by Jacob Hammes
She sighed and gave into her fate, turned back to the door and decided to let what was going to happen, happen.
The cops were just what she had expected them to be. Two men in blue uniforms that spoke in hushed voices and asked guided questions. The white masks over their mouths made her uncomfortable. They wanted to know what she remembered, where she had come from, what her name was, and why she was on the yacht in the first place. Unfortunately, she wasn’t very much help. She could hardly remember what she had eaten for breakfast in the hospital, let alone any of the events that had occurred aboard the boat. She smiled politely, tried her hardest to speak, but nothing came out.
Eventually a kind doctor came to her rescue. He was an attractive man in his mid-forties with strong features and a prominent jaw. Upon seeing her, he smiled and winked. Within just a few minutes, the police were headed out. Though they didn’t get any answers, they were very assured that they would be able to revisit Amy once her health—and speech—had been restored. Unfortunately, she didn’t know when that would be or if it would ever happen.
“I hear we’ve taken to calling you Amy.” The doctor’s name tag said Robert. “Sorry about the police. Unfortunately you were found aboard a ship full of dead people that cannot be boarded. This is a quarantine area in the hospital, and though I’m supposed to be wearing a mask to protect myself from you, I don’t like masks. Do you remember anything?”
Amy could only shake her head in response. She wished she could help a little bit at least, but the harder she thought about it the more her head ached.
“That’s unfortunate,” Doctor Robert said. Amy noticed polished steel doors behind the man, down a short hallway. They slid shut sharply as the police officers were escorted through a decontamination area.
“You’ve most likely experienced some pretty traumatic stuff, which is probably the cause of your amnesia. We did some tests on you this morning while you were unconscious. Thankfully, you’re not damaged. I also have to warn you that we did a rape screening. You came up with good results; there was no sign of foul play.”
Amy didn’t know how to feel about that. She had not been raped, but some random stranger had been poking around in her underwear while she was asleep. She shifted uncomfortably in her bed, but managed to smile anyway.
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t me that did the screening,” Doctor Robert chuckled gently. “It was your nurse, Belle. She is gentle and kind, and believe it or not she has a strange connection to you.”
Though it didn’t make her feel much better, Amy did feel relieved. She didn’t want the big man in front of her to be the culprit behind her probing. She liked him as he was when they had first met. He was her savior.
For a moment, Robert took her in. She felt uncomfortable at first, having those piercing eyes look over her as if she were some piece of meat. He gauged her in many ways, she assumed. He looked at her hair and her eyes mostly, with an obvious question on his mind. Something was bothering him, yet he couldn’t place his finger on it.
“Hablas Español?” The doctor suddenly started speaking Spanish with an accent like someone from Spain, not Latin America. The words brought back a flood of emotions, feelings, and more importantly the ability to speak without stuttering.
“Sí,” Amy responded softly, surprised at her own ability. It was as if he had opened a door for her and she had just walked through it. Though she understood English, Amy wasn’t at all certain whether or not she could speak the language. The feeling of knowing something after all the uncertainty was exhilarating.
“At least we know the problem,” the doctor continued, speaking flawless Spanish with her. “From your beautiful complexion and the name of your yacht, I figured you might speak Spanish. Can you remember your name?”
“No,” Amy said. “I can’t remember anything. All I remember is waking up in this bed. I used to remember more, I think, but I’ve lost it since then.”
“It’s probably a side effect of whatever trauma you’ve been through. The body is a resilient thing, but some traumas can severely affect your memories and how they are processed. You don’t have an identification, but I think the investigators will be bringing some more information for you to look over later. If at any time they trigger a specific memory or you start feeling uncomfortable, you should let me know.”
“More police?” Amy asked pleadingly. “I don’t think I can tell them much.”
“It’s okay,” Doctor Robert said. “Just comply and tell them whatever you can. At this point you are both the only witness of a mass murder aboard a boat which has no record of you, and the sole suspect. You might be getting a lawyer or two coming by here, too.”
“But I did nothing wrong.”
“It doesn’t appear that you could have,” the doctor continued. “The fact that the yacht you were aboard has some invisible force field keeping people away will most likely work to your advantage. No one will be able to blame you for anything, from what I’ve heard.”
“What are you talking about?” Amy frowned. She was genuinely concerned. “I don’t remember anything you’re talking about.”
The doctor quickly explained what was going on with the boat while Amy listened intently. She wanted to help, but she couldn’t remember a thing about what had happened. Robert was quick to tell her that government agents would be coming to visit her, too.
“For now,” the doctor continued, “why don’t you try and get some sleep. I bet a few hours of rest and some hearty food will make you feel better. With some good food in your belly, it should be easier to rest.”
“What about my family?” Amy asked quietly. “Do you think that anyone will come for me?”
The doctor sighed. Even though he had his back turned to her, she could see the sadness set in. His shoulders slumped beneath the white coat he wore and his head swayed slowly from side to side. It made her heart sink within her chest, knowing that he thought that she was now an orphan.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Unfortunately, we can only know what we learn. Without an identity, you are basically a ghost. You have no home, no name, and nothing that could help give us clues to where your family is. We have no way of knowing if the people on the boat were your family, or whether you were kidnapped. I’m sorry.”
Amy contemplated her predicament. She was basically what the doctor said: a ghost. She didn’t exist. Her name was made up and her clothes belonged to someone else. All that she could call her own was her skin, her hair, and those awful scabs on each of her arms. She wondered what they were for a brief moment before falling back into the misery of her current situation.
She was truly alone, besides Belle the nurse and Robert the doctor. They were only being nice to her because they had to be. She knew that they were genuine, but if she had died they wouldn’t have noticed. Her family, if she had one, would definitely notice her disappearance. They would have to know that she was missing. They would come and find her, wherever she was, and she knew it.
Tears dripped from her eyes onto the bed like large raindrops. She didn’t mind crying in front of Robert. She had found despair and it was deep, and Robert the doctor was her only comfort. He softly patted her back before she buried her head into his chest and whimpered like the child she was. Long racking sobs came and went, leaving her feeling like she was being wrung dry. However she tried to stop, though, she could not.
After what seemed like forever, she started drifting off to sleep in the smell of the doctor’s embrace. He was warm and smelled like someone who was powerful, strong, and intelligent. His touch on her back was warm and comforting and all she wanted was stay forever in the arms of a man who cared.
Eventually the crying stopped. Robert laid her sleeping head upon the pillow of the hospital bed and wrapped her in the generic hospital sheets. He shut the blinds and turned the lights down low so that she could sleep uninterrupted. He even took care to step quietly when he left the room and shut the door behind him. Amy would need as much slee
p as she could get so that she could get better, or at least remember something useful for the upcoming investigation. It would be painful to everyone involved, even the doctor who was sure that he would have to testify in someone’s murder trial about the young woman.
A torrent of colors surrounded Amy as she slept. They flew this way and that, like a kaleidoscope stuck in a multihued sandstorm. They were comforting at first, then frightening, then comforting again—the entire ordeal was confusing. She felt relaxed, though she didn’t feel entirely safe.
She couldn’t be sure in the dream, but Amy swore that she could see a face. It was the only thing about the dream she could remember when she woke. It was an old man’s face, smiling a genuine smile of happiness at her. It was the happiest she had felt since arriving in the hospital.
Amy hoped she would dream about the man again. Maybe next time, he would be less colorful and more jovial.
Marcus dreaded telling his girlfriend he was going on an adventure without her. The timing was just too perfect for the situation to sound like a coincidence. He slipped into his sleek sports car and let the leather massage his back through the thin black shirt he was wearing. It was always the perfect temperature, though he wasn’t sure how it had gotten that way. It took his mind off the task at hand—calling Julie.
The phone rang once, then twice, and then her voice broke the silence in between rings. Somehow, she managed to sound annoyed right off the bat. She must be driving if she gave him that voice.
“Hi baby,” she said in a tone that made him feel unwelcome.
“You sound so chipper,” he answered. “Is this a bad time?”
“It’s never a bad time for you. I just got some bad news about a case we’ve been working on and I had to hurry up and get ready is all. I’m frustrated that one of my damn employees can’t take care of the simplest matters without me holding his hand.”
“Sorry to hear that.” The sound of her frustration just gave Marcus more trepidation. He didn’t want her even more upset, but hopefully he would be home before dinner regardless. “I guess it’s a bad time to tell you I’m going to be out of the state for the rest of the day.”
“Not really,” Julie stated bluntly. “I’ll probably be at work until tomorrow morning anyway trying to sort through all of these legal proceedings. I don’t want you to go, but I won’t see you anyway. You’re not skipping out on me so you can have more time to think about us getting hitched, are you?”
“It’s a possibility,” Marcus chided. “I’m taking my whole team up north so that we can hash out the details of our living arrangements together. Don’t worry, though. They are all on your side.”
“As they should be.” Julie giggled. Her voice turned pleasant for just a moment before it was back to business. “Well, I’m just pulling into work. Please be safe and keep me updated. I’ll sleep at my place tonight, but you had better call me soon.”
“I will, don’t worry. You don’t give me enough credit.”
“You don’t give me enough of a warning when you’re jetting off to other states.”
“Goodbye, beautiful.” Marcus couldn’t help being curt. It was his way of telling Julie to stop pushing the matter. He had been open with her about the importance of his job from day one—complaining about it did nothing.
“Bye, Marcus,” she stated before hanging up the phone.
She really wasn’t in the mood, Marcus thought to himself. He made a mental note to try and make it up to her later, if he could. There were many things both of them enjoyed that would make her happy and nearly half of them had to do with bed. Lately she had opened up to him about a specific fetish that included latex, ropes, and clamps. It wasn’t particularly surprising to him seeing as how she enjoyed ripping chunks of skin off every time they were in the sack, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to approach the subject. If he bought her something like a gag, he was worried she would turn it around on him and stifle his pleas for mercy.
He wasn’t quite sure whether or not the thought turned him on.
“You ready, buddy?” Stephen had accompanied Marcus to the underground parking garage to stow his personal effects and had been waiting patiently nearby. His booming voice woke Marcus from his temporary daydream. The ridiculously expensive vehicle he drove put Marcus’s sleek little sports car to shame, though Marcus would never admit it. The grin that split Stephen’s face from ear to ear made him wonder whether or not he had been able to read his mind.
“Women,” Stephen said. “They’re never exactly what you hope for.”
“Brenda is everything you want her to be, isn’t she?”
“That’s another story altogether,” Stephen said, pushing Marcus playfully as he got out of his vehicle. They sauntered toward the awaiting sports utility vehicles while bantering back and forth about women.
Something weighed heavily on Marcus’s mind. Though he hated to admit it, he was sure the rest of the team felt the same way; they were one man short. The banter, the preparations, all of it just seemed hollow without Bishop in tow. He had been the one to which every looked for fun. His bright smile, shining attitude, and ability to see the positive in every situation had made an impact on everyone he ever met. This would be the team’s first case without Bishop, and all of them would feel the loss keenly.
Marcus put the thought out of his head and jumped in one of the vehicles. Henry and Brenda were already seated and buckled up. They all carried concealed weapons and identifications associating them with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Marcus patted the FN 9mm strapped beneath his left armpit and the extra magazines that were hanging from the opposite side to reassure himself that he had not forgotten anything important.
“Are you guys ready to see something we’ve never seen before?” Henry was genuinely interested in getting his hands on the magical box that was making people see crazy things. Marcus had to admit, he couldn’t fathom what type of radio frequency radiation had to be pouring out of that thing in order to make people hallucinate. Something was seriously wrong with a machine if it could temporarily alter a person’s sanity.
“Toujours Pret,” Stephen said. It was the motto of the 2nd Cavalry Regiment, the longest running cavalry unit in the Army’s history, and French for ‘always ready.’ “I can’t wait to see what type of trip we’re going to have when we accidentally turn it on.”
“You would say something like that,” Brenda scoffed. “Don’t get mad at me when my skin melts off and I start shooting fire into your crotch.”
“You’d never hurt me, baby,” Stephen said, patting his girlfriend on the knee. “Trust me, a little fire crotch has never hurt anyone.”
“In all honesty,” Henry continued, cutting everyone else off, “we need to take this seriously. The DOD is concerned that a new weapon has been constructed that has the possibility of creating mass hysteria. We need to get in, snatch that box, and get out before local press is alerted to the situation. If news spreads that something like this exists, we’re going to have to deal with everything from copycats to a population that’s worried to go outside.
“We’re going to have to be very cognizant of the fact that there is a distinct possibility this piece of machinery will negatively affect us, too. I’d suggest putting someone on a rope with as many sensors as they can carry. That way, you can pull them back when they start seeing demons.”
“I take it you’re not volunteering to go inside?” Brenda patted him on the back.
“Hell no,” Henry said, laughing. “I’ve done LSD once or twice. I said I’d never do it again. Besides, you know how well I do with dead bodies. That’s why I’m going to the hospital. You doubt my usefulness, you young punks?”
Henry wasn’t one to complain, but it was true he was somewhat squeamish around gore. He could be a cold-blooded killer when the time came and never hesitated to shoot back at someone, but he had expressed, on occasion, his inability to stomach large amounts of human remains.
“We would never doubt you.
” Marcus said and smiled.
Two vehicles pulled out onto the street and headed toward the small private airport. Fifteen minutes later, the team would be aboard two private corporate helicopters shooting northeast at over a hundred miles per hour. They would be in New Jersey and Philadelphia within an hour, split into two groups and essentially investigating two very different objects of interest.
Marcus wondered about the team that had been tasked with investigating the sole survivor. Thus far, the UOD had no background on the young woman, except for the fact she had been aboard the ship. No one knew anything about her. The owners of the boat, registered in Spain, had no known children. Though it was a distinct possibility the yacht had been borrowed or even rented out, their leads would be few and far between until the bodies aboard the ship were identified.
The team’s secondary objective was actually to clear the ship of any traps in order for coroners to take the corpses off to some medical facility. The only real way they could start solving this mystery was to get rid of that box. It was already causing headaches and Marcus hadn’t even seen the damned thing yet. He couldn’t help but speculate as to how much trouble it would give him when he did.
Chapter 5
The fence around the pier was topped with barbed wire, and the gate was guarded by two FBI agents and four heavily armed officers. Though they might usually be carrying simple hip-holstered pistols, today they were packing loaded M4s and heavy body armor. Marcus grinned at the FBI agent who checked his identification. He reminded Marcus of one of the guys from an old movie.
He caught Marcus’s grin and flashed one back.
“Don’t get too happy,” the man said from behind dark sunglasses. “Once you guys get close enough to that haunted yacht, you’ll wish I never let you through in the first place. Park over there with the rest of the vehicles, please.”
