The screaming finally stopped, but that didn’t make me feel any better about being jammed into a stinky janitorial closet. I continued to listen to those damn things banging around out in the passenger cabin, whatever they were. It seemed like the power to the ferry had been cut off and we were drifting—there was no vibration from the engines, none of the hum associated with being underway. It was the last ferry of the night, and as such, was nearly empty. There had been about ten or fifteen people in the seating area and snack bar when the crewman went nuts.
My name is Ryan Brant, and I’ve seen some violence in my fifty-four years, but nothing like what happened as I stepped off the stairs into the large passenger area. On the late-night rides, the lights are turned off in some sections to afford the luxury of semi-darkness to those who want to nap. At first, squinting through the dimmed lighting, I saw what I thought was just a fistfight and moved in to break it up. I am a big guy: 6´2˝, 290 pounds, and most people respect my size. Even at my age, the shenanigans stop when I make my presence known. I grabbed the guy on top by the back of his coveralls and pulled. He wasn’t that big, and I figured he would thank me once I disentangled him from the fight. As I yanked on him, I was impressed that he didn’t immediately lose his grip on the other guy.
Amidst the struggle, I caught a glance of the other guy and saw it wasn’t a guy at all; it was a woman, albeit a rather large woman. My anger rose and I put my weight into pulling this punk off her. All of a sudden, there was blood—lots of blood. I quickly looked for the source.
Did he have a knife?
For a split second, I heard my wife’s voice in my head. “You had to make it your business, didn’t you? Couldn’t just turn around and go back to your car?”
My next thought was, I’m too old for this shit.
I let go of the kid and took a step back to figure out the best course of action. Looking for his weapon and getting my bearings at the same time, I heard a scream from the dark corner to my left. Returning my attention to the melee before me, I almost lost my cookies. The kid was now gnawing on her. Her screams of terror and pain were the worst I’ve ever heard. He wasn’t just biting her—he was eating her!
Something deep in my mind clicked. This is off-the-charts weird. This is not something you can deal with. Get to a safe place, hide, and reevaluate.
The only place I could see handy was the janitor’s closet.