At Sea (Harbingers Book 16)

by Alton Gansky

  Before I committed to searching the right side of the deck, I helped myself to a soda from behind the bar. I’d pay for it later if I found someone to pay. I used the soda to rinse out my mouth. It did the trick.

  From there I moved up the other side of the main deck doing the same thing I had done on the left side. The word starboard rose in my brain. “Starboard means the right side of a boat; port means the left.” Why would I know that? Was I a sailor? Maybe I was one of the crew.

  I shook my head as if doing so would dislodge a few more nuggets of memory. No such luck. I probably had just learned the terms from a book or a movie or somethin’. Still, it could mean my brain was gainin’ some traction.

  My starboard side stroll was as useless as the port side. When I reached the bow I began to despair. Despair is fine, I guess, as long as you don’t give into it. Nothing to do now except move higher or search the lower decks. I chose to go up. Surely, I told myself, someone will have to be on the bridge. No sailor would let a ship drift at sea.

  The bridge overlooked the bow and was several stair climbs higher than the main deck. All the better to see the sea, I figured.

  The bridge had been easy to find and to my surprise its door stood wide open. I crossed the threshold. I entered slowly, not sure if I was allowed to enter the brain center of a cruise ship.

  It appeared that I had been wrong; apparently sailors would leave the bridge empty. This didn’t sit well with me. So far I held out some hope that others were onboard and I would find them sooner or later. I had doubts before; now I had serious doubts.

  I studied the controls long enough to know that I had never been an officer on a cruise ship. I had no clues what the chrome handles and levers did. I did notice that there was no ship’s wheel. Instead there was something like a podium with several blank screens and a coupla things that looked like controllers for a video game.

  There were other monitors spread around the bridge, all of them tucked in a U-shaped console that filled most of the floor space. It looked like something out of some sci-fi movie. If I didn’t feel so confused and alone, I might have appreciated all the high-tech stuff. As it was, I felt only disappointment.

  There were two leather seats centered in the room and facing the front of the bridge. I assumed one was for the captain. Between the chairs was a console of gauges and small computer monitors—all dead. There was also a microphone. I doubted that a ship dead in the water without enough power to switch on a light would have an active intercom system or radio.

  Still I had to try. After all, I could be wrong.

  I wasn’t.

  A pair of binoculars rested in the captain’s chair. I took them. I used them. All I saw was a deep shade of gray in every direction.

  Mounted to one wall was a “pigeon hole” case, the kind of cabinet in which a person might keep rolls of plans. Not plans, charts. I was a little confused because the ship’s bridge was clearly high-tech even if it was as dead as a stone. Why have paper charts?

  “Emergencies?”

  I didn’t answer myself. The why didn’t matter. If those were charts, then I might at least get an idea where I was.

  I grabbed several rolls. Beneath the cabinet was a table just the right size for the wide paper. I unrolled one. Yep. Charts. Sea charts. It showed sea lanes and nearby land with ports.

  I didn’t recognize a single thing. The names of the ports meant nuthin’ to me. Place names: nuthin’. I saw a few islands. Nuthin’. Even if I could recognize a place or two, it would do me little good. I had no idea which chart was the right one. There were at least twenty rolls.

  “Nuts.”

  I re-rolled the charts and put them back where I found them. I don’t know why. There wasn’t anyone around to yell at me.

  I took several deep breaths and tried to clear my mind of depression and doubt. I’ll admit that I was tempted to sit in the captain’s chair and just wait, and wait, and wait. But that passed in a few moments. My gut told me that I wasn’t the kinda guy who liked to sit around and wait for things to happen.

  “If answers won’t come to me, then I’ll hunt them down.”

  Chapter 3

  OUT OF THE CLOSET

  DECISIONS NEEDED TO be made, even if they were wrong. So far, everything I had seen made me think I was the last soul onboard a powerless, drifting cruise ship. I felt alone but I hadn’t proved it. Since I was still aboard, there might be other people snoozin’ in their bunks dressed in tuxes or some other kinda fancy dress. I had no proof of that. Of course, I had no proof I was wrong. Bottom line: I had spent the better part of an hour searching the topside of the ship and knew less than when I started. Maybe the answers lay below decks. After all, that’s where all this began for me.

  I left the bridge and made my way back to the main deck. I was gonna take another quick look around when I noticed something that had got by me during my first search. Aside from gazing at the fog that surrounded the SS Twilight Zone and the ocean below, all my attention had been turned on the rooms and the deck. That’s where the people should be. This time I forced myself to broaden my gaze. In some ways I wish I hadn’t.

  Spaced along the deck just inside the safety rail were cranes—davits. They were ten feet tall or so and shaped like steel candy canes. A metal cable ran from the base of the davit and up the steel pole, along the crook, hung free over the side of the ship and hovered about five feet above the water. A device on the end the cable was clearly meant to attach to something—something that was no longer there.

  “Lifeboats.”

  My words chilled my blood. I walked the length of the deck examining every davit. The davits were used in pairs, a lifeboat meant to be hangin’ between them. Not anymore. There wasn’t a life boat to be found. That meant…

  “Not good. Not good by a long shot.”

  The pit of my stomach became a runaway elevator. If it had been possible, it would have crawled out of me and jumped overboard.

  The ship had been abandoned.

  And I had been left behind.

  It shouldn’t have been possible, but I now felt twice as lonely as before and I was pretty doggone lonely to begin with.

  I circled the main deck again this time searching the sea. Maybe the life boats could still be seen and if they were, then I could… could… I had no idea what I could do in that situation. Still, I strained my vision trying to peer through the fog looking for an emergency beacon or the shape of a boat that could hold a couple dozen people. I had counted the davits and my guess was that the ship carried twenty-five lifeboats. The ship was much smaller than the big monsters I had seen in pictures. Ships with many decks above the main deck and many below. The kinda ship that carried a few thousand passengers. Perhaps that was one of the reasons I thought of the ship as old. It seemed small.

  Still, this boat, it seemed to me, could carry several hundred passengers. Maybe even a thousand or more.

  I let those thoughts go. They didn’t matter at the moment. I had a long way to go before I reached the goal line.

  Once I had confirmed that no life boats were near enough to see or hear, I continued on with my plan. I had to. I had no other plan to follow.

  Two thoughts rattled around in my head, each wanting attention. One was a sense of sadness. Life boats would have their own source of power, working engines, and radios. The other was a question: What could make the captain and crew abandon ship?

  I had no answer and I had a strong feeling that if I found one, I wouldn’t like it.

  MY PLAN WAS simple. I would search the ship by brute force. Based on the image provided by the mirror in my room—if was really my room—I was a brute force kinda guy. Maybe that was true; maybe it wasn’t. For now, I was going to embrace it as the truth. I began one level down. The same level I had been on when I came to.

  Maybe there was a better way of doing this, but if there was, then I couldn’t see it. I began banging on stateroom doors. I also exercised my lungs a lot.

  �
��Hello? Anybody there? Hello?”

  Door after door and always the same silence.

  There was another problem. I had seen a placard with a drawing of the ship in cross section. Kinda one of those, “You are here,” things. I doubted that I was any kinda rocket scientist, but I knew the deeper in the ship I went, the darker it would get. With no power, I would be descending into a crypt.

  Great. My own thoughts are creeping me out. Like I need more creeping out.

  I reached the end of the first corridor and found an in-wall cabinet with a glass front. Inside was a fire hose and, praise God, a flashlight. It was a big one, too. I’m sure it was meant for crew in times of emergency, but I decided to help myself anyway.

  I broke the glass which gave me access to a lever that unlocked the cabinet door. I took the light. I flicked it on and it came to life.

  “Finally, something good.”

  I went level by level deeper and deeper into the ship. Some of the levels were below the waterline. I anticipated that and my love for my new flashlight grew.

  The beam of light splashed on the walls, ceiling, and floor. If I tripped now it would be because of stupidity or carelessness, not because I was strolling in the dark.

  I continued banging on doors and calling for attention. I continued to get nothing in return. It reminded me of a flashlight scene from the old X-Files television show.

  Four decks down from where I started, I heard it. I had stopped to take a breather and to rest the hand I had been using to pound on hard wood doors. It was a soft sound. At first it seemed too distant, but then nearer.

  No words. Muffled.

  Weeping.

  A deep weeping. Not a child. Not a woman.

  I closed my eyes and tried to turn up the sensitivity in my ears. A man. Somewhere a man was weeping. It broke my heart.

  I moved slowly and with soft steps, like a cat sneaking up on prey. At each doorway I paused and placed an ear near the door. The weeping grew louder. A dozen doors later I located the right room. Well, not a room. It was a closet of some kind. A sign on the door read: CREW ONLY.

  I took a few deep breaths and willed myself to move slowly. Whoever was inside the closet was definitely upset and I didn’t want to scare the life out of the guy. I was pretty sure that he, like me, was having a really bad day.

  I tapped on the door. “Hey buddy, you okay?”

  The weeping stopped. I heard a scuffling sound like someone scampering away from the door.

  “It’s okay, man. I’m a friend.”

  No response.

  “You mind if I open the door?”

  “It’s locked.” The voice sounded fairly young. Adult, but not old.

  “Can you unlock it for me?”

  “Do you think I’d still be in here if I could unlock it? Don’t be dense. It’s locked from the outside.”

  I was beginning to get an idea about why someone might lock the guy up. He wasn’t very warm and fuzzy.

  “You know something, pal. You and me might be the only two people on this tub. It might be wise to make a friend instead of an enemy.”

  I heard mumbling. “Yeah. Okay. Right. I’m a little upset.”

  “Understandable. I’m a bit off my game, too.” I studied the door. “Okay, I’m gonna try the doorknob. That okay with you?”

  “I already told you it was locked.”

  “Then it won’t hurt anything for me to give it a try. I’m just givin’ you a heads up.” I gave the knob the once over. It had a place for a key, which made sense to me. I’d expect a room reserved for crew might need to be locked. Still, I gave the brass knob a twist. It didn’t cooperate.

  “Believe me now?”

  Grumpy was getting on my nerves and I didn’t have many nerves left.

  “And I told you it wouldn’t hurt to try—and it didn’t.” Deep breath. “I don’t know how much room you have in there. Can you back away from the door?”

  “Yes.” I heard shuffling, then, “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “I’m out of the way. Do whatever you were going to do.”

  “Oh, sorry. My X-ray vision isn’t working.” I was certain I could get the guy out, but every time he opened his mouth I felt an urge to leave him right where he was.

  I took a step back, raised a foot and kicked the door just to the side of the doorknob. It rattled a little but stayed put. This would have been so much easier if I wasn’t wearing a monkey suit and dress shoes.

  “That’s it?” The stranger’s voice pressed through the door. “That’s your great plan?”

  I kicked the door again. I kicked harder than I should and felt pleasure in the exertion. I also felt some pleasure at seeing a chunk of the door with the knob splinter and fall to the deck. The door swung in with an earsplitting crash.

  A blur of a man flew out of the closet like an iron ball out of a canon and rammed me in the chest with his shoulder. I back-peddled, surprised by the attack. Then he had his hands around my throat, his fingers squeezing and squeezing. The good news was he wasn’t very strong. Still, it was enough to make me drop my flashlight.

  The temptation was to grab his wrists and pull his arms down. I didn’t. Instead, I raised a hand between his extended arms and took hold of his face. I clamped down—hard. He screamed, so I assumed I had his attention. I didn’t wait for retaliation; I brought a quick knee to his gut striking him just about belt high.

  Air left his lungs. His arms dropped. He wobbled. It was a good time for me to seize his belt in my right hand, lift, and shove him in the chest with my left. He hit the deck on his back, just as I intended. That was when the war in my brain started. Part of my mind wanted me to kill the little twerp; another part just wanted me to beat on him for a bit; and about half by brain was tugging hard on my reins. Lucky for Grumpy, I felt inclined to follow my more reasonable self. Truth is, I felt like something or someone was holding me back.

  I picked up my flashlight. “Are we done?” I watched him roll on the deck for a few moments. “I can do this all day.”

  He raised a hand. “I know when I’m beat.” He sucked in a barrel full of air. “Did you have to kick me so hard?”

  “I pulled that kick, buddy. It coulda been worse, much worse. Besides, I seem to recall your hands around my neck.” That’s when I noticed his right arm. It sported a dragon tattoo that looked very familiar.

  “Sorry about that.” He stopped rolling around but spent a few more moments moaning. “I thought you were someone else.”

  “Best I can tell, pal, we’re the only two people around.”

  “It’s not people that worry me.”

  I didn’t know what to make out of that. Maybe he hit his head when I put him on the floor.

  “What’s your name?”

  He gazed at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

  “At least we have that in common.” I extended my hand to him. “Need help getting up?”

  He shook his head. “I can manage.”

  He rolled over and pushed himself up until he was on all fours and made several attempts to stand, but couldn’t quite manage it.

  “Okay, maybe I could use an assist.”

  I grabbed an arm and lifted him to his feet. He swayed a little, then looked at me.

  “You’re a big one, aren’t you?”

  He was young, looked in pretty good shape, and had the kind of looks girls seemed to go for. He wore a formal white shirt, the kind with ruffles over the buttons. Like me, he wore tuxedo pants and dress shoes. No jacket, though. I imagined that it was in the corner of the closet. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. “That’s some tattoo. Where’d you get that?”

  He looked at his arm. “I don’t know. I don’t remember much.”

  That I understood. I moved to the closet and shone my light in. It didn’t take long for me to recognize a simple janitor’s closet.

  “How did you get stuck in here?”

  “Don’t be an idiot. I didn’t get stuck. I was imprisoned.�
��

  I let the insult pass. “Okay then, who imprisoned you?”

  “My dad.”

  “Your dad locked you in the closet? I take it he’s never parent of the year.”

  He looked at me with an odd mix of anger and sorrow. It was kinda heartbreaking.

  “Where’s your dad now?”

  “He’s dead.”

  I didn’t like the sound of this. “He died on the boat?”

  “No, he’s been dead for a while.”

  “How could he… Never mind. Let me ask you something. Do I look familiar to you?”

  “You hitting on me, big guy?”

  That did it. “If you don’t shut that smart mouth of yours, I’ll be hitting on you, but not in the way you think.”

  A wave of guilt washed over me. He just stared at me, looking a little like a scolded puppy. The guy could switch from mean-spirited to the verge of tears in a heartbeat. I felt sorry for him. It also made me think he might be a little unhinged.

  “Sorry.” I gave a little shrug. “It looks like we’ve both had a rough day. I’m a little edgy. What say we start over?” I extended my hand. “I’d introduce myself to you but—you know—I have that whole amnesia thing going on.”

  Grumpy nodded and took my hand. “Same here.”

  Then the ship shuddered.

  Chapter 4

  SHUFFLING THE DECKS

  I HAD BEEN just about to ask him how his dead father could lock him in a closet when he disappeared. In fact, the whole hallway vanished. Gray light surrounded me, which meant I had somehow made it back to one of the upper decks. The problem was, I hadn’t planned to go back to the upper decks.

  Something else was different. I was no longer on my feet. I was on my hands and knees, swaying like a drunk dog. I didn’t feel any too good, either. I proved that point by emptying my stomach on the deck. I hadn’t puked in years. I don’t know. Maybe I had and just couldn’t remember it.

  Once I was done decorating the deck with my last meal, I tipped over onto my side, then my back and waited to see if more retching was to come.