Waves of Fate | Book 1 | First Fate

by Talbot, Kendall

  His face morphed into a deep scowl, but he shook his head. “No. They would’ve sounded the alarms if they were evacuating.”

  A wave of dizziness washed through her. “But where is everyone?”

  “I don’t know. But they wouldn’t leave us. They have checks for things like that. They wouldn’t leave anyone behind.” Although he said it calmly, his eyes blazed with fear. He snatched four more packets of biscuits from the dinner cart and handed two to her.

  She was no longer hungry. Not after that terrifying thought. But she forced herself to eat. She turned her gaze to the wreckage around them and spied a sign on the far side of the disaster zone. “Look—the medical clinic . . . It’s over that way.”

  But between them and that doorway was a mountain of charred bits and giant chunks of debris.

  The passageway was completely blocked off. It was going to take forever to get through that mess.

  They were still in trouble.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Each time Gabby tried to hug her son, he pushed her away. But he was in shock. He’d just witnessed the death of several new friends and nearly died himself.

  She had come so close to losing him.

  But they couldn’t dwell on it a moment more. “Max, we have to find Sally.”

  “Yep. Let’s go to the top deck. She’ll be up there, I’m sure.”

  For some inexplicable reason, Gabby didn’t share that confidence.

  They exited the theater and when she walked past the demolished elevator shaft, icy serpents slithered up her back at her second sighting of the severed cables.

  What if Sally . . .?

  No! She couldn’t think like that.

  She managed to put a full stop to that thought.

  Sally was still alive. She had to be. There was no reason to think any other way.

  Max would say she was being ludicrous for worrying that she might be dead.

  She’d get that look from him too . . . like she was an irrational fool.

  It was a look men often flashed at her. Maybe it was her natural blonde hair that instigated such hostility. After all, despite the ridiculous all-encompassing generalization of the term dumb blonde, it was still widely and infuriatingly purported.

  Gabby forced the burning anguish from her chest and turned her gaze to Adam. She was surprised at how tall he was. At just thirteen years old, his brown hair was already in line with her husband’s shoulders. He was broad too. Max had said Adam was strong. She’d had no idea that Max had begun training him.

  A flash of jealousy streaked through her. Max knew their children better than she did. But she’d made sacrifices for them. Important sacrifices. For all three of them. And their lives were enriched because of those sacrifices. She hadn’t regretted the decision to focus on her career once since her children were born. Until now.

  Adam’s hand remained clutched in his father’s good one as they made their way up the dim stairwell and every question her son had was directed at Max. Not one was sent her way.

  At the ninth deck, they were forced to return back into the dark passages that had barely any sunlight penetration and the sway of the boat had all three of them bouncing off the never-ending cabin doors.

  Halfway along, Max dropped Adam’s hand and sprinted ahead.

  She and Adam raced forward. Max dropped to his knees, and when Gabby finally caught up, Max was holding the hand of an elderly woman. The toppled wheelchair at her side was the likely answer for her awkward position on the floor. She was opposite an open cabin door, which thankfully provided enough light for them to see. Her body was tilted sideways, with her back against the wall and her legs, as thin as those often seen on malnourished prisoners of war, were at graceless angles beside her.

  “Are you okay?” Max patted her arm.

  The woman nodded and tried to push up.

  “It’s okay; stay where you are. Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head.

  “What’s your name, love?”

  “Gladys. Gladys Fairway.”

  “Okay, Gladys. My name is Max. This’s my son, Adam, and my wife, Gabrielle.” He glared at Gabby, and she had a feeling he was trying to say something with his eyes, but she had no idea what.

  “Hello.” Gladys’ brittle voice was barely audible.

  Max winced as he adjusted his mangled hand across his chest.

  “Oh my goodness, you’re injured.” Gladys reached out with knobby, arthritic fingers to touch the bruising that had spread to his forearm.

  Max shook his head and chuckled. “It’s nothing.”

  “I can tell you now, son, that it is not nothing.” Gladys seemed to have found her voice. “You have multiple fractures, and I’m sure every movement is giving you immense pain.”

  Max actually smiled as he cupped her elbow. “Can you stand?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry.”

  “My legs have been useless for years.”

  Gabby studied the woman’s physique. Her legs may have been as thin as kindling, but the upper half of her body was plump and round, and she probably weighed at least two hundred pounds. Even if Max had the use of both his hands, he couldn’t possibly think he’d be able to lift her.

  “Okay, Gladys.” He squeezed her shoulder, then stood and using just his good hand, he returned the wheelchair to its upright position. “We’ll have you back into your chair in no time.”

  “It’s stopped working.”

  “That’s okay; don’t worry about that. I’m going to get some help. Gabby and Adam will stay with you, and I’ll be right back.” Max turned without even glancing at Gabby and looked set to run off.

  “Max!” Gabby blurted.

  He spun to her, his jaw clenched, ready for a fight. Gabby stepped over Gladys’ legs, latched onto his arm and leaned in. “What’re you doing?”

  His glare was evil. “I’m going to get help.”

  “What about Sally? Our daughter. Remember?” It took all her might to keep her voice as a whisper.

  “I can’t leave her like this. The poor woman’s probably been stuck in that position since yesterday.”

  “I can’t believe you’d do this.”

  “Don’t be so callous, Gabby.”

  “Callous! This isn’t callous. This is putting the life of our daughter ahead of a complete stranger.”

  “No, Gabby,” he hissed in her ear. “This is me putting the care of a crippled, elderly woman, who is directly within our reach, into perspective.”

  Gabby groaned and clenched her fists until her long nails dug into her flesh.

  She had no retort, nor did she have time to think of one, before Max turned and sprinted away.

  “I’m going to look for Sally,” she yelled after him. But he neither replied, nor looked back.

  Biting down her fury, she turned to her son. Adam’s face was ashen, his lips drawn into a thin line. He shook his head at her, like he despised what she’d done. She went to speak, to tell him his father’s priorities were so very wrong, but before she’d decided on an appropriate way to say it, he looked away.

  Gabby huffed out a sigh and looked down at the crippled woman.

  Gladys met her gaze. “I’m sorry to be a burden.” Her red eyes had become even more red, and fearing she was about to cry, Gabby looked away too.

  It was a long moment in which the only noise was the groaning of the ship before Gabby decided what she had to do. She cleared her throat and squatted so she was level with the elderly woman. “I’m really sorry. But my daughter is missing, and I can’t . . . I can’t just stay here when I don’t know where she is.”

  “There’s no need to explain. Please go find her; she’s more important than I am.”

  Gabby touched her arm and the elderly woman’s clammy skin quivered. “Thank you.” Gabby stood. “Come on, Adam.”

  He shook his head and backed away. “Dad will be back soon.”

  “Adam, you�
��re coming with me.”

  “No! I’m not.”

  She cocked her head. He’d never defied her before. “Adam. I’m your mother; you do as—”

  “I don’t care!” He folded his arms across his chest. “Dad said he’d be back, and I’m waiting for him.”

  “Adam!” The gaze of the elderly woman had heat flashing up Gabby’s neck.

  “I’m not moving.”

  The pressure to take charge was equal to the embarrassment blazing through her. When did I lose control of my kids? It didn’t matter. There wasn’t time to think about that. Sally needed her.

  Now it was Gabby who had to choose between her own children. With her eyes locked on Adam, she decided to use the same strategy Max had done. Adam was fine; it was Sally who needed her. She pointed at her son. “You stay right here with Gladys. Do not move until your father returns. Got it?”

  He nodded and his shoulders lowered as if unburdened. “Yes, Mom. I will. I promise.”

  “When your father returns, tell him I’m upstairs searching for Sally. Tell him to meet me by the bar on the Lido deck. Okay?”

  “Okay. I will.”

  Gabby strode to her son, pulled him to her chest and kissed the top of his head. But even as she clutched him there, she felt his stiffness . . . his utter reluctance to hug her. She told herself it was a normal reaction for a thirteen-year-old boy, but at the same time, she fought the other rotten truth—he didn’t love her anymore.

  She turned, and as she followed the direction Max had taken, her vision wobbled through the tears pooling in her eyes.

  After climbing two sets of stairs, in which she didn’t encounter a single soul, she arrived at the Lido deck. It’d been the party zone for the first twelve days of the cruise. Drinking, dancing, swimming, and socializing had been the themes for the large open expanse both day and night.

  Now, though, with the sun a huge fireball high in the sky, not even a whisper of breeze drifting off the ocean, and bodies strewn everywhere, it truly was the definition of hell.

  Hundreds of people stood around. Or sat on deck chairs in the stinking heat. Everyone looked to be in a trance and nobody seemed to be doing anything. Nothing constructive at least.

  The stench was horrific. In this seventy-degree swelter, no bathing was exacerbating the problem. But it wasn’t simple body odor that invaded her nostrils. No. It was worse. Much worse. Vomit. Sewage. And death. Gabby had been to many crash scenes where people had lost control of their bodily functions, but this was beyond anything she’d encountered before.

  As she scouted everywhere for her daughter, it was impossible to comprehend how these people could just sit here. Were they just waiting for their pitiful end?

  She still had no idea who was in charge.

  And, more importantly, why weren’t they doing anything?

  Gabby paused in the middle of the field of bodies and did a slow scan of the deck. Each time her eyes snagged on a young angelic profile, her heart would sink and almost simultaneously leap at the confirmation it wasn’t Sally.

  “Sally,” she called across the crowd. People turned her way. Their grubby faces were devoid of emotion. Their lethargic bodies lacked in urgency. It was like they’d all given in.

  “Sally!” She cupped her hands around her mouth in the hope of projecting her voice.

  More people turned toward her. Gabby was accustomed to being the center of attention but it was usually met with admiration. The glares she received now bordered on hostility.

  She didn’t care. “Sally! Sally! Sally, where are you?”

  A woman in a white uniform touched her shoulder. “Ma’am. Ma’am . . . can I help you?”

  “I can’t find my daughter.” Gabby’s chest squeezed. The lump in her throat made it impossible to breathe. Gasping for air, she leaned forward, put her hands on her knees, and stared at the bloody scars running down her legs.

  The woman rubbed her back. “It’s okay. Take it easy. Nice deep breaths.”

  Okay? Nothing was okay.

  Gabby didn’t make scenes. At least, not in front of strangers. She could imagine the headlines: Gabrielle Kinsella crumbles into a blubbering mess.

  That nasty epiphany had her sniffing back her grief. She inhaled a shaky breath and let it out in a huge huff. Clenching her jaw, she flicked away teetering tears. She straightened her shoulders and faced the woman in uniform. “As I was saying, I can’t find my daughter.”

  “Okay. If you come with me, we have a list over there of people who can’t locate loved ones. Maybe she’s looking for you.” The woman indicated for Gabby to lead the way and as she stepped through the crowd toward the bar that had lost its mirror in that explosion, she saw Max and two other men with a deck chair in their arms, running out the doorway.

  He didn’t so much as glance in her direction.

  Shaking her head over Max’s warped priorities, she waited at the counter as the woman scrolled down the immense list of names. “Sally Kinsella? Is that right?”

  “Yes. She’s fifteen years old. She’s about this high, with long dark hair.”

  The woman flicked back to the first page and started at the top again. As she turned over the pages, scanning with her finger, a dagger of despair stabbed at Gabby’s sanity.

  When the woman reached the end of the list for a second time, she paused without shifting her gaze from the page. She stiffened too and was struggling to look into Gabby’s eyes.

  “No.” Gabby’s voice was barely audible. “No. No. No!” She shook her head. “This isn’t happening. It’s not happening.”

  The woman finally looked up. Her pupils were enormous. Gabby knew the sign well. Distress. “I’m sorry, Gabrielle.”

  “But where can she be? It’s a ship, for goodness sake. It’s not like she can—” Gabby stopped mid-sentence. Her heart gripped in a vise. She took a step sideways and turned so her view included the damaged railing that’d been eradicated by the enormous plane engine when it had skidded across the deck and gone overboard.

  Gabby fell to her knees. She clutched her hands over her face. And for the first time in her life, she didn’t care who was watching as she burst into inconsolable sobs.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Zon couldn’t stand the pain shooting through his gut no more. He had to eat. This rationing crap was bullshit. He was bigger than every fucker still alive on the ship. That meant he needed to eat more than they did.

  Everybody was just sitting there, waiting for handouts like good little children. A can of beans or corn. A stale bread roll. Sticks of carrot or celery. Or worse, an apple. Where the fuck were the T-bones? With all this broken shit lyin’ around, they could whip up some kinda griddle quick smart and cook up some steak. And what about the beer? They had bucket loads of beer. Fuckers were probably keeping ’em for themselves.

  That new Captain thought he was king shit, deciding who got what, and who did what. And for some fuckin’ reason, everyone did it. McCrae and his bitches had rooms set up with food and water stores, and dumb fuckers guarding it like it was gold or somethin’. They were constantly counting it and sorting it. They’d count the passengers too, and Zon was pretty sure that each time they did, there were less mouths to feed.

  Rationing to one bottle of water a day was fine. When the food ran out, people would get weak. But it was the shitting situation that was gonna get ’em all dead.

  Once when he was a kid, his daddy had started shittin’ so bad he’d done it in his pants. Zon got smacked over the head for laughin’ about it, but his mama, when she got riled up, ya didn’t go messin’ with her. She’d whacked the crap outta his daddy with a frying pan, cussing and carryin’ on until he got his-self sorted. Thing was, though, by nightfall, all of ’em —his daddy, his mama, Bitchface, and him—coulda all shat through the eye of a needle. Went on like that for days. And they was so weak nobody could clean up the mess.

  In the end, Zon had slept in the chicken pen. The chickens were more accommodating than his f
ucked-up folks anyways.

  It was several days before his mama came looking for him. Which was good, ’cause he was so sick of sneaking into the kitchen and stealing food that he was considerin’ eating one of them chickens. But that wouldn’t a been a grand idea. He’d learned the hard way that eating chicken that wasn’t cooked right woulda done much worse than whatever disease his daddy had brought home from the abattoir.

  But it wasn’t just the shitting problem that was causing him grief now. It was all this sitting around waitin’. Waitin’ for food. Waitin’ for water. Waitin’ for Captain Dickhead to make a plan about abandoning ship. Zon didn’t wait for no one. Deciding he’d start hunting for his own rations was easy, but waiting until darkness settled in? That was the tough part.

  It came swift though. One minute the sun was changing everyone’s skin to shades of red; next second, it was sinking into the ocean. There was even a spray of colors to mark its plummet. He wouldn’t normally notice that shit. But today, as he’d spent a few hours hovering around Jessie, he’d heard her talk about it with her father. They’d made some crack about there being pink in the sky bein’ a good thing. He had no idea what they were jabberin’ on about, but he’d laughed along all the same.

  Although he was mega fat, Jessie’s dad was kinda cool. Albert included Zon in the conversation like he’d been officially invited into some group. That shit never happened to him. Maybe when a huge crowd faced death together, it made people go all weird.

  He didn’t know. He didn’t care for no reason neither. He just liked it.

  But it did make it harder to sneak away.

  The first two times he’d stood, they’d asked him what he was doin’. Each time he’d pretended to stretch and ended up sitting right back down again. The third time though, he’d made up his mind that he had to get goin’ before the pains in his stomach had him punchin’ someone in the face.

  He stood, rubbing his stomach.

  Jessie looked up at him and tilted her head in that cute way he was gettin’ to like. “Where’re you going?”