by Ben Farthing
9
Riley realized her mistake five minutes into following Nathaniel and Wendy.
The crowd of guests had seemed so easy to hide in when they’d been packed together on the outer deck.
But the ship had seven decks of guest cabins. The crowd quickly split into many directions, and Riley was left trying to blend in with six people in a hallway.
She’d followed her aunt and uncle to the elevator, milled about until they got on, then sprinted up the stairs.
Luckily, they got off only three decks up.
But not so lucky, was that Riley was left trying to follow them with only a handful of other guests to hide behind.
The tight hallway made Krystal’s sunhat feel even more ridiculous. Riley took it off and hugged it to her chest.
The hallway turned toward the center of the ship, then continued toward the bow, staggering to account for the narrower berth farther from the center.
After two turns, Riley was the only one left in the hallway, except for Nathaniel and Wendy up ahead.
Suddenly, Nathaniel stopped mid-stride. Riley swallowed a gasp. She hunched over a guest cabin door, holding Krystal’s hat, half-covering her face, and fumbling with her keycard in the door’s lock.
She couldn’t turn to look at Nathaniel, but from the corner of her eye, she saw both him and Wendy look at her.
No, no, no. If they spotted her already, Dad’s watch was likely gone forever. Not to mention Riley’s shot at nailing them for whatever environmental disaster they were trying to cause with the contents of Deck Two.
She could practically feel her chance at escaping her minimum wage nightmare slipping away. Her chance at finally having enough time to figure out what the heck she was supposed to do with her life. All gone if Wendy recognized her.
Riley made a show of flipping around her keycard and inserting it the other way.
Her heart pounded in her throat.
“Keep walking,” she whispered. “I’m just a random passenger who can’t get a door unlocked.”
Finally, movement in the corner of her vision. Nathaniel and Wendy were walking again.
Riley waited for them to round the next corner, then followed. She stepped as lightly as she could on the thick carpet.
The gold-encrusted light fixtures buzzed. She poked her head around the corner.
Her heart sank as she saw an empty hallway.
But then the door at the very end clicked shut.
Nathaniel was on Deck Seven, cabin 701.
It looked like it was on the bow itself.
Riley hurried back down the hallway to see.
Deck Seven’s outside deck was restricted to the very center of the ship. The guest cabins here had balconies to enjoy the ocean air.
But Nathaniel was absurdly wealthy. Riley marched up to Deck Eight to investigate a hunch.
The outer deck here circled the ship.
Riley strolled along, her hand on the railing. The setting sun threatened to blind her if she looked toward the bow, where she was headed. She kept her eyes down.
A row of lounge chairs looked out over the ocean. Empty. The other guests were likely getting dressed for dinner. And those who wanted to enjoy the ocean air and sunset were up on the top deck, without the roof here restricting their view.
Riley was struck by the size of the ship. It took a solid minute to walk from midship to the bow.
But when she reached the front of the ship, her hunch proved true:
On the bow of the Aria, two-story windows faced the setting sun.
Wherever this new ship had come from, it had cabins for the ultra-wealthy. If they were like the cabins in the original Aria that she’d studied, they’d be lush, 1,500 square foot cabins with spacious bedrooms on the first floor and a viewing area on the upper floor.
In her aunt and uncle’s cabin, the curtains were drawn.
Riley ran her fingers along the glass. It would have been too much to hope for a window that opened or a sliding glass door. The ultra-wealthy got the best view, but they had to enjoy it from behind glass.
Riley imagined if push came to shove, she could use something heavy to break this glass and get into Nathaniel and Wendy’s cabin.
She’d put that on her to-do list: in case of emergency that distracts the entire ship, break glass to steal watch.
A wet, slurping sound from behind her made her jump.
She spun around.
Blinding sunlight forced her eyes shut. She squinted at the deck. Nothing but lounge chairs faced to the front of the ship.
Riley squinted against the sun as she approached the railing.
The wind in her face—even without gusts—made her realize how quickly the ship was moving.
The wind could easily swallow a cry for help.
She became very aware of how alone she was on this deck, so far away from any doors inside.
The squelching noise came again. It sounded like a soaked-through suction cup being pried off a shower wall.
Riley put her hands on the railing. The metal was cold beneath her fingers.
She should turn around now. Run back to midship and inside. If she looked over the edge, something would be hanging there. Maybe the owner of the face she’d seen in the lower deck windows while boarding the ship. Maybe whatever had screamed behind the door on Deck Two.
But Riley couldn’t run away. Curiosity was too strong.
She leaned her head over the railing.
White-crested waves crashed into the ship over a hundred feet below. Their peaks caught the retreating sunlight.
Riley looked straight down.
Something clung to the hull.
Its shape wavered to the rise and fall of the ship. It was twenty feet down from Riley. It was as wide as her Honda Civic was long, and it bulged out from the hull two or three feet.
The sun was reflecting off the hull right above it, so she couldn’t make out details. She tried to see a head and shoulders, maybe arms hugging the bow.
But with the sunlight disrupting her view, it was just a mass. All she could tell was that it was covered in smaller bulges—or made up of them.
Her hand cramped from squeezing the railing so tightly.
She let go and flung her fingers about, keeping an eye on the thing clinging to the hull.
Should she tell somebody?
Maybe it wasn’t anything weird. Maybe it was some kind of barnacle. Or a big patch of grease meant to protect a decaying area of the hull.
The thing unstuck a limb from the ship, swung it across its back, and slapped it onto the hull higher up.
Riley sucked in air and jumped back from the edge.
Fear flooded her mind. That thing was alive. It was moving. It was climbing.
It had a limb like an oversized starfish.
She had to tell someone.
They’d think she was drunk.
She needed a photo.
Riley took out her phone and swiped to open the camera app.
She waited until she heard the squelching, slapping sound again. It was louder now. The thing was closer.
But she needed proof. Both to show to someone in authority and to prove to herself that she wasn’t going crazy.
She stretched her arms out to their limit, holding the phone pointing straight down. With her other hand, she tapped the screen. She jumped back.
With one eye on the railing, Riley inspected her photo.
The thing was only six feet below the deck. She didn’t wait to inspect the image anymore. She ran.
10
Chris found an out-of-the-way spot outside on Deck Eight. He plopped down onto a lounge chair close to the ship’s bow.
He turned his back to the setting sun. Soft wind whispered past his ears and tussled his hair. The starboard side of the Deck Eight exterior was a straight shot of walkway with lounge chairs facing the railing. Sunlight reflected off the ceiling all the way down the ship. The sky behind the Aria filled with storm clouds. Chris hoped t
hey outran them. He was discovering that his belly didn’t like the ocean.
He pulled his satellite phone from his pocket. It was blockier than his iPhone, like the old cell phones from when he was a kid. No data, so he couldn’t search the internet himself. But it was probably best that he didn’t search “how to disable a cruise ship’s plumbing,” in case after all this was over, the authorities came looking for him.
He dialed Eddie’s cell number. The ringing made an odd juxtaposition with the open ocean in front of him.
“Hello?” Eddie groaned.
Chris checked his watch. Almost seven, which meant it was almost ten back home. Eddie was eleven, and since it was a Saturday, he was allowed to stay up playing Fortnite with his friends. “You’re in bed early.”
“The power’s out. It stormed real bad today. Did you go swimming yet?” Eddie’s voice crackled with static.
Chris felt weak hearing his son. Maybe he should have let the world deal with the consequences of the Aria while he hid with Eddie in rural Virginia. Life would be perfect if the purpose of this phone call was to tell Eddie about going swimming on a cruise ship.
Chris had burnt out of trying to make it as a freelance architect. Now he and Eddie lived with Chris’s parents’, and Chris worked as a substitute teacher—not to worry, the art teacher was trying to persuade the principal to hire Chris full-time to teach art, architecture, and engineering.
Life would be just fine if not for the Aria. If not for the trauma both he and Eddie had suffered inside the overnight skyscraper in Richmond.
And now Chris was on an overnight cruise ship, chugging farther away from Eddie by the second.
“Dad?”
“Sorry, I zoned out there for a second.” Chris stood up. Someone was walking around near the bow. A young woman crept up to the front railing like she was sneaking up on something. The sun silhouetted her. Chris minded his business and walked a bit toward midship. “I’m hoping you can look up something for me.”
“Why?” Eddie was already suspicious. He knew Chris’s financial situation. A last-minute pleasure cruise didn’t make sense.
Chris leaned on the railing. Looking down at the ocean made him realize how fast they were traveling. How quickly he was moving away from Eddie.
He didn’t have a lie prepared. “I just want to know how something works. The plumbing on cruise ships. Does it go to a tank somewhere?”
“Did you flush your phone?”
Chris laughed. He loved hearing Eddie make jokes. Despite the trauma of the skyscraper, he was back to being a little boy. Almost a preteen now. “No, I’m just curious.”
Eddie went quiet long enough that Chris asked. “You still there?”
“The power’s still out. I can’t use the computer. I can google on my phone, though. I’ll call you back in a minute.”
“Okay, be quick. I don’t want to miss dinner.” They hung up.
Eddie definitely didn’t believe him, but he was playing along. Better that than have him worried sick about his dad.
Chris kicked himself for not finding another way to look up things like this. He could have hired a research assistant online. Not that he had the money for that.
He’d do his best not to call Eddie with questions like this again.
Footsteps raced toward him, slapping on the deck.
Chris whirled around. He expected to see Micah’s cult charging him, ready to throw him overboard.
Instead, the young woman from the bow ran toward him. She clutched a cellphone and a floppy red hat and was running in flip-flops. Her face was white, and her eyes wide with terror.
Chris thought she was ten or fifteen years younger than him—probably early twenties. She wore shorts and a loose, faded-white blouse.
She dashed past him.
“Are you okay?” he blurted out.
She turned just long enough to say, “Run!” and then fled back to midship, where she disappeared inside.
Chris looked up toward the Aria’s bow. He held up his phone to shield against the sunlight. As far as he could tell, the sitting area was deserted. Nothing but the open deck and lounge chairs, one kicked out of line with the others.
Maybe the young woman was drunk already.
Or maybe the Aria had dragged something with it when it appeared overnight. Something from the infinite plane Chris had seen from the top of the skyscraper.
Chris walked slowly towards the bow. Wind blew into his eyes. The starboard and port railings came together in a little bronze globe that reflected the sunlight.
The skyscraper hadn’t taken long to become threatening. He wasn’t in there half an hour before the building claimed its first victim.
The Aria could be the same. His gut told him the ship had a different purpose from the building. But whatever that purpose, he knew the ship could become active at any moment. Probably it already was.
He reached the railing and started to lean over.
His phone rang.
Chris’s heart jumped into his throat. He leaped back from the edge. He caught his breath from the scare and answered.
“I found an article,” said Eddie.
“What’s it say?” Chris kept his eye on the edge of the deck. Something bulged out from the hull, just barely in sight above the edge.
“There are two tanks. One for sink and shower water. Another to collect toilet flushes. When they fill up, it gets treated and dumped into the ocean. Sounds gross.”
Chris felt an overpowering need to stay far away from whatever was bulging from the hull. All he could see with the piercing sunlight was that the thing was yellowish-orange and rough like sandpaper.
Eddie’s crackling voice continued. “It says here that one time the plumbing backed up, and people were stuck on the ship for three days. I hope your ship’s pipes don’t get clogged.”
Chris climbed on top of a lounge chair, looking for a better view. The rubber slats wobbled under his feet. He saw more of the thing. More yellowish-orange, bulging sandpaper. Not enough detail to learn anymore about it.
“Dad?”
“Sorry, I’m listening.”
“That was everything. What else can I look up?”
Where the wastewater tanks were located. How he could clog them. Whether that would even matter, if the last time they clogged on a cruise ship, it meant the passengers were actually stuck on board. “How come they didn’t evacuate the people when it clogged?”
“It didn’t say.”
A patch of the organic, yellowish-orange sandpaper swelled like a bullfrog’s throat.
“Shitshitshit.” Chris jumped down from the lounge chair.
That wasn’t natural. The Deviser’s dimension was already bleeding over. And Chris didn’t even know what this ship was, let alone how to stop it.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie sounded frantic. “Why are you on that ship, Dad?”
Chris backed away. “I’m fine. I tripped. I’m fine now.”
The sandpapery balloon deflated, back out of sight.
“Is it because of the office in the city?”
Of course, Eddie knew exactly what it was. Nothing else would scare Chris so deeply. Eddie had picked up on it before Chris left. “No,” he lied.
“Promise?”
Chris had sworn to his boy never to break a promise again. He’d hurt his son in that building. He’d done it to make Eddie less desirable to the Deviser, and it had saved Eddie’s life. But he’d still hurt him. He’d told him no one would ever be a solid support. That Eddie could never count on anyone.
In the months it had taken to earn that trust back, Chris had sworn over and over that he’d never abandon Eddie.
“You promise?” Eddie had often responded.
“Cross my heart,” Chris would say.
“You don’t break promises?”
“I never break promises.”
Although it was juvenile, with Eddie, Chris differentiated between a simple lie and breaking a promise. Sometimes you lied
to your kids. But after the pain Chris had caused in his boy, a promise had to be a promise.
“Dad?”
Chris stared at the edge of the bow. His mind raced as he tried to figure out his next steps. “I’m still here.”
“I said do you promise? You’re not on the cruise because of the office in the city?”
“I have to go now. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Chris circled wide, trying for a better view without getting too close.
“Dad, you didn’t promise.”
“I love you.” He hung up.
He stood at the starboard edge of the bow. Waves splashed against the hull far below. The ocean raced toward the ship, roiling in the wind and redirecting the last rays of the setting sun up into Chris’s eyes.
Chris leaned over the railing, stretching for a clear view of whatever clung to the hull at the tip of the bow.
He saw white paint over steel. Nothing else. Not below Deck Eight, and not anywhere above it. He ran to the port edge of the bow to look up at the other side. Again, nothing but the ship itself.
He breathed in the salty Pacific air.
The Deviser’s dimension was crossing over like it had in the overnight skyscraper.
Three hours since the Aria disembarked, and he was already running out of time.
He should sink the ship now, before people started disappearing, snatched away to the Deviser’s dimension.
But he couldn’t murder a thousand old people, even if it meant saving them from a worse fate. If that made him weak, then fine.
He had one plan and no other way forward. Back up the plumbing, hope the cruise line evacuated the guests, then sink the ship.
Enough bedsheets down the toilets should cause a clog. His first step would be the laundry.
His stomach rumbled.
Dinner first, then the laundry.
11
Riley found Krystal in their cabin.
The room encouraged claustrophobia—two slim beds with a nightstand between them. Barely space to walk around them to the one dresser. A child-size loveseat made of water-proof fabric was squeezed into the comically small space between the beds and the bathroom door—which was also unnaturally narrow.
