by Mark Lukens
“I wasn’t sleepwalking,” Ward muttered.
Abraham looked torn, like he wasn’t sure of the answer, but he finally shook his head. “No. I don’t remember anything like that.”
Cromartie read the words scrawled on the metal door again, and the words from his dream echoed in his mind. “This is a really sick joke,” he said and glared at Ward, then he looked at the others one by one. “Whoever did this needs to admit it right now.”
Nobody admitted anything.
“We still need to find Butler’s body,” Rolle reminded them, getting them back on track. “Someone moved Butler’s body out of the storage area, but if they weren’t going to shoot her body out into space in the airlock, then why would they move it in the first place?”
The answer suddenly clicked in Cromartie’s mind—and he saw the realization in Sanders’ eyes at the same time. Why didn’t he think of it earlier?
“Maybe we should break up into teams and go look for her,” Abraham said. “Rolle and I will team up.” Abraham looked at Cromartie. “You and Sanders will be a team, I would guess.”
“That’s okay,” Ward said sarcastically. “I’ll go by myself.”
But Cromartie wasn’t paying attention to Abraham or anyone else—he was pretty sure he already knew where Butler’s body was.
Abraham saw the look in Cromartie’s eyes. “What’s wrong, Cromartie?”
“I think I might know where Butler’s body is.”
“Where?”
“We need to go back down to the kitchen.”
TWENTY-FIVE
They all entered the dining area, and then Cromartie walked right to the narrow doorway that led into the galley-style kitchen. The others followed him as he walked to the end of the kitchen, to the walk-in freezer door. He opened the door and stepped inside.
They all rushed towards the freezer. Abraham stood in the doorway with the others behind him, all of them trying to peer into the small space. They watched as Cromartie moved some boxes out of the way, throwing them down to the floor. And there behind the boxes, leaning up against the wall, was Butler’s body still wrapped in the plastic and tape.
Cromartie turned and looked at the others in the doorway. “Somebody dragged her body up here from the storage area and stuffed it in the freezer because they didn’t want it to rot. They wanted to save it for later.”
“So they could eat it,” Sanders whispered, finishing Cromartie’s thought.
Cromartie walked out of the freezer and closed the door. He looked at the others as they stood in the kitchen. “It’s starting to look like one of us murdered Butler.”
They all looked at Ward.
Ward’s eyes darted to each one of them, and then he locked eyes with Rolle. “Rolle, listen to me. I didn’t kill Butler. I swear I didn’t. I know everybody thinks I did, but I didn’t.”
Rolle didn’t say a word.
“Come on, Rolle, you’re a reasonable person. I can see that. We can’t just accuse someone without any proof. Besides, how did Cromartie know Butler was in the freezer? I mean, think about that. And how did he know her body was missing from the storage level in the first place? He just went down there to check on her for the hell of it?”
How was Cromartie supposed to explain that? He could tell them that Sanders had been traumatized by a nightmare and that he went down to the storage area to check on Butler for her. But he didn’t want to tell them that Sanders thought she had seen Butler in her room. He didn’t want to tell them that Sanders asked him to make sure Butler’s body was still stored safely away down on the lower level. He didn’t want them to think Sanders was seeing things, mixing up reality with fantasy. He watched Rolle and swore that he could see a trace of doubt creeping into the man’s expression. Was he really buying what Ward was saying?
“I’m just saying let’s not rule any of us out yet,” Ward said. “Before you guys are so sure I’m the guilty one, let’s look at each of us.”
Rolle didn’t say anything. He walked into the dining area.
The others followed Rolle and watched as he walked towards the doorway that led out to the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Ward asked him.
“I … I need to use the bathroom,” Rolle said and turned around to look at them.
The others stared at him.
“Is it okay with everyone if I use the bathroom?” he asked.
Cromartie nodded. “Go ahead.”
Rolle left the kitchen.
TWENTY-SIX
Rolle hurried down the corridor to Ward’s room. He knew he only had a few minutes to find what he was looking for before the group broke up and Ward came back to his room.
He slipped inside Ward’s room and looked around for a minute, eyeing everything. Then he went right for the bathroom.
• • •
“What are we going to do now?” Abraham asked.
Cromartie sighed. “We need to do something with Butler’s body.”
“We should just leave it in the freezer for now,” Abraham said.
Sanders stared at him. “In the same place where we get our food?”
“Why do you want to leave her body in the freezer, Abraham?” Ward asked and looked at Cromartie and Sanders. “That doesn’t seem a little suspicious to you guys?”
“We should detain Ward,” Sanders said. “I think we should vote on it right now.”
“No,” Ward answered quickly. “Nobody’s detaining me. I promise you that.” He looked right at Sanders. “I’m not the killer, and you’re not going to persecute me without any proof.”
“He’s right,” Cromartie said and locked eyes with Sanders with a warning stare. “We need proof. We might not be in America, but we’re still Americans and we’re going to follow the laws. The laws you swore to uphold when you were a police officer,” Cromartie reminded her.
“Have you ever been convicted of a crime before?” Sanders asked Ward, ignoring Cromartie’s comments.
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I’m not answering a question like that. It’s none of your business.”
Sanders looked at Cromartie. “Have you ever been convicted of a crime?”
“No.”
She looked at Abraham. “Have you ever been convicted of a crime?”
“No.”
She looked back at Ward. “I’ve never been convicted of a crime. Now you know our history, so answer the question.”
“This is crazy. This doesn’t mean anything.” His eyes flicked to Abraham, then to Cromartie. They were both waiting for his answer. He sighed in defeat. “Okay. I did three years in the pen when I was younger.”
“For what?” Sanders pressed.
“It was for attempted murder,” he answered. “But it was a bar fight that got out of control,” he added quickly. “The guy didn’t die and we were both drunk as hell. After that I swore off drinking.”
“I told you he was hiding something from his past,” Sanders told Cromartie with her eyes still on Ward.
“You guys are talking about me?” Ward asked. “Discussing all of this behind my back?”
“What do you think, Abraham?” Sanders asked, ignoring Ward’s protests.
Abraham hesitated and then glanced at Cromartie. “I agree with Cromartie. We need to have some more proof before we detain anyone.”
“Proof,” Ward said like an idea had just popped into his mind. “That’s it! You guys need proof. Check my room. See if there’s a knife or some other kind of weapon in there.”
The others glanced at each other.
“What are you waiting for?” Ward asked with a smile on his face now. “We’ll all stay together and you can check my room. And then we’ll check each one of your rooms, one by one. We’ll see who’s hiding something.”
“Sounds fair,” Abraham said. “But the killer could’ve just dropped the murder weapon somewhere else on this ship.”
Cromarti
e nodded. “At least it’s somewhere to start looking.”
They were about to head to the archway that led out to the corridor, but Rolle rushed inside with a knife in his hand. “Look what I found in Ward’s room.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
“That’s not mine!” Ward said.
Rolle stood there in the archway, holding the knife in his hand by the end of the handle like just touching it disgusted him.
“I think we have our proof now,” Sanders said, looking at Cromartie.
“Nobody’s detaining me,” Ward said as he backed up towards the archway. “You got that? Nobody’s holding me anywhere!”
Rolle moved out of the way, suddenly afraid of Ward even though he held a knife in his hand. He hurried over to the line of cabinets and the counter.
“That’s not my knife,” Ward said and glanced at Rolle who had backed all the way up to the cabinets now. He pointed at Rolle. “You planted that there.”
“No,” Rolle said. “I just wanted to check his room while he wasn’t in there. And then I found this knife in his bathroom. It was behind the toilet.”
“That’s a lie!” Ward snapped. “One of you planted that in my bathroom. Trying to frame me.”
“Just calm down for a minute,” Cromartie told Ward.
Ward wasn’t calming down; his eyes were wild, his hands up and ready to fight and defend himself. “I know martial arts. I’ve trained myself to fight. I won’t let you take me.”
“I’m trained, too,” Sanders told him.
“Hold on, everybody!” Cromartie snapped at them. “We all need to calm down before this gets out of control.” He looked at each of them. “Nobody’s detaining anyone right now. Is that understood?”
Abraham and Rolle nodded, but Sanders just stared defiantly at Cromartie.
“How much more proof do you need?” Sanders asked him.
“It’s not enough,” Cromartie said through clenched teeth. “Ward’s right. Someone could’ve planted it there.”
Sanders sighed in frustration and shook her head.
Cromartie looked at Ward and put his hands out in a calming gesture. “Nobody’s doing anything. Okay? We’re all going to discuss this like rational adults.”
Ward seemed to relax, but only slightly. “Okay. But I swear I didn’t do this. I don’t know how to convince you guys that I didn’t do this.”
“We have to live together on this ship, and we can’t turn into animals. Is that clear?”
Again they all agreed, but Cromartie could tell that Sanders wasn’t completely onboard with this.
Ward took a few steps backwards towards the archway that led out of the dining hall to the corridor. He glanced at everyone for a moment like he expected them to all rush him at once, and then he left.
“This is a mistake,” Sanders grumbled after Ward was gone.
“Maybe,” Cromartie told her, “but we all need to agree on this.” He glanced at Abraham and Rolle who both nodded again.
“There are other possibilities,” Cromartie continued. “And until we’re one hundred percent sure of what happened, we’re not doing anything to Ward.”
“What other possibilities?” Sanders asked.
Cromartie looked at each of them for a moment, hesitating before answering Sanders’ question. “Maybe Butler really did kill herself, and then whoever found her body took the knife.”
“Why would someone do that?”
“Who knows? Maybe to implicate Ward.”
Sanders looked shocked like Cromartie was accusing her directly, but she didn’t say anything.
“We haven’t been in our right minds since we’ve woken up, have we?” And Cromartie looked right at Sanders. He could mention the fact that she had just woken up not too long ago screaming because she swore a dead woman had been standing right beside her bed.
Rolle set the knife down on the countertop and backed away from it like he didn’t want to touch it anymore, like he didn’t want to be near it.
“And there’s also another possibility,” Cromartie said.
They all waited for him to continue.
“Maybe Ward isn’t the killer … maybe it’s one of us.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
“That’s crazy,” Sanders said. “All of the evidence points to Ward.” She ticked off a finger with each point she made. “Ward was the one so concerned about how much food we have left. Ward seems to have the most explosive temper out of all of us. Ward has a criminal past. And most of all, the murder weapon was found in his bathroom.”
“If that’s the murder weapon,” Cromartie said.
“Of course it is,” Sanders snapped at him. “Why else would he have hidden it in his bathroom?”
Cromartie glanced at the archway that led out to the corridor, and then he looked back at Sanders, Rolle, and Abraham. “Let’s take this discussion into the kitchen,” he said in a low voice.
They moved from the dining area into the kitchen in case Ward was hiding just beyond the archway and listening to them. They stood near the freezer door. The freezer, Cromartie thought, the place where Butler’s body was still propped up against a shelf of food.
Cromartie looked at Rolle. “Can you tell if that was the knife used to slash Butler’s wrists?”
Rolle shrugged. “Not really. Not without some sophisticated equipment. The best I would be doing is an educated guess.”
“And that’s usually good enough in a court of law,” Sanders said. “An educated guess from an expert.”
Cromartie sighed in frustration. “There’s another thing we need to consider. Maybe Ward did this and doesn’t remember doing it.”
They all stared at him.
“MAC said memory loss was a side effect of suspended animation,” Cromartie continued. “Maybe there are other side effects that we don’t know about, side effects that MAC hasn’t told us about.”
“What? Like murdering someone and not remembering it?” Sanders wasn’t trying to hide the sarcastic tone in her voice.
“It’s not outside the realm of possibility,” Cromartie told her. “Look how messed up Butler was when she came out of that cryochamber.”
“Too messed up to kill herself,” Sanders retaliated with.
“Maybe not,” Cromartie said. “Maybe she snapped out of the fog she was in and freaked out. Maybe she had been in some state of shock for a while and when she snapped out of it, she finally realized where she was—trapped on a spaceship with very little food and no hope of survival.”
“And a screwed up computer running things,” Abraham said.
Cromartie glanced up at the ceiling as if he could tell that MAC was listening to them, and then his eyes darted to Abraham. He hoped the older man read the expression in his eyes: Maybe it’s not the best idea to be criticizing MAC right now.
“Butler’s state of mind just proves that there could be other mental side effects,” Cromartie said. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“I can’t believe you’re sticking up for Ward,” Sanders said.
“I’m not trying to stick up for anybody. I’m just trying to think of other possibilities before we convict someone.”
“Here’s a possibility for you, Cromartie. Maybe Ward, a survivalist, wants to kill each one of us and use us for food so he can survive for as long as he can.”
Cromartie turned to Rolle for help. “You’re a psychiatrist and a doctor. Could Butler have woken up to the realization that all of this is hopeless? Could she have killed herself?”
“It’s possible. After a trauma, some people can go into a catatonic type state. It can take anywhere from hours to years to come out of these states. Sometimes they never come out of them at all.”
“But, even in one of these catatonic states, Butler could’ve known what was going on around here, right?” Cromartie asked. “She could’ve heard everything, seen everything, experienced everything. But maybe the full force of what was going on here didn’t sink in until she was alone.”
“All
of our certain deaths,” Abraham mumbled.
“Exactly,” Cromartie said.
Rolle shrugged again. “It’s possible. Even with all we’ve learned about physics, chemistry, and the reaches of outer space, the mind is still mostly a big mystery to us.”
“If Butler killed herself, that doesn’t explain why she didn’t have the knife on her,” Sanders said. “Or why that knife was in Ward’s room.”
“And now we’re back to murder,” Abraham said with a grim look on his face.
“Or we’re back to the side effects from cryosleep,” Cromartie said. “What if we’re all having some side effects and we don’t even realize it?”
TWENTY-NINE
“What do you mean by that?” Abraham asked. “I haven’t experienced any side effects.”
“You’re sure about that?” Cromartie asked him. “You may have experienced some and not even realized it.” He looked at Rolle again. “Couldn’t that be a possibility?”
“Sure … I suppose.”
“Butler’s side effects where just more noticeable,” Cromartie said. “But maybe our symptoms are a little more subtle … so subtle that we don’t even notice them ourselves.”
“I’m sure there might be some common side effects from the suspended animation that we were in for a hundred years,” Rolle said and began listing them off: “Depression, anxiety, paranoia …”
“Which all seem perfectly reasonable reactions, given the circumstances we’re in,” Sanders said.
“But what if these side effects include murderous urges?” Cromartie asked. “Or suicidal thoughts.”
Rolle nodded in agreement. “Of course it’s all possible. I don’t really know anything about the effects of suspended animation on the mind.”
“Let’s ask MAC,” Cromartie said and looked up at the ceiling. “MAC, are you there?”
“Yes, Cromartie.”
Of course MAC was there—he was always there.
“Could the things we just listed be possible side effects from cryosleep?” Cromartie asked, staring up at the lines of ductwork, pipes, and wiring that snaked across the ceiling.
