Dead Calm (18 page)

In shock, he whispered, “What happened?”

Hearing him, the guard replied, “They resisted.
Happened about half an hour ago. Heard about it on the radio. The
people inside shot one of the soldiers after he told them they were
drafted. The old man who lived there was screaming about it being
kidnapping and opened fire. The Major said he wanted an example set
and called in a tank to level the building.”

Completely lost in his misery, Jimmy sagged in his
seat as the truck drove him to Baton Rouge and whatever fate
awaited him.

In such a way, the recruitment drive initiated by the
Joint Chiefs of Staff swept across the country.

Chapter Nine

The Dead Calm:

The morning sun illuminated the bridge of The Calm of
the Seas as Reverend Ricky looked at Brother Seth with disgust.
After letting the man squirm for a full minute, he demanded, “What
the hell happened? How did that bitch get away and kill Brother
Raymond?”

Not wanting to tell Ricky how Sheila had caught him
and Raymond with their pants down, literally with their pants down,
Seth made up a story of how Sheila ambushed them. That she must
have suspected they were coming for her, so she hid just inside the
entrance to the lounge. When they walked in, she jumped out and
slashed at him first before stabbing Brother Raymond in the chest.
Hoping to turn Ricky's wrath further away from him and onto Sheila,
he added to his lie by saying that as she ran off, she had yelled
out that Ricky was a limp-dick who molested Border Collies.

Seth almost laughed when he saw the reaction this
got. Ricky's face turned almost purple and he started shaking as he
spit out, “That bitch,” before falling silent.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Ricky
finally gained enough composure to ask, “What happened on deck five
then? I set a bunch of freaks loose when the spotter told us that
Sheila was there.”

Grateful to be out of the spotlight and more than
willing to throw someone else into it, Seth answered, “We had one
of the Faithful keeping an eye on the newcomers. When he spotted
the dead you set free, he panicked and ran. When we finally got
another guy down there, he reported that a whole shit load of
freaks were dead - or whatever the hell you call it when they don't
get back up - and there was no sign of any other stinkers. We don't
know how many were let loose, so there could still be a few walking
around.”

Ricky asked, “Did any of them make it down to deck
four?”

“A couple,” Seth answered. “He told me that six of
them were lying near the top of the stairs and another one was
halfway down, and the rest didn’t make it much further. The six up
top all had head wounds, but he couldn't see the other ones.”

“So these people know how to shoot,” Ricky
stated.

“Apparently,” Seth replied dryly.

Ricky considered this for a moment before turning to
Parsons and saying, “This kind of throws a wrench into our plans.
Doesn't it?”

Parsons nodded curtly as he pushed down at the anger
bubbling up inside him. He and Ricky had come up with the perfect
plan to draw the newcomers into the ship and now it was worthless.
Their plan hinged on everyone staying out of sight and letting the
people from the sailboat feel comfortable in their new environment.
They knew curiosity would overcome caution if someone were given
what they thought was a safe environment to explore. Once scattered
throughout its numerous compartments, they could be separated by
locking down the watertight doors in front and behind them. This
way, their combined firepower would be cut down, and they could be
killed from ambush without much risk.

But now, because of your snap decision to let some of
the dead go, our plan isn't worth a shit, Don thought.

When Seth had radioed Parsons to let him know Sheila
had escaped, he called the rest of the Head Ushers to meet him at
the Masthead. They split up in search of her but couldn't find so
much as one red hair. For hours they searched for Sheila without
luck. It was like she'd vanished. They were just about to give up
when the spotter on deck five radioed that she had shown up there.
Knowing she was trying to reach the people from the sailboat, he
called Ricky to tell him the bad news.

Having retired to his cabin with two Hungarian
sisters aged thirteen and fourteen, Ricky was annoyed at the
interruption. When he found out the reason behind it though, he
went totally ballistic. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he
stormed to the bridge and threw the switch that opened a watertight
hatch on deck five.

Although most of the doors keeping the dead secured
in the cabin areas were simply fire doors that had been chained
shut, a short distance beyond these were water-tight hatches that
could be controlled from the bridge. After gaining control of the
ship, Ricky shut the hatches and had the chains removed. This way,
he could open these areas from the safety of the bridge. Now he
could let the dead loose at will to terrorize his Faithful and
reinforce their need for protection.

Normally, Ricky would only open one of these hatches
for a few seconds, just enough time for one or two of the dead to
escape. In his rage at Sheila though, he left the door open for a
full fifteen count. Returning from the bridge, he called Parsons
and told him he wanted Seth to report to him at nine the next
morning. He wanted to know what the hell happened at the Masthead.
Like a child throwing a temper tantrum, he screamed that short of
the ship sinking, he wasn't to be disturbed for the rest of the
night.

“So how do you want to do this?” Parsons asked,
hoping Ricky didn't go off again and have a fit. This seemed to be
happening more often.

To his relief, Ricky sighed and his anger dissipated.
Turning to Brother Seth, he ordered him to personally check on what
was happening on deck four. Once he was gone, Ricky sighed again
and said in a regretful voice, “l guess I kind of blew it last
night. Didn't I?”

Parsons gave a noncommittal nod, not wanting to rub
Ricky's nose in the fact that his actions had trashed their plan.
Now it might take weeks for the people from the sailboat to relax
enough to feel free to explore the ship, and they didn't have
weeks. Trying to assess how much damage Sheila's defection might
have caused, he asked, “What does that red-headed bitch know?”

“She knows the ship's sinking and she knows how we
operate,” Ricky replied.

“So that means the people on deck four know.”

“But at least she doesn't know we plan to kill them
and take their boat,” Ricky countered.

“But she knows about Cozumel. If she tells them about
that, they might make the connection. She's sure to tell them that
we let the freaks go and why. That alone will keep them on edge. We
need to find a way to take them out and get their boat,” Parsons
insisted.

“We've already decided we can't go head to head with
them. They've got us outgunned and we're limited on ammunition. We
need to separate them so we can pick them off one by one,” Ricky
said.

“We could let the freaks out on deck four and block
the stairs. Let the dead do our work for us,” Parsons
suggested.

Shaking his head, Ricky replied, “Won't work. Four is
one of the decks where the doors are still chained shut. In fact,
we never even bothered to shut the watertight door down there
because the fire doors are strong enough to keep the dead
contained.”

“So we need to get the fire doors open,” Parsons said
forcefully.

“Would you like to do it?” Ricky challenged, his
frustration and anger rising at their inability to come up with a
useful plan. “I’ll give you the key and you can run down the stairs
and unlock them. Of course, that's if you can dodge four automatic
weapons firing at your ass while you're trying to fit the fucking
key in the lock.”

Parsons was about to come back with an angry retort
when the two-way radio clipped to his belt buzzed. Bringing it to
his mouth, he said, “Brother Parsons here.”

The voice coming through the speaker was rushed as it
said, “It’s Brother Seth. I thought you should know that there's a
lot of activity going on down here. They're all moving around and
loading stuff. It looks like they're getting ready to leave.”

“Shit,” Ricky said angrily. “We've got to stop
them.”

Holding up his hand to try and stem the tirade he
knew was coming, Parsons pressed the transmit button and said,
“Stay there and keep an eye on things. I'll call you back in ten
minutes.”

Turning to Ricky, he said, “I've got an idea but it's
a little risky. You'll need to back me on this one hundred percent
or we might as well give up.”

“Anything,” Ricky said in desperation. “What's your
idea?”

So Parsons told him.

***

Steve was stacking cases of plastic water bottles in
a laundry cart they were using to transport supplies to the boat
when Brain called him on the radio.

“Steve, man. You've got to get over to the stairs
right away.”

Hearing the urgency in his voice, he grabbed his
rifle with one hand while un-clipping the radio with the other.
Hitting the transmit button, he asked, “What is it?”

“Just get here right away,” Brain urged.

“On the way,” he replied. Wondering what was going on
now.

Although reassured by the fact that he didn't hear
any gunshots or screams, he still set off at a steady jog. He was
half way down the Centrum when he spotted Heather in front of a
designer sunglass shop, waving him over to her. She carried her
CAR l5 and had her pistol holstered at her hip. Wearing a Kevlar
vest, she held another one out to him as she said, “Brain sent
Susan to get me as soon as she saw we had a visitor. I told him to
call you but not to say anything over the radio because I wanted to
fill you in first.”

Slipping into his vest, Steve said, “So fill me in.
Who is it?”

After a pause, as if not believing it herself, she
said, “The Reverend Ricky.”

Stopping as he tried to figure out this new turn of
events, he couldn't have been more surprised if she'd just told him
that the Keebler elves had dropped by, Steve decided to concentrate
on the logistics of the situation as opposed to the whys. He asked
Heather, “Where is everyone?”

“After I sent Susan to tell Brain to call you, I woke
Tick-Tock up and sent him to hole up in one of the shops on the
port side. That way we've got a good cross fire going if the shit
hits the fan. He went through the back way so no one would see him.
I don't even know which store he's in, but it's Tick-Tock so I know
he's there. He's wearing the other vest, and he took a couple tear
gas grenades with him. Brain is with Ricky near the foot of the
stairs. I had Susan fade back into the jewelry store to give him
cover. I got Tim to find the others and tell them to stay where
they are. Cindy's with Mary, Connie's in the ship's store and
Sheila is still sleeping it off. Then Tim set up at the far end of
the Centrum to make sure no one dropped in behind us.”

Steve gave her a wry smile and said, “Ruthlessly
efficient are the words that come to mind.”

“Well, I never told you this before, but I used to be
a cop,” she replied.

“As long as you only use your superpowers for good
...”

“So how do you want to do this?” She asked. “It
doesn't smell like a setup, since it's the Reverend Ricky's ass
hanging out on the line.”

That it was a setup had been the first thing to cross
Steve's mind too, but Heather's reasoning made sense. Ricky had to
know he'd be the first one killed if any shooting started. Unless
he's crazier than I thought.

Knowing he could guess and second guess himself all
morning and still not figure it out, he said to Heather, “The only
way we can find out what the man wants is to ask him, so let's
go.”

As Steve grew closer, he could see that Brain had his
rifle pointed directly at Ricky's chest. From the menacing look on
his face, he wondered if the tech would shoot him before they got
there. Curious as to where this anger came from, it struck him that
Connie must have told him how Ricky tried to get in her pants.

Steve stopped twenty feet away and called Brain over
to him. In a low voice, he told him to find Tim and cover their
rear. If anyone even looked like they were going to come down from
the deck above, he was to open fire without hesitation.

Brain gave Ricky one final sneer before going into
the jewelry store so he could access the back passageways. This
way, no one could target him while he travelled the length of the
Centrum.

You're learning fast, Brain, Heather thought.

Steve studied Ricky as his mind ran through a number
of opening lines.

Hostile: What's to keep me from putting a bullet in
your fat ass, fuck-boy?

Blunt: What do you want?

Friendly: Hi, my name is Steve Wendell. I've heard so
much about you.

Sarcastic: If Jesus loves me, why doesn't he ever put
money in my bank account?

Settling on blunt, he called out in a flat voice,
“What do you want?”

Smiling and raising his hand in a wave, Ricky started
to move forward and say, “You must be-,” but was stopped in his
tracks when both Steve and Heather raised their rifles to point at
his chest. “That's close enough,” Heather warned in a cold
voice.

Sweat popped out on Ricky's fat face as he slowly
raised both hands. In a fearful voice, he said, “I'm unarmed. You
wouldn't shoot an unarmed man, would you?”

“I wouldn't but she might,” Steve indicated Heather
with a nod of his head.

She was giving Ricky the hard look she reserved for
the scumbags she'd run into in her previous career. More sweat
popped on Ricky's face and he swallowed hard.

“What do you want,” Steve asked again.