Dead Calm (12 page)

A few in the crowd turned away at this prophecy and a
few laughed. Richard noted the hecklers so they could be dealt with
later. Despite this, most of the people seemed interested in what
he had to say. An older woman laid her hand on his arm and asked,
“What's your name, son?”

Without missing a beat, and raising his voice so all
could hear, he said, “I am the Reverend Ricky Rose, brothers and
sisters, and I'm here to lead you to salvation.”

With this declaration, the Reverend Ricky was
born.

Ricky was amazed as he recalled how well his con job
worked. Switching between the personas of a kind, caring, country
preacher and a strongman dictator, he soon organized his faithful
into groups that either prayed for salvation or went in search of
anyone infected with the HWNW virus. By spreading the word that the
end times were here and that only he, the Reverend Ricky Rose,
could save the passengers on the Calm of the Seas, within hours he
solidified his position as the spiritual and religious leader of
the ship. By playing on the passengers’ fears, and their
willingness to grasp at any straw that might save them, he drew
enough people to him to turn his attention to strengthening his
physical hold over the ship.

Remembering what the Baptist minister had told him
about how he had used his ushers, Ricky chose the most faithful
from the groups searching for passengers infected with the virus.
From these he formed a cadre that he could use. Giving them each a
red t-shirt so they could be easily recognized, red to show the
blood shed by Jesus Christ, he named them his Ushers and set them
to work relocating people to different decks since the Sounds
Lounge was filling up fast. It was of no concern to Ricky that many
of the passengers not infected with the disease were trapped with
those who were when the plan fell apart and all the cabin areas
were locked down. He already had over four hundred followers, so
the loss of a few potential recruits was no big deal. When some of
his flock approached Ricky to tell him that people were jumping
into the sea to their death from the quarantine areas, he told them
that God spoke to him and showed him a vision of this very thing
coming to pass. God told him that the people were already infected
and were simply saving themselves from the horror and ravages of
the HWNW virus. They would be forgiven their sins and go to Heaven
despite their suicide after a brief stay in purgatory.

With the Bible as his reference and a direct line to
God, Ricky could find a vision, verse or a psalm to explain any of
his actions. And then, if all else failed, he could always fall
back on the greatest, empty justification that man had used since
time began to excuse his actions.

It was God's will.

Reverend Ricky watched out the side window of the
bridge with interest as the sailboat turned and headed toward the
Calm of the Seas. “Contact your man and find out what they're
doing,” he told Parsons.

After pulling out a two-way radio, his number two
held a brief conversation with the Usher posted to watch the
newcomers from the second level of the Centrum. This was followed
by a long pause in which neither man on the bridge spoke as they
waited for an answer. Finally, the radio squawked and the Usher
informed them that it appeared that the rest of the people from the
sailboat were coming on board.

At this, a smile broke over Ricky's face as he said,
“I told you they wouldn't be able to resist the temptation. Now you
see why I wanted them to come on board unopposed. Let them get
their fill of food and water. Let them get comfortable in the
Centrum. Let them drop their guard and-.”

Ricky was interrupted by Sheila, the redhead he had
brought aboard as a play toy. Entering the bridge, she slammed the
hatch behind her with a resounding bang. Swaying slightly, she
called in an angry voice, “What the fuck do mean keeping me cooped
up on deck eleven, Ricky? Someone said a boat was spotted and
people were coming on board. What the fuck's going on?”

Looking at her with disgust, he said, “You're drunk
Sheila. Go sleep it off someplace.”

Instead of letting herself be dismissed, the woman
stuck out her hand and steadied herself against a wall. Squinting
in Ricky's direction, she slurred, “Don't give me that shit. You
may be the great and powerful Reverend Ricky to the rest of these
idiots, but I know exactly who you are and where you came
from.”

This barb struck its mark, causing Ricky to sigh and
say in a gentler voice, “Alright babe, I'll tell you what's going
on. Yes, we spotted a boat, and yes, the people in it are coming on
board. In fact, some of them are already on deck four.”

Pushing off from the wall, Sheila took two unsteady
steps forward and said, “Well then, let's go down and say hello.
Make friends with them and get them to take us off this ship of the
damned.”

“It's not that easy,” Ricky replied.

Anger flashed in Sheila's eyes. “We're on a sinking
ship in the middle of the fucking ocean and-.”

“Gulf of Mexico,” Ricky corrected. “And we're not
sinking yet.”

“-and we need to get to Cozumel where it's safe,”
Sheila went on. “We’ve got maybe a hundred people left, and between
the occasional zombie showing up out of nowhere to eat someone and
the suicides, pretty soon there won't be anyone except you and your
precious Ushers.”

“I’m working on a plan right now,” Ricky assured
her.

Sheila snorted. “Planning on who you're gonna screw
tonight. You and your big goddamn plans. I agreed to go along with
you in the beginning, but now everything's falling apart and we’re
gonna die.”

Moving close, Sheila pressed her body against Ricky's
and let her voice drop to an almost pleading tone. “Let's take one
of the lifeboats and head for an oil rig. You and Don said we could
make it that far. Just you and me, babe, just like in the
beginning.”

Ricky shook his head. “I explained why we couldn’t do
that. We’d be in even worse shape. We’d be stuck in the middle of
the Gulf with fewer supplies than we have here.”

“Then we need to go down and talk to the people who
got the sailboat. A sailboat doesn't need gas, and it can get us to
Cozumel,” Sheila whined.

“A boat that size can only hold about ten or twelve
people,” Ricky said. “There are already seven of them on board, so
that only leaves room for five of us. And that's if they even agree
to take us. And we don't know who they are or what they want yet.
Plus, when we do go, we have to bring enough supplies to last us
until we can get set up in Cozumel. It's the rule they have there.
You heard them yourself when we talked to them on the radio. If you
try to land on the island and you can't prove you're
self-supporting, they run you off.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

Ricky hesitated in telling her his plan. Although
Sheila had backed him when he took control of the ship, and knew
most of what was really going on, she'd been drinking far too much
lately. When she didn't get her way, she would threaten to expose
him as a fraud to the Faithful. To let them know that within a few
weeks the pumps on the Calm of the Seas were going to fail, and the
ship would sink ... he couldn't have that.

And who was she to complain about whom I fuck, Ricky
thought vehemently. It was her idea to have an orgy every night.
And she was even the one who gave me the idea on how to rationalize
it to his flock. “If you are without sin, how then could you be
saved?”

Ricky laughed his ass off at that one, but the
Faithful ate it up.

Hell, he thought, before that they were all sneaking
around jumping each other anyway. This just gave them an excuse to
bring it out in the open. Now, every evening at sunset, the entire
congregation moved up to the pool deck. After a quick sermon from
Ricky, they waited for the rapture, for Jesus to lift his faithful
up to Heaven. When it didn't happen, and Ricky would've shit one
big brick if it ever did, the crowd moved to the pool bar and
started drinking. Soon, threesomes, foursomes and full nude twister
orgies would break out on mattresses dragged from the chairs
scattered across the deck. The PA was turned on and blasted music
while the Romanesque orgy went on until dawn. This was when those
few left standing, staggered below to nurse their hangovers.

Looking at Sheila, Ricky saw the dark circles around
her eyes and that the skin on her face had started to sag.

Along with her tits, he added.

With her constant threats to unmask him endangering
what he had built, she had become a liability.

Holding Sheila close, Ricky stroked her hair and
said, “Don't worry, babe. Don and I have an idea we're working on.
Right now, we just need to lay low while we make sure the newcomers
don't mean us any harm. In a few days, we'll approach them and make
a deal to get us off the ship.”

Pulling away from Ricky, Sheila said harshly, “Just
make sure that I’m on that boat when it sails, or I’ll make damn
sure no one is. Your Faithful will have your natural ass when I
shout it out on every deck about how you conned them. How you've
been keeping it secret about the ship sinking and how you wrecked
the lifeboats to keep everyone here.”

Pointing to some rust colored stains on the floor at
the back of the bridge, she added, “I’ll also let them know what
you did to the Captain and the crew when they stood up to you. How
you killed some and fed the rest to those things.”

Like a light bulb being turned on, Ricky beamed a
reassuring smile at Sheila and said, “Now there's no reason for any
of that, honey. Of course you're going with me. You're my number
one girl. Now, go get a drink at the Masthead and I’ll be down to
see you in a little bit. We'll spend some time together. Just you
and me.”

Slightly placated, Sheila turned to go as Ricky gave
her an affectionate pat on the rear. When she was gone, Ricky
turned to Parsons, his smile now gone. In a cold voice, he said,
“I'm through with her shit. Give her about an hour to get even more
liquored up and then send two of the Head Ushers to grab her.
Everyone else is on deck eleven, so she'll be alone.”

“What do you want them to do with her?” Parsons
asked. They had found numerous ways to dispose of anyone who
threatened their control over the ship.

“Take her to the Sounds Lounge and dump her skanky
ass off the balcony. Let those things take care of her.” Ricky
ordered.

“Do you want to watch again?” Parsons added with a
sick smile.

Ricky thought about it for a minute before saying,
“Yeah, I think I'd like that. Have the men radio me when they get
ready to toss her in. They can do whatever they want to her until I
get there. While we're waiting for that, you and I need to figure
out how we're going to eliminate the intruders. They seem to have
us outgunned, so we need to come up with a way to take them out
without putting any of the core group at risk.”

Looking out at the flat water, Ricky said in a low
voice, “I want that sailboat.”

Chapter Seven

The Dead Calm:

Steve toweled himself dry as he stepped from the
shower in the corner of the locker room. Reaching for a new pair of
jeans and shirt that Heather had found in one of the shops in the
Centrum, an enticing aroma reached him from the nearby kitchen. It
seemed like months, rather than just over a week, since he had
eaten anything but MREs, so the smell of broiling meat set his
mouth watering.

Clipping the holster containing his pistol to his
waistband, he picked up his M-4 and checked the safety before
hanging the weapon over his shoulder by its sling. Exiting the
locker room, he headed down a short hallway leading to the food
preparation area. Set up to feed hundreds, it took Steve a few
minutes to find Susan, Connie and Cindy in the huge kitchen. They
had taken over a small corner of the serving line nearest the doors
leading to the dining room where they had access to one of the
coolers and a broiler the size of a mid-sized pickup truck.

Everyone was still jumpy, those from the sailboat
because they were in a possibly hostile environment and Connie and
Tim because they were still learning to trust the newcomers. Not
wanting to startle anyone, he called out before approaching,
“Whatever it is, smells good,”

“We're cooking,” Cindy yelled out excitedly. “Wait
until you taste the garlicky potatoes I made.”

“Connie's been a great help, too,” Susan said. “I'd
still be trying to figure out where everything is if it wasn't for
her.” The young woman gave a shy smile and said, “It's nice to cook
for more than just Tim and me.”

Looking around, Steve asked, “Where is everyone?”

“Tim's with Tick-Tock, watching the stairs,” Susan
said. Narrowing her eyes she asked, “What's Tick-Tock's real name
anyway? He won't tell me, and I've been trying to find out for
weeks now.”

Steve smiled and shrugged. Lots of people had asked
him that same question, and he always refused to answer. Even
Heather had given up trying to get him to spill it. At one point,
Heather and Susan had even tried to check the personnel records at
the radio station, only to find Tick-Tock's file was missing. He
had gotten there before them.

Seeing that she wouldn't get anywhere with Steve,
Susan gave him a dirty look and continued, “Heather's nesting
and-.”

Steve cut her off, “Nesting?”

“She's putting together a place for you and her in
the Captain's Clothes store,” she explained. “She dragged your
mattress off the boat and set it up in there. There's a linen store
where you can buy sheets and pillowcases, so we all raided it. Hope
you like a nautical theme on your blanket.”

Steve tried to remember where the Captain's Clothes
store was and finally recalled that it was at a slight angle to the
grand staircase, the perfect place to give covering fire if anyone
tried to rush their deck from above.