Once upon a time, the Queen Mary had lit up the sky with her red glow sticks, historical stature, and royal attraction of visitors from all over. Riley had seen her lights shimmering on the LA River, but only in pictures. Now only darkness blanketed the giant ship hiding her enormous presence. All around her, scattered cars, buses, and motorcycles sat abandoned, rusted, and weathered in the parking lot further out from the main entrance to the ship. It looked like a junkyard shrouded with scattered pieces of car bodies and lost parts. Vandals had scorched off paint by blowtorches or fire and then finished their idea of decorating the broken worlds by spray-paint. Hoods had been left open, and car parts were missing leaving hoses, wires, and belts to dangle to the sides. A sea of glass covered the ground sparkling under the moonlight. Coming to an everlasting rest, cars appeared spasmodically while others sat artfully on top of others.
The smell of a fire drifted their way. Jack stopped them. The sound of clanking bottles and drunken slurs heightened. They stood silent and hidden from the heckler's view. Whoever they were, they weren’t worried about being heard. Cobra and Piston moved ahead of the team preparing for a night swim while Jack sent 38 for a check of the parameter. Matt and Ryan broke off to the right. Riley and Blake broke off taking up position to the left of the entrance. From their spot, they could see between the two buses intentionally parked to create a barrier.
“We’re in place,” Blake said.
“Copy. 38, you got a count?” Jack’s voice clear and even.
“Six, no seven. Three are on the barrel. Two are on each side further back, and one’s taking a piss in the bushes to the left. They’ve got several buses positioned around them.”
“Copy. Conman when you’re ready.”
“One more second. Damn skirt is showing off the man’s package.” Conman said and then grunted into the mic.
Bowing her head, Riley tried to hold back from laughing. She saw Blake turn away as well.
“Strap it down,” Matt said.
“They’ve been drinking so you should be good.” 38 said. Earpieces and mics linked them together as one.
“Oh, sweet thing! I’m good alright.”
Crouching down low and into what was a ticket booth, Riley studied the darkness with unease. Though the night vision glasses were streamlined and lightweight, she left hers off. Not far from their position, a morphed rat scurried the median stopping midway to smell the air. Distracted the tiny beast hopped into the air as two more joined in. Because of the bodies, mice and rats had overpopulated, and Riley had no problems thinning the population.
“Prince on board,” said Piston.
“Copy that,” Jack replied. “Hold.”
Her heart began to beat a little quicker, and warmth began to creep up the back of her vest. It was almost time to board the ship, but before they did, they needed to take out security. Blake played it smart by keeping behind Riley close behind him.
“Mo,” Jack said. It was Mo’s command to move forward.
Mo moved toward the man relieving himself. The man stood in place smoking a cigarette and grunting occasionally. When the man’s life ended, there was no sound. No thud or scream just the soft voices of the three men at the fire. Riley stroked the trigger of her 40 and got ready because pandemonium typically happened fast.
“Conman,” Jack commanded.
Riley heard it. Conman was doing what he did best, conning. Conman was every man’s worst nightmare. Riley got the biggest kick out of his antics and found his skills to be quite entertaining. Conman was not only dangerous when dressing in full drag, but he also made one hell of a beautiful woman. Listening to his heels clatter on the pavement, Riley stretched her to watch the men’s reaction. Peggy Lee’s classic “You Give Me Fever” began to fill the night air and Conman was killing it. With a smooth and sexy voice, the lyrics melted from him nearly as well as Peggy Lee herself. Who wasn’t going to listen?
“Everybody’s got the fever that is something you all know. Fever isn’t such a new thing. Fever started long ago.” Conman sang while his hips sashayed to the beat.
Blake and Riley inched their way closer to the man on the left. Ryan and Matt would silence the two flank men silencing the security of the ship.
“Hey,” Cracked a voice. “Hey, who the hell are you?”
"Hey sweet cheeks," Conman said in a playful tone stepping out of the darkness and into the light. One of the men whistled.
“You aren’t supposed to be here for another hour.” The man said in a slurred voice. “Where are the other girls?
“Oh, they're coming.” Conman said in a voice not his own. “Said they had something special planned. It involved red leather and spandex.”
At that moment, Blake was on the left flank man who was already going to his knees. Putting him in a chokehold, Blake squeezed the man's neck until he went limp. Riley helped him slide him under the shrub-lined trail separating the parking lots. They moved in closer to where Conman began seducing the other men.
“What’s your name sugar?” The thinner of the three men asked Conman. A long stream of smoke trailed off his cigarette.
“You tell me. I can be your best dream or your worst damn nightmare.” Conman replied.
Conman jutted his hip out to one side exposing a long supple chocolate leg. He stood in four-inch stilettos that sparkled and above the black, tight, and short pleather, mini skirt was a top that was a size too small for him. Where the cleavage came from only, he knew, but the long blonde curls fell in all the right places.
“I’ll take a little of both.” The taller man said shoving the other man to the side moving toward Conman.
It was time for the team to move. Conman remained in place pulling out an emery board and filed his nails casually. When the tall man reached out to grope Conman, he dodged the gesture with incredible speed. Their movement casting shadows created by the firelight went unseen.
A strand of words slipped from the skinny man's mouth and then silence. Shutting down monsters, Riley understood efficiency. Conman, on the other hand, killed with lightning speed. Most infected couldn't be saved. With little to no time for decisions, the conclusion meant her life or theirs. With no set law, there wasn't anyone around to man a jail. Few people tried to run them off, they just came back with more monsters. Often, Jack gave the healthy one's alternatives, but usually, it was obvious where they stood right off the bat.
“Clear” Conman said.
“Copy that.” Jack returned.
“Clear,” Mustang said. “I have access to the throne.”
CHAPTER TEN
The team checked in one by one. Mo had moved forward, and Riley and Blake had fallen in with Ryan, Matt, and Conman. They stood shadowed in the darkness away from the fire. Then Riley realized she wasn’t the only one staring at Conman.
He grinned at her. “They look real huh?” He said.
Matt grunted. “Sick son of a bitch.”
“Hey, you were the one staring.” Conman said.
Jack’s voice came across the earpiece. “Focus.”
Conman was stripping away the tight clothing tossing them into one of the abandoned cars. Undressed and redressed in black, Conman finished wiping the makeup off his face. He looked like a bad ass when dressing and undressing like a woman.
“Ready Boss.” Piston said.
“Move,” Jack said.
Riley kept with Blake’s quick pace until they came to the entrance of the ship. Everything around them warranted attention right down to the footing. Jumping from one pile of debris to another swiftly, but carefully, Riley followed Blake. The team fanned out in four different angles passing through the ruins of the entryway to the broken ship. Tangles of twisted metal combined with piles of cement were the only remnants of the Queen Mary’s Motel sign. It's pieces lay in heaps; however, the thousand-foot ship standing 140 feet tall still kept a presence. Even with the destruction of man, she towered with a grandiosity that demanded admiration. They used the crumbled remains of th
e three entries to the ship allowing her to camouflage them into shadows of her hold.
Damaged entry points blocked the ship’s entrances shutting off the lower level. Debris seemed strategically placed meaning someone had taken up residence on the other side. The footing was unstable making night vision nearly impossible. 38 moved across mounds of debris like a Billy goat, and within five minutes, he'd found an opening. Beyond the makeshift wall, a struggle followed.
“Need help 38?” Blake asked. “Copy.”
There was a brief pause as the team watched the dark shadows sliding across the open room. “Nah! Son of…bitch is a slippery one. Copy.”
"Well hurry up. We're wasting time." Blake said picking his way in closer in case 38 needed backup. There was an explosion of cursing, and it hadn't come from 38.
“Clear.” 38 said out of breath.
Once aboard, Riley felt the ship's presence in complete awe of the hollowness that surrounded her. Even through the dark, she sensed the ship's aura. The great ship once housed the famous, as well as, the wealthiest of people. Men, women, and children swarmed her belly and topside for pleasures Riley would never experience. Where there was happiness, there was also darkness. The two crashed repeatedly. There was a colder and desperate side of the ship's history. Transforming into a WWII transportation ship for soldiers, the once beautiful ship soon transitioned from something of beauty to something of power. Taking on a drab gray color, she became a ghost ship. Not an ounce of superstition clouded Riley's judgment, but sentimentalism did, and she felt the mix of pain and pleasure permeating from the interior of her folds.
“To know her is to love her,” Riley said softly.
“Who?” Blake asked.
"The ship. Construction started in 1930 in Clydebank, Scotland formerly known as job #534. Almost named Queen Victoria. People viewed the ship to be in a class all of her own at the time." Riley paused, thinking about the ship's history. The building of the ship was delayed several years due to the great depression and economic downfalls, but somehow survived leaving Cunard Line sparing no expense to complete the elegant liner. “Her maiden voyage was on May 27, 1936, and her last journey ended December 9, 1967, when she entered this harbor.” Three years later, she became an attraction for vacationers, tourists, and locals, remodeled into a motel with restaurants, shopping, and entertainment. What American did not like that? "This 3.5-million-dollar ship is more than just a big beautiful vessel that once set speed records and carried famous people and soldiers; she is a piece of history." Riley began seeing the importance of historical value in this recovery.
“Geeze Relay didn’t know you had your degree in history,” Blake said.
"I'd heard about the "Queen Mary" from a co-worker. I saw pictures. They did the "Scary Mary," haunted adventures. He said it was incredible. I always liked Halloween. Anyway, I did my research hoping I'd see her someday."
“Here you are,” Blake said. Riley knew he was grinning. “Is it everything you thought it to be?”
“We’ll see.”
“That was some good information Relay.” Piston said.
“Sorry,” Riley said forgetting everyone could hear her.
“Probably good these guys get a little history lesson. Respect what we’re about to trespass on.” Jack said.
Unfortunately, the Shift was about to add another rough side to the chapter of the great ship's past. Already Riley smelled decades of time. The aroma was of time passed. Crisp air gathered in few places followed by warm musky pockets. Some smells were evidence death found lived here as well. She found cover behind some overturned furniture, dabbed some Vic’s under her nose, and waited for further instruction.
“Creepy,” Blake whispered.
“We haven’t seen anything yet.” She whispered back.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The ship groaned as if the team’s body weight had made some difference in the way she floated atop the water. Metal screeched deep inside her echoing warnings to both friend and foe. Although the giant ship sat stable and still in the water, held in place for eternity by large chains and anchors, she spoke her differences in an eerie chorus of the song. Inside, the darkness felt heavy. A chill layered Riley's skin knowing the obscurity of hiding places were for more than just markers. The ship housed the walking dead.
The Black Army of Death (AKA BAD) practiced uncontrolled and violent behavior with no sense of control. Nothing but a group of misfits, they had no purpose other than to cause terror. Their goals didn’t include peaceful solutions, or the restructure of humankind. BAD's presence was forcing survivors to run from the area Axel was trying to save. Saving ground and lives was a tedious task. Riley believed the job of isolating the violence and keeping it from growing was worth fighting. The team needed more people to join their plight.
"Some people want to be saved," Jack told her.
As his words hung in her mind, a sharp smell stung her nose. A mix she knew was dried blood, decaying flesh and body fluids. The ship had become a steel tomb for the dead and the sick. She fumbled for the container of Vic's dabbing some more under her nose to camouflage the smells. The menthol stung her eyes, but the smell of rotting bodies softened.
"You're up Cobra." Jack's said. "Flush them out."
“Copy,” Cobra said. Their earpieces went quiet again.
If all went well, they'd be on the bridge of the Seraphina sipping coffee by ten, but she wasn't counting on it. Riley and Blake crouched side by side in the darkness. The obscurity of blackness hid the morbid scenes of death. Seeing death repeatedly did not make it easier. The darkness allowed contradiction when surrounded by an abyss. Minutes ticked by wasting precious time. Distorted voices stifled by enormous space trickled in from the corridor not far from where they crouched.
"There's activity on the front,” Blake whispered. “Copy.”
“Copy,” Jack replied. “Be ready.”
“Entry has two on each side,” Cobra said.
“Copy. Terminator.” Jack said.
“Copy.”
A few minutes had passed before Terminator announced his status. "Clear."
A clear pathway allowed access towards the arteries of the ship. On Jack's command, they pressed through the single opening one team at a time. She and Blake moved forward. Splitting apart, the rest of the team moved away. Blake repositioned his M&P Tactical pressing it forward. Riley moved on his command. They maneuvered unnoticed in the blackness of the ships obscurities where even night vision distorted facts to fiction. The air-cooled encased them by thick steel and hollow spaces too dark to see. The body of the ship acted like a giant conductor refrigerating and containing the cold air from outside to the inside. The abyss of darkness took any space between. When they stopped again, her fingers brushed against the thick chain and coarse rope intertwined. Riley couldn’t see where open space began or where it ended. The hairs on her neck lifted. Then the ship excreted a painful sounding whine followed by fevered voices.
Stepping out into another opening, Riley heard a conversation of mixed mumbling and falling pitches. She suddenly felt as if they'd escaped the darkness when she caught sight of the dark, dirty globes of safety lights overhead. The shadows turned a shade lighter allowing shapes to take on an eerie gray. She tapped Blake.
“Where are we?” She asked, but Blake was pressing forward.
“You’re the one with the visions.” Blake teased.
“Nope. I got nothing” She said softly. She could finally see if only gray tones.
“Oh hey, look! Wanna go swimming?” Blake whispered leaning over the edge of a balcony.
Riley slid in next to him leaning outward while straining to see through the shadows. Below was a large pool filled with broken cement and colorless as the ship herself. When Blake stepped away, a translucent splash of blue color blanketed the pool area below. Above her, the ceiling was high. Her imagination wandered as if often did, grasping colors long lost. She filled the pool with water, carved out intricate reflection li
nes that bounced off the surface, and then several shadows swirled. Below, a woman dressed in a modest two-piece, and looking much like a Vargas model tilted her head slightly and then looked upward. Turning away, the woman bent a knee and let her opposite foot touch the water. Riley froze, seeing the water swirl under the woman's toes and hearing the slight splash of water. Experience had taught her to regulate her state of mind. Did she see a warning? As the others began to appear, the woman looked to her. The darkness flipped to sparkling brightness. The grayness turned to blues and greens. Reflecting light produced tiny white lines that crisscrossed the water like thin vines. Laughter filled the pool below; she identified the room’s depth. Riley thought of Blake. Familiar with the power of visions, Riley turned and called out to Blake. She wouldn’t lose him, but when she glanced back to the pool, the clammy darkness of yesterday returned. Riley stood in the darkness afraid to leave. The images terrified and excited her but being left behind scared her even more. Blake had already moved through the left corridor. She felt hostage to this inescapable place, and yet she met her teammate's pace. He took her deeper into the belly of the ship where the corridors were hauntingly narrow and seemingly with no end. Cabin doors lined the path's sides, closed, locked barriers holding secrets at bay. The smells grew musky. The injuries of the Shift imploding a wave of age and deprivation. They needed to clear each room and rid the ship of the poison plaguing her integrity. Ghostly voices swirled at different frequencies, throbbing in and out of the static air.
In the Shadow of the Tiger (The Fighter Series Book 2) Page 5
