The Roaming (Book 3): Haven's Promise

by Hegarty, W. J.

  Joel didn’t really know anyone aboard Haven yet, as the excursion team kept him and the other kids at arm’s length. The children were a constant reminder for Ahole and the others of what happened. It hurt too much.

  Ulrich probably spent more time standing in vigil than anyone else. Up until now, he and Bull exercised daily out by the pool; they ate lunch together and often shared dinner as well. None of it was the same without him. Ulrich floundered while waiting for the next mission.

  Members of the excursion team watched over their friend in shifts. Bull was never alone. It wasn’t like there was anything they could do for him, but someone would always be there, partially because if he died, he wasn’t going to die alone, but most of them clung to the hope that some coma patients were cognizant of their surroundings. Or at the very least maybe Bull could still hear his friends speaking to him deep in the recesses of his mind.

  As the weeks passed, Ahole slowly opened up to Joel, enough to eventually learn the kid’s name. Joel had introduced himself to Bull back on the road, but Bull never got the chance to introduce Joel to his friends before his accident. Ahole never blamed him or even the little boy who ran into the building for Bull’s fate. The kid was scared; all the children were, and life on the road was dangerous at the best of times.

  Joel helped take the edge off the grieving process without Ahole even realizing it. One day it occurred to him that Bull would be unhappy if he found out that his friends were ignoring some kid who just wanted to help. Not long after that, Ahole started taking the kid to breakfast and nudged Doctor Nazneen into giving him odd chores around the infirmary. Before long, Joel was a glorified intern running for vials of blood and gauze or heading down to stowage with a list of supplies for the inventory-takers.

  ~~~

  For the most part, the survivors of Pepperbush moved on with their lives by trying their best to acclimate themselves to life aboard Haven. As the weeks passed, Jeremiah had settled into his position near the top of the food chain—as far as medical was concerned—beside Aiko and Nazneen. These new responsibilities on top of Aiko’s pregnancy kept him busy around the clock, though an ever-present nagging troubled him. He was never able to move past Bernie’s sudden disappearance, the result of a claimed bite.

  He didn’t know Bernie well, but he did owe the man his life. So long ago, during the sacking of Pepperbush, Jeremiah found himself in a state of shock and nearly incoherent, walking the streets of a ravaged town in its death throes. Bernie yanked the man from his stupor and whisked him away to Aiko, who successfully snapped Jeremiah out of it.

  If it hadn’t been for Bernie’s intervention, chances were high that Jeremiah would have met his fate on those ruined city streets. Now he felt compelled to at the very least see that Bernie had a proper burial, even if it was only a symbolic service by putting to rest that raggedy old hat of his. He owed the man that much. Jeremiah needed answers, answers that eluded him. Since he was released from de-cons, the Bernie situation always rang false to him.

  Jeremiah toured the infirmary with a clipboard in hand. A fresh set of green scrubs and a lab coat fit him well. He checked in on his patients and looked over their vitals. Jeremiah made pleasantries where he deemed them necessary, which was to say not much at all. Small talk or not, he genuinely did care about his patients’ well-being. He pulled back a privacy curtain to reveal an empty bed that should have been occupied. Jeremiah checked and doubled-checked his notes before consulting with a coworker on the curious absence. “Rodrigo, I can’t seem to find Mr. Jackson. Has he been relocated? Is there another facility aboard that I’m not aware of?”

  “I’m sorry, man,” Rodrigo muttered. The nurse was clearly made uneasy by a presence behind Jeremiah.

  Todd stepped forward from the shadows of Doctor Nazneen’s office. The room was darkened; Jeremiah didn’t hear him coming until Todd was already on top of him. “Mr. Jackson passed in the night. My men disposed of him.”

  “Your men did what? He was my patient, Todd. You had no right to do that without first consulting me.”

  “I’m sorry, Doc, but you couldn’t be more wrong.” Todd lifted the sheets of various patients as he waded through the infirmary. “Ship security begins and ends with me. I don’t have to check with you or anyone else for that matter where the safety of Haven is concerned.”

  Jeremiah closed the office door, then sped over to trail the intruder. “You don’t belong in there. Can I help you with something, Todd?” He didn’t come off as welcoming in the slightest.

  “I’m just following up on Mr. Jackson’s final paperwork, making sure you’re dotting your T’s and crossing your I’s.”

  “I’ll be sure to see it done.” Jeremiah reached around Todd to open the infirmary’s exit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  “By all means.” Todd exited with a final glare at the medic.

  ~~~

  One deck below in stowage, Markus and Sam had grown accustomed to the cold shoulders and the accusing stares from most of their coworkers. The people working under Krysler were a tight-knit group; outsiders were unwelcome, and they were kept at a distance. That much was clear; they weren’t exactly trying to hide it. Krysler’s people were a clique, to be sure. For the most part, they were a group of bullies who enjoyed picking out the weakest just outside of their tiny sphere of influence, then asserting dominance. That tactic usually worked on newcomers frightened from their time on the road. Most simply accepted it as they were grateful to be alive. Occasionally, some new arrival would be welcomed into the flock, but that was rare.

  Even if that were the case here, and the ribbing was a sort of hazing ritual before being accepted into the greater whole, Sam and Markus would have no part of it. They’d been through too much to humor anyone’s baser tendencies. Krysler was cruel on his best day; he didn’t have the weight to back it up, but he did have the numbers, and those numbers gave most pause. Markus did his best to give Krysler a wide berth. Sam as well, though even the most patient of men could only take so much.

  Krysler began his day like any other by telling stories of past conquests—be that the men he intimidated or the women he lay with, including all the intimate details. From there, he would move on to harass some unfortunate soul in or near stowage who had caught his attention. This day he was making light of a missing person, all the while mocking the grief of the missing man’s friends.

  When it became clear that Krysler was disparaging Bernie, Markus could no longer contain himself. The constant ribbing was one thing—after all, Markus was raised around a rough crowd, so he could take his share of the jabs. But Bernie was a good man, and to hear this little weasel talk shit—this piece if filth that got to live while Bernie didn’t—just wouldn’t stand. Krysler was imitating Bernie’s country drawl, then promptly morphing that into an impression of Bernie’s road-mates’ tears. The display infuriated Markus. By the time Krysler made his way to imitating Lilian and her pleas to be let out of de-cons, Markus had had enough. He raced the distance between him and Krysler and his goons in a second and was in his face, hoping Krysler was foolish enough to make the first move.

  “You want to say that again?” Markus walked with purpose toward Krysler. Sam cut him off mid-stride.

  “I said watch your step, bro, or the two of you are going to find yourselves flushed like your pal Bernie.” Krysler laughed. He fist-bumped and carried on with his underlings before a right hook took him by surprise. Krysler fell back into a stack of empty pallets. He tried to get back to his feet but couldn’t.

  “Get up, you loudmouth son of a bitch!” Sam stood above the nearly unconscious man with his fists clenched tightly.

  Krysler’s men dispersed, each slinking away into the darkened corners of stowage.

  A slow, methodical clap grew as Joelle approached. “Very well done, old man.”

  “He had it coming,” Markus said.

  “That he did, Markus. That he did.” Joelle stepped over Krysler’s prone b
ody. “I’ll do my best to make sure you boys aren’t fired for this. Todd will be made aware that Krysler provoked you. In the meantime, why don’t you boys help with the fishing? It’s probably best to keep you separated from this lot for a few days.”

  ~~~

  Vanessa had taken to her new life aboard Haven with a renewed sense of purpose, an optimism missing in her world since her husband passed. Her new job at Trix’s bar was only a part of it. She loved the work. She also loved the atmosphere; it was a bonus that most of the customers were at least pleasant or an outright joy to speak with. The largest factor for Vanessa’s newfound happiness was the new life she was beginning with Lillian. She was able to start over fresh in every sense of the word. Haven, for her, lived up to its promise.

  She was restocking the bar when a group of three middle-aged women came in from the direction of the ship’s interior and sat directly in front of her. They walked in mid-conversation and continued talking as they sat with nary a look in Vanessa’s direction. She was used to it. People would get so wrapped up in their own problems that those around them became nothing more than set dressing—unimportant details in their lives. But she did have a business to run, so Vanessa would interrupt as politely as she was able.

  The women wore blonde-streaked bobs and pursed lips all around as if they could barely hold back a critique or some imagined displeasure. They flaunted more jewelry than was probably necessary for a casual afternoon at Trix’s. The jewelry—no doubt a staple for women like these—brought undue attention to their aged skin by highlighting imperfections in their otherwise carefully manicured looks. The one thing that stood out for Vanessa in all of this was where exactly these women were getting their hair dyed post-crisis and out at sea, for that matter.

  “What can I get for you ladies this fine afternoon?” Vanessa said with a smile as she wiped down the bar in front of the three women.

  The middle-aged ladies ordered their umbrella drinks and continued their conversation, barely acknowledging Vanessa’s presence.

  “Okay, well, if you need anything else, just holler. I’m right down the bar,” she said politely, again with a smile.

  “I do have a question,” one woman said. She was clearly the ringleader, as the other two hung onto her every word. “Is that young woman waiting tables your significant other?”

  “Who? Lillian?” Vanessa beamed. “Yes, ma’am, she’s the love of my life. I never would have thought in a million years that I would find happiness again, especially now.”

  “Hmm.” The woman scowled, and Vanessa’s smile faded. “So let me see if I understand this correctly. The world is overrun with the dead and dying. People are fighting just to survive, and here you are in your prime child-bearing years and you just up and decide to be a dyke?”

  “Excuse me?” Vanessa stopped what she was doing. Her smile and positive outlook for the day became a distant memory.

  “You heard me. Don’t you feel the slightest bit of responsibility to help contribute to rebuilding the population?”

  “You don’t know me, and quite frankly, that’s none of your business. Besides, I don’t see you waddling around pregnant.”

  “We all contribute in our own way,” one of the woman’s friends piped up.

  “And how does judging people you don’t know help anyone?”

  “You’re disgusting. You and your little whore should be ashamed of yourselves.”

  “That’s enough.” Vanessa stopped humoring them. “You can belittle me all you like, but when you badmouth Lillian, it’s time for you to go.”

  “We were leaving anyway. Come on, girls.” The judgmental women left but not before turning their noses up as they exited.

  Vanessa dumped the women’s barely touched drinks out. She leaned heavily on the bar, shaking.

  “What is it?” Lillian approached from behind.

  “It’s nothing.” Vanessa gritted her teeth at the three empty seats before her.

  Lillian came in for a hug; Vanessa reciprocated her girlfriend’s affection and stewed while Lillian rubbed her back. If experience was anything to go by, then this encounter was merely the vanguard for a much larger problem.

  ~~~

  Sam returned to his quarters after work for a quick shower. He promised Vanessa that he would give the girls a hand at the bar tonight. The stuffy interior room was dark, and a faint stink of body odor lingered. Nisha was still in bed and she hadn’t been showering. From the state of her, it looked like she didn’t go to work again. Sam was concerned for a number of reasons, not the least of which was how much longer Paula could cover for Nisha before she got herself thrown into Underworld. He tried to rouse her before and after his shower. She insisted she wanted to be left alone.

  Sam wrapped a towel around himself and joined Nisha on the sofa. At least she had moved that much since he came home. He sat a little closer than usual, and still, she didn’t say a word. He hesitated for a moment before resting a hand on her shoulder. “You know you can talk to me. It’s just us here,” he said with a stern but sympathetic inflection.

  “I know, Sam. It’s just I don’t know what to do or how to fit in here. I know this is what we were looking for—a safe place to lay our heads at night—but now that we have it, it’s just all too much.”

  “I understand. This place is a lot to take in,” he said. “But I’m confident that once we get past these growing pains, we’ll realize—all of us will realize—that this Haven is better than anything we could have hoped for.”

  Nisha relented and smiled. “I know you’re right, Sam. It’s just that I can’t shake this lingering sadness, this guilt over being here. Does that make sense?”

  “Of course it does, sweetheart,” Sam said as he pulled her in for a hug.

  She gripped him tightly and nearly dug her fingernails into his arms.

  He could feel her tears falling onto his shoulder. Sam yearned for her to snap out of it, to change her mind and come with him to see their friends. He knew exactly what her answer would be, but he asked anyway. “Can I talk you into coming out with me tonight? My treat.”

  “Thanks, but no. I want to stay in.”

  “Okay, I won’t push. But if you have a change of heart, you know where to find me.”

  “Thank you, Sam.”

  ~~~

  Aiko and Jeremiah lay in bed; they would be forgoing tonight’s gathering. The long hours in the infirmary were more taxing than expected. For the Navy medics, it felt good to be needed by Doctor Nazneen and the ship at large. The opportunity to apply their skills was more than welcome, and despite Nazneen’s insistence to the contrary, Haven’s infirmary was more than adequate.

  Aiko was relieved to have found the safety of their new home at sea. Back on the island, just the notion of giving birth on the road terrified her. If it hadn’t, she wouldn’t have pushed so hard that they leave. For a time—during those first weeks aboard Haven—she felt immense guilt over that insistence, as if her choice had doomed Rachel and Soraya. Jeremiah convinced her otherwise. Had they stayed out there on the road, it was likely that the perpetual roaming would have claimed more of them. He was insistent that her decision ultimately saved lives.

  A four-month baby bulge pushed through Aiko’s sweatpants and shirt. She rested her hands on the contours of her stomach and sighed. “Do you think you’re ready for this?”

  “For?” Jeremiah asked. Subtlety and insinuation were never his strong suits. If you had a question for the man, it was best to come out with it and ask it bluntly.

  Aiko moved some fabric aside to expose her growing belly. “This, stupid. We’re going to be parents. Our child will be born at sea.”

  Jeremiah caressed Aiko’s belly and said, “He’ll have his sea legs before he can even walk.”

  “Was that a joke?”

  “It wasn’t. Why? Was it funny?”

  “Not especially, no. And it didn’t even make sense.”

  “I’ll have to work on my delivery then.” Jeremia
h smiled. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  Aiko shook her head at the awful pun. She actually thought his attempt at humor was adorable, and normally she would have shared as much, but as the days passed and motherhood loomed, she could feel herself growing sterner and more focused by the day.

  “What’s troubling you?” Jeremiah asked. “You’ve seemed distant for a few days now.”

  “I had something I wanted to ask you—days ago, weeks ago—but I reconsidered.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’ll just come out with it. I almost had an abortion.”

  “Did you?” Jeremiah asked, but it was more of a statement of fact than a question. His posture and facial expression remained unchanged.

  “I assumed a revelation of that magnitude would have at least garnered some sort of emotion, even from you.”

  “The thought of raising a child under the best of circumstances is terrifying. Considering where the world is now, I can’t blame you for considering the alternative.”

  “And that’s why I almost did what I did. I went so far as to gather the ingredients for a natural abortion. It would have looked like a run-of-the-mill miscarriage, but I would have known.”

  “Would you have told me?”

  “Right away? No. In time, I think I would have, but not right away, no.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “You did. Your happiness back on the island when I told you I was pregnant stayed my hand. I couldn’t get that night out of my mind—no matter how hard I tried, no matter how badly I wanted to. Every time I considered terminating the pregnancy, a wave of guilt washed over me.”

  “Well, I’m glad that you told me.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “You know me better than that.” Jeremiah kissed her belly, then her forehead and lips. “No matter what the future holds, we will discover it together.”