The Roaming (Book 3): Haven's Promise

by Hegarty, W. J.

~~~

  Soraya happened to be in Underworld at the same time as Miller, though neither told the other what their plans were for the afternoon. Like Miller, Soraya had a personal matter to attend to, and she would prefer to see to it alone. Soraya waded through the throngs of unkempt and rowdy Underworld dwellers. For many who lived above deck, just the sight of the way these people lived was off-putting and even frightening to a degree. Soraya loved the controlled chaos of it all.

  On the surface, Underworld looked like a powder keg ready to go off at a moment’s notice. But that wasn’t the case. There were guards stationed along every breezeway, and the transitions between Underworld’s various sections were heavily monitored. Fights outside of the Pit were uncommon, and aside from a brewing turf war—which remained largely behind the scenes and certainly out of someone like Soraya’s or Miller’s sphere of influence—Underworld remained organized. A little dirty, perhaps, and most certainly rough around the edges, but order was in no short supply, no matter what the pretty people would have you believe.

  The Israeli helped herself to a beer and a serving of deep-fried stingray wings at the River Styx before making her way to the Pit. The hustle and bustle was deafening. Chits and credits and IOUs and wagers changed hands furiously. A big fight was about to be underway, and everyone wanted a chance to make a small fortune off the back of it. When asked if she was interested in placing a wager, Soraya declined. She wasn’t against gambling, but she would never bet on a friend; it just didn’t feel right.

  Soraya sat ringside and waited for Isabelle to enter the ring. She watched as her former roommate trounced her latest opponent. The training must have taken, Soraya thought. If asked, she would lie, but secretly Soraya was proud to see Isabelle handling herself so well in real fights. She wondered if Isabelle would come sit with her after the fight and was more than a little ashamed at the thought when her friend took a seat beside her without hesitation.

  If Soraya waited for Isabelle to speak first, they could be here for a very long time. “You looked good in there.”

  “I had a good teacher.” Isabelle didn’t look at Soraya when she spoke; she was busy adjusting her wraps.

  “I have missed you, too.”

  Isabelle simply nodded.

  “I have been meaning to come see you, but I have been so busy with everything. I lose track of time and…” Soraya caught herself making excuses and changed her tone. “I know we have not talked much since we got here. I am sorry for that.”

  “Me too.” Isabelle still wouldn’t make eye contact. She readjusted the wraps around her elbows. They were sweaty and bunched up from the fight.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I am leaving tomorrow.”

  Isabelle didn’t say a word, but Soraya was sure she saw a twitch in her friend’s eye. She knew she would be missed; Isabelle didn’t have to say anything.

  “Don’t get killed,” Isabelle offered.

  Soraya gestured to the ring. “The same goes for you as well.”

  Isabelle’s dress was in shambles when they arrived on Haven. After weeks of fighting and whatever else it was that she got up to—Soraya would never ask—and this thing was on its last legs. The left strap was hanging on by a thread, literally.

  “Let me give you a hand with that.” Soraya used a spare hair tie and a few knots to better secure the strap to the rest of Isabelle’s dress. “There, that is better.”

  Soraya straightened Isabelle up a bit. She helped her adjust her wraps and wipe some blood off. “I love you, Isabelle. I will miss you.” Soraya hugged her friend.

  Isabelle’s right arm rose briefly. It just barely grazed Soraya’s waist before she yanked herself away, turned, and left. She wandered into the crowd for a few steps before pausing. She turned and said, “We could have grown old together in that hotel.”

  Soraya lowered her eyes and nodded.

  “If Miller never came back, would you have stayed with me?”

  Soraya said yes as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Isabelle smiled, but it wasn’t that mischievous grin that Soraya had grown accustomed to seeing. Instead, it was a generous, contented display of happiness that broke Soraya’s heart into a million pieces. Soraya lowered her head to compose herself, but when she again raised her eyes and said, “I am sorry,” Isabelle was already gone.

  ~~~

  Jeremiah entered the infirmary in something close to a triumphant stride. He had a prideful gait that exuded the glow of a mission accomplished. It seemed almost alien for a man who so very often held his emotions so close to the chest. He made his way straight to the office, closed the door behind him, and drew the shades to keep the details of his day’s pursuit between him and Nazneen. With what the doctor swore was a smile, Jeremiah dropped the satchel of recovered medical supplies on her desk.

  Nazneen’s office was cluttered with boxes and bags that were overstuffed with items confiscated in the raid on Jonah’s quarters. It was all the inventory Jonah had stolen from the infirmary and stowage. Moments after Jeremiah had made her aware of Jonah’s deception, she contacted ship security. Todd arranged for a sweep of not only Jonah’s room but also the rooms of anyone he was known to associate with. No accomplices were discovered, but a bevy of evidence against Jonah was laid bare. Medication by the caseload had quietly been smuggled out of the infirmary from what looked like the earliest days of his employ. Syringes and other implements for casual drug use were abundant. From all outward appearances, it looked as if Jonah was well on his way to funding an illegal drugs operation right under the noses of the entire medical staff.

  “I’ve got to admit, I never saw this coming.” Nazneen poured two glasses of bourbon. She kept the bottle in her desk to help her unwind after particularly stressful days. She handed the second glass to Jeremiah.

  “You trusted him, and you were busy doing what you were trained to do.”

  “Thank you.” They clinked glasses and sat on opposite sides of her desk. “I’m half-tempted to give you this seat.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Then how does a promotion sound? You and Aiko will have full autonomy. Anyone that has a question about medical, they’ll come to you. The two of you can see to the daily operations of the infirmary and act as the primary care physicians to its patients. I’d still oversee medical, but for all intents and purposes, the two of you would run the infirmary with no oversight. How does that sound?”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ve been thinking of opening up a smaller practice in Underworld. Lord knows we get enough of them up here.”

  “I can see the logic in this decision.”

  “Then what do you say, Doctor?”

  “I accept.”

  ~~~

  Alex had been in her bathroom for going on twenty minutes. She slept with Ames again. She knew she shouldn’t, considering their radically different views on whatever this was between them. Ames had been pressing hard for something more. She thought she had been clear that she didn’t want more. Maybe she was sending mixed signals. Certainly, sleeping with the guy was stupid if they were clearly seeking different ends. She emerged from the bathroom, hoping that he had left. Of course, he hadn’t. Ames was out on her balcony; at least he was dressed.

  “This view is amazing,” he said. “You know, no matter how much shit we fix around here, none of us move up the list for a balcony room any faster.”

  “Maybe they’ll let you move in here when I leave.”

  “Stop it. You’re not leaving.”

  “You know I am,” she said with certainty.

  “Why, though? You have everything you could possibly need right here.” He tried to take her hands in his; she recoiled.

  “What do you expect from me, James? I didn’t agree to come to this ship with Genevieve and the others to get bogged down in a relationship. How many times do I need to tell you? I’m not staying here. I don’t want to stay, and I don’t want to be tied down—to anyone. I’m
sorry, but that includes you, too.”

  “Alex, please. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I—”

  “Look. You’re a nice guy, but I don’t know any other way to make you understand. I don’t want this.”

  “If you would just—"

  “I want you to leave.” Alex was well and truly over-explaining herself, especially to someone she’d only known for a few months. She marched to the door and yanked it open as wide as it would go. With her other hand, she pointed out to the hallway.

  “But…”

  “Now!”

  Ames didn’t want to make things between them any worse than they already were. He put his head down and left without saying another word.

  Alex slammed the door behind him. She made a beeline for the refrigerator. She put one hand on a cold bottle of whiskey and immediately reconsidered. She never liked to drink when she was angry. Instead, she packed her bags.

  ~~~

  Casandra stared at the ceiling of her stuffy interior cabin. Sometimes it felt like if she lay on the floor with her arms and legs outstretched, she could touch opposite walls at the same time. She had been tossing and turning for the better part of an hour. She still wasn’t used to sleeping alone, even considering that Samantha moved out a few weeks prior. In time, and not without a bit of effort, she felt herself drifting off when a knock at the door startled her to her feet. Still, all these months later, she was jumpy. She cracked the door; Samantha was on the other side with a bottle of wine in hand.

  “Midnight walk?” Samantha held up the bottle with a smile.

  “Yes, ma’am!” Casandra was fully awake in an instant.

  They wandered the ship until they found themselves at the casino, a spot rarely visited by either. The atmosphere in the casino was intoxicating. The ever-present noise from machines and players permeated the air. Prior to life aboard Haven, neither of them ever had the inclination to try their hand at cards or any other games of chance.

  Servers in fancy dresses carried trays of drinks to patrons too busy with the task of spending hard-earned chits to walk away from their tables or machines long enough to get their own drinks. The pit boss welcomed them with open arms. He was boisterous and welcoming, a heavyset fellow of proud Italian descent. His black three-piece suit was nearly bursting at the seams. He personally sat them at a table and gave them each a waiver for fifty chits, as he did with all new customers. The first hit is always free, he would often say. It keeps them coming back for more.

  Samantha grew suspicious when, between the two of them, they won all but one of the first dozen hands they played. But Casandra was enjoying herself despite having a tough time adjusting to living alone. Clearing her friend’s mind of stress was the purpose of coming out so late, anyway, so Samantha ignored her gut. The pit boss showed up again with a complimentary bottle of wine. It was a sample of the fine stock usually reserved for the casino’s high rollers, who mostly comprised members of the Financiers or select staff.

  For the girls, it was a nice respite and temporary escape from the monotony of housekeeping, especially now, considering Paula’s absence and the extra shifts that had to be picked up as a result. They eventually tired of the never-ending grind of the table and tried their luck at roulette. It was exciting for them to watch the tiny white ball spin around in hopes of it landing on their numbers or at the very least hitting their colors or columns. Samantha came up with a system that all but guaranteed walking away with something. A combination of picking a color and choosing even or odd with a select column netted her at least some winnings on almost every spin. She wasn’t naïve enough to think she had discovered some amazing secret to the game, but it was fun. Eventually, they tired of watching the little white ball bounce, so they took a seat in front of a pair of slot machines. Each pull of the arm was a chance at riches. Perhaps if they won enough chits, they could buy themselves rooms with a view.

  Eventually, though, they tired of gambling; it was taxing work, and the hour was getting late. They did have jobs to get to in the morning, but they planned on seeing Miller and Soraya off first. The pit boss escorted the ladies out of the casino and sent them on their way with vouchers they could turn in for more free chits, provided they return in the next seven days.

  A cool breeze had picked up. Samantha suggested calling it a night, but Casandra wanted to take one more lap around the empty nighttime decks. That would give them time to finish their bottle of wine as opposed to letting it go to waste. Samantha agreed, and arm in arm, they walked out under a starry sky. Behind them—just out of sight—a darkened figure lurked in the shadows.

  ~~~

  Moonlight shone through the tiny port window in Vanessa and Lillian’s darkened quarters. The light danced around a small shelf Vanessa had installed above their dresser. The ledge had become a shrine that displayed trinkets and baubles reminding them of where they came from and pushing them toward a brighter future. Light caught Lillian’s father’s locket, which Miller had so graciously held onto for safekeeping. It was a reminder of the past and of those who fought so hard to ensure that Lillian could have the chance to lie here and contemplate life and future. Vanessa’s wedding ring lay beside it as a promise that no matter what trials awaited them, together they could overcome them all.

  They lay atop the covers; it was always stuffy in this section of the ship. Try as Trix might, and even with Cortez’s considerable pull, the girls remained far down on the list for a balcony room. Vanessa traced beads of sweat along Lillian’s belly. Lillian stared out of the port window—her mind was elsewhere. She knew somewhere deep down that she was blowing things out of proportion regarding these older women who just seemed to dog her no matter what. But even still, some of their words cut Lillian to the core, raising doubt in her every decision. Even her place in this rapidly evolving new world was in question. She thought she had her path made clear—a straight line to a life with the woman she loved—but somehow a group of strangers had taken residence in her head. She just couldn’t shake their condescending tone or accusing glances and rude remarks.

  “Are they right about us?” Lillian sat up, knees to her chest, in thought.

  “Are who right?” Vanessa readjusted herself to lie near the foot of the bed so she could better see Lillian as she spoke.

  “Those old bitches who won’t leave us alone.”

  Vanessa nudged Lillian in the stomach with a toe. “Don’t let them get to you.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.”

  “They’re wrong, and I’ll tell you why. We don’t need husbands or even boyfriends to have children. If we decide one day—together—that that’s what we want to do, then we’ll cross that bridge. Together.”

  “You always know just what to say, don’t you?” Lillian leaned back against the headboard.

  “I just made all that up. Did you like it?”

  “Stop.” Lillian threw a pillow at her.

  Vanessa caught the projectile and tucked it under her arm. “Now tell me, what did those bitches say this time?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Threshold

  Sunrise. The infirmary was short-staffed this morning. Nazneen, with the help of Nia, saw to the patients’ needs while a handful of new trainees shadowed them. This would be Nazneen’s final day at Haven’s primary infirmary before she moved full-time to her new satellite wing in Underworld. She was filling in for Jeremiah and Aiko, who were busy. A personal matter, they said. They would be in a little later.

  After the infirmary’s remodel, Bull and the other coma patient, Helen, had been moved over to a separate, smaller room set aside for long-term care. Machines kept them breathing. The staff tended to those machines and kept the patients clean.

  Joel, the oldest boy from the group that came aboard with Alex, stood vigil for Bull. He had since the day he arrived. He would never forget the stranger’s kindness. They had accepted the boy full-time onto the medical staff as an intern. His young age would have prevented him from
being brought on in another world. Times were different now. Without a facility-wide alarm system like those found in even the most rudimentary of hospitals, the coma patients needed around-the-clock monitoring in case of emergency. That was where Joel and other young would-be caregivers came in.

  Every morning like clockwork, Ulrich sat at Bull’s side. His vigil began as it had every morning since the accident: with an old Scandinavian prayer. Often that was followed by tales of glory from the routinely stoic Ulrich. Watching his friend remain unresponsive for so long loosened his quiet tongue. Joel, for his part, had taken to learning these prayers for himself. In the quiet times when only he and the coma patients remained, he would recite these solemn words. He always began with a sincere thank-you to Bull for saving his life and the lives of the other children under his care. If Bull stayed in this condition for two more days or two more years, the boy would continue his vigil.

  Ulrich held Bull’s hand in his, up close to his chest. “My brother, we have traveled many roads together, you and I. It pains me to see you in such a weakened state, but Thor’s strength flows through your veins. In time, I will see you rise.” There was nothing more Ulrich could do for Bull; this would be his final visit to his friend’s bedside. He would leave him in the hands of the gods.

  Joel sensed a change in Ulrich; he straightened his posture at the realization that Bull was being left in his care. Joel would honor Ulrich’s wishes. Day or night, Bull would never be alone again.

  Ulrich released Bull’s hand from a firm but gentle grasp. He had the look of purpose about him, a serenity. On any other day, Ulrich was silent as he left the infirmary. This day, he turned to the boy and said, “Look after him, lad.”

  ~~~

  Radzinski had Isabelle show him how she snuck around the ship so effortlessly. When she wasn’t so brazenly taking the stairs, there existed secret passages that she used and were known only to select staff. A maze of steel corridors lurked just out of sight. Behind most bulkheads and interior living quarters were passageways that could lead a bold explorer to almost any locale on the ship, though with Haven so light on original crew who knew their way around the vessel, there was always the chance someone could find themselves hopelessly lost in the steel maze without a soul ever finding them.