Plague Ship (4 page)

“No problem,” David said.

“See you two at seven then.”

David watched Marilyn walk away, her husband’s illness still on his mind. Sol Wyman required medications to control his angina, despite having undergone coronary bypass surgery. And that meant he continued to have coronary artery insufficiency and was an ideal candidate for a full-blown myocardial infarction.

“What’s causing that faraway look on your face?” Carolyn broke into his thoughts.

“I was thinking what would happen if Sol blocked off his bypass and had an acute myocardial infarction,” David answered quietly.

Carolyn shuddered to herself. “We’d never be able to handle it. The sick bay hasn’t got any monitoring equipment and no anticoagulants or antiarrhythmic drugs.”

“And if he went into shock, he’d be dead,” David added.

“A nightmare,” Carolyn thought aloud.

“We’d better hope it doesn’t happen.”

Carolyn took his arm and hugged it. “This ship is turning into another ER for you, isn’t it?”

David nodded. “It seems like it so far.”

“This was supposed to be a vacation away from all that stress,” Carolyn said wistfully. “A nice, relaxing time. But then again, doctors are never really off duty, are they?”

David shrugged. “It comes with the territory.”

———

Munching on a giant bag of potato chips, Kit and Will carefully studied the list of movies available on the
Grand Atlantic
. The luxury liner had two large theaters as well as a library filled with DVDs of the most recent hit shows.

“Look!” Kit called out. “They’ve got the newest
Spider-Man
!”

“I saw it,” Will told her.

“Is it any good?”

“Real good.”

“Want to see it again?”

“Sure,” Will said enthusiastically. “We can get a big box of popcorn and some sodas on the way in.”

Kit checked the listings, then her watch. “Shoot! It doesn’t start for over an hour.”

“I know something we can do to pass the time,” Will said, and looked over to the pool area to make sure no one was within earshot. “It’ll be really cool.”

“Like what?”

Will hesitated as he glanced around once more. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course.”

“Even from your dad?”

“Yeah,” Kit said with uncertainty. “I guess.”

“You’ve got to promise,” Will insisted.

“Okay,” Kit said and crossed her heart. “I promise.”

“Let’s go!”

They hurried past the pool and lounge chairs, and through a door that opened into a narrow passageway. The area was hot and humid, with a staircase that went down at a sharp angle. Carefully, they descended the stairs, watching their every step. Will led the way while he held Kit’s hand.

“We’ve got to go real slow,” Will cautioned. “Everything is covered with moisture and really slippery.”

“Okay,” Kit said in a low voice. She was excited to be on a new adventure with Will, but not at all nervous. Although she’d known Will for only a few days, she trusted him. And she knew why. They shared something important that they could talk to each other about. Both had lost a parent—Kit, her mom and Will, his dad—and that left both of them emotionally scarred. It made them different from the other kids. A lot different. They always felt a sadness and emptiness when trying to remember things about their dead parent. Other people didn’t understand it. One had to have lost a parent early in life to know the feeling. “Where are we going?” Kit whispered.

“You’ll see,” Will whispered back.

They went down another flight of stairs and came to a metal door that had a sign on it:

DANGER

HIGH VOLTAGE

“Will!” Kit cautioned. “I don’t think we should go in there.”

“We’ll be fine,” Will said confidently. “Just follow me.”

They entered a large room that was hot and sticky despite several ventilation ducts that circulated the air. Behind one wall were giant, screened-off generators. The opposite wall was lined with bundles of wire and big metal pipes.

“Will, if you get us electrocuted, I’ll never forgive you,” Kit warned.

“That’s not going to happen,” Will assured her. “Now watch.”

He reached down beneath a large pipe and pulled out a
crumpled-up blanket. Atop the makeshift nest was a big, gray bird. It lay motionless except for a brief fluttering of one wing. There was a thick discharge drooling from its beak.

“It’s a goose,” Will explained. “I found it up on deck under a lounge chair yesterday. I think it landed accidentally on the ship and hurt itself.”

“Is it dying?” Kit asked, concerned.

“I don’t know,” Will replied. “I gave him some food and water, but he barely touched it. That’s not a good sign in animals.”

“Maybe you should tell the captain.”

“No! No!” Will refused adamantly. “They’d probably destroy it or throw it overboard. With some rest, he might be able to fly again.” He considered the matter at length. “Maybe the food I left for him is something he doesn’t like.”

“Or maybe he’s got a broken bone,” Kit suggested.

“Maybe. But yesterday he was still moving his wings, and that means nothing important is broken.”

Will bent down farther and was now face to face with the bird. The large goose quivered as spittle drooled off its beak. Then it had a cough-like spasm, and more spittle sprayed out.

“Watch it, Will!” Kit admonished. “That stuff will get all over you.”

“Don’t worry,” Will said. “I’ll wash my hands when we leave.”

He carefully fluffed up the small blanket to construct a better nest and keep the bird more comfortable. Then he pushed the small bowls of food and water closer to the bird’s beak.

The large bird coughed again and sprayed the air with droplets that were heavily laden with the avian flu virus.

Some of the deadly droplets floated toward the children. Others drifted up into the ship’s ventilation system.

———

David peeled off his T-shirt and began some stretching exercises to relieve the stiffness in his scarred upper back. “I think I’ll shower before dinner.”

“Want some company?” Carolyn asked playfully.

“Oh, yeah.”

As Carolyn slipped out of her jeans, she shivered noticeably. “Jesus! It’s cold in here. Should I turn down the air conditioning?”

“Leave it on high,” David said while starting a series of shoulder rolls that caused the large joints beneath his deltoids to crack pleasantly. “I like it cold.”

Carolyn nodded thoughtfully, remembering that heat bothered David, particularly at night when he always slept under a single sheet, with the air conditioner on full blast. If he began to perspire in his sleep, he would suddenly throw off the sheet and start yelling, “Get out! Get out! Get out!” At first David refused to talk about it, saying it was just a bad dream. But Carolyn persisted and prodded him and, after two episodes happened in the same evening, he finally told her why oppressive heat triggered his subconscious outburst. They were nightmarish flashbacks to a firefight that occurred in Somalia during the hottest part of the summer. David was a member of an elite Special Forces unit sent in to destroy a militant group that was terrorizing the shipping lanes in the eastern Indian Ocean. After completing their mission, the unit was on their way back to an airstrip when they were ambushed by an overwhelming force of Islamic terrorists. Somehow, in the intolerable heat, they fought their way back to a waiting helicopter, but paid a heavy price. Two members of the unit were killed and three others badly wounded, including David, who had a shattered jaw and severe shrapnel wounds in his upper body. It took two months and multiple surgeries at Walter Reed Hospital to put David Ballineau together again.

Carolyn brought her mind back to the present and studied David’s face in profile, focusing in on the contour of his chin that had been restored with a plastic implant. A faded, jagged scar was the only remaining evidence of that terrible wound. But the emotional wounds of war, the ones you couldn’t see—those lasted a lifetime.

Carolyn moved in closer to David and watched him rub at a deep scar on his shoulder. The scar still had flecks of black buried in it. According to David, the surgeons weren’t able to remove all the debris from the wound before they sutured it. The embedded metallic particles caused the scar tissue to itch and burn when the muscle beneath it was stretched too far.

“Is that scar bothering you again?” Carolyn asked.

“Nope.”

“Your expression says it is.”

“Maybe a little,” David said absently. But it wasn’t the twenty-year-old wound that now had his attention. It was an intuitive sixth sense that was suddenly telling him that something was wrong.
Something was amiss!
On more than a few occasions the sixth sense had alerted him and saved his life as well as the lives of the others in his Special Forces unit.
But what the hell could be amiss here, on a giant luxury liner in the middle of the ocean
?

Carolyn tried to read his face. “Your mind is a million miles away, isn’t it?”

“It’s right here in the cabin,” David said, improvising quickly. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to have a beautiful girl like you.”

Carolyn smiled at him. “You don’t lie very well.”

David smiled back. “But I think I’m getting better at it.”

“Not really.”

David rubbed more vigorously at the scar, digging into it before admitting, “That goddamn itch is back.”

Carolyn reached up and scratched the area with her long fingernails. “Better?”

“A little.”

“Well, let’s try this.” Carolyn stood on her tiptoes and kissed the scars on his shoulders and back. Then she ran her tongue and lips back and forth over them. A flick here. A gentle nibble there. “How’s that?” she breathed.

David felt himself stir as her tongue came up his neck and into his ear. “You’re asking for trouble,” he shuddered.

“Among other things.”

David spun her around and kissed her lips hard, then threw her down on the bed. They both quickly wriggled out of their clothes, their tongues and mouths going everywhere. Clinging to each other, they made wild, passionate love. The air now filled with sighs and moans and the sound of their headboard hammering against the wall. Yet there was no hurry. They went long and slow, long and slow, then deep and easy. Then deep and easy gave way to faster and harder, and faster and harder, until they both groaned simultaneously—a long, sustained groan—as their climaxes met, with Carolyn’s seeming to go on and on.

Finally, Carolyn went limp and caught her breath. “Jesus! That was the best ever,” she whispered.

“Nah,” David whispered back and gave her a tender kiss. “Just the best so far.”

“Do you know you’re the perfect lover?”

“Only when I’m with the perfect partner.”

Carolyn smiled and kissed his chin, then cuddled up close to David. “I love you, David Ballineau,” she said softly and drifted into a deep sleep.

David closed his eyes and he too dozed off, despite the return of his sixth sense that kept telling him that something was wrong. Had he stayed awake a little longer he might have remembered the last time he ignored the warning from his sixth sense. It cost him a shattered jaw and nearly ended his life.

four

Richard Scott resumed skeet
shooting at midmorning the next day. A small crowd of admirers gathered near the stern of the ship and watched as he blasted one clay pigeon after another out of the sky. With each successful shot, they applauded lightly, urged on by Deedee Anderson.

“Pull!” Scott bellowed. He kept his eye on the flying disc, then squeezed the trigger of the shotgun. There was a loud bang before the disc exploded out over the ocean.

Scott increased the difficulty by calling for the discs to be released more rapidly. His marksmanship remained excellent, with nine out of ten perfect hits.

Off to the side, Carolyn watched Scott’s last shot before turning to David. “He’s pretty good, eh?”

“He’s better than good,” David said.

“Particularly in front of a crowd.”

David nodded. “He needs the crowd. Men like Scott need to be the center of attention. It’s their lifeblood.”

Carolyn spotted Scott making his way through the crowd and coming directly toward them. She gestured with her head and said unhappily, “Look who wants to join us.”

“Let’s find something else to do,” David said hurriedly. “Make believe you don’t see him.”

“Too late,” Carolyn muttered as Scott waved to them. He was dressed in a shooting vest that had a padded shoulder for the butt of the shotgun to rest upon. “I’m surprised he’s not wearing a bandoleer.”

David smiled at Carolyn’s quick wit and thought she had the man pegged just right.

“Well, well,” Scott called to them, “I see you’re getting over your fear of guns. The way to eliminate fear is to face it, you know.”

“So I’ve been told,” David said and kept his expression even despite his intense dislike for the man.

“I take it you’ve come for a lesson or two.” Scott spoke in a voice loud enough for the small group behind him to hear. “We’ll start with the basics.”

“I’d rather not,” David refused politely. “But thanks anyway.”

“Oh, come on,” Scott insisted. “The rifle won’t bite you. I can assure you it has no teeth.”

Deedee laughed weakly at the remark, as did a few others in the crowd. “Even I can shoot it,” she challenged. “And I’m just a sweet little girl.”

The only thing little about you is your brain, David thought, but held his tongue. “Perhaps another time.”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” someone at the rear of the group yelled. The small crowd laughed harder at the crude comment.

David’s jaw tightened when he saw Kit standing off to the side by the railing. The dejected look on her face told David she had heard every disparaging word. He felt his heart breaking.

Scott bit down gently on his lip to stifle a grin. He seemed to be enjoying David’s obvious discomfort. “It’s really quite easy, doctor. You simply place the weapon firmly against your shoulder, aim, and squeeze the trigger. Here, I’ll show you.”

David glanced over at Kit again. She was staring down at the deck, averting her gaze from his public humiliation.

“Push your fear away, for Chrissakes!” Scott blurted out.

David’s anger was rising, and his eyes, now cold as ice, were flashing a DON’T FUCK WITH ME sign. But Scott didn’t see it. He was too busy putting on a show for the crowd.

Scott reloaded the shotgun and handed it to David. “Let’s begin with the correct stance. First, you must—”

“Just aim it and squeeze the trigger, eh?” David interrupted
abruptly.

“Yes. But first—”

“Stand back,” David ordered and used his forearm to shove Scott aside. He took a moment to expertly examine the shotgun, then released its safety and shouldered the weapon. Firming up his stance, he called out, “Pull!”

A clay pigeon flew skyward.

David fired and the clay disc exploded over the ocean.

“Pull!” Another disc went out and David fired again, and again the target exploded. In rapid succession, David called for eight more discs to be released, one after another. His aim was on the mark every time. After the last shot, David handed the weapon back to Scott and said, “You were right. It’s really quite easy.”

The crowd buzzed with stunned admiration. “Jesus! Did you see that?” … “That guy is a pro!” … “Ten out of ten. That’s amazing!”

David took Carolyn’s arm and strolled away, unhappy with the display he’d just put on. Now people would ask him about his marksmanship and want details. And that would bring up the past, which he was continually trying to forget. In a low voice, he said, “Richard Scott is going to be miserable for a while.”

“Because you outshot him?” Carolyn asked.

David shook his head. “Because he lost center stage.”

“That was some exhibition you put on,” Carolyn praised. “It looked as if you’d been doing that all of your life.”

“Only for a few years.”

“Did you learn to shoot like that when you were in Special Forces?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not going to ask you how many men you killed.”

“Good, because I never counted.”

The wind suddenly picked up, gusting in from the northeast. It stiffened enough that they had to bend forward to walk against it. Then the air became heavy with moisture. It all seemed to happen in a matter of seconds.

Carolyn huddled up next to David and said, “Jesus! I wonder what caused the weather to change so fast.”

“That.” David pointed out to an approaching band of thick, black clouds. “That’s a squall line. We’re about to hit rough seas again.”

Carolyn grumbled under her breath. “Accompanied by a lot of wind and rain, no doubt.”

“It won’t last long,” David told her. “Squalls usually come and go in under an hour.”

“That’s enough time for everybody to become seasick again.”

“And for Dr. Maggio to be overwhelmed with more patients than he can deal with.”

“And of course he’ll plead with you to help.”

“Of course,” David said and thought about the other doctor and nurse aboard the ship, who were still so nauseated, they could barely hold down liquids. If their symptoms persisted, he’d have to start them on IV fluids. “We’ll handle it just like before.”

“They should be paying you to be on this damn cruise,” Carolyn complained.

The wind gusted across the deck and blew lounge chairs around. David and Carolyn turned away as paper cups and debris flew by them. The sky darkened more, then big raindrops began to fall. David glanced about hurriedly and searched for Kit. For an anxious moment, he didn’t see her. Then she appeared. She was holding up a plastic plate to protect her hair from the rain.

“Kit!” David yelled to her. “We’re over here.”

Discarding the plastic plate, Kit ran to them and grabbed David’s hand to steady herself against the strong wind. “Shouldn’t we go below, Dad?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” David said and gazed around the rapidly emptying deck. “Where’s your friend Will?”

“He doesn’t feel so good,” Kit answered. “So he’s staying in bed.”

“Is he seasick?” David inquired.

“I think he’s got a cold,” Kit said as a sudden blast of wind pushed against them. She grasped David’s hand tighter as they approached the elevator. “Dad, how did you learn to shoot so well?”

“I used to practice a lot.”

“Did mom practice too?”

David shook his head. “She hated guns.”

“I hate them too.”

“Good,” David approved.

“I really hate them a lot.”

“That’s because you’re smart.”

They stepped into the crowded elevator and heard the wind howl behind them. Everybody in the elevator was complaining about the weather and how it was ruining the trip. A few were considering asking for a refund once they reached the Caribbean. The elevator moved sideways for a brief moment, and all the voices quieted abruptly. At the rear of the elevator, a woman made a retching sound. Everyone held their breath and hoped the woman wasn’t about to throw up. The elevator came to a stop and most of the passengers hurried out at the arcade level, relieved to be away from the confines of the swaying car.

The elevator continued down, empty now except for David, Carolyn, and Kit. It seemed to wobble and vibrate as the strong wind
outside continued to pound the luxury liner. David estimated it
would
take gusts of at least 35 knots per hour to make the
Grand Atlantic
rock noticeably in the water.

“Why didn’t the captain see the squall coming?” Carolyn asked nervously.

“They can come up very quickly,” David explained. “And there’s really no way to get around them.”

“But for a ship this size, squalls aren’t dangerous, are they?”

“Not in the least,” David assured her.

Kit inquired, “Dad, how do you know so much about boats?”

“I spent a lot of time on ships when I was in the military,” David said and thought about the destroyer he had been ferried to after being wounded in Somalia. Involuntarily he raised his hand and felt the scar on his chin where his jaw had been shattered. The destroyer carrying him to a naval hospital had hit rough seas, too. But he barely noticed it. The terrible pain in his jaw had all of his attention.

The elevator jerked to a stop, and the three of them quickly exited. Kit led the way down the passageway, unaffected by the swaying of the liner. David watched his daughter prance along the corridor, skipping from side to side so she could touch each closed door. He remembered the old Navy adage—you’re born with sea legs; either you have them or you don’t. Kit had them.

“Dad?” Kit asked as she looked back. “Are you going to check on Juanita?”

“I think I’d better,” David said.

“And I think I’d better go lie down for a while,” Carolyn told them.

David studied her briefly. “Are you getting seasick?”

“I’m a little unsteady,” Carolyn admitted.

“Take an Antivert tablet before you become nauseous.”

“That’s my plan,” Carolyn said and headed for the door to their cabin.

David and Kit continued down the narrow passageway. They went by an open door and heard people within retching and throwing up. The ship began to sway more in a side-to-side motion. Both David and Kit kept a hand on the wall to maintain their balance as they came to the cabin where Kit and Juanita were staying. A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung on the door.

“Listen to me, kiddo,” David said seriously. “Don’t start eating candy or potato chips while we’re around Juanita. That could make her even sicker.”

“I gotcha, Dad.”

“And don’t even mention food or drink.”

“Right.”

David rapped on the door and entered the cabin. Kit was a step behind him. Juanita Cruz was lying on the sofa in the sitting room, with her eyes closed. She was dressed in a thick bathrobe and had a wet washcloth draped over her forehead. The air in the room had a faint but definite aroma of vomit.

“Juanita,” David said softly. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Not much,” Juanita murmured, opening her eyes.

“That’s because she won’t take her pills,” Kit interjected.

“Why won’t you take the medicine, Juanita?” David asked.

“Because as soon as I swallow the pills, I throw them back up.”

“Then we’ll try something new,” David offered. “It’s a medicine patch you put on the skin behind your ear.”

Juanita moaned loudly. “Just let me die.”

“Death will come later,” David said, “when you are an old woman.”

“I’m old now.”

“Not old enough,” David argued and reached for a skin patch containing scopolamine. He placed it firmly behind her ear. “The medicine will be absorbed through your skin, and you’ll feel better soon.”

“If I die, send my body back to Costa Rica,” Juanita requested.

“Don’t talk like that!” Kit said, clearly upset by her nanny’s death wish. “You do what my dad says and get well.”

“Okay, Little One.” Juanita managed a weak smile as she called Kit by the pet name she’d given the child years ago. The nanny closed her eyes and drifted off.

“She’ll be okay, won’t she, Dad?” Kit asked quietly.

“She’ll be fine.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” David said, then stroked his daughter’s raven-black hair. “Now, what do you say we go and catch a movie?”

“Which one?”

“Maybe the one about soccer,” he suggested, aware of Kit’s love for the game.

“You mean
Bend It Like Beckham
?”

“Nah. That’s old. There’s a new one from England about a girl’s soccer team that has to overcome a lot of problems.”

“Great! When does it start?”

“We’ll check and—”

There was a loud knock on the door.

Carolyn rushed into the cabin and urgently waved David over. “Marilyn just called from the sick bay. Her son Will is really ill! It sounds double bad.”

“What are his symptoms?” David asked quickly.

“His face has turned purple, and he’s coughing up bright red blood.”

“Oh Lord!” David said and ran for the door.