by Trimboli, TJ
I just have to get him off this boat and he’ll see.
If she could show him there was still a chance at a life outside of this boat, just maybe he’d come back to her, not physically, that ship had long sailed, but mentally. She turned a corner on the eighth floor headed for the stairs. She had searched everywhere and Stuart was nowhere to be found. She decided to head back to their work station. If he wasn’t there, then she would finish the patchwork herself. Whatever it took to get off this ship was now her main concern. The politics, the mind games, she was done with all of it. She intended to save what was hers and prove to Richard and everyone else aboard this ship that there was still a life to be had on land.
Climbing the steps two at a time, she headed for the top floor. She thought back to Trent’s clothes, confused as to how she could possibly dream his attire, especially when he didn’t own the clothes she dreamt up. She was never one to look too much into her subconscious but this was one facet of her imagination she couldn’t ignore because it came true, or it always was true. She didn’t know which, but she intended to find out.
If I dreamt correctly about his clothes, then what about the other dreams? Could land be as hopeless as they think it is or are my dreams trying to tell me something else?
She couldn’t be sure and until she dreamt again, she never would be. She thought as hard as she could back to any other fragments of the dream’s she had but none came. Hell, she didn’t even remember about Trent’s clothes until she saw him in them.
I won’t know about the land until I step upon its shores…or I go to sleep. But sleep wasn’t an option right now. There was too much work to be done. She paused at the top of the tenth floor catching her breath. She stood concerned that it was her in fact, who was going crazy.
Maybe we all are, one day at a time.
The moment she saw Trent decked out in his tropical attire, she was able to recall the memory like it was a trip into the past and not into her dreams. It didn’t feel like a dream. She remembered one day on the force reading an article about the brain and how a family of three were all affected by it. The son was diagnosed with a tumor in his brain that the family dealt with since his birth. One day, the father got injured on the job and had to be laid up in bed and like all good fathers, he ignored everyone’s set of guidelines to nurse himself back to health, instead choosing to use the “vacation” to lie about getting wasted. The wound became infected and the constant closeness of him and his son had somehow given the brain disease over to his father. Both died within two years. She didn’t remember the exact science of it all, in fact, at the time, she figured it all to be bullshit but then infection spread rapidly through the ship and many have gone crazy, killing themselves and others in horrible, violent ways.
Maybe Trent is the latest one to join the fray and just maybe, I’m not so far behind him.
She pushed the thought out of her mind. Whether she was crazy or not, she needed to believe in something to get her through these trials and she chose to believe in herself. Everything was going to shit around her but she didn’t feel crazy. In fact, she felt invigorated. She was always at her best when pushed up against a wall, being dared to try and fight back. It felt good to prove the detractors wrong. She summoned up her strength and continued her journey, ignoring all the pesky details gnawing at her mind. Either she would be vindicated and land would still be hospitable or she would be proven wrong and probably killed.
Either way, I’ll get some much needed rest.
She reached the twelfth floor when she found him. Stuart stood against the handrail that offered a stunning view of the floors below all the way down to the fifth floor entertainment section. She remembered standing up against it her first night with Trent. The world had been so bright that night.
Two men harassed Stuart. A large thug with tattoo sleeves of too many designs to keep track of and his sidekick, the mouthpiece. A skinny twig of a man who liked to write checks his ass couldn’t cash, but his buddy sure could. Blood trickled from Stuart’s nose like a faucet. He was pale as a ghost and frail as one could get without caving in on himself. He coughed violently.
Bobbi pulled her gun. “Step away from the kid!” She chuckled internally at the irony in calling a man at least a decade older than her, kid. She was in charge though and anyone she had to take care of was automatically a child in her eyes.
The thugs took one glance at her unfazed. The mouth piece had the audacity to look her up and down. “Beat it legs, we ain’t in the giving mood if you know what I mean.”
“And I’m not in the patient mood, so I’ll ask one more time and only once, step away from the kid.”
The mouth piece groaned. He and his muscle turned towards her.
The muscle was quite an imposing specimen. Head shaven, snake bite piercings, a beer gut he’d no doubt been working on since he was twelve and he was probably the only one left on the planet that still wore cargo jeans. He was quite a specimen indeed.
“Alright Sheriff. Whatever you say,” mouthpiece said taking a step towards her.
The muscle right behind him.
“Stuart, are you okay?” she asked.
“Stuarts fine,” mouth piece replied.
“I think I’ll hear it from him, thank you very much.”
“I’m okay,” Stuart softly said dabbing his shirt against his bloody nose.
She turned her attention back to the thugs. “You caught me in an odd frame of mind today gentleman, so here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take my friend here and we’re going to leave and the second we’re gone, you’re going to walk yourselves right into the council’s chambers and confess to whatever crime you’ve been up to, because I’m sure it’s been something and we’re going to call it a day. Sound peachy?”
The mouth piece laughed at the top of his lungs.
His muscle never even grinned, just stared her down.
“And why on Earth would we ever do that, tits? You may have everyone else on this ship shaking in their little booties but you ain’t all you cracked up to be,” he replied cautiously stepping towards her.
She cocked her gun and that’s when she remembered.
I only have one bullet left.
“I’m warning you,” she replied unconvincingly. Her steely demeanor faltering. “If you two do not stand down now, I will be forced to take action.” She gripped at the hatchet. She placed her left hand against it.
Please God, don’t let them do it. Don’t make me do it.
The mouth piece stopped right in front of her. “How about we try this out for size, you take that six shooter you got there, put it against your temple and pull the trigger? Your reign is up Sheriff, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’ve been outplayed, you’re outmanned, and your only friend left is a sickly man we intend on ridding this ship of. The sick are no longer welcome here Sheriff. For the good of the people. It is GOD’s will.” A knife appeared in his hand.
She reached for her hatchet but she wasn’t the intended target.
The mouth piece turned launching the blade straight into Stuart’s chest. The knife hit its mark tearing open the flesh of the poor boy. He screamed in pain falling backwards over the railing.
She could do nothing as he disappeared over the edge. Before she knew what she was doing, the hatchet was in her hand sinking its razor sharp edge into the skull of the mouth piece.
Blood sprayed in all directions soaking her face crimson red. He dropped to the ground with a sickening thud.
The muscle charged.
Bobbi had precious time to pull the hatchet out of the man’s skull but it was stuck to the fragments of bone. She heaved but to no avail. She pointed the gun at him but he tackled her sending them careening down the steps. The muscle rolled like a bowling ball breaking everything on his way down except any of his bones. He was built like a brick house. She landed on top of him kneeing him in the nose. Nothing. She simply slid off of him. He caught her by the heel pulling her in.
He pulled out a knife slamming down towards her. She turned her head missing the knife by mere inches. She wasted no time jamming her thumbs into the muscle’s eyes. Blood seeped forth.
Thank God, I haven’t been able to cut these bad boys.
The muscle screamed grabbing at his face. He lifted up off of her. She grabbed the knife out of the floor next to her. The muscle moved around frantically trying to find anything to grab a hold of. He came tumbling towards her.
Pushing herself away, she fell down the rest of the flight of stairs to the floor below. The muscle came rolling down after her. She barely had time to get the knife up when the muscle crashed down on top of her. She screamed in pain, the man’s weight encompassing her entire body. She pushed hard as she could but the man wouldn’t budge. She felt the knife resting in his chest, all his dead weight now resided on top of her, crushing her wind pipe. She gasped for breath.
“HELP.” She could barely speak the words let alone audibly enough for any to hear. Muscle’s blood poured from his eye sockets blinding her to the outside world. Everything went dark and air escaped her.
Suddenly, she could breathe again. The darkness expunged by the light. She gasped for breath feeling the weight of a two ton building leave her. She wiped the blood from her face revealing the ceiling. She looked around desperate for an answer. The muscle rested beside her, blood pooling around his frame. Above him, she stood adorned in her crappy beige robe.
She looks like a fucking potato. Bobbi chuckled sending shocks of pain through her ribs. She clenched her teeth to gut out the pain.
Kendra knelt down beside her.
“Stay the fuck away from me!” Bobbi shouted.
Kendra stood her ground or knelt her ground to be exact.
Bobbi slid back away from her. Each time she slid had her screaming in agony. She rested against the handrail behind her, blood staining the dusty pane. She tried to turn over to look down but the pain was so intense she almost passed out.
“If you’re looking for the boy, don’t bother. There’s nothing left to distinguish him by,” she said bluntly.
Bobbi cried out in pain as she tried to lift herself up against the glass. She made it as far as sitting upright when she couldn’t take it anymore.
Kendra never moved an inch to help her.
Bobbi spit out a wad of blood. “I suppose you want me to thank you?”
Kendra rose dusting off her robe. “No thanks are required. I do as my lord commands.”
“I spit in the face of your GOD and he tells you to save my life? What a pushover.”
“You are in a tremendous amount of pain, so I’ll let that one pass. Though I have a feeling that the worst pain of all for you is being saved by the one person you’d see dead if you could.
Nothing worse than owing a life debt to your mortal enemy.”
“Someone thinks highly of themselves. I’ve been my own mortal enemy long before you ever showed up. Now get lost—I have a deadbeat husband to find.” She struggled to get up clutching at her ribs. She gripped the top of the handrail for leverage standing herself upright.
Kendra softly clapped her hands like one would at a golf tournament. “I’m sure finding him is of utmost importance to you but I’m afraid it will have to wait.”
Bobbi stepped towards her almost collapsing under the pain. She steadied herself coming face to face with Kendra. “And why is that?”
Kendra smiled her wicked grin relishing in her knowledge it seemed.
It made Bobbi want to ring her by her neck and send her over the handrail. She never stopped to think her line of thinking was no better than any other who had killed on this ship. It was not ten minutes ago she watched horrified as one of her last allies was sent careening over the handrail and here she was hoping to do the same to another.
“A meeting has been called,” Kendra said devilishly.
How would she know a meeting had been called? Unless…NO. Bobbi screamed internally and just like that, her mortal enemy and she had become one and the same.
They were now allies.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MORRIS
The sun reached its apex roasting the world around it to a scorching hundred and one degrees. Morris laid in his life raft baking like a tray of cookies. His mouth was chapped and eroded, skin peeling with every smack of his lips. His skin felt crusty, corroded. Pieces had peeled off only to burn harsher underneath. He couldn’t move. His body ached. His hands and feet rested in the water and if not for that, he most surely would not have survived this long. He muttered nonsense to himself. He drifted through the sea like this for what felt like days. In reality, it had only been a handful of hours but time meant nothing to him since the storm.
“Jamal? Hector? Anyone?” He sputtered. The words felt dry in his throat like trying to speak with a mouth full of sand. Staring up at the sky, he saw the heat dance above him. It seemed like the rays were making it their personal mission to see him dead. He had no energy left to fight them on it. He would simply let them have him.
What’s the point in fighting anyway? Hector and Jamal are dead. I am all alone.
He looked around to see water as far as the eye could see in every direction. The ocean was a sea of tranquility and in any other situation would be a beauty to behold, instead of a tomb but Morris was desperate for any outline of a ship. He lost his compass during the storm and had no idea how far he could have drifted or in what direction. It was bad but he took solace in knowing it would be all over soon. He could only take so much longer in the sun and the smell of him should attract something large enough to put him out of his misery.
“Morris. Are you paying attention?” A voice uttered.
He tilted his head to find the source of the sound. To his right no more than five yards away sat his seventh grade classroom. Eight rows of seven desks each aligned perfectly on top the ocean floor, his teacher’s desk at the head. She sat on the desk book in hand, looking directly at him. All the students did the same.
I must be going mad.
“Did you hear me young man? Pay attention. Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it,” she stated.
He mouthed the word sorry, with no sound escaping him.
She continued her lesson, “World War two altered the political alignment and social structure of the world. It put in motion many of the pieces of the world that we have today. Without which, there would be outright chaos. Remember students, order and stability is what keeps us whole. The only difference between us and any other animal on this planet is our deductive reasoning, our ability to think complex thoughts and idea’s….” Morris shut his eyes listening to her sermon.
“…We are the only ones capable of questioning our place in the universe and it’s through order and stability that keeps us in check and stops us from losing our humanity. That is key. No matter what you do in life children, no matter where you go, never lose your humanity.”
“I have a question.” He raised his hand. He looked back to his teacher but all he saw was ocean.
The apparition disappeared. From behind him, another voice spoke. “What is it sweetheart?” his mother spoke.
He used what little energy he had left to splash at the water in an attempt to spin around but his raft would not budge. He could only hear his mother. A tear fell from his eye evaporating before it even reached his cheek. “Mom?” he cried out.
“Yes sweetie. I’m right here,” she said softly.
“I’m scared Mom. I’m going to die.”
“Hush baby. You aren’t going to die. It was just a bad dream.”
A breeze brushed against the back of his head and he could swear it was his mother reaching out. He looked down at the reflection of the water and there she was, smiling at him. She looked as beautiful as the last day he saw her. It was his first day of work aboard the ship and she had come to see him off before returning to London. He could still smell her perfume, the earthy yet floral musk that inhabited their flat. He’d give
anything to be back there right now, to know if she was okay. “I love you mom. I miss you so much.” He could no longer stop the tears.
“I love you too sweetheart. Now get some rest, tomorrow is a big day.”
The reflection of his mother faded.
“No MOM. Don’t go! Please?” he shouted, but she was gone. He laid back against the life raft crying his eyes out. “I don’t deserve this. I was good. I never did anything wrong.” He stared up at the sky. “YOU HEAR ME UP THERE! I DON’T DESERVE THIS!” He roared.
“You arrogant fucks, the lot of you,” a new voice bellowed.
Morris looked down at the ocean to see a great white shark lying on top of the surf. It stared right at him. He looked around. “Who said that? Where are you?” “Right here chum,” the shark said.
Morris couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m losing my fucking mind.”
“Wipe that smile off your face before I bite it off. You pompous bottom feeders thinking you’re the center of the universe. You want to talk about what you deserve? This is exactly what you deserve. Going about your entire life destroying and killing everything that moves, including your own kind all for your own selfish gain. If you ask me, the lot of you deserve worse. What about what I deserve? I never hurt nobody either, never encroached on another’s land, never stole, never did nothing but try to find my next meal and look what happened to me. Laid up, speared and gutted by you and those other two pricks. Now did I deserve that?”
The sun glistened off the shark’s razor white chompers blinding him. The beam was unbearable. Covering his face, he could feel the heat melting his hands. Another minute more of this and he was apt to burst into flames. “ENOUGH! You’re just pissed you’re not the apex predator anymore!”
“Neither are you. The difference is when the new predator is done with you, there won’t be a trace left of your species where as mine has always found a way to adapt. You think your kind is so smart, yet you’ve been here for a nanosecond. We’ve been here for thousands of years, we’ve seen them all come and go and now, we’ll see the end of you. Enjoy the sun while you can Morris, I hear it’s dreadfully cold on the other side.” The shark laughed maniacally.
