Free Tankbread 02 Immortal by Paul Mannering

what is happening here is wrong, and you want to bring an end to it,” Else said straightening up.
    Eric closed the fridge door. “Hell . . . I don’t owe those people in the hold anything.”
    “Except your life. How long do you think you would have survived up here without them?”
    The man’s brows furrowed. “I remember the Panic. I remember what people did to survive. I sure as hell remember what some of us had to do to friends, family members, and people we cared about.”
    “Then why have you stopped fighting? Do you call this victory? You and all the rest, you’re just slaves.”
    “Fight? Fight for what? A chance to get chewed on? A chance to die on land instead of here? Fuck that. You can take your holier-than-thou attitude and jump overboard, lady.”
    Else scowled. “I’m getting my baby back. You do what works for you.” She yanked the shed door open and stepped out into the full glare of the afternoon sun. “You wouldn’t have made all that explosive without hoping you might, one day, have the chance to use it for something important.” She walked off through the scolding birds settling on their nests for the night.
     
    * * *
     
    The sea rose and fell with a rhythmic pulse against the rusting steel of the old cruise liner. Else stood at the rail, watching the swell and shivered. This could never be a sanctuary. People, it seemed, clung to irrational ideas. Always afraid to let go in case they found themselves alone. I know all about being alone, she thought and then wiped at her eyes.
    The flickering light of a fish-oil lamp brought her up short. The only way to escape was over the side or back the way she came.
    “I’ve been told to come and find you, girly.” Hob’s sneer carried in his voice. The priest wants to see you. But I reckon he might have to wait a bit. You and I, we have some unfinished business.
    Hob came closer until Else could see the slender form of Sarah watching from the safety of his shadow.
    “Rowanna was a good breeder,” Hob said. “Looks like you are going to have to take her place.” Hob grinned at Else, who wrinkled her nose at him.
    “You stink,” Else announced. Sarah gasped and put a hand to her mouth.
    “Smart mouth on you, bitch,” Hob sneered. He moved so fast Else didn’t have a chance to block the backhanded slap that cracked across her cheek. The force of the blow spun her face-first into the rough surface of the wall.
    Hob stepped forward. “Hold the light, Sarah.” He pulled Else off the wall, tilting her head back by the hair. “You can do what you are told, or I can beat you down,” he snarled in her ear.
    “I had a baby a few days ago. I’m not going to get pregnant. Not for a while. It’s just not possible.”
    “Well,” Hob breathed his foul breath in her face, “we’ll just have us some practice then.”
    “No, I don’t want you to touch me like that,” Else said.
    “Like I give a fuck what you want, bitch.” Hob slammed Else’s head against the wall so hard she saw stars.
    “I killed Rowanna because you made me do it,” Else muttered through the haze of pain. “I destroyed that thing called Doctor Clay too.” Somewhere off in the distance she heard Sarah whimper in terror. “Do you really want me to kill you too?” she added.
    Hob’s fist pulled back like a cocked gun ready to shoot Else in the face. She twisted her body, lifting her chin, looking him in the eyes and daring him to strike.
    “Hob!” A voice shouted down the deck, “ Bring her to the church.” Hob dropped his hand immediately.
    “I’ll be back for you,” Else promised, stepping clear of Hob’s fists.
    “You’ve been chosen,” Sarah’s eyes were wide.
    “Chosen to become one of them?” Else gestured towards the upper decks.
    Hob spat on the deck. “Not if the church wants you. You are hardly deserving. But ours is not to reason why.” Hob walked past them along the deck, stopping at a door, which he indicated with a flourish. “In here.