The Dead Series (Book 2): Dead Calm

by Jon Schafer

  “We can't let him die. He can tell us where Brain is,” she replied and then said urgently. “Go find something to use on his other leg.”

  Sheila came back with a towel she'd found behind a service bar and soon Seth's other leg was bound and the bleeding slowed. Heather elevated his legs on a knocked over chair and sat back as she considered her next move.

  Before she could form her thoughts, Sheila interrupted to ask, “I thought you were supposed to use direct pressure on a wound like that. I mean, I took a Red Cross class once and they told us to never use a tourniquet because it would do more harm.”

  In a flat voice, Heather said, “It doesn't matter, because he won't live long enough for it to matter.” Gathering her thoughts, she told Sheila, “Go collect their weapons. One's behind the video poker machine and the other one’s in the cashier's cage,” Pointing to the bolt-action rifle that Seth had carried, she said, “Grab that too. Stack them up on a table.”

  Heather was about to say more but was interrupted by Steve gasping out from behind her, “Good shooting, Tex.” Looking at the inert body, he said, “What do you know? It's our good friend, Brother Seth.”

  Heather saw Steve standing a few feet away and her features darkened as she yelled at him, “What in the hell are you doing up. Sit down right now or I'll knock you down. I told you to stay where you were!”

  Steve eased himself into a chair and said, “I'm okay. Might have a cracked rib but the worst was getting the wind knocked out of me. I hate that shit. First you think you're going to die, and then you wish you would.” At this he laughed painfully.

  “You could have internal injuries,” she told him. “You could push a bone sliver into your lung by moving around like that. And then what?”

  Suddenly realizing that they had gone into this without thinking about the fact that if one of them was seriously hurt they would have only rudimentary medical help available; Steve's good mood at their success went away. He imagined having to do surgery to extract a bullet and the thought made him cringe. Not that he couldn't do it if he had to, he was finding himself capable of many things he never would have dreamed of doing before the dead came back to life, but it was the fact that he didn't know how. Making a mental note to find some first aid books, he hoped that nothing had happened to Tick-Tock, Susan or Mary down in the Sombrero Lounge.

  A second later, his fears were brought to reality when Heather's radio suddenly came to life and Tick-Tock said, “Speak to me. You guys all right? Deck seven's secure and the bad guys are dead but Mary got hurt. I’m on my way across the Centrum right now, so don't shoot me, over.”

  Heather replied, “We're secure here. How bad is Mary? And Connie, don't cut the boat loose. We won, over.”

  Down on The Usual Suspects, Connie jumped up and down with joy when she heard this. Cindy bounced up from where she'd been sitting on one of the bunks, and the two of them started dancing around the cabin in celebration.

  Steve held his breath as he waited for the reply about Mary. Suddenly, Tick-Tock's voice called out loudly from the entrance to the casino. “Mary's not too bad. A stray bullet hit the table she was hiding behind and kicked up a bunch of splinters and shit. Side of her head got cut up and it bled a lot, but it's not as bad as it looks. Head wounds always bleed a lot.” His voice towering as he neared, Tick-Tock continued, “Susan's with her. There's a little aide station for the passengers on seven so she took her there while I came up in case you needed help.”

  Looking down at Brother Seth, he said, “Way to go Annie Oakley. Is he the only one you let live?”

  “Other two are dead,” Heather answered, “What about yours?”

  “Three up, three down,” Tick-Tock said. “Just like baseball.” Noticing Steve's pale complexion, he asked, “You okay?”

  “Took two in the vest. Hurts like a bitch,” he answered with a gasp.

  Tick-Tock winced, “Be careful. Might have cracked a rib or two.”

  “I've heard that somewhere before,” he replied.

  Sheila went to collect the weapons while Tick-Tock related to Steve and Heather about gray hair shooting his own man. He had just come to the part about hitting the Usher in the back twice when they heard Sheila give a short yelp. All three spun around and brought their weapons up at what they thought was a new threat, but relaxed when they saw Sheila bent over near the cashier's cage, gagging and dry heaving. She had found what was left of the man inside. Despite Heather's protests, Steve rose painfully and joined Tick-Tock as he went to her.

  Leaning over while propping herself against the side of the cashiers cage, Sheila spit out a wad of saliva and gasped, “That guy in there. He doesn't have a head.”

  Tick-Tock looked inside the cage and asked, “What did you hit this guy with, a chainsaw?”

  “Two full clips,” he answered with a twisted smile.

  “A little bit of overkill, don’t you think?”

  Steve shrugged, wincing at the pain in his chest and replied, “He shot me. I got a little pissed off.”

  “I’m not going near that mess,” Sheila exclaimed as she pushed herself away from the cage and staggered over to a nearby service bar. “You're gonna have to get that last gun by yourself.”

  Tick-Tock looked into the cage again and said, “Well buddy, you shot his ass, so I guess you get to do the honors.” Steve was reluctantly reaching for the door handle when Heather interrupted by calling out, “Seth's coming to.”

  “Saved by the bell,” he said with a grin.

  The two men hurried over to find Seth rolling his head back and forth as he moaned in pain. He kept repeating, “Hurts,” but no one in the group seemed to care.

  Pissed off at being shot and seeing someone to focus his anger on, Steve grunted in pain as he crouched down next to Seth and un-holstered his Glock.

  “Quit moving around, Steve. You're hurt.” Heather ordered him. He ignored her, focusing only on Seth.

  The Head Usher closed his eyes tightly and twisted his head away when Steve started tapping him on the forehead with the barrel of his pistol. When he saw this wasn't having the desired effect, he switched to rapping him on the bridge of the nose. At this, Seth opened his eyes slightly and rolled them around until they finally came to rest on Steve before opening wide in shock.

  Seeing he had the man's undivided attention, Steve asked sharply, “Where's Brain?”

  Looking at him in wonder, Seth croaked out, “I saw you take two in the chest from Jackson. You're supposed to be dead.”

  Sarcastically, Steve responded, “And you're supposed to be a Christian, so just think of it as a resurrection thing. Now where's Brain?”

  Seth closed his lips tightly and shook his head, refusing to answer.

  “The hard way then,” Steve said flatly.

  Pointing his pistol into the air, he fired six rapid shots into the ceiling and then locked the slide back on the Glock.

  Reaching down, he pressed the burning hot barrel across Seth's lips.

  Blisters rose instantly and Seth let out a cry of pain as he wrenched his head away. The faint smell of burning flesh rose into the air.

  “Next one goes against your right eye,” Steve warned. He told Tick-Tock to hold Seth's head as he pointed the pistol into the air again.

  This was enough for Seth who blurted out, “Deck ten, room fifteen thirty-eight.”

  “Good answer. Now where's Ricky?” Steve growled.

  “I don't know,” Seth cried. “He's waiting to hear from us. He might be on the bridge.”

  Steve made as if to point his pistol in the air again so Seth screamed, “I don't know where he is, honest!”

  Steve nodded to Tick-Tock who released Seth's head and backed away, knowing what was coming. Standing was painful for Steve and Heather rushed forward to help him.

  Seth pleaded, “You can't leave me like this. Where are you going? Please don't leave me like this.”

  “I won't,” Steve said as he took four steps backward so he wouldn't get sp
lashed with blood. He fired once into the center of Seth's face.

  Turning toward Sheila who was standing with what looked like a triple shot of whiskey, he ordered, “Lay off that stuff. We've still got things to do. Take the weapons and go down and find Mary and Susan. Stay with them.”

  To Tick-Tock and Heather he said simply, “Let's go.”

  ***

  Brain heard the door bang open and the sudden light coming into the darkened room blinded him. His mind flashed to the old cop shows of the black and white era. How having a light shined in their face disoriented suspects while they were questioned. Thinking that Ricky or his men had come to interrogate him about his friends, he steeled himself to resist. Waiting to be beaten with a rubber hose or have his fingernails pulled out one by one, he was surprised to hear Tick-Tock's voice say, “What the fuck, Chop. How do you rate a grand suite while I sleep on a mattress on the floor?”

  Brain's eyes flew open and he saw his friend standing a few feet away.

  Unsheathing his K-bar, Tick-Tock said, “Don't worry, I’ll have you loose in a second.”

  Tick-Tock sliced the tape and helped him stand, his hours of being bound having caused his legs to cramp up. Tears of gratitude and relief poured from Brain and it was a few minutes before he could speak.

  Finally, in a choked voice he said, “Thank you. I owe you a big one. Now we have to save Tim? Did you see him anywhere?”

  Tick-Tock gave him an odd look and replied, “He’s with Connie on The Usual Suspects.”

  “Good, good,” Brain said. “He must have gotten away then. I tried to escape but they had me taped up too tight. Is everyone else okay?”

  Wondering what Brain was talking about when he mentioned Tim getting away, Tick-Tock replied, “We had a go with Ricky's Head Ushers. Steve and Mary got a little banged up, but no one's hurt bad. Steve took two in the chest but his vest stopped the bullets. Mary just got hit by some splinters and shit.”

  “What about Ricky's people?” He asked.

  Tick-Tock gave him an evil smile and replied, “As we used to say in the Marine Corps, The enemy has suffered grievous losses.”

  Filling Brain in on the events of the day, Tick-Tock led him down the passageway. When they reached the doors leading to the Centrum, he finished by saying, “Steve and Heather went to check the bridge for Reverend Ricky. I checked the cabins before I cut you loose but no one was there.” Looking at his ultra-posh surroundings and thinking about all the cabins in the quarantined areas, he compared them to his own accommodations and added, “I guess you either have to be an asshole like Ricky or dead to get a nice room on this tub.”

  Tick-Tock and Brain waited at the stairs for Heather and Steve. After they joined them, Brain gave them each a big hug, in Steve's case a gentle one due to his injuries, and thanked them profusely for saving him. When his gratitude had run its course, Brain turned his attention to who had kidnapped him and said, “Now let's find Ricky. I want his ass.”

  Tick-Tock laughed and said, “Get some, Pork Chop.”

  “Won't do any good looking,” Heather informed him. “Steve and I were talking about it and decided we'd be wasting our time. The ship's too big and there's only the four of us. Five if we include Susan. Ricky would slip past us too easy with all the passageways and decks we'd have to cover. We need more people to do a real search.”

  Hearing what Heather said about not having enough people suddenly gave Steve an idea. Surprised that he hadn't thought of it before, but cutting himself some slack since it wasn't every day he got shot twice in the chest, he called Susan. After giving her the good news about Brain being freed and getting an update on Mary; the splinters had been removed, the wounds dressed and Sheila had given her another Valium, he told her to send Sheila up to deck ten on the double.

  Securing his radio, he said to the others with a smile, “I know where we can find over a hundred people to help us search. Once we tell them what's really been going on with this ship, they'll look like a mob of villagers going after the Frankenstein monster.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Dead Calm:

  Ricky considered his future, as he looked down from the Crows Nest Lounge at his followers milling restlessly about on decks eleven and twelve. Something had gone terribly wrong with his plan and he didn't know which way to turn. For over an hour, he'd tried to reach Brother Seth or Brother William but his calls on the two-way had gone unanswered. He'd been told not to use the radio lest his calling give the people waiting in ambush away, but it had been too long since he'd heard from anyone and he was getting more nervous by the second.

  When at first he couldn't reach his men, Ricky had considered the possibility that his Head Ushers and Steve's people had wiped each other out. Overjoyed at the idea, he realized that if this was the case then he could waltz on down to the pool deck, promote a few of his Ushers to the status of Head Usher, take the sailboat and go. But that would also mean leaving the security of the Crows Nest armed only with the .45 he'd taken off Randy and he wasn't quite prepared to do that just yet. Until he could be assured that it was safe, he knew he couldn't expose himself. The people from the sailboat knew what he looked like, and if any of them had a weapon, they would shoot him on sight.

  In that same vein, if Brother Cal or Don Parsons had survived their respective assassins, then they would also be looking for him. It wouldn't be hard to figure out who had ordered their assassination. But this in itself was something that made Ricky believe his Head Ushers had been wiped out. Whether it was to kill him or kiss his ring, none of his people had contacted him. He hadn't told any of them where he would be waiting during the ambush but it would be easy to narrow it down to the ship's bridge, his cabin or here at the Crows Nest.

  And what if they all survived, Ricky wondered. His brow furrowed as the thought of Steve's people, Cal and Don Parsons coming after him made him shiver. With a sudden rush of fear, his thoughts started running away from him. In a flash, he was convinced that the men and women who he wanted killed had survived. This was followed by the immediate belief that they were on the hunt for him. He even started to imagine they were just outside the closed doors of the Crows Nest Lounge, waiting for him to open up so they could shoot him down in cold blood.

  His eyes grew wide at the thought and he found the idea utterly terrifying. Initially this had only been a slim possibility, but now it was looking more like a reality. Besides the paranoia and fear that the threat of death brought up, being hated was something that Ricky found hard to stomach. He had spent months being adored by his followers. He was the king and all those around him were his subjects. All of them prepared to satisfy his slightest whim.

  How had he become so hated and hunted, he asked himself.

  Tears sprang to his eyes as he looked around the dark, empty lounge for someone to assure him that everything would be all right. Seeing nothing except his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar, he was suddenly struck by another bolt of fear when he realized he was all alone. This hadn't happened in months. Normally he had at least one person with him, whether it was one of the Hungarian sisters or one of his Ushers, so this was an entirely new experience.

  The feeling of abandonment that came to him was almost overwhelming in its intensity. Between this and the fear of a nasty death at the hands of whoever was waiting outside the door, Ricky considered dropping down onto the carpet and crawling into a corner to hide. The thought of failure had never crossed his mind before, but now....

  What can I do? He whined to himself. Who can I turn to? I'm all alone. Everyone who I can count on has either taken off like Sheila - Ricky conveniently forgot that she ran away because he was trying to have her killed. Or been killed by the people who invaded the ship - Ricky also neglected to admit the fact that he had sent his people to kill them and take their sailboat. Or like Cal and Don, who turned and are stalking me – ignoring that he had set them up to be ambushed and slaughtered in the first place.

  Ricky's mind
spun as he tried to deal with the situation he found himself in. He was starting to sink to the carpet when suddenly he stopped. Standing upright to his full five foot nine inch height, his body went rigid as he came up with a solution.

  You idiot, he scolded himself. You thought of what you could do just a minute ago when you were hoping everyone had gotten killed, you just need to think on a bigger scale. You've got all the people you need. Not just to replace Seth and the rest of the Head Ushers either. You've got over a hundred men and woman who will do whatever you ask if you put the right spin on it.

  But what's the right spin? He asked himself.

  Pirates, the idea popped into Ricky's mind. That's the threat I'll use. The people who came aboard are really pirates who want to rape and pillage the Calm of the Seas. They tried to kill me and take the ship and now we have to kill them before they kill everyone like they did my Head Ushers when they murdered them in an ambush. I'll make myself the victim and the Faithful will rally behind me, Ricky thought with glee. A realistic threat like this will even get those who don't believe in the rapture to support an all out assault on the lower decks, if only to protect themselves. And if we find the people from the sailboat dead when we get below, then we've won. And if they're still alive, they'll be overwhelmed by my shock troops. I can also tell the Faithful that Brother Cal and Don Parsons joined up with the pirates and need to be killed on sight. That way I'm protected from all threats.

  This idea coalesced with another thought. I'll have my Faithful hide their weapons as they approach the lower decks and then pull them out when it's time to attack. This way, the people from the sailboat will hesitate to shoot. Those people down there are too civilized to kill unarmed people and that's why they'll lose.