by Trimboli, TJ
He rushed through the room to the bed ripping it off of its bedspring. Below it was a large black box. He opened it to reveal absolutely nothing inside of it. His heart dipped in his chest, skipping multiple beats. The room instantly felt as if it was closing in. The walls shrunk and the furniture grew larger. He felt like an orca in a fish tank. Sweat dripped down his face. His stash was depleted.
No more booze? This can’t be. I was so sure. Five bottles should have done it. How could it not?
Breathing heavily, he frantically searched the room for any sign of booze. He found none. By night’s end, he would be completely sober. He jumped up, racing out of the room. Now, it became painstakingly clear to him how pitch black the hallways were. He randomly picked a direction and hauled ass. He bumped into person after person, many of them harmlessly lying on the floor. He tripped over what felt like a box then fell into a door that brought him out onto the deck. The fresh air hit him like a wall of death at a metal concert. He sucked it in. He fell against the rails waiting for this panic attack to subside. He shut his eyes hoping, praying for a solution to present itself.
“Look at you. How pathetic,” a voice spoke.
Trent opened his eyes.
A comely young man loomed over him shaking his head in disappointment. He wore black dress pants, a red button down with a black vest over it, complete with a black bowtie. His brown hair looked short, neat, and slicked back. Not one hair seemed out of place.
Trent couldn’t believe his dumb luck. “Are you a bartender?” he asked the man.
“Is it that obvious? Come on, let’s get you on your feet Trent.” The bartender extended his arm, lifting Trent up. He took a moment to dust Trent off as well.
“How’d you know my name?”
“Not this again. We go through this every time you sober up, mate. I’m Noah, we’re chums, you and I.”
Trent didn’t question it. It seemed like a perfectly legitimate answer. He was on a mission and it made sense he would turn to the bartender to help achieve it. “Listen, do you know where I could get more alcohol?” “Do I ever.”
“Excellent. What’re we waiting for, friend?” Trent smiled. For once, things were looking up.
Noah grabbed Trent keeping him in place. “One slight problem, buddy. You need to earn it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s time to stop watching from the sidelines. You need to get in the game. The others are way ahead but you have something none of them do…” Noah paused giving Trent an opportunity to figure out the answer for himself.
Nothing ever came to him.
“…No one can stop you. Think about it Trent. This could be your playground. Anything you want, you take it. You go out there, grab it by its neck, and claim it as yours. No one can stand in your way.”
“I don’t want any of that stuff. I don’t want to be in charge. I don’t want anyone relying on me.”
“Who the fuck said anything about that shit? Look around you Trent, this boat is the wild west and you’re Billy The Kid. The days of repercussions are at an end. Order cannot last on this boat. You show them that and you’ll have more alcohol than you know what to do with. You just gotta know where to start.” With that, Noah strolled away.
Ten minutes later, Trent strode into the fisherman level. It was situated on the first floor where they would normally disembark. It took three days and all the man power they could muster but eventually, they’d propped the door open. In the beginning, fishing was good. They caught red tuna, salmon, swordfish, and more grouper than they knew what to do with. Those were the last good days he had on this ship.
He inched towards the door to see two new guys on guard duty today.
Are they really new, or is it just the first time you’ve seen them somewhat sober?
The guards saw Trent approach and opened the door for him. He kept his head down as he passed them. They closed the door behind him.
The first thing that hit Trent was the smell. The rotting corpses and scales of fish littered the floor around the room. He tried to ignore the smell while walking towards the open door.
A young woman sat on a bar stool fishing line in hand.
For the life of him, he couldn’t remember her name. Patty? Pamela? Something with a P.
Peggy?
She took notice of him. Smiling, she set the fishing pole against the wall. She made no move to reel in the line. “It’s about time you got here. I’ve been aching all morning.” The woman got off the stool taking her shirt off. She wore no bra underneath. Her breasts were the perfect shape and size. Just large enough to rest in your hands like a melon but not so large that they’d begun to sag.
Trent was transfixed, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw a woman naked.
“What’s with you today?”
Trent had no answer. He stared at her confused.
She crept towards him and grabbed his hands placing them on her breasts. She arched her head back letting out the softest moan Trent had ever heard. It made him hard instantly. She looked down at the bulge in his jeans. “That’s more like it.” She undid his belt in one fell swoop and reached out kissing him on the lips.
Trent drew back away from her.
“Seriously, what’s with you? We don’t have a lot of time to do this today. I’m supposed to help Becky serve out afternoon rations. We need to be quick about this. Play this teasing game tomorrow.” She unbuttoned his jeans pulling them down to his ankles. He was wearing no underwear. He hung at full mass almost poking her in the eye. She looked up at him licking her lips. She cusped the base of his cock, attempting to put it in her mouth.
Sweat dripped down Trent’s face. He pulled away at the last second.
“Are you for real today? What the fuck?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I—I have a wife.”
“So? That didn’t stop you any of the other days.”
Trent’s heart sank. There were too many harsh realizations for him to handle in one day and this one broke the camel’s back.
I need a fucking drink.
The woman was curiously staring into his eyes. “You’re sober, aren’t you?” Trent had no reply.
“For God’s sake. Here.”
Trent stood on pins and needles watching her walk to her bag. She dug through it pulling out a small head bottle of Captain Morgan.
Trent’s eye widened and his lips smacked together. He didn’t realize until now just how dry his mouth felt. I have been walking through the desert in search of an oasis.
She handed him the bottle.
He ripped the cap off, chugging the bottle down with ease. His muscles went limp, his mind foggy, slipping back into the stupor he resided in for the past week.
She forced him to sit down. “Enjoy your bottle, baby. Momma needs to go to work.”
He paid no attention to the fact that she was now stark naked. Trent never even felt himself enter her. She rode him reverse cowgirl, which was just as well. He couldn’t bear to look at her. As their bodies writhed together, Trent felt his body heat drop more and more leaving him cold to her touch. Her moans sounded emotionless, distant, as if sex had become a necessity and no longer a want for her. Trent didn’t bother to ask. He sucked on his bottle oblivious to the world around him.
If he were smart enough to pay attention, maybe he would have saw the mosquito perched on his shoulder. He would have felt its proboscis penetrate his skin sipping on him the way he sipped on his bottle but he never did. He never noticed the mosquito, nor the tears dripping down the young woman’s face as she rode him. He never heard the fishing pole catch a bite or the line reeling as the fish swam further out to sea. He had no idea that when the woman jumped from his groin it was because the fishing pole was torn from the room out into the ocean below.
Trent felt two large hands wrap around his body as he slipped into unconsciousness. One thought crept into his mind.
EAT YOU ALIVE.
CHAPTER SIX
<
br /> MORRIS
The crowd gathered around the pew Morris stood upon.
The rows of people had diminished to a third of what they were a week prior.
Bloody hell. He scanned the faces of all that stood around him. It wasn’t just women Kendra had brainwashed anymore. Men and children were disappearing from his camp by the dozens.
“Line up, you know the drill,” Morris told them.
They did as they were told and one by one received their rations. The first few were silent as they took their meal but he could see the indignation on their faces. This was barely enough to make a child feel full, let alone a fully grown adult. Everyone on this ship needed as much strength as they could muster for the days ahead, yet day by day, they all starved.
They can come up with all the plans they like, if we don’t find a food source soon, it’s going to get ugly real quick on this ship.
He watched each man, woman and child sit and eat. They stared at each other with hate in their eyes and hunger in their heart. They looked at each other no longer as equals but as potential meals.
Morris knew he had to come up with something quickly if he were to save his people. The cabinet can talk and bicker all they like but Morris was a man of action and if they wouldn’t do anything, then he would.
A fat man approached and was handed his tray. He stared down at it in a mixture of shock and confusion. He looked at Morris. “This can’t be all.”
“I’m afraid it is but I wouldn’t worry. Tomorrow will be better.”
“Maybe for the gifted. Tell me, I bet they have better rations. I saw a man yesterday eating a piece of bread. Bread, Morris. While we’re down here picking at the scraps.” The man threw the plate of food back at Morris. He let it hit the ground spilling everywhere.
The crowd had grown quiet, turning their attention to the scene at hand.
Morris took a deep breath. Every word he said from now on would have to be perfect. One wrong move or word and all these people could be dining with Kendra tonight. “Everyone get’s the same rations Pete. As for the bread, maybe it was some the person had stolen during the night riot. I’ve seen the rations room firsthand and can assure you, there’s no bread inside it.”
“Bullshit.” The man’s voice boomed. The entire room was now a part of their conversation. “How do we know we can even trust your word anymore, Morris? After all, you sit on that poor excuse for a council now. What was it you said to us when we elected you to be a part of it? Oh, that’s right, you’d make sure we’d get our fair share. Well, look around Morris, does this look like a fair share to you?”
The walls were dank with grime and mold while water dripped from the ceiling into pools on the floor. It wet the carpet to the point that sleeping on it became a death sentence. Pneumonia had claimed four people already with more on the way. They sat on broken stools and milk crates.
No, it doesn’t.
“It looks like what it is. Hardship. If anyone here thinks the gifted are any better off than we are, you’re sorely mistaken. We’re all in the same boat here, we all have to endure and we all have to suffer but please Pete, if you think you’re so high and mighty above the rest and that you’re being slighted, then by all means let’s take it to the council.” Pete stared at Morris for what felt like an eternity.
Morris never broke eye contact. He knew he had him. Just back down, you stupid plonker.
Finally, Pete broke his gaze backing down. He walked away. The rest of the crowd accepted their rations with open arms and kept to themselves.
“That was a close one my friend,” a voice spoke out.
Morris turned to see his old bunk mate Ahmed approach. Ahmed was a Muslim and a damn good friend but looking at him now, his homie was near unrecognizable. Dressed in his bug infested robe with his sleek bald head reflecting what little light shone in the room. He looked nothing like the Pakistani he once shared a flat with. Morris watched Ahmed burn his culture away or should he say, he watched him drown it away.
Still, my friend is still in there. Somewhere.
“Come to grace us with some more of your wisdom my lord?” Morris said sarcastically.
“Come on, what is this? Feudal Europe?” Ahmed tossed Morris an apple.
He smiled gripping it in his hand. It was funny to him, never in his life did he think there would be a day where he craved an apple as much as he did at that very moment.
“Feels like it doesn’t it?” He set the apple down on the tray of a young girl passing by. “Remember back in high school, we’d have to sit through Mr. Barnes’ lectures. All the stories he told us about life back in those days and we’d sit there, we’d laugh and take the piss out of it? It’s not so funny anymore. Makes you almost wish we paid attention, yeah?”
Ahmed pondered the words. He took a seat at the table at his side. “Yeah, we were not very smart kids, were we?”
They laughed. Morris joined him at the table.
“I have a gift for you my friend.” Ahmed reached into his robe pulling out a loosey.
“You cheeky bastard. How’d you manage that, yeah?”
“Ah, a wise man does not reveal that which keeps his clients coming back for more.”
“You tosser. Toss a light, will yah?” Ahmed’s smile faded.
Morris shook his head. Just my luck. He went to toss the cigarette.
Ahmed caught his hand. “Just because you don’t have a light does not mean that one will not turn up eventually.”
Morris just stared at him. He hated when Ahmed played this philosophical mind games with him.
Ahmed looked under Morris’ chair.
Curious, he leaned over to see what it could be and there it was…a lighter. Piss off. “You really are a wanker, you know that right?” Morris picked up the lighter. “If this has no fluid in it, I’m gonna toss you upside the head.” He placed the cigarette in his mouth. He held the lighter to the butt fully expecting that Ahmed was pranking him. He flicked the lighter igniting the flame. Morris took a long hard drag. He held the smoke in for an eternity savoring every last bit of nicotine he could manage. When he felt he could hold it no longer, he blew it out. He stared longingly at the cigarette. “That right there was better than any sex I’ve ever had.” He took another drag.
“Bold words coming from a man I’ve seen shag a super model.”
“A dog compared to this cigarette.” They laughed. “Cheers.”
They sat there silently for a moment. It was Morris who broke the lull. “When did it all go to shit?”
“It’s always been shit. It’s just shittier now than the shit that came before it.”
“Waxing poetic again?”
“You know me all too well, my friend.” “I do, so why don’t we just get to it already?” Ahmed paused.
Morris could tell he wasn’t used to being spoken to in such a direct manner over on team Kendra.
“Alright. What’s it going to take for me to convince you to come over to our side?”
Morris took the final drag from the cigarette before putting it out on the table. He clenched his teeth trying to come up with the right phrasing. Fuck it. “There isn’t a god damn thing on this planet that could make me join her Ahmed. Not even all the cigarettes in the world could get me to trust her.”
“You should. Look around you Morris, What do you see?”
He looked around the dark, decrepit room that once housed a five star restaurant. This vacation was supposed to bring him one step closer to cooking here. And now it will be my grave.
“That was not a rhetorical question Morris. What do you see?”
“It’s dark, dank, smells like piss.” “The people Morris. Look at the people.” Morris scanned the room.
Men, women, and children all ate in silence. Ebony children sat at their parents feet frightened to say even one word to anyone. A group of Mexicans sat in the corner huddled together as if waiting any minute to be taken back over the border.
Looking at person to person, o
ne thing became painstakingly obvious; there were no white people down here. He turned back to Ahmed. “What’s your point? That racism didn’t die with the old world. What a surprise.”
“Don’t do that. Dodge behind your childish remarks. There’s a reason people have taken to calling them the gifted and it has nothing to do with the fact they have the upper levels. It’s because they think they’re entitled. Always have and always will. It’s why their up top and we’re down here. No matter what world we live in, they will always look down when they want our opinion, but not her. She doesn’t see color, or sex, or race, or any of that shit. She’s brought us together Morris. Black, white, Cuban, Asian. It doesn’t matter; we are all welcome, equally.”
“If we’re all so equal, then how come she’s not here telling me this herself? Why did she send you instead, if her and me are supposed to be equals?”
“You misunderstand my friend. We are all equals. Every man, women and child under her service but she is our leader Morris. She stands head and foot above us all because she bears the burden of leading us through this terrible ordeal. She comes for no man.” “That must leave her dangerously unfulfilled,” Morris quipped.
“Be serious my friend.”
“Alright, you want serious? If she comes for no man, then I bow to no woman.”
“No, you bow to two.”
“Careful. I don’t bow to them. We work together to create stability.”
“Is this stability Morris? I will always love you as a brother but on this, you are wrong. You are a passenger on a sinking ship and I am throwing you a life preserver. Please, grab it before it’s too late.”
“Thanks for the cigarette.”
Ahmed took the cue. “Then I am sorry, my friend.”
Morris watched Ahmed stand up and walk past him. He turned to see Ahmed face the crowd. “Attention.”
Everyone faced him.
Morris couldn’t mask his confusion.
“My leader has informed me that there are those of you here who wish to join us but there is a fear of the backlash, if you tried to leave. Well fear no more.” Ahmed snapped his fingers. A door cranked open.
