The Pastoral, like all cruise ships, had a morgue. It's not something they mention in the brochures.

A lot of time the passengers onboard were elderly, and the excitement, not to mention the over eating and drinking, sometimes brought their trip to a untimely end.

But in fact the morgue was empty when The Other Colored Horse brought the ship to the void. The Horse had spotted a structure that was made to hold itself together with out anything but water to support it. Packed with housing, kitchens, supplies and full of people. In terms of saving the most, it was a truly good choice.

Except for Jessy Woods.

Seeing the sky filled with dark spots, all growing larger, along with ill feeling given off on a mental part of the other spectrum that the toxin gave off. As well as the three martini's he had with lunch. All together caused a sharp pain in Jessy's chest and even more black spots. These ones only he could see.

He wasn't truly dead when the Pastoral was set down on a new sea. So the Context did not animate his corpse as so many films from earth said could happen when the world ended.

Instead he was placed on another, less padded gurney and wheeled into a cold room just off the medical clinic. Then some forms were filled out. The Ship's doctor had no idea who he would send them too. But going through the motions brought him some comfort.

But the Context still contained the possibility of the dead rousing themselves from their graves, or their gurney as the case may be. A demon could force the issue by climbing into the corpse of the recent Mr. Woods, so it did.

Shore Excursion Assistant Manager Dajuan Reid often filled in for other jobs when the Pastoral was not docked in Jamaica. Tonight he was sitting in the clinic due to his first aide training to handle minor emergencies that might happen overnight, at least the ones not bad enough to wake up the Doctor.

For the moment he was just listen to some music on his phone, when he heard a noise come from the door to the morgue. The outer door to the morgue room had been left open just in case, so he could hear if the ageing cooling unit shut itself off again, but the noise had come from the insulated door to the cold room itself.

Thinking it may still be the cooling unit acting up, he headed over to the room, only to come to a sudden stop as another noise sounded. A slow steady knocking coming from the morgue's metal door.

For a moment he was terrified. Then realized it had to be a joke and became concerned about whoever the joker would possible suffocate if he left them in there over night.

So he opened the door to the cold room.

Most Morgues have the little doors you would slide people into on a rolling tray. But the Pastoral's morgue was just a well chilled insulated room in one half of a repurposed storage room. So the body of Jessy Wood had gotten off of the gurney and was standing there waiting for Dajaun as he opened the door.

Ready to lunge out and grab whoever answered his knocking.

Dajaun fought, and then tried to get away. But the bite in the side of his neck caused him to bleed out while the weight of Woods corpse held him up against the door of the clinic, preventing him from opening it up.

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The being within Woods's corpse kept it's jaw clamped down on Dajaun long after he stopped moving. It wasn't the being who had been called Fancypants, or any of the other demons which had attacked so many people on the first day. All those had been recalled to the one being called the Adversary. But it knew Fancypant's anger, it's humiliation and hate. It wanted revenge on the Rector and all the others who had beaten those who it had once been.

The new corpse began to stir. The Context had not made the undead able to infect others, but in the Context it was possible, if forced. The demon did so.

These undead weren't smart, or by themselves infectious. Instead the demon had to command them to bring people to it for it to infect.

The people aboard the boat had seen the movies. They knew to run rather then offer aide to the obviously dead people marching at them, hand grasping and teeth snarling. They knew to aim for the head, they just lacked weapons.

The Demon know to wreck things. Everything electrical for one. Some of the undead fried as they were commanded to rip wires free.

Then the ship belonged to it. All it had to do was wait for the last few survivors as they were forced to leave the rooms they had taken haven in, for food if nothing else.

Time was on it's side.

Elsewhere, Vernon Locklear walked out into the woods. Beyond the sacred ground when demons dare not tread.

"The Rector still lives. You have failed us."

Vern glared out into a patch of darkness, deep in the shadow below one of the walnut trees. "Well, you offered to get me home. But that offer wasn't going to do me much good if I went in guns blazing and got myself killed."

The shadow replied. "But the Rector would be dead."

He sighed. "Again. I ain't doing this for free. I'll get him when I can do so and have a chance to survive."

The darkness was silent.

"I looked to see if I could blow up their boiler, but it wasn't running off gas. Just some blue glowing scratches and a hot golden ring of light. And now I got one or another of the damned lizard guys following me around anytime I go into the church."

The shadow seemed to leak itself slightly into the sunlight. "Did you lead them here?"

Vern laughed. "Hell no, you think I want witnesses to our little deal." He tilted his head at them. "Besides they might be useful for me later on, you know, after the Rector is dead and I never hear from you again."

His employer hesitated. "...we keep our deals."

Vern laughed "Sure you do, but how about we make a new deal. One that will cost you nothing to keep on your end?"

The darkness seemed to consider his offer. "Speak."

Vern grinned. "I'll kill the Rector, and then, you, do nothing."

It seemed confused.

Their agent began to pace back and forth. "You want to destroy this whole world and this place is a bit of a road bump for you. Fine. I'll remove him for you, then you just save this place for last. By the time you're done wreaking a whole world, I'll either be dead or too old to care."

It regarded him with suspicion. "What's in it for you?"

Vern smiled. "You guys stay away. Then this place will still look like a safe haven, and if I can put myself in charge? People will do anything for me to get to stay here."

Locklear stepped up close to the darkness, feeling a chill on his skin as he leaned forward. "Just let me do my work, then stay clear until yours is almost done."

The darkness began to fade away. "Agreed."

Elsewhere, the smaller machines were the first to stir as the demons seeped inside. Many of them were too damaged to move under their own power, but magic could force them into motion.

The smaller machines built larger machines, then hid. Outside the wreckage of the Hazak space station Dez Horizon they would just be free points of Grace for the enemy. If the enemy came here in smaller numbers however, any grace one of them gained by destroying a few of the tiny machines them would matter little to anyone torn apart by the hundreds of others.

The larger machine focused on building one very large machine. One that towered over the wreakage as it began it's march to the Rector's holy ground.

It would not matter if it could not get closer then a hundred feet, or a thousand. It had the means to strike from a distance, with a force that was made to launch cargos around a world.