The Doomsday Infection

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“Maybe there ain’t no crew, maybe it’s a ghost ship?” said Tasker.

“Come again?” asked Graves the wiry African-American Lieutenant.

“Sure, the seven seas are littered with ships that float off abandoned for whatever reason, and then turn up months, sometimes years later hundreds of miles off course.”

The utility boat belonging to the United States coast guard chugged at an even eighteen knots, twenty miles off the Miami coast. “It sure looks abandoned,” the captain said watching the deserted cargo ship through field glasses. “There’s no movement.”

“It’s true,” said Tasker warming to his theme. “What about HMS Resolute? That ship drifted crewless for some twelve hundred miles, and a couple of years ago a Russian ship being towed off Canada broke its chain and turned up years later off the coast of Ireland. This could be the same. A genuine ghost ship.”

This spooked the lieutenant. “What’re you on about — a ghost ship?”

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