S.D.Studios

  P.O.Box 151

  Kansasville, WI 53139

  www.walkaboutpublishing.com

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning, or any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the author.

  Thanks to Christine, Vicki, David, and—as always—Kiff for the reading and suggestions. Y’all make everything I do better.

  Cover art & design © 2013 Stephen D. Sullivan.

  Get a free wallpaper of this and other stories at www.stephendsullivan.com –where you can find out more about me, as well. Thanks!

  * * *

  For Julie.

  * * *

  CONTENTS

  ZOMBIE SHARK

  Prolog

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Afterword

  Samples of Other Stories

  Daikaiju Attack (Free Online Serial)

  Monster Shark

  Crimson & Dragons

  Sisters in Arms

  Author’s Notes

  About the Story

  About the Author

  * * *

  ZOMBIE SHARK

  A Blue Kingdoms Story

  Stephen D. Sullivan

  PROLOG

  “I curse you,” Magrum Saark said, staring at the sea of angry faces hovering above him. He focused his black eyes on each of the floating island’s leaders in turn: Jorum, Selni, Tybek, Vard, Belna—all hypocrites. Yes, they’d feigned horror when they’d discovered his secret, but behind those public faces he’d also seen envy. Any one of them would have done what he did, if they’d possessed the knowledge. “I curse, you, each and every one,” the aging warlock continued. “You and your children shall di—Oof!”

  Vard slammed his slab-like fist into Saark’s stomach, and all the breath rushed out of the warlock’s lungs. Saark tried to continue, tried to form the words of the curse, but another blow hit him, and then another, and another. Spots danced before his eyes. He found it impossible to concentrate as the rough hands of the townspeople forced him toward the edge of the boat, pressing his back against the gunwale so hard that he thought his spine would snap.

  “I—” he managed to gasp, but as he did, someone forced an oily rag into his mouth, choking off his efforts. Why were they doing this? He’d only been ridding their floating scavenger-isle of undesirable elements. They should have been lavishing him with thanks; yet, instead, they were trying to kill him.

  It was more than envy, Saark realized; it was fear. They feared the power he sought—and the power he already possessed.

  “What’s this?” Jorum’s rough voice asked, pulling aside the tattered robes covering Saark’s chest. The eyes of Scaletown’s self-styled Admiral went wide as the warlock’s golden medallion gleamed in the late-afternoon sunlight.

  “More dark magic!” Selni said. She was the town’s healer, but she’d shown little sympathy for Saark’s efforts to better all humankind as they bundled him into this rickety cutter for what the villagers laughingly referred to as a “trial.”

  The healer spat, not bothering to turn away from the bound warlock as she did. Her spittle felt cold on Saark’s chest. Her angry gaze remained fixed on his pendant.

  They couldn’t… mustn’t take the amulet!

  “Gimme,” Tybek said. He seized the medallion in his callused fingers … and then screamed as the talisman’s magic burned his flesh. “Gods of Wrath!” t
he bearded fisherman blurted. “It’s cursed!”

  Saark would have laughed if not for the gag in his mouth. His head was clearing now, and he’d already begun to assemble the sigils and formulas that would allow him to escape these fishy smelling brutes.

  But his world exploded as Vard, a huge oaf of a man, struck him again. Once more, the delicate webs of magic shredded and danced away from the warlock.

  “Let the old rat keep the gods-damned thing,” Jorum told the rest. “A lot of good that golden bauble will do him where he’s going.”

  Vard grinned. “Mebbe the sharks will like the taste of it.”

  “So long as the sharks like the taste of him,” Belna Fishgutter said. She’d brought her young son on the boat with her. Now she pulled him to the forefront of the group. “Kill him, Pod,” she urged, thrusting a rusty fish-gutting knife into his grip.

  The boy looked scared, his skin almost as pale as his sun-blond hair. His eyes were rimmed with red, as if he’d been crying a long time. The weapon trembled in his hand. He couldn’t have been more than eleven.

  Saark turned his bleary eyes on the boy, trying to concentrate, trying to invade the lad’s mind.

  “That little girl’s your friend, ain’t she, Pod?” Belna asked. “Kill him!”

  The boy blinked back tears, and rage filled his eyes. “S-she was…!”

  He lunged forward, stabbing the fish-knife deep into Saark’s belly. The warlock gasped, spitting the rag from his mouth.

  “Kill him!” the others echoed. “Kill him!”

  The boy twisted the knife, turning Saark’s guts into a river of fire. The warlock wanted to cry out, wanted to complete his curse, but couldn’t.

  Jorum and Tybek seized the dying magician by the shoulders and shoved him overboard, into the indigo waters of Shark’s Deep.

  Saark could hear the others laughing, jesting and congratulating each other, as he fell. Then his body hit the water and the brine closed over him, the weights they’d roped to his body pulling him steadily downward.

  The magician sank, his life a wide red ribbon leaking surfaceward. He knew that the blood would soon bring the sharks that this part of the World-Sea was famous for, but that didn’t worry him. He would be dead—drowned—long before then. Thus ended his quest to give humankind immortality.

  Saark could hardly believe it. Those ignorant sea-rats have actually killed me!

  The chilly seawater and the mounting pressure as he sank brought new, urgent clarity to Saark’s mind. The amulet still dangling from his neck blazed to life. He hadn’t been able to complete the rituals needed to achieve its true purpose before they caught him, but it was still powerful, if only…

  He felt the water stir around him, saw sleek phantoms cutting through the blue.

  Sharks!

  He could still survive this! Though his body would perish, he could go on!

  He needed to concentrate, reach out, use every ounce of his remaining energy…

  But in his current state, even these savage fish would be too strong-willed for his scheme.

  He needed to find something else… A soulless instrument through which to work his revenge.

  He needed…

  Needed…

  …

  Found!

  ONE

  Teeth! Huge, white triangular teeth in a circle wider than her entire body…

  They were coming for her … gaping … hungry!

  Blood streamed down their dagger-like surfaces, and the tattered shreds of Nissa’s shipmates clung to their serrated edges.

  Nissa swam as hard as she could, but it was no use.

  She shrieked in fear…

  The terrible jaws snapped shut!

  Nissa woke screaming, eyes wide, slender body drenched with sweat. Sweltering semi-darkness pressed in around her, and for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. She began to assemble the formulas for a protective spell in her mind, but then the smell of brine and blood and vomit brought it back to her…

  She was safe. They’d escaped the monster shark. She and Arzu. Thank the gods.

  The infirmary…

  That’s where she was.

  Of course, “infirmary” wasn’t what the natives of the floating village called this ramshackle building, but that’s what it would have been called in more civilized areas. Here they simply referred to it as “the healer’s hut”—though it was too large to be a real hut, big enough to hold a half-dozen sickbeds. This place had been her home for the past week, ever since Arzu fell ill with the coughing fever.

  At first, Nissa hadn’t wanted to bring her lover to this loose-woven conglomeration of sea-bamboo walls, floor, and ceiling, but what choice did she have? This was the only place to get treatment in this … town. Of course, this wasn’t a real town, wasn’t even a real islet, just one of the floating masses of rafts and ships known as “scavenger islands” here in the Shark Keys.

  Nissa had seen a proper floating island once, built by the derenki out of a conglomeration of their proud ships. Once the southmen had finished lashing their vessels together, she never would have known the ships weren’t meant to be that way. Derenki homes formed proud sailing cities.

  But, this place, Scaletown the natives called it, was a crazy quilt of mismatched pieces.

  Upon first arriving, two weeks ago, Nissa had been amazed that this wide midden heap floated at all. Yet, she, Arzu, and Kalolo had been grateful to sight it. Ever since losing their ship, they’d been floating at the whims of tide and current. And if not for the triton called Umira, they would have perished along with the rest of Captain’s Shaw’s crew.

  Umira had been largely responsible for slaying the enormous shark that had devoured their ship and crewmates. To be sure, Arzu, Nissa, and even Kalolo—who had lost his left leg to the monster—had helped, but all of them would have perished if not for the triton, who hadn’t even had a stake in their treasure-hunting venture.

  “We’re lucky she happened along,” Arzu had often said since, and Nissa had to agree. Umira had even made sure that they could reach land, before swimming off into the deep.

  But reaching land and reaching civilized lands had proved to be another thing entirely. So Nissa, Arzu, and Kalolo had set off across the Shark Keys, trying to return home. Scaletown was only supposed to be a stopover on their journey, but when Arzu fell sick, they’d been forced to stop—missing out on boarding a proper ship that would have taken them back toward the core of the Blue Kingdoms.

  Scaletown was an out-of-the-way isle and constantly on the move with the tides and currents. Big ships didn’t stop to trade here very often. (And who could blame them?) The trio had been lucky to have a big ship arrive right after they drifted in. Who knew when another vessel of that size might come?

  No wonder Kalolo had jumped aboard and bid the two women farewell.

  Nissa didn’t blame him for taking that ship out, but she couldn’t do the same. With Arzu sick, she couldn’t even think about going; she’d sooner leave behind her right arm—and she knew that Arzu felt the same.

  The two of them had gotten into this mess together, and they’d get out of it together.

  If only Arzu would get better!

  She’d been really ill when Kalolo left—sick enough not to attempt a long sea voyage—but she’d gotten worse since.

  Nissa stared across the dimly lit room to the cot on the far side where Arzu lay on her back, eyes closed, trembling. Her usually brown skin looked pale as ash, and the lids of her eyes were dark, like sunken pits. Arzu murmured uncomfortably in her sleep.

  Nissa bit her lip, her heart breaking. She had wanted to sleep closer to Arzu, but the healer had forbidden it, hadn’t even wanted Nissa in the infirmary at all.

  “The coughing fever is powerful catching,” Selni, the healer, had told Nissa. “If I could, I’d bunk her in another hut entirely, but Scaletown is small and poor, and we’ve no other sickbeds.”

  When Nissa had insisted on staying, Selni had reluctantly
given her a cot in the opposite corner of the room. “But if you get sick,” she’d warned, “it’s on your own head.”

  Nissa didn’t care if she got sick; she just wanted to be as close to Arzu as she could. And if Arzu perished, she didn’t want to live, either. Had they escaped the jaws of the monster shark only to die of plague in this gods-forsaken place?

  The young mage cursed herself, and not for the first time. If only she’d taken some lessons in healing magic! But no, she’d wanted to be a wizardess, hurling powerful spells and seeking great treasures.

  And this was what it had come to…!

  Arzu coughed, a terrible rasping fit, though she didn’t wake.

  Nissa rose and walked toward her, looking for a clean towel—or, more likely, a semi-clean rag in this place—to wipe down Arzu’s head and try to soothe her.

  A pair of feral eyes blinked and stared at Nissa from out of a nearby shadowed corner.

  The young mage jumped back, nerves tingling.

  “She’s going to die, you know,” a high, emotionless voice told her. “We all are. Everybody dies.”

  Her eyes adjusting to the gloom, Nissa saw an emaciated girl, no more than eleven years old, with a shock of mangy white hair. The girl was the infirmary’s only other patient, but Nissa had never even seen her move before now, never mind speak.

  Since Nissa and Arzu’s arrival, the girl had lain on a cot in one corner of the room, staring at the ceiling, unblinking. Though the young patient looked awake, Healer Selni had assured Nissa that the girl was, in fact asleep.