Day Four

by Sarah Lotz

  She stood up and paced. Claustrophobia nibbled at her. She wasn’t used to being so inactive. She didn’t relish the thought of wandering through the ship alone, but a quick walk wouldn’t hurt. She scrawled a note for Elise, who was now snoring softly, and stepped outside cautiously; she was becoming used to the ship’s sloping gait. She wandered to the balcony and looked down into the atrium. The Guest Services counter was now closed, and several passengers were drifting aimlessly around in the area; untethered balloons. She walked down the main staircase, and along past the IT room and the shops, their interiors black, the doors locked. She hadn’t found a single thing she wanted to own in them, although Elise had oohed over some gewgaws, then joked that she wouldn’t need coral earrings where she was going.

  She took a turn at random, and drifted into the library, which was decked out to resemble a Victorian drawing room. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant; the subdued lighting suited the dark – obviously fake – antique furniture, and it somehow felt cooler in here. She scanned the books locked behind glass cabinets, most of which were battered Jeffrey Archer and Jodi Picoult paperbacks. She was about to sit on one of the leather armchairs when she realised she wasn’t alone. There was a group of people huddled around a table in an alcove, their eyes shut and holding hands. A prayer circle of some kind. Uncomfortably aware that she was intruding, Helen picked up a copy of The Five People You Meet in Heaven that was sitting forlornly on one of the coffee tables, and left the room.

  Next, she wandered past the closed casino and the shuttered bar, nodding at Jaco, who was readying himself to sing on the small raised stage next to the casino’s bar. Again, she felt a twinge of pity for him; he had no audience, just a couple of crew members who were polishing the fixtures. She walked on, skirting the Dreamscapes Dining Room, which was slathered with ‘closed’ signs, and slid into a booth outside the Duty Free shop, next to a huge picture window that framed the sluggish ocean. A well-dressed couple of around her age rambled past. Helen could sense that they were looking at her and she pretended to be absorbed in the book.

  ‘Hi there,’ the woman said.

  ‘Hello.’ Helen willed them to move on.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look a little lost. I’ve seen you in the Dreamscapes Dining Room – you’re also late dining, aren’t you?’ The woman’s bright blue eyes looked almost radioactive against her deeply tanned skin.

  Helen nodded and looked pointedly at the novel, hoping that the woman would get the message.

  She didn’t. ‘You shouldn’t be alone.’

  ‘I’m fine. I’m reading.’

  ‘Oh! You’re from England!’

  ‘Yes.’ Go away.

  The woman slid into the booth next to her, and her companion – a saggy-eyed fellow who was presumably her husband – sat opposite. The woman took out a phone and started scrolling through it. ‘I was in London last year. I just love it. Wait. Look at this!’ The woman thrust the phone in Helen’s face, and she looked down at a picture of the woman’s husband posing unsmilingly next to Princess Diana. ‘What’s this place called again, Jimmy?’

  ‘Madame Tussauds.’

  ‘That’s it. Madame Tussauds. I’m Annabeth and this is my husband Jimmy, by the way.’

  ‘Helen.’

  ‘Helen! Lovely name. I had an aunt called Helen, once. You remember her, Jimmy?’ A nod. ‘Are you travelling on your own, Helen?’

  ‘No. I have a friend with me. She’s taking a nap in the cabin.’

  ‘Uh-huh, that’s right. I recall seeing you with someone in the dining room now I think about it. I don’t blame her. It’s awful hot, isn’t it? Jimmy and I live in Florida, so we don’t have to worry about missing our flight home, but so many people aren’t in the same boat as us. Oh, Jimmy, did you hear what I just said?’

  Jimmy gave her a long-suffering smile.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here by yourself, Helen. People are getting antsy. And that business about the bathrooms not working. Why don’t you come along with us? There’s a nice group of us, we’re all looking after each other. Most of us are seniors, although there are some younger ones now too.’

  A waiter approached, and silently handed them each a bottle of water. Annabeth gripped the waiter’s arm, veins like earthworms under her tanned skin. ‘Thank you. How are you? How’s all the crew doing?’

  ‘We are all fine, thank you, madam.’

  ‘We’re grateful for what you’re doing for us. Is there any news?’

  ‘No. I am sorry, madam.’

  She loosened her grip and patted his forearm. ‘I’m sure Damien will let us know when they fix the ship.’

  The waiter nodded and wandered away.

  ‘Helen. We’re going to take you under our wing. Come along with us and meet the rest of the gang.’

  ‘No. I’m fine. Thanks, though.’

  ‘I’m not going to take no for an answer. I know you English, so polite. C’mon and meet everyone. We’re a friendly bunch. And you can meet Celine.’

  ‘Celine del Ray?’

  ‘Yes! You know her?’

  ‘I met her last night.’

  ‘At your muster station?’ Jimmy said, looking almost surprised that he’d managed to get a word in.

  ‘Oh, that’s just wonderful,’ Annabeth laughed. ‘That’s why me and Jimmy are on the cruise. A friend of ours, Leila, signed us up as soon as she saw on Facebook that Celine was going to be cruising with Foveros. Celine’s helped us so much, isn’t that right Jimmy?’ Jimmy nodded. ‘We lost our daughter, you see,’ the woman said, matter-of-factly.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Seven years ago, breast cancer.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. How awful for you.’

  ‘Oh, aren’t you sweet to say that. And I thought . . . if only I could speak to her one more time, and know for sure that her suffering was over, I’d be able to carry on. Jimmy told me I was crazy the first time I went to a psychic. He didn’t believe that it was possible to talk to those who’ve crossed over. And you know, I think in my heart I didn’t really believe. The ones we’d been to, they . . . you could tell they didn’t really know what they were doing. And we had our doubts about Celine as well, didn’t we, Jimmy?’ Annabeth leaned forward. ‘We’d heard the stories.’

  The man’s chin wobbled. Annabeth reached over and squeezed his hand and they shared a look of such devotion that Helen couldn’t help but feel touched. ‘But what she said this morning to us . . . she has something special. A real gift. It was as if Julia was right there with us. I’m sure she’d do a reading for you if you asked her.’

  ‘Really, I’m fine.’

  ‘There must be someone you want to contact.’

  ‘There isn’t.’ And even if there were, the rude and disturbing woman she and Elise had spent time with last night would be the last person she’d ask.

  ‘You don’t believe in Spirit, Helen?’

  ‘I’m not sure what I believe.’ A lie. She just wasn’t in the mood to be proselytised to. Sometimes she wished she did believe in God and heaven. Occasionally she envied Elise, who was certain that Peter would be waiting for her when she died. Helen had no such reassurances. And what would she say to Graham if she did see him again? It had been so sudden. A heart attack. In the gym of all places. A casualty of the forty-a-day habit he’d kept up since he was sixteen. After the grief had come the fury at him for leaving her. Graham had always been there for her, chivvying her along, laughing at her, making life lighter. It was a cliché, but he was her best friend; they did everything together, didn’t need anyone else. Without him, life was . . . grey. That was it. Dull.

  Helen stood. ‘I really should get back to my friend.’

  ‘Five minutes, Helen. Let us show you where we are, then you can always come later.’

  It would be easier just to go along with them. She had nothing to lose and nothing to gain either way. As soon as the ship started moving again, she and Elise could revise their options.

&nb
sp; Helen allowed herself to be herded towards the entrance to the Starlight Dreamer Lounge, where she was greeted by a small group of cheerful middle-aged men and women. The room was fairly full, with most of the lounge chairs taken up. On stage, a plump man in his twenties was fiddling with a mini portable generator. She spied Maddie sitting off to one side, her head bent.

  ‘I know her,’ Helen said to Annabeth.

  ‘Maddie? She’s lovely. She’s also from England. Celine wasn’t herself on the first few days of the cruise and she really took care of us all.’

  ‘I’ll just go over and have a word with her. Excuse me.’

  ‘You will come back though, won’t you? I want to introduce you to everyone.’

  ‘Oh, I will,’ Helen lied. She’d have a word with Maddie and then she’d get the hell out of here before Celine made an appearance. Some of the people sitting in the chairs were dozing, but most gave her friendly smiles as she passed them. It did seem like an oasis of peace. Subdued lighting, the air less fusty than in her suite, which was strange, considering the number of people inside the lounge. Maddie didn’t look up as she approached her table and Helen was forced to touch her on the arm.

  She jerked, sending her water bottle flying. ‘Helen. What are you doing here?’

  Helen looked over at the table where Annabeth and Jimmy were watching her. ‘I was invited.’

  ‘The Friends found you, did they? Rounded you up.’

  ‘The Friends?’

  ‘Friends of Celine. The group who paid extra to cruise with her.’ Maddie flapped her hand. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Where’s Celine?’

  ‘Backstage. Preparing. I left her to it.’

  ‘Preparing for what?’

  ‘She’s going to do another reading. Her third today, if you can believe that.’

  ‘So she is definitely feeling better then.’

  ‘Oh yes. In fact, I would go so far as—’

  With no fanfare or announcement, Celine wheeled herself out onto the stage. ‘So how are we all feeling?’ her voice carried through the room. Helen glanced longingly at the exit. She decided to wait until the audience was distracted, and then slip away. ‘I’d first like to welcome all of our new friends. I’m so happy you could join us. We’re all gonna look after each other here. This is a safe place. Long as we all stick together, we’re gonna be just fine. Know this. Every single one of you has your own guardian angels and guides who are watching over you. Maybe you can’t see them, but you can sense them, can’t you?’

  A ripple of assent ran through the room. Helen glanced at Maddie, but she was examining the backs of her hands. Everyone else was staring fixedly at Celine.

  ‘Know this, your guardians and guides and the spirits of those who have passed over are stepping forward. Know this, there is no death.’ Celine paused, and Helen was almost certain the woman was looking straight at her. ‘But this doesn’t mean that life isn’t a precious gift.’ A sardonic smile. Helen shifted uncomfortably on her seat. ‘Wait . . . my guides, Archie and my very own Lizzie Bean, are letting me know that there are some urgent messages and connections that need to be made.’

  The audience barely appeared to be breathing.

  ‘A man . . . A man is stepping forward. Yes. Know this, there’s someone here he’s trying to connect with. Does the letter “G” mean anything to anyone? Wait . . . Oooh. He’s a tall man. A handsome man. Slight paunch, but we’re all human, aren’t we? We can forgive those little details, can’t we, Friends?’

  The crowd rippled with laughter. Helen felt a creeping sensation trickling over her skin. She knew what was coming. ‘And know this, the physical body isn’t something we need to worry about when we cross over. Now . . . I’m getting . . . Forgive me here, but I feel like I need to sing. My voice isn’t the best, but the man who’s stepping forward, he wants me to sing it. “She was right next door, and such a strong persuader . . .”’ Celine paused. ‘Does that mean anything to anyone?’

  A hand gripped Helen’s heart, and for a second, she was certain she was going to be sick. Calm down, she told herself. They were clever, psychics and mediums. They were adept at cold reading and con games.

  ‘No one? I’m getting it really strong now. And you know, I feel like I want to cough.’ A low laugh. ‘I quit smoking years ago, but I tell you, right now I’m feeling a strong need.’

  Helen stood up stiffly. ‘I’ll see you later, Maddie,’ she heard herself say.

  Maddie looked up. ‘You okay?’

  ‘I just need to get some air.’

  Helen hurried out, bashing her shin on the edge of a table in her haste. She barely felt it.

  ‘Helen? Where you going?’ Annabeth’s voice trailed after her.

  Wiping the tears from her eyes – not sure if they were from shock, fury or sorrow, Helen ran. She bolted past the casino and the closed black doors of the Sandman Lounge, her gaunt reflection in the glass momentarily startling her. There was no way Celine could have known that song. She must have been in their suite, perhaps she’d looked her up on Facebook – there was a picture of Robert Cray on her wall, from the last time she and Graham had seen him play live in London years ago. That was it. She began to relax. Cheap tricks.

  By the time she reached the Verandah deck, her breathing had steadied, but she composed herself before she entered the suite. The last thing she wanted to do was worry Elise. ‘Elise?’

  Elise’s bed was empty, the sheets and pillows in disarray.

  ‘Elise?’

  A strangled cry came from the bathroom. Helen yanked open the door. Elise was lying on the floor, her skirt rucked up. ‘I’m not feeling so good, Helen. My head hurts. I think, I think I’m . . .’

  The Angel of Mercy

  The man was now out for the count, but Jesse knew he’d have to monitor him closely. Christ, what a scene that had been. Adrenalin still tingled in his bloodstream from when he and Bin had been hustled up to the man’s cabin to sedate him. They’d found him curled in the corner of his stateroom, screaming every time one of them came near. It had taken two security guards to hold him down while they waited for the sedative to take effect.

  And it wasn’t just the new arrival who was concerning Jesse. Alfonso was still borderline catatonic – he’d barely reacted when the hysterical passenger had been brought into the treatment room. Jesse couldn’t get a word out of him. The burn pad would do its job – Jesse would only need to change it tomorrow at the earliest (and please God they were out of this situation then) – but Alfonso had barely touched the yoghurt and banana Martha had brought him earlier, and nor had he used the commode they’d set up in the small bathroom. Short of flying in a psychologist, there wasn’t much else Jesse could do.

  A psychotic passenger, a dead girl, the norovirus, and an engineer who was borderline catatonic. How much more shit can we add to the pile?

  Martha banged her way into the treatment room, and threw her gloves into the bin. ‘We’ve got another one, Jesse.’

  ‘Noro?’

  ‘Noro.’

  ‘How many now?’

  ‘Six in total. Three crew and three passengers. I’m worried about this one. Patient is overweight and elderly. She’s weak. Her friend found her collapsed on the floor of the bathroom.’

  ‘You want to bring her down here?’

  ‘No. It’s always best if we keep any cases quarantined in their cabins.’

  ‘You want me to go check on her?’

  ‘You’ve got enough on your plate.’ She flapped a hand at the psychotic. ‘How’s your man doing?’

  ‘The midazolam is working, thank Christ.’

  ‘We know what caused it? He got a history of psychosis?’

  ‘We don’t know yet. Security is trying to track down his wife.’

  ‘Any injuries?’

  ‘I’ve only had a chance to do a superficial examination. Bruising on his upper thighs and wrists, contusion on his forehead. Probably sustained during the struggle. Took two security
guys to restrain him.’

  ‘Shite. And Bin?’

  ‘He’s dealing with the steward the guy attacked before we brought him down here. Nothing serious, but she’s understandably traumatised.’

  Martha looked him up and down. ‘You found time to rest?’

  ‘Nope.’ He was surviving on cold coffee and endless cans of Coke, the jittery caffeine high just about keeping the exhaustion at bay. ‘Should I tell the captain we should go to red alert?’ There weren’t enough cases of noro – yet – to warrant it, but better safe than sorry, especially considering the situation with the propulsion system. He’d put in a request to meet with the captain yesterday, but so far it had been ignored.

  Martha leaned against the gurney. ‘That’ll go down well on top of everything else. But I think we should suggest it. At the very least the passengers should be instructed to use the hand-sanitisers.’

  Yeah, right, Jesse thought. In all his time on the ship, he had never once seen anyone using them. ‘How long can this go on for?’

  ‘God knows.’

  ‘You heard anything more?’

  ‘No. Communications are still down.’

  ‘I’m worried about the morgue. With no power, we could have a problem there.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. It’s below the water line. It’ll stay cool enough.’

  For now.

  There was a knock on the door and a man in white officer’s garb stepped in hesitantly. Like the majority of the crew on the bridge, he looked like a stereotype of a good-looking Italian, crisp white uniform and smooth dark hair; effortlessly attractive. The officers tended to make Jesse feel hopelessly inadequate. ‘Excuse? May I visit with Alfonso?’

  ‘He’s sleeping. You should not be in here.’

  ‘I am sorry.’ The man’s eyes strayed to Alfonso, who was lying perfectly still, his eyes closed. ‘I knock on the outside door, but no one came.’

  Jesse exchanged glances with Martha, who gave him an ‘up to you’ shrug.

  What would it hurt? Perhaps the man would get Alfonso to talk. ‘Go ahead.’