by Dayle, Harry
The gun. Where was the gun? His head began to swirl. He saw Lucya standing over him. Why wasn’t she helping? Lucya turned into Jane, his estranged wife. She was holding a baby, his baby. He reached out to touch the infant, which was when he realised he still had a free hand. Gathering all his will, he refocused his eyes. Ibsen’s face was deep red with the effort of pinning him down and strangling him. With a monumental effort, Jake thrust his free hand forward, stabbing his fingers into the captain’s eyes. Ibsen roared with pain and flew backwards, releasing his grip as his hands flew up to his face. Jake pulled his own hand away and rolled onto his side, choking, gasping for breath. Ibsen was on his knees. One hand covered his eyes and blood streamed down his face. The other thrashed around wildly, trying to find its target. Jake tried to roll onto his front, to crawl away, but as he did so a hand found his ankle and closed around it in a grip that nearly crushed his bones. He felt himself being dragged backwards, and pawed helplessly at the smooth surface of the linoleum floor, desperately trying to escape the claw-like grip. When a second hand grabbed his other ankle, he knew the game was up. He had no strength left, nothing with which to fight back. The image of Jane flashed before his eyes once again. Her lips were moving, she was saying something, speaking almost silently.
“The gun, Jake. Get the gun,” she mouthed.
He looked around desperately, but there was no sign of the gun. Ibsen was reeling him in, and there was nothing he could do. Then he spotted it. A shadow on the dark floor. A tiny glint of light reflected from the shiny surface as his head was dragged past it. Not the gun, but a shard of glass from the smashed champagne bottle. His right hand shot out and he grabbed it just as Ibsen got a hand on his waist and yanked him towards him. Jake was still face down, and Ibsen put a knee in his back, pinning him to the floor. He could feel him lean over him; the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt those hands approach once more. With one final effort, he gripped the glass and thrust it behind him as far as his hand would go. Ibsen was a big target, and his proximity meant Jake couldn’t miss. He felt the glass meet resistance, and pushed it as hard as he could with a grunt. The sharp edge of the shard cut into Jake’s hand. Ibsen gasped. Jake felt hot blood spurt out around the glass. He had no idea if it was his own or the captain’s.
“No! What have you done? What…what…” Ibsen rasped, then gurgled. He keeled over onto his side. As he did so Jake felt the glass slide out of his hand, cutting it even more deeply. Freed from the weight of the captain, he attempted once more to roll himself over. But he was spent; he had no energy left. With blood pouring from his hand, he passed out.
• • •
When he came round, Jake found himself lying in his own bed, back in his cabin. For a brief, blissful moment, he thought perhaps the recent events had all been a bad dream. The sight of Max, Lucya, and Grau crowded round the end of the bed quickly put paid to that idea.
“Welcome back,” Lucya said softly, smiling.
“No, don’t try and get up, not yet. You need some more rest.” Grau was the only one of the three seated.
“What happened? Where’s the captain? Did you find him? He’s gone crazy, he wants to kill us all. We have to stop him, he’s got a gun!” Jake lifted his head as he tried to sit up, felt dizzy and immediately fell back onto the pillow.
“Slow down there, fella.” Max came round the side of the bed. “The captain’s not going to be doing any killing, you saw to that.”
“I slowed him down? You got to him in time to tie him up?”
“Jake.” Lucya glanced uneasily at Grau. “The captain is dead. There was a fight, do you remember?”
“Of course I remember! Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. What I mean is, I haven’t lost my memory. I know what happened. But how can he be dead?”
“You stabbed him, with a piece of glass.”
Jake pulled his hand out from under the bed cover and looked at it, remembering how the bottle had cut it open, remembering the blood. His palm was neatly and comprehensively bandaged.
“I’m thinking of specialising in hand wounds. You two are certainly keeping me busy,” Grau said, looking from Jake to Lucya.
“Listen, you did what you had to do, son.” Max tried to reassure him. “Given the state we found you in, it was pretty clear that you had to defend yourself. That piece of bottle went straight into Ibsen’s heart. He would have been dead within minutes. The cut was deep. Nobody could have saved him.”
“He said that we were supposed to die, that it was God’s will. He was mad, I’ve never seen anyone like that before.”
“I must share some responsibility for what has happened here,” Grau said, a grave look on his face. “I couldn’t say anything before because of patient confidentiality.”
The others looked at him expectantly.
“Captain Ibsen has been seeing me regularly with a stress-related condition. I was of the opinion that it did not affect his capacity to run this ship. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“This isn’t your fault, Doctor Lister,” Lucya said. “Today has hardly been normal circumstances, it’s been enough to send anyone over the edge.”
“That is possible, and I appreciate your kind words. Even so, at sea we are meant to expect the unexpected, to deal with unplanned and dangerous events. I should have made a recommendation to the company that the captain be given leave, to rest.”
“Look, this is not your or anyone else’s fault, Doc,” Max said. “We can debate this all we like, it doesn’t change what happened here. We have more pressing things to discuss, like what we do now. Jake, you understand you’re in charge now, right?”
The thought had not occurred to him, and Max’s words hit him with almost as much force as the captain’s punch to the face. His head began to spin. He, Jake Noah, had just killed a man. He was responsible for taking a human life. And now he was responsible for safeguarding three thousand more human lives aboard this ship. Possibly the last three thousand human lives on the planet. If the rest of the world had been destroyed as the broadcast had suggested, he was in charge of the rest of the human race. With that thought, he passed out again.
• • •
“Nothing. No response to my distress calls. No radio chatter. Nothing on the shortwave. I can’t even pick up any navigation beacons,” Lucya said, setting down her headset on the dull grey communications console.
“We mustn’t give up hope,” Silvia said. She and Lucya were the only two people on the bridge. They had used the fire escape staircase that went directly from the bridge all the way to the roof of deck thirteen in order to enter without being seen by the angry mob camped outside the main door.
“You’re right,” Lucya said. “Just because nobody is transmitting, it doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone around to transmit. For all we know, that asteroid may just have knocked out the electrics. We still don’t really know what happened to the northern states and other countries.”
“But what do I tell passengers? It’s not just out there that things are getting difficult. There are groups massing all over the ship. Whatever we decide to do, we need to announce it.”
“That’s down to Jake now. We have to wait for him. In the meantime, we stick to what Johnny told us to do; his orders still stand.”
There was a clanging noise, and a hole appeared in the ceiling. A pair of feet dangled through it, found the ladder, and grew into legs, and eventually into Max.
“It’s getting worse out there. I need to disperse the crowd, but I’m outnumbered. I need a weapon,” he said, walking to an innocuous-looking locker at the back of the room.
He took a key out of his pocket and went to insert it into the lock, but found another key already in there. Cautiously, he pulled the door open. Inside were eight rifles, neatly stacked upright. He pulled open a drawer under the rifles. Neatly packaged in a foam inlay were four automatic pistols. There was a conspicuous space where a fifth pistol clearly should have been.
“Well
that explains where the captain got his gun from,” Max said to nobody in particular.
Lucya walked over, saw the contents of the cupboard, and whistled.
“What are these doing on board? This is a cruise ship, not a navy transport!”
“Anti-piracy measures,” Max said. “We’ve been carrying weapons for the last year, in case we were attacked by pirates.”
“How come nobody told us? What good are weapons if nobody knows they’re here?”
“Captain knew. And I knew. Johnny knew, too. We each have a key to this cabinet. The company wanted to keep it quiet, figured it might make folks worry if they knew we were prepared in case of attack. The guns were put here at the same time a bridge recording system was installed. It records video and audio of everything that happens up here. Can’t see the point of it myself, they’ve never been able to prosecute these pirates. Having video evidence isn’t going to change that.”
“I would have felt a lot safer knowing we had those handy,” Lucya said. She pulled out a rifle, held it up, and looked down the sights.
“I always forget you were in the Russian Navy,” Silvia said, taking a step back involuntarily. “I hate guns. I hope you’re not expecting me to carry one, Max?”
Max pulled the gun from Lucya’s hand.
“I’m not expecting anyone to carry one. The intention is to keep the peace. Situation outside calls for a little extra persuasion, so I’m just going to borrow this for a bit.”
He closed the lock, then turned and removed the key, slipping it in his pocket. He strode over to the main door, unlocked it, and swung it open quickly, taking those outside by surprise.
“Ladies and gentlemen, would you please return to your cabins or the public areas of the ship.” He made a show of placing the strap of the rifle over his shoulder.
“We’ve been here for over an hour. We want some answers,” a man called out.
“Yeah, got that right, dude!” another man chimed in.
“Where’s the captain? We want to speak to the captain,” said the woman in red, apparently the ringleader.
“The captain will be talking to the whole ship when he is good and ready,” Max said. “Right now, he’s busy. As I’m sure you can imagine, he has a lot on his plate. The safety of all passengers on board is his priority. It is the priority of every crew member. Now, please kindly get back to your cabins or I will have to treat this little gathering as a specific threat to the crew.”
There was a lot of mumbling, but the impressive firearm strapped to Max’s shoulder was enough to persuade the rabble that they were better off complying. They shuffled off, muttering amongst themselves.
Max closed and locked the door. “We need Jake. He’s had a couple of hours to rest, we can’t wait any longer. We need some decisions, and to get word out about what we’re doing.”
“I’ll go and wake him,” Lucya said, jumping from her chair a bit too enthusiastically. “There’s not much I can do here anyway. I’ve set up a couple of radio scanners to sweep the main channels. If they pick up any signals they’ll lock onto them and you’ll hear it.”
“Silvia, can you go and fetch Martin?” Max said. “We need his input too.”
“Sure. What about Doctor Lister? Anyone else?”
“No, the doctor is busy enough looking after the wounded. They need him more down there than we do up here.”
Max opened the door again and checked that the passageway outside was clear. The two women slipped outside and headed for the stairs. Max remained on guard outside the bridge.
Fifteen
“DID YOU SEE him? Did you see the captain?” Flynn asked.
“No. I got a good look inside when the guy with the gun came out. There were two women in there. I didn’t see anyone else.” Eileen looked pleased with herself. She had carried out her husband’s instructions perfectly. He would be pleased with her, and that meant life would be a bit easier. For the time being, at least.
“Something’s going down, Eileen. For the captain to leave the bridge at a time like this, something ain’t right, I tell you. Only reason he wouldn’t be there is if he was out touring the ship, and we ain’t heard of no tour going on. So that means either he’s injured or he’s dead. This is it, Eileen, this is my chance already. I didn’t think it would happen this quickly, but God must believe I’m ready. I need to get me to the bridge. I’ll be ready. The people need a leader, and I’m going to show them a better way to live.”
Sixteen
JAKE HAD DRIFTED in and out of consciousness several times over the last couple of hours. He saw visions of his wife, but every time she appeared she would be blasted to atoms by a giant asteroid. When he slept, he dreamt of a burning planet, a molten ball floating alone in space. After a particularly upsetting dream, in which the world exploded, he realised he wasn’t going to get much more sleep. Easing himself out of bed, he wobbled to his feet, stepped into the bathroom, and caught sight of himself in the mirror. The light from the small porthole was not bright, but he could see that the side of his face had turned blue, and that his hair was matted with blood.
He tried the shower, unsure of whether or not the flow of water relied on electric pumps. Miraculously a jet of water spurted out. It was freezing cold, but Jake didn’t care. Using only his good hand, he wriggled out of his clothes and stepped under the icy flow. The chilled liquid on his skin jolted him awake and brought with it a new clarity. As he watched the grime of the ash and the blood of his captain wash off his body and mix with the clear water, turning it a muddy brown, he resigned himself to his fate. He was in charge now, effectively the captain of this ship. The job he had never wanted. The responsibility he had always feared. He had nearly been killed three times. He should have died; the passengers deserved better. He was no leader, he had no idea what to do. If he hadn’t survived, Lucya would probably be in charge as the next most senior officer on board. Or maybe Max. There was a man who people would respect, look up to. If Max told you to do something, you would do it without question. He inspired confidence. He would make a great captain. He would know how to lead these people to safety.
Could he pass up his duty? Appoint Max captain? Or even Lucya? Did he have the authority? He hadn’t even begun his staff captain training. He didn’t know what he could or couldn’t do. He’d never wanted to go as far as first officer, but he’d gone along with the program, taking courses, exams, moving up the ranks, keeping his family happy whilst all the time wondering what he should really do with his life. He’d made it this far by accident, not by design. And now he’d just been fast tracked to the top in the worst possible circumstances.
The jet of water slowed to a trickle, and eventually stopped altogether. Jake stepped out of the shower and dried himself on a fluffy white towel, embroidered with a tiny image of the ship and the name Spirit of Arcadia. He didn’t think he could appoint another in his place. He was going to have to try and give this a shot.
“Don’t think about the end of the world stuff,” he said to himself aloud. “Think of this as a temporary assignment. A training exercise. You’re just acting captain until we reach a safe port. That’s the objective here. Reach a safe port.” A little voice in the back of his mind tried to tell him that there were no safe ports, that the asteroid had destroyed them, that they were alone at sea, destined to slowly starve to death. It tried, but Jake chose to ignore it. He couldn’t think like that. If he accepted that as their fate, they were already dead.
There was a gentle knock at the door.
“Jake? Are you awake? It’s me, Lucya.”
“Give me a moment,” he called back.
He opened his wardrobe and picked out the first clean clothes that came to hand. A pair of jeans, another t-shirt, and a navy blue sweater. He dressed as quickly as he could with the limited use of his hands.
“Come in,” he said as soon as he was decent.
The door opened and Lucya walked in. She looked exhausted. Her long black hair was dishevelled, he
r clothes partially melted, and her face bore patches of ash like badly applied makeup.
“Hey you, you’re looking much better.” She looked around the room. “I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
“Talking to myself,” Jake said, and blushed a little.
“Hmm, you know what they say about that! So, erm, we need you up on the bridge. You know, to decide what happens next?” She let the words out carefully, as if they were going to turn around and bite her in the face.
“It’s okay, Lucya, I know what I have to do.” He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fumbling with the laces of his shoes. His bandaged hand prevented him from gripping them. “Shit, sorry, oh hell, could you…would you mind…?” He looked up helplessly.
“Yeah! Of course!” Lucya dropped to her knees and proceeded to tie the laces neatly, her own smaller patch less of an impediment to free movement.
“I can’t even put my own shoes on. How am I going to run this ship, Lucya?” Jake felt panic well up inside him. He wanted to cry. He wanted to bury himself in his bed and never come out. He fought back the tears, keeping his head bowed low; he didn’t want her to see.
