by Mark Goodwin
“Captain Williams can get us into port, even if we have a couple scrapes and bumps. He’s a smart man. I have full confidence that he’ll survive the trip.” Everett grinned at Lui. “Along with you, of course.”
Lui smiled nervously. “Yeah, of course.”
“Good.” Everett turned to Courtney. “Any funny business, put a bullet in them. Anyone touches that radio, kill ‘em. If someone calls in from another ship, just let it go, and don’t answer. I’m gonna get Clark and Juan, and find a suitable place to hold everyone.”
“We’ll be fine.” Courtney took a seat by the door.
Everett looked at Lui and the new captain with a steely expression. “No funny business. I’m not issuing warnings. First offense, you’re going overboard.”
Both men nodded, and Everett made his way down to the mess room. He passed a walkie to Sarah. “Channel three.”
She turned on the radio, set the frequency, and clipped it onto her vest.
Everett pointed at the messmate and the deckhand. “Clark, Juan, come with me.”
The two walked past Sarah and out the door into the hallway.
Everett looked them in the eyes. “To keep these people alive, I need a secure place to house them. Otherwise, I’ll have to cull the herd down to what can be managed by two guards. Between myself and the girls, one of us is going to have to sleep while the other two stand guard. You understand my predicament.”
Clark pointed down the stairs. “You could put them in a container on the lashing deck.”
“Those containers are locked.” Everett looked to Juan.
“We’ve got bolt cutters in the maintenance room,” Clark said.
“The maintenance room.” Everett had almost forgotten about Lars. “Okay. Show me.”
The three of them made their way down the stairs to the maintenance room. Everett instructed Clark to walk in first. He confirmed that Lars was still bound before entering himself.
“You can’t leave me like this.” Lars flopped around on the floor.
“Settle down before I put a bullet in your head.” Everett gave the man a light tap on the back of his head with the toe of his boot.
“What is going on? What are you doing?”
“I’m working on getting you up off that floor, so be nice!” Everett threatened to kick him in the nose.
Clark found the bolt cutters, and Everett led the way out.
Once out on the lashing deck, Everett looked up at the stack of containers piled one on top of the other, ten high. He looked back down at the containers on the first row. “What are these bars holding the containers on the first row?”
Clark pointed out the items as he spoke about them. “Lashings. The first three rows are secured with metal lashings, and the top rows are held on with twist locks, which attach at all four corners, top, and bottom of each container.”
“Can the lashings be removed by hand?” Everett looked at the thick metal rods that hooked into the container at one end, and a metal brace on the ship at the other.
“Yes. The turnbuckles can be turned by hand. They loosen and tighten the lashings.”
“Great.” Everett pointed to the bottom three containers closest to the center. “Pull these lashings off, cut those locks, and let’s see what’s inside.” He stood back and let Clark and Juan get to work.
Everett stood motionless. He looked on, counting the turnbuckles as the deckhand and the messmate removed them one by one.
Clark positioned the bolt cutters on the first lock. SNAP! Juan pulled off the lock, tossed it to the ground and lifted the lever to open the container. Everett pulled his flashlight out of his tactical vest and shined it inside. Floor to ceiling, the container was filled with cardboard boxes. “MREs. Let’s go ahead and open the next container.”
Clark popped the next lock, and Juan opened the giant metal box. Inside, stacked top to bottom, were wooden crates. Everett stepped forward to read the side of one. “M72 LAW. 66 mm, Rockets. Heat. Explosive. That might help us get through Gibraltar.”
He instructed the two men to continue with the next container. Once opened, Everett saw it contained a Humvee. “I guess that’s not going anywhere. Remove the lashings of the container next to the MREs.”
Minutes later, Juan and Clark had the doors of the metal box opened. Everett looked inside. “Radio equipment. Well, it’ll be easier to unload than the Humvee. Why don’t you two start clearing out the radio equipment? Go ahead and toss it all overboard. I don’t want anyone to get tempted. Once that’s done, clear out the MREs. Stack as many cases as you can into the empty spaces of the container with the Humvee. The rest, just stack up on the deck.”
Everett radioed back to Courtney and Sarah. “I think I’ve found a place to put everyone, but it’s going to be a while. Tell everyone to sit tight, and let me know if any of them start acting anxious.”
“Roger that.” Sarah’s voice came over the walkie.
Courtney’s voice was next. “Take your time. All is well here on the bridge.”
Everett kept watch for the next four hours, allowing Clark and Juan to take breaks and eat MREs, but making sure they maintained their cooperative dispositions.
CHAPTER 11
And the fifth angel sounded, and I saw a star fall from heaven unto the earth: and to him was given the key of the bottomless pit. And he opened the bottomless pit; and there arose a smoke out of the pit, as the smoke of a great furnace; and the sun and the air were darkened by reason of the smoke of the pit.
Revelation 9:1-2
Everett’s weary eyes looked out over the Atlantic from the bridge of the Madison Maersk. The faintest hint of dawn glistened on the horizon. He stood up to keep the blood flowing to his head. Williams slept soundly on a mattress that Clark had brought up to the bridge. Lui watched the instruments as he’d been instructed to do by the new captain. Everett felt ninety-nine percent sure that Lui wouldn’t try anything, even if he were to accidentally drift off to sleep. But it was that one percent of uncertainty, and the horror it would bring which kept Everett vigilant about not closing his eyes.
Courtney walked onto the bridge with her rifle dangling from the single-point sling and a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. “Morning.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Surprisingly well, considering the day we had yesterday.”
“Coffee smells great. Can I have a sip?”
She held her cup away from Everett and kissed him on the nose. “You’re going to bed! And you need to get some rest, so no. The pantry has plenty. You can make more when you wake up.”
“Okay.” He kissed her forehead. “So, tell me the drill for the crew one more time.”
“Everett, I’m not going to mess it up. Just go to bed.”
“Humor me. I’ll sleep better knowing we’ve reviewed the schedule one more time.”
“I can let Clark and Juan out of container one at eight. They can use the restroom, then they need to take MREs and water to the chef and the two deckhands in container two. Afterward, they can eat what they want from the pantry, then they need to be back in their container by ten.”
“Good. What about container three?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s maximum security. Nobody opens that door unless all three of us are there. And even then, only once a day for Clark to change their privy bucket, give them a fresh water bucket, and one MRE each.
“Everett, don’t you think it’s a little cruel and unusual to only feed them once a day?”
He shook his head. “Lars and Maria have the potential to be dangerous. We’re keeping them alive, which is a huge risk to us. Feeding them more means they’ll use their privy bucket more, which makes it that much harder of a job for Clark. It also reminds them that they failed to cooperate and despite all of that, they’re still getting one meal a day. And as I explained to them, it can certainly go to zero meals a day if they start yelling, screaming, or being difficult. It’s only for five days. They’ll be fine eating once a d
ay.”
“What if the people in container two want to come outside?”
“No.” This was exactly why Everett wanted to go back over the plan. He knew Courtney’s compassion had the potential to get them in trouble, especially if he wasn’t around to keep it in check. “They’ve got flashlights, mattresses, playing cards, books, all the MREs they can eat, and their privy bucket gets changed three times a day. It’s a lot better conditions than Lars and Maria have.”
“They didn’t ask for all of this. We have to let them shower, Everett.”
“Maybe we’ll take them out one at a time to shower on Friday if they don’t give us any trouble between now and then. They won’t die from skipping a shower for two days.”
Everett gave her a hug. “I’ll see you in a while.”
“Okay. Sarah is cooking breakfast in the galley. Stop by and get something to eat on your way back to your room.”
“Maybe I will. Thanks.” He blew her a kiss and closed the door. He made his way down the stairs, stopping when he reached E Deck. From there on down, the metal stairs, which had been painted gray many years ago, were stained red. Wide and uneven smears of blood marked the path where Clark and Juan had dragged the corpses of the captain and dead peacekeepers down the staircase, out onto the deck, and finally over the rail and into the abyss.
He marched past the morbid patches of dried blood and stopped by the galley. Everett took a plate of previously-frozen waffles offered to him by Sarah and returned to his room. Once there, he wedged the shaving cream can in between the deadbolt and the doorknob. If Courtney and Sarah were overtaken and someone wanted in, the added measure of security could eventually be overcome, but it would give Everett a chance to react.
He placed the waffles at the small table, which was by the window, and took his seat. The direct view was at the doors of a well-worn shipping container. Several more containers were stacked above it, as well as to the left and the right. But, if he looked past the rusty stacks of boxes, he could see the vivid colors of sunrise painting the sky, and the waves below reflecting magnificent hues of dazzling orange, neon hot pink, and pastel plum.
He bowed his head. “God, thank you for keeping us safe, and thank you for this meal. I pray you’ll help me stay focused on the sunrise and not to get caught up in the grimy steel boxes of this world.” He looked up and enjoyed his breakfast. Afterward, he took a long hot shower and went to sleep.
The next few days passed without incident. Juan and Clark proved to be reliable helpers in caring for the general needs of the rest of the crew. Captain Nate and Lui kept the vessel on course and were entirely cooperative.
Friday came and Everett made good on his statement about allowing the three crew members in the second container to shower. Everett, Courtney, and Sarah each worked a ten-hour shift. All three put in an extra hour to let the detainees in container two come out, one at a time, to bathe. Sarah watched the bridge while Everett and Courtney escorted Chief Cook Ana Garcia and the other two deckhands back and forth from the bathroom.
Garcia went first and took her time in the shower. Everett wanted to hurry her along, but Courtney insisted that he allow her an extra few minutes.
Next came one of the deckhands. He was in and out in ten minutes. The second deckhand also did not take advantage of the situation. He thanked Everett as the container door was closed and shut.
“Okay. I’m ready for a break.” Everett let his rifle hang from the sling. He tipped his head from side to side, cracking his neck, and relieving the tension that had built up from the state of hyper-awareness required to deal with detainees roaming about the ship.
“How about I make you some hot cocoa?”
Everett opened the door to go back into the crew accommodations. “Sounds good.”
His radio squelched. “Everett, Courtney, you better get up to the bridge as quick as possible.”
Everett’s relaxed state of mind quickly dissipated. He pressed the talk key. “Are you okay? The guys giving you trouble?”
“No. They're fine. But we heard something over the ship’s radio. I think you’ll want to hear it.”
“On my way.” Everett started up the stairs. “Can I get a rain check on that hot cocoa?”
“I could make it and bring it up to you.”
“Just grab the packets from the galley and bring them up to the bridge. We’ve got a coffee maker up there to heat the water. Bring enough for Sarah, Lui, and Nate.”
“Look who’s going soft on the detainees now.” She followed him up the stairs as far as the galley.
“If it’s bad news, they’ll need something comforting as much as we will. And nothing makes you feel better than hot cocoa,” Everett said.
He was slightly winded from hustling up the stairs when he walked onto the bridge. “What’s going on?”
Lui sounded frenzied. “So sorry, Lieutenant, but radio say big comet coming down. Probably gonna land in eastern Atlantic.”
“That can’t be good.” Everett looked out at the sky. “Any idea where it’s going to hit in relation to us?”
Williams shook his head. “No, sir. We heard it over the short wave. The transmission was grainy at best. If they gave latitude and longitude, we missed it. The report came from GRASA who said they initially thought it was a much smaller object. Thought it would burn itself out before it hit. Now, it’s estimated to splash down in the Atlantic.”
“Do we know when?”
“9:00 PM GMT.”
“What time zone are we in now?”
“GMT minus three.”
“So 6:00 our time. Right before dark.” Everett adjusted his watch to the current time zone and inspected the calm ocean in front of the boat. “We’ve got about seven hours, so keep scanning the channels. We have to figure out where it’s going to hit so we can modify our course. Nate, if you pick up any nearby ships on the radar, you can reach out to see if they have any other information. Make sure you put on your best Russian accent. Remember, you’re supposed to be Captain Vasily Petrov.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
“And don’t even think about trying to sneak in a distress call. If we get found out, and peacekeepers try to board this ship, the only thing I can do with you is put a bullet in your head. There just won’t be enough time to walk you downstairs and lock you up in a container. I’m sure you understand.” Everett gave him an iron gaze.
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good.” Everett turned back to the ocean. “Courtney is bringing hot cocoa up to the bridge for everyone.”
Everett, Courtney, and Sarah all stayed on the bridge for the next two hours as Williams continued to scan through the shortwave frequencies.
Everett sighed. “I’m going to the galley. I’ll fix something for all of us. No use waiting around on an empty stomach.”
“I’ll let Clark and Juan out to do their afternoon chores.” Sarah followed Everett to the door.
Once they’d left the bridge, he looked back. “Why don’t you have them get enough food and water for the detainees to last three days. Regardless of where this thing hits, we’re going to have some choppy seas.
“All it takes is for one of us to lose our balance on the deck, then they’ve got the perfect opportunity for a full-scale mutiny.”
“Do you think Juan or Clark would do that?” Sarah stayed within a few stairs of Everett as they descended to the galley.
He paused and turned to look her in the eye. “If I were in their shoes, and I got the chance to overpower a guard and take his weapon, believe me, I’d take it. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, I would. You’re right.”
“Everybody treats you good when you’ve got a gun pointed in their direction, but turn your back for one second, and that’s out the window.”
“Not everybody. Lars and Maria didn’t seem to care,” she said.
“They cared more than Petrov. But you’re right, there’s an exception to every rule.” Everett reached the galley lev
el. “You be safe. Just tell Juan and Clark that we might have some inclement weather. They don’t need any more details than necessary. Tell them to get extra privy buckets with lids. We can toss them overboard when things settle down.”
Sarah playfully chastised him. “GREPA would freak out if they heard you say that!”
Everett laughed. “With the next wave of judgments coming on this planet, trust me, a couple buckets of poop will be the least of their concern.”
Sarah continued down the stairs, and Everett proceeded to the galley. Once there, he began rummaging through the shelves. “Maybe we better hang on to the dry goods. If we get hit too hard, we might lose power. Of course, if that happens, it means the engines have failed, and we’re dead in the water.”
He opened the door to the giant walk-in cooler. “Still, we might as well eat good while we can. It’ll probably be MREs for the rest of the trip.”
Everett pulled out a box with several individually-wrapped, vacuum-sealed steaks, and a bag of shrimp, both were marked as being the private stock of Captain Petrov. He found a sack of potatoes, washed them, salted them, and wrapped them in aluminum foil. He stuck them in the oven and set the thermostat to 475. “We probably won’t eat like this again until we get to the Kingdom.”
Everett continued to scratch up some marinade ingredients for the shrimp. His radio came to life. It was Courtney. “Everett, we’ve got the coordinates of the impact.”
“Roger that. I’ll be right up.” He looked longingly at the ingredients to his perfect meal. Knowing it could be a while before he got back to the galley, Everett grabbed a bag of chips, a jar of peanut butter, and a loaf of white bread. He snatched a stack of paper plates and headed back up to the bridge.
“Talk to me.” Everett passed the food to Lui and made his way to the ECDIS screen where Williams stood.
Nate pointed at the electronic display chart. “We’re here. The comet, which they’ve named Apollyon, is set to strike about 300 miles off the coast of Portugal. Right around here.”
