The Last Passenger

by Manel Loureiro

  A woman who looked to be around thirty was on top of one of the tables. She wore a black frilly nightgown that didn’t cover her knees. The low-cut neckline revealed a pair of large firm breasts. Around her neck a long pearl necklace fell to her waist. She was blonde, just like Senka, with restless green eyes that stared out with great interest as she coolly took a long drag from her cigarette.

  Hi, Senka. Come sit with me.

  Unable to object, Senka sat next to the woman with the hypnotic gaze. Senka could not look away.

  My poor Senka. You are soaked and trembling from the cold. You have to get those clothes off. We can’t let you catch a cold.

  “Who are you?” Her voice sounded like gravel. “What’s going on?”

  I’m your friend, Senka. Nothing bad is going on. I’ve come to help you.

  The woman reached out and took Senka’s hand. She had a warm, gentle hand. As soon as it grazed her skin, Senka had to fight the urge to moan. She was no longer cold.

  You’re lovely, Senka. Intelligent and beautiful. But you’re so alone. Do you like being alone, Senka?

  Senka shook her head as delightful warmth moved down her chest toward her pelvis. All of the fear and confusion she had felt a minute ago melted away like it had been a terribly realistic nightmare. Although one part of her mind continued to struggle, aware that none of this was normal, the objections were drowned out by the rest of her thoughts.

  I figured. I don’t like to be alone, either, and I’ve been alone for so, so long.

  The woman leaned forward and stroked Senka’s cheek with the back of her hand. The touch set off a blaze beneath Senka’s skin. Suddenly, all her needs subsided, replaced by a more pressing and intense desire. It was an oven between her legs.

  The woman pursed her lips, and Senka realized that although she had been talking, the woman had not opened her mouth. But the voice of logic was becoming so weak that it wasn’t worth paying attention. The blare in her skull was deafening. Voices blended together in excitement.

  I’m going to kiss you. Would you like me to kiss you, Senka?

  As if in a dream she nodded and leaned forward slightly, without loosening her grip on the other woman’s hand. In turn, the mysterious woman slowly moved closer and pressed her lips gently against Senka’s.

  She was sweet with a metallic aftertaste. Her mouth was hot—too hot—but her playful tongue glided inside Senka’s mouth.

  Senka moaned and felt dazed. The fire in her crotch was out of control and sent a tide of desire swelling throughout her.

  Come, Senka. Let’s go somewhere cozy. Wanna come with me?

  Senka nodded, completely at this stranger’s beck and call. She realized for the first time in a long time that the agony in her heart was distant and frail.

  The two of them stood up, still holding hands, and walked out of the cigar lounge. Somehow, the blonde knew the way to Senka’s cabin. When they got there Senka sluggishly fished around in her pocket for the key. She watched herself with a blank, detached look. She was unable to summon enough coordination to perform this menial task, yet she was unconcerned. It was like watching another person.

  The woman smiled seductively. She turned the knob, and the door opened easily, like it had never been locked in the first place. Senka’s warning sirens, already silenced and defeated, remained mute. The bed gleamed in the soft lamp light, tempting them forth.

  They entered the cabin and closed the door behind them. The woman began kissing Senka again, this time with much more passion and fervor. The woman’s hands cupped Senka’s breasts, lightly pinching and twisting her nipple until it became hard. Senka moaned in pleasure and pulled the blonde against her, holding her tightly.

  Still locked in their passionate embrace, Senka began to undo her soaked pants, which fell easily to the floor. She kicked off her boots and was suddenly left in no more than a shirt, still damp, and a pair of panties. The woman ran her hands up and down Senka’s body. With every brush of skin, Senka moaned, prey to fresh, electric torrents of pleasure.

  She leaned back to take her shirt off. The wet blouse fought to stay glued to her body, and it took a moment to peel it off.

  The mystery woman had let her nightgown fall down to her ankles and was completely naked, smiling seductively. Her golden skin looked delicious enough to lick. Her nipples were large, dark circles, and she had a sexy little patch of blonde pubic hair that almost looked white.

  The blonde reached out her hands and pulled Senka onto the bed without a word. They fell down side by side, and the mystery woman skillfully slipped off Senka’s panties. Her mouth ran ravenously toward Senka’s breasts and began licking her nipples with deliberate desire. Each time the woman’s lips pressed against Senka’s breasts, every last nerve exploded with pleasure. After a minute Senka began moaning faster. She watched as the woman kissed back and forth between her breasts with a rhythm that grew faster as her hands continued to caress her body up and down. To Senka’s great surprise, she exploded in a long electric orgasm that felt like freedom. She moaned in ecstasy and dug her nails into the woman’s back. The mystery woman was breathing in a deep and rhythmic fashion. Senka tried to turn her over, but the woman would not allow it. Instead, she continued down, tracing complex designs on Senka’s skin. At Senka’s navel, she paused briefly before kissing down to Senka’s sex, which was begging for attention.

  The blonde teasingly licked everywhere around Senka’s clit before focusing solely on it, nibbling and sucking that little bit of pulsing flesh. Senka let out a long cry of pleasure. She felt as if all the energy in the universe were being focused through that little nub between her legs. She saw that the blonde woman’s hair was spread out over her abdomen as her face remained buried.

  Every part of Senka’s body was on fire. Her legs quivered uncontrollably, and she felt another orgasm building up, this time a wave even bigger and more powerful than before.

  Do you like it, Senka? Do you want more?

  Senka could only whimper yes before she climaxed for a second time, this time with the force of a flood. She screamed out in total bliss as her back arched. Waves of pleasure traveled rhythmically down her body from head to toe in powerful bursts.

  Soaked in sweat, she continued to shake uncontrollably. The blonde, leaning on her elbow, watched her lustfully.

  Did you like that, Senka?

  Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Senka nodded, still unable to speak. A heavy, inevitable drowsiness had overcome her. It was getting more and more difficult to keep her eyes open. Her mind was clouding up and going dark like a city experiencing a blackout.

  Before completely surrendering to sleep, she heard the woman get up from bed. A pungently sweet, tinny odor permeated the entire room. Senka was bleeding from her nose, though she did not know it. She was sprawled out on the mattress, naked and reeking of sex.

  We love our friends, Senka. You’ve behaved yourself and did as we asked. This is a little present. We’ll take care of you.

  Forever.

  XXIX

  Valkyrie

  Day three

  The loud steps outside Kate’s door woke her. It sounded like a group of people racing down the hallway. Over the noise she could hear excited voices but could not quite make out the topic of discussion.

  In the cabin’s semidarkness Kate blinked and felt numb. She glanced at her watch, feeling disoriented. It was past midnight. She was still curled up in the corner where she had fallen after Feldman and Cherenkov left her room.

  After she had heard that sinister laugh.

  She had passed out after exhausting herself of all the tears she’d been storing up since boarding the ship. She was completely beat, miserable, and crippled by fear. But above all she felt terribly alone. With every passing moment she regretted more and more accepting this assignment. There was something intrinsically perverse about the Valkyrie, something that seeped through both crew and passengers like the stench of rotting fish. Out here in the middle of the ocean, there was
nowhere to hide.

  She got to her feet and winced. Her leg was asleep. She paced awkwardly around the room to get the blood flowing. Massaging her thigh, she heard two voices, one male and one female. The rhythmic jangle of jewelry accompanied the conversation, which was slowly fading as they walked farther away.

  Kate looked at her watch again. It was late, but perhaps there had been a second round of dinner. All those crew members had to go somewhere. Her stomach grumbled with hunger.

  She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and washed her face. Then, she combed her hair and styled it, so it didn’t appear like she’d been asleep on the floor. Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but notice the distressing dark bags under her eyes.

  She went back into her room and put on slim-fit jeans and a blouse, over which she wore a corduroy jacket. It seemed to be getting only colder outside the Valkyrie. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she slung her camera around her neck and, after double bolting her cabin door, walked down the hallway.

  The corridor was softly lit, and a light hint of perfume floated on the air. As she walked toward the dining hall, she thought about how best to broach the matter of the straw hat with Feldman. Kate worried that he had lost some of his confidence in her. Perhaps Carter would be able to advise her on a different approach. Either way, she would have to talk to Feldman and Cherenkov again. She wanted to make it clear she was still worthy of trust and not mad as a hatter. She did not want to be left out of the loop under any circumstances.

  As she neared the dining hall, the murmur of voices and music became louder and clearer. Someone was playing a tune not unlike what she had heard earlier that afternoon, only this time it sounded even better. Kate wasn’t sure, but it sounded like a Charleston.

  When she entered the hall, the enormous chandelier was fully illuminated, casting blinding diamonds of light over the polished marble staircase. Three women Kate had never seen before were dressed like flappers and advancing up the stairs. One of them said something that made all three explode in laughter.

  Kate stood there, stunned by the vague sensation of being trapped in an absurd nightmare. Looking around the room, her eyes landed on two men dressed in old-fashioned tuxedos who were smoking as they leaned against a wall, watching her closely.

  Kate closed her eyes tight. She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. She opened her eyes again, but nothing had changed. The lights, the noise, the stench of tobacco, the murmuring of voices leaving the hall. The taller of the two men leaned over to the other and whispered something into his ear. The shorter man laughed and then glanced back at Kate, watching her unabashedly.

  Kate started walking, but her legs felt weak like they might give out at any moment. She was also short of breath. When she made it to the foot of the staircase, she noticed that the enormous potted palm was no longer on the landing, and in its place were three flags: two had swastikas set against a red background, and the third was the KDF flag.

  Horrified, Kate stumbled back into one of the enormous wooden eagles standing guard at the foot of the staircase. Its open beak screamed out an eternal call of silent defiance. Kate’s gaze dropped to the wreath that the eagle clutched between its talons—an enormous wooden swastika sat in the middle.

  “This can’t be happening,” she whispered in confusion. She sat down on the first step.

  A waiter with a tray filled with glasses passed her by and gave her an inquisitive glance before moving on.

  Feldman must be playing a joke on me. There has to be a hidden camera in here.

  But the eagle was real. She ran her hands over the edge of the swastika. It was not glued or nailed into the wreath. It had been carved as a single piece. In order to alter the carving, they would have needed to tear out the entire staircase with an industrial crane. But before they could even do that, they would have needed to remove the roof just to get the crane in there in the first place. It was simply impossible in the middle of the ocean.

  Kate dug her nails into her palms, and the pain was intense and distinct. It was no dream. She was awake.

  “Are you all right, Fräulein?” The voice startled her. A waitress dressed in a black uniform and cap was leaning down, looking worried. “Would you like me to bring you a glass of water?”

  Kate took a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves. A woman who was either dead or had disappeared more than seventy years ago was offering her a glass of water. Or maybe it was a ghost. Kate forced herself to choke back the hysterical laughter that was threatening to erupt.

  “Nein, danke,” she answered in perfect German, automatically switching languages. “I’m just a bit dizzy. I’ll be all right in a moment. Really.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” she said, trying to give her best smile even though she knew it was a tragic substitute for a genuine one.

  The woman nodded and left, but not without one last sidelong glance at Kate.

  The noise in the hall became completely raucous when the band started a new song. It was an all-out celebration. Kate stood up and steadied herself on the carved swastika before starting up the staircase. She stared long and hard at the flags as she passed them but did not dare touch them. She was certain they were real, just like everything else around her.

  The doors of the dance hall, which was usually closed off and dark, were open wide, and the space was packed with people. Couples were dancing the foxtrot while other groups of passengers moved back and forth on the dance floor, attended to by a small army of waiters and maids. On stage a seven-piece band was playing as if possessed. The party had swung into a groove. Champagne was flowing, and the passengers were red-faced and lively, wrapped in the cacophony of the celebration and the dense clouds of smoke. The laughter was uproarious, yet to Kate’s ears, slightly off, like everything was out of tune.

  A woman with a blank look passed by her side, sending a chill through Kate’s body. Everything seemed so real. But there was something that did not fit even if she couldn’t put her finger on it. Despite the obvious fact that none of it could be real.

  Kate considered the possibility that some vein had burst in her brain and that she had lost her mind. She wondered if she might not be lying in her cabin bed at that very moment, no more than a vegetable, declared by the ship’s doctor to be certifiably insane.

  Kate grabbed a glass of wine from a tray as it was carried past her. She took a sip, tasting a fresh and bubbly white Riesling. If this were a hallucination, it was the most perfectly realistic one of all time.

  A familiar face in the crowd caught her eye. It belonged to one of the chemists, and he was dressed in a fancy two-piece suit. Her heart beat faster. Seeing someone she recognized in the midst of this ghostly celebration made the wheel of unreality she found herself trapped on spin a little slower. Kate dug deep in her mind to recall his name. He was Finnish; it was something euphonious and exotic. It started with “Lau.” Laukannen. That was it. He and another chemist had joked around with her the day of the first meeting. He was a kind, innocent-looking man with deep blue eyes.

  Kate began walking between groups of revelers. As she passed through she noticed how conversations were coming to a halt and that cliques of groups had begun to talk in whispers. Dozens of eyes were on her.

  Something was wrong.

  She caught a glimpse of her reflection as she passed a mirror, and it dawned on her. Kate’s casual outfit stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of this formal 1930s party. Likely, none of those present had ever seen a pair of jeans in their lives. That is, if they were truly alive.

  Ignoring the stares, she closed in on the chemist and his group. He was chatting in German with two women and a man. As Kate got closer they abruptly became silent.

  “Hello, Mr. Laukannen,” Kate said in German. She leaned closer to him and switched to English, whispering, “To the lounge, quickly.”

  The Finn was taken aback and looked exceptionally baffled. “I’m sorry, Fräu
lein,” he whispered back in German. “I do not understand you. I do not believe I speak your language.”

  “Laukannen,” she murmured, shaking her head. The icy grip within her tightened.

  “What’s wrong, darling,” asked one of the women, placing her hand on Laukannen’s shoulder as if asserting ownership. “Who is this woman?”

  “I have no idea, love,” he replied, looking at Kate with mistrust in his eyes.

  Kate stumbled away without a word and felt their glares pierce the back of her neck. If they assumed she had been drunk, her inglorious departure did nothing to counter that theory.

  She was in the middle of the dance floor. People parted as she passed, as if they could smell that she did not belong. The sweetness in the air was almost suffocating, and yet, on this occasion, there was a hint of decay underneath. The hall smelled like everything in it was rotting. Kate was dizzy. She needed to get out of there.

  As she left she saw Harper chatting with a group of passengers. The captain was dressed in his formal uniform and had a thick mustache on his face, which had not been there earlier that morning. Showing no sign of recognizing her, he suspiciously watched her pass.

  He whispered something to a man at his side and then made a subtle gesture to the waiters standing along the wall at the back of the hall. Kate watched as two of them began walking toward her, making their way through the crowd.

  With a gasp of terror she turned around and moved through the hall, trying to widen the gap between her and the waiters. Harper’s intense blue eyes hovered in her mind. It wasn’t just their cutthroat, merciless appearance. It was Kate’s certainty that earlier that day Captain Harper’s eyes had been brown.

  XXX

  Kate bounded down the staircase two steps at a time. On a whim she took hold of her camera and began snapping pictures in all directions. If this nightmare should ever end, she wanted to be sure it was real and that she hadn’t dreamed it. Or perhaps she needed definitive proof she was indeed crazy.