by Ricky Fleet
“Now how about you?” Chloe sat forward with interest.
“There’s not much to tell really,” Malachi said.
“Don’t be bashful, someone who puts themselves in danger to help others must have led quite a colourful life.”
“Not really,” Malachi shrugged, “I try and keep myself to myself.”
“You could have fooled me,” she teased, “Ok, answer the questions you asked me.”
She waited patiently, the first woman to actually be interested in his existence apart from his mother and Miss Cortez. Seeing that she was getting worried, he began, “Favourite food is Jamaican. I have Des to thank for that, the spices and flavours are out of this world. Drink would have to be plain old, no frills beer.”
“Didn’t I see you nursing a cocktail when you were sat at the table?” she mocked light heartedly.
“Hey, even a man can be tempted by something sweet now and again.”
“And do I tempt you?” Chloe purred.
“More than you will ever know,” Malachi admitted.
“I interrupted you, sorry. Please continue.”
“My favourite colour is turquoise,” he said and she snickered. “A man can like turquoise!” he protested.
“Not black, or red, or blue. No favourite football team colour?” she giggled at his bluster.
“What can I say? I am in touch with my feminine side.”
“That is very noble.” Her laughter was increasing in volume and she had to stifle it behind a fist.
“Thank you,” Malachi made an attempt to bow from his position, “I work as a personal trainer and nutritionist at Jim’s Gym.”
“The one with the bendy weightlifting bar on the sign!”
“That’s it. It’s just around the corner from Desmond’s place. The pay is awful which is a shame as I love the work.”
“It shows,” Chloe whispered quietly, admiring the ripple of his muscles.
“Erm, excuse me. I remember telling you before my eyes are up here,” Malachi joked.
“You did, didn’t you?” She slapped him playfully again, then let her fingers linger, “I can’t help it if you are pleasing to the eye.”
“I will have to start stuffing my face with burgers and pizza.”
“Don’t you dare!” Chloe looked horrified. “Oh God, that sounded really controlling. You can eat whatever you want, it’s none of my business.”
“I was only joking. I know how much crap is in that processed stuff. I prefer to cook from scratch without chemical additives.” Malachi rubbed the top of her hand.
“Amazing body and you can cook too. Marry me?” She nudged him, only half joking.
Ignoring the proposal, Malachi coughed and tried to change the subject, “If I were forced to listen to any type of music, I think it would have to be trance. I just love the laid back beats and vocals; they seem to calm me.”
“Do you need calming then?”
“I do at the moment, yes,” Malachi said honestly. If his erection didn’t go away the next visit by a nurse or doctor was going to be an awkward examination.
“You missed one of the questions,” Chloe told him. It was the most difficult question of all.
“My parents died in an accident many years ago. I was raised in orphanages, which is why I suppose I keep to myself mostly,” Malachi said, a tear running down his cheek. The recent near death experience had brought all the old feelings back, just when he was finally starting to come to terms with being alone.
“I’m so sorry.” Chloe wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. It was a gesture of love with no sexual motives and the painful memories combined to quell his rampant urges.
“Thank you,” Malachi said and she stayed perched on the bed.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, meaning her position.
“No of course not,” he replied. In truth, a few moments earlier she would have felt an incessant prodding, but thankfully he had reined in the lust.
“I won’t ask you about them again, ok?” she said, rubbing his chest, “You can talk to me when you feel ready.”
“Don’t take it personally, I haven’t even really spoken to Kevin about them and I’ve known him for over ten years.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been. Maybe I take some of the pain away though?” she said hopefully.
Malachi was falling for the girl and the thought of being a part of her life did provide a respite from the pain. She reminded him of his mother; quick to smile and laugh, with a heart as deep as an ocean should any man be lucky enough to claim it. As Malachi lay there gently rubbing her leg, she seemed to give off an inexplicable energy. His fingers tingled with a sensation similar to static electricity, only milder and more soothing. Removing his fingertips broke the contact but he could feel it radiating from her. Was it an aura? Or were the drugs creating phantom responses to his growing affections.
“I could stare at you all day,” Chloe whispered, stroking his face.
“But how would I be able to marry a hotshot accountant and live a life of luxury if you don’t keep up the studies?”
Making a mock shocked face, she asked, “You’re not marrying me just for my money are you?”
“Of course not,” Malachi declared, aghast at the accusation against his character, “I’m marrying you for your parent’s money too.”
“You’re awful!” she giggled.
Keeping a straight face, Malachi said, “I’m serious. As soon as I put a ring on your finger I expect to be taken care of. I don’t want to work in a gym for the rest of my life.”
“Really?” A flicker of doubt entered her voice until Malachi couldn’t hold it back and burst out laughing. “You really had me going! Don’t do that!”
“I couldn’t resist,” he took her hand, “But no, I don’t want you for your money. I wouldn’t care if you were penniless. More to the point, what on earth do you see in me? I earn minimum wage and smell of sweat most of the time.”
“Other than the fact you probably saved my life you mean?”
“If Keanu Reeves taught me anything in Speed, relationships based upon extreme circumstances never work out,” Malachi said, equal parts joking and serious. It was in the back of his mind that she could be attributing strong feelings to him because of the trauma, but only time would tell.
“Then we have to base it on sex,” she fired back in her best Sandra Bullock voice. It was terrible, but the kiss that followed made up for the butchery of the American accent.
The mention of sexual liaisons to come filled him with fresh concerns and Chloe sensed the tension. As she drew back Malachi clutched at his abdomen and winced in pain, a subterfuge to prevent more embarrassing lines of questioning.
“Did I hurt you?” Chloe gasped.
“No, I think the morphine may be wearing off,” he replied and felt foolish when she looked at the half full drip bag.
The innocent deception had worked and Chloe poked at the tube. Lacking any understanding of medical treatment, she said, “Let me go and get the nurse, I’ll be right back.”
“No, please stay,” Malachi was keenly aware of the clock ticking down to eight PM. Every moment was valuable and he would be heartsick when she finally left for the evening.
“Well I do charge by the hour, are you sure you can afford me?”
“Hang on, I thought you said you worked in admin?” Malachi nearly choked with laughter as her expression changed to horror.
“Oh my God I sounded like a prostitute!”
“I’d pay you,” Malachi grinned.
Playing along, she stood up and opened her jacket, then put on the voice of a Victorian streetwalker, “Do you like what you see guv’nor?”
“You would make a sexy lady of the night,” Malachi whistled his approval, then clicked his fingers as he was struck by an epiphany.
“What is it?”
“I don’t want you to think I am going insane, but have you got your phone on you? Have you got in
ternet?” Malachi asked breathlessly. The next few seconds, despite his caution to Chloe, could truly mark him as a fruitloop and he had second thoughts.
“It’s right here,” she said, taking it from a pocket, “Do you want my number?”
“No,” Malachi said and inwardly berated himself as her face dropped in disappointment, “I mean of course I want your number, but there is something I would like first.”
“Ok…” Chloe looked unsure.
“Can you do a search for a cruise liner. It would have been in the nineteen fifties and called the SS Freedom.”
Without judging the strange request, she opened the browser and the familiar tippity tap of the keypad rang out. Malachi’s stomach was clenching with apprehension as her face studied the results without revealing any success. Just when he was about to slump back and accept the inevitable descent into psychosis, Chloe jumped in her seat.
“Got it!” she came to the bed excitedly and pointed, “There. It was a luxury cruise liner that served the best and brightest of high society. Only the richest could afford the prestigious journey.”
The story bore a photograph of the newspaper headline at the time, yellowed from its time in storage. The date read 9th April, 1951 and the headline read ‘Another Titanic? Disappearance of popular cruise ship leaves families distraught’. Malachi couldn’t breathe properly and with each brush of his fingers, the accompanying picture was brought into closer focus. Taken from the dock, it was a landscape image of the port side of the vessel. Immaculately dressed people lined the railing, smiling proudly. Nearly every face staring out were those he recognised from the nightmare. Whether it was just his perception or the knowledge of what these evil murderers had done, their eyes looked devoid of life. Except for the wrinkles of the older crew, the tell-tale laughter lines of genuine humour were absent. Their lips smiled but their eyes glared. It was like looking at a row of well-dressed sharks who had learned to mimic human expressions.
“Why the interest?” Chloe asked, frowning. She hadn’t missed how his breathing had become little more than shallow gasps as the rest of the story was read.
“Erm,” Malachi had to think quickly under the scrutiny of the psychotic captain on the screen, “I just remembered it from a television program I watched and didn’t know if the name was correct.”
“It has you really rattled, are you sure that’s all it is?”
“I had a bad dream about it while I was…” he couldn’t exactly say asleep, “Unconscious. It brought the memories back.”
It was the truth. Almost.
“Oh, baby,” she rubbed his arm, “I assumed if you were sedated you wouldn’t be able to dream.”
“I wish.”
Malachi had to force his eyes away from the hypnotic gaze of the dead captain. What the hell? Looking back, he could have sworn he saw the man sneer but it must have been a trick of his mind. The story begun by honouring a list of important military retirees that had been lost with the ship. Speculation was rife about what had transpired on the doomed voyage. Engine failure, a navigational error, even a hijacking at sea were mentioned. No wreckage was ever found by the search craft which had been dispatched. They couldn’t have known of the deviation in course which had been made from the original passage plan and their search grid was off by two hundred miles. The rest of the article comprised mechanical information and the capacity of the lifeboats, none of which were ever recovered. Nothing came close to the true horror of what had taken the nine hundred and sixty-two souls on that fateful day.
“Malachi are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Chloe was oblivious to how close she was to the truth.
“It’s nothing. I was just thinking about all those poor people.”
“I know. It must have been terrifying,” she whispered.
Shannon returned and said quietly, “Visiting time is up. I’ll give you a couple more minutes, though.”
“Thank you,” Malachi smiled warmly.
“Anything for my favourite patient,” she winked and left them alone.
“I think she has a crush on you,” Chloe teased.
“Well I am a fine specimen.” Malachi flexed his biceps and Chloe squeezed them appreciatively.
“You’re my fine specimen. At least I’d like you to be?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Malachi shook his head, “I think I need to keep my options open. Today I have struck lucky with an accountant and a nurse, tomorrow I could meet a princess and marry into the royal family.”
“Knowing your luck you would kiss her and she would turn into a frog,” Chloe laughed.
“I thought that was a prince?”
“Who cares, just kiss me,” she leaned in closer, “I won’t ever turn into anything. Except maybe a naturist.”
The kiss contained a yearning for more and by the time their lips parted both were breathing heavily. Neither wanted the night to come to an end but it was unfair on the other patients who needed peace to heal. Fluttering a hand by her face, Chloe tried to calm down.
“Before you go I have a gift,” Malachi said, leaning over to the massive floral arrangement to pull a single red rose out.
“Aww,” she held it close, “I love it. No one has ever given me a rose.”
“I hope you don’t mind I had to steal it from Desmond. My salary barely keeps a roof over my head.”
“I will cherish it forever,” she said honestly and kissed him goodbye, “I’ll see you straight after work tomorrow.”
Watching her go was one of the hardest things Malachi had ever experienced. Turning the corner, she glanced back and blew another kiss. Irrationally he wondered if it would be the last time they would see each other. Orphaned by circumstances out of his control, he was keenly aware of how delicate life could be. Giving himself a mental shake, he dared to imagine for the first time that he may be able to share his life with someone amazing. If love was truly on the cards, he would need to seek out psychiatric help to expel the inner demons.
“You aren’t really meant to have anything solid yet, but I can get you some yoghurt?” Shannon offered.
“That would be great, thanks.”
“Be back in a jiffy,” she hurried off to collect the treat.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As the spoon scraped the last morsels of strawberry yoghurt from the plastic bowl, Malachi found himself wondering about the dream of the boat. His lie to Chloe about remembering the story from a television program had a ring of plausibility about it. Had he seen a Discovery Channel documentary in the past when it had been mentioned? Remembering a show about a salvage mission via remote submarine to the Titanic caused him to frown in concentration.
“Were other missing boats mentioned?” he asked himself.
Nothing immediately sprung to mind which left only bizarre theories of why he had dreamed of the deaths, real or imagined. The ocean held no real attraction to Malachi, he had surfed a few times but never felt the siren song of the high seas. Even if he had received a vision of their grisly end, it didn’t explain the hundreds of other nightmares he had suffered with human looking people in alien lands. His mind swirled with contradictions until he gave up trying to piece it together. Exhaustion was asserting itself again and as his eyelids became heavier, the mental picture of Chloe beckoned him to follow.
The growing vibration in the concrete floor caused murmurs of disturbance around the pitch black room. Someone shouted angrily from one corner about the coming aliens, before falling back into their vivid dreams of invasion. Cardboard rustled as people adjusted position, and Taren reached down to reassure herself that Zulma was still there. Fingers found the warm skin of her shoulder and an invisible hand reached out in response, stroking her.
“Go back to sleep,” Zulma whispered groggily, still half asleep.
“You know I can’t sleep through these things,” Taren replied, moving her body closer under the blanket.
Zulma sighed and rolled back the sheet before le
aning in expertly for a kiss. They were so used to darkness that, even blind, each could read the others movements without knocking heads. With a final stroke of the cheek, Taren broke the contact and sat up.
“I really need to use the toilet.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Zulma asked, rubbing her back.
“Would you mind?”
“Of course not, baby. We may lose our spot though.”
“I don’t mind,” Taren replied, “I prefer having you watch out for me.”
Faint light started to illuminate the wide tunnel, rolling back the shadows in the room. Eighteen people were crammed in the filthy space, laid under whatever could be scavenged from the overworld. The previous week, Zulma and Taren had managed to bring back a set of boxes which had been stripped down by Raiden. He had then made up small pods to provide some privacy, but they were strictly first come, first serve. Someone would take the opportunity to claim the bed space while the two women answered natures call.
“Did you want to wait until it’s passed?”
“No, I like watching them. I try and imagine what it would be like if we had a life still. Our old home, food to eat,” Taren said and started to weep quietly.
“At least we are safe,” Zulma replied, hugging her lover close.
They had been deemed CWONS, or citizens without necessary skills, when the technological revolution had started. Teachers of infant children in their old life, they had fled underground when the government started forced retraining programs. Only three professions remained; manufacturing weapons, soldier, or material reclamation; both metals and organic substances. The last role involved collecting body parts and munitions from the battlefield, usually under heavy fire. Recycling had gone beyond plastics and the scorched meat was converted into energy bars. The announcement had been met with an outpouring of horror which was swiftly silenced.
Taren shuddered at the memory, “At least we get to choose what we eat, too.”
“Yeah, when we can catch a rat or two,” Zulma grinned, nudging her in the emaciated ribs.
Standing in the doorway, the tunnel stretched for over one hundred feet in diameter. The labyrinthine system spanned every mile of the occupied territory and each victory required more tunnels. A slave army had been amassed during the revolution and they were worked until they dropped dead. Spaced along the tunnel itself were thick, magnetic steel plates which switched angle dependant on the direction the vessel was travelling. Surrounded by magnetic fields, terrible headaches were an everyday occurrence. Anyone with fillings had taken the opportunity to have them removed by a dentist who had been moving eastward. An end to the agony was a price worth paying for the lack of anaesthetic.
