The Roaming (Book 3): Haven's Promise

by Hegarty, W. J.

  “Shush. Let me look at you.” Aiko smiled and looked the man up and down. “God, you’re filthy, and you stink. They didn’t let you guys shower before letting you wander the ship?”

  “I… I don’t know… They took us to a pool and then to a cafeteria where a man was playing the ukulele. I just… It was all so overwhelming. I only needed to know where you were. I’m sorry.”

  “Here, drink this.” Aiko gave him a cold bottle of water.

  “Why don’t we get an IV in you? Get you some fluids?” Nazneen suggested.

  “That’s not necessary. Save it for someone who needs it,” Jeremiah asserted.

  “Your wife told me the same, though I insisted because of the baby. Allow me to properly introduce myself. I’m Doctor Nazneen. I run Haven’s infirmary.” Nazneen was of Indian descent, born in Kolkata. She was raised in Sussex, England, where she went on to become an accomplished medical professional. The grueling hours of her career choice left little time for a personal life. Prior to life aboard Haven, Nazneen was friendless and as single as it came, so it came as no surprise when she told her parents that she would be taking a cruise, alone. Her parents didn’t approve of the time away from work, though; they didn’t spend all that money on schooling so she could go gallivanting around the globe on a cruise ship. She didn’t care what they thought—not anymore. She was going to enjoy some much-needed respite. Then the crisis began. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Jeremiah.”

  “Hello.” Jeremiah silently drank his water. He was still in sensory overload.

  “Let me begin by saying welcome to our humble facility. It’s not the most state of the art by any metric, but it gets the job done. Over there, you’ll see my assistant Rodrigo checking a coma patient’s vitals. He was an EMT before this, and I honestly couldn’t do it without him. That’s Helen he’s attending to. She was a police officer in St. Louis prior to all this. The poor thing was injured last month breaking up a fight below deck. We have her in a medically induced coma to allow her to heal.”

  “Doctor Nazneen flatters me,” said Rodrigo. “I couldn’t so much as set a broken bone if my life depended on it.”

  Nazneen continued. “Nia over there is administering a routine checkup for Paula. Paula is pregnant as well. Five months along. She runs housekeeping. I don’t know how she does it. Nia was pulled from the ranks of the ship early on to help. She’s eager, and she’s learning. Finally, Jonah is around somewhere. I always lose track of that man. He was a pharmacist before all this, so that makes him uniquely qualified to administer medication. He can be a little standoffish, but he knows his trade well.”

  Rodrigo made his way over to Paula. She was a large woman, and all smiles; the pair joked and laughed as he administered a round of noninvasive tests.

  “And the others? Casandra?” Jeremiah asked solemnly. He was concerned about her apparent absence.

  Aiko’s face dropped. “She’s sedated, but she’s fine. Jeremiah, she lost the baby.”

  “Oh no,” he said under his breath.

  Aiko led Jeremiah over to a bed behind the drawn curtain, where Casandra was hooked up to a drip tube while she slept.

  “What happened?”

  “We don’t know. Casandra gave birth. It was rough, but the baby seemed fine. She cried and fed like any normal infant,” Nazneen explained.

  “The baby died in the night. I don’t know… I can’t explain it,” Aiko added.

  “SIDS?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I suppose that’s possible.” Nazneen was at a loss.

  “But you’re not sure. For all you know, it could be related to the crisis.”

  “That’s what I’ve been racking my brain over.” Aiko pursed her lips. “I just don’t know.”

  “Since we’ve been at sea, we’ve had one other birth, also unsuccessful. The child lived for three days. He seemed in good health, but one night, he suddenly died in his sleep. We chalked it up to stress, but honestly we just don’t know. Two other babies died in utero.”

  “How is Bernie taking this?” Jeremiah asked while he considered Nazneen’s words. “Is he okay?” He scanned the infirmary for Bernie’s signature worn cap.

  “Bernie?” said Aiko, surprised.” We haven’t seen him. Was he not released from de-cons with the rest of you?”

  “No. I just assumed that he was brought to the infirmary with you and Casandra.”

  “Well, is anyone else unaccounted for?”

  “As far as I could tell, no.” Jeremiah contemplated the situation.

  “What is it?”

  “Something’s not right.” Jeremiah began to pace before making a beeline to the door. “I’m going to return to de-cons and have a word with Todd. If something happened to Bernie, we should have been told about it immediately.”

  “Okay, Jerry. Just be careful, alright?”

  Aiko and Nazneen returned to their patients.

  “Aiko, do you have a minute? I wanted to ask you something the moment I saw you, but I thought it best to wait for things to settle a bit.”

  “Of course, what is it?”

  “I’d like to offer you both positions on my team. As you can see, I’m woefully understaffed. I could use all the help I can get.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And your husband?”

  “I’m sure Jeremiah will agree that the infirmary is where we can be of the most use.”

  “Excellent. I’ll pass the news on to Naomi. She’ll be thrilled with two fewer people to have to evaluate. I’m sure she’s fuming anyway over Jeremiah excusing himself from orientation.”

  ~~~

  Krysler stood, surrounded by his coworkers in stowage. He referred to them as his employees, and technically he was in charge, but not one of them respected him as any sort of leader. He was in the middle of one of his tirades; he was going off over a rumor concerning Miller and some new people being given balcony rooms as Jeremiah stormed in. He flung the doors open hard enough that they bounced off the metal walls; the racket echoed throughout de-cons and stowage.

  Jeremiah marched directly to Krysler. “Where is he?” Jeremiah demanded.

  “What? Who?” answered Krysler with a nervous laugh behind his words.

  “Our traveling companion, Bernie. What have you done with him?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, soldier boy, but you best go someplace else with that.”

  Jeremiah yanked Krysler up by the collar of his shirt. “I won’t ask again.”

  Krysler extended his arms out to his side as if in a mock gesture of peace. “Hey, man, I got no beef with you. Thanks for your service, bro,” Krysler snickered.

  “Piece of shit.” Jeremiah pushed him to the ground.

  The de-cons workers flanked the medic; they were brandishing pipes and boards. Jeremiah tensed up, ready for the assault.

  “Enough,” Todd shouted. “What’s going on here?” He sized up everyone involved. Each person in the room got an eyeful, including Jeremiah. Todd’s subordinates turned away, avoiding his gaze altogether, but not the medic. Jeremiah stood fast.

  “At ease, soldier,” Todd said with disdain.

  “I don’t take orders from you.”

  “This isn’t what you think,” Todd said calmly. “Jeremiah, is it?”

  “It is.”

  “Walk this way.” Todd motioned to a small office room midway between the de-cons cellblock and the exit stairwell. “Please.”

  Once inside, Todd searched through a series of three-ring binders. He settled on a worn red one, then flipped through its contents.

  “I know what happened to your man.” He handed Jeremiah the file. “I just thought documentation might help.”

  “It says here that Bernie was disposed of.” Jeremiah was confused. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Your boy took a bite in the scuffle to escape Poseidon’s Rest. During night two in de-cons, he turned.”

  “Bernie was bitten?”

  “We have proto
col. I’m sorry.” Todd took back the binder. “There are procedures in place, including a thorough paper trail for just such instances.” He scrolled through the pages until he reached a list of names, dates, and signatures. “Signed off by the captain himself. It’s rare that someone who is put down fresh from the road even has loved ones to miss them. At least your friend had that.”

  His friend. The phrase wasn’t something Jeremiah would normally ascribe to someone he barely knew. But he spent weeks on the road with Bernie; maybe they were friends, after all. Though he struggled to recall one conversation he had with the man, he knew for certain that he owed Bernie his life.

  “As you’ll see, all is in order.” Todd closed the book, then returned it to its place on the shelf. “If that’ll be all, Joelle will escort you back. We wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

  Joelle stood behind Jeremiah in the small doorway. She extended a caring hand. “Let’s go, hon.” She gently rubbed his back while she guided him from the office.

  Jeremiah’s mind was racing with potential scenarios—what-ifs and whys—and how best to approach each one. He remained silent and kept his thoughts from Joelle as she escorted him back to the infirmary.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The First Night of the Rest of Your Life

  As a show of good faith for a potential excursion team member, Miller was given a room with a view. His living quarters were three times the size of those offered to the other Pepperbush survivors, and they came with a balcony. His cabin’s amenities were an upgrade as well. As with those of his companions, Miller’s belongings were waiting for him in his room when he arrived. His clothes were washed and neatly folded on his bed, and his duffel and its contents were intact as well, minus his weapons, of course. That was to be expected.

  He leaned against the railing on his balcony; the nighttime ocean breeze would have been a welcome respite under different circumstances. Miller’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon. He had no bearings and no way to gauge just how far they’d traveled, how far he was away from her. He only knew that they were sailing north as the coastline was passing on their portside.

  Miller wanted so badly to forget about the mission, to chase after Soraya down that crowded alleyway. He knew better then, and he knew better now, but he was entitled to an opinion, wasn’t he?

  ~~~

  Vanessa and Lillian were given an interior room. The accommodations featured a double bed framed by a small wardrobe and nightstand. Their living quarters had no windows and little ventilation; the air was thick. At least they had their own shower, as small as it was. The room was modest, but it was their own.

  Privacy allowed Lillian to finally unwind after the trauma of three days and nights in a dank cell in the bowels of an unfamiliar dungeon. Vanessa held Lillian in her arms in a small two-seat sofa pushed right up next to the bathroom door. She ran her fingers through the girl’s long blonde hair. After their flight from the island and three nights in a cell, Lillian’s hair was greasy, and she smelled awful. They both did.

  Vanessa counted her blessings, though; things could have gone badly. They were essentially split up and led away by a group of heavily armed strangers. It could have gone badly indeed. But at the time, what choice did they have? None of that mattered anymore. All of that was behind them now; it was time to look forward. Tomorrow they had to go to work. The notion seemed almost foreign. After what they’d been through, though, the distraction was welcome.

  ~~~

  Nisha sat at the end of her bed and wept. Sam took a place at her side and comforted her as best as he could while Nisha became increasingly incoherent. One minute she rambled about losing Isabelle. The next she talked about the island, then the road and Seth until finally she admitted that all she wanted was to go home, back to Pepperbush. Sam explained as gently as he could that Pepperbush was gone and that there was nothing to go back to. If Nisha heard him, she ignored him and continued crying for hours.

  ~~~

  The two former Pepperbush police officers, Marisol and Isaac, were assigned shared quarters. Isaac slept on the edge of his small bed, wrapped in a towel; the first thing he did upon discovery of their room was make use of the shower. He briefly chatted with Marisol and he told her that he’d wait up for her. Isaac was asleep before Marisol’s shower warmed up.

  Marisol sat on the floor of the bath with her back against the wall, her arms draped forward over her raised knees. She let the warm water wash over her as she replayed the last few days’ events in her head. It had been a whirlwind sprint from the tranquility of their island home to right here in some unfamiliar floating city. It was a lot to digest, but at the moment, her thoughts remained on her new occupation, one that she was ridiculously overqualified for. She wasn’t happy with her work assignment, not in the least, but she would play her part. For now.

  ~~~

  Samantha sat alone in her tiny interior room. She was assigned Casandra as a roommate, and Casandra would be at the infirmary for an indeterminate amount of time. She locked her cabin door and slid one of the beds up against it. Afterward, Samantha locked herself in the bathroom and sat in the tub, facing the door. She would still be there in the morning when it was time for work.

  ~~~

  It was apparent to Naomi and her staff that Lancaster was an outcast of sorts among this latest group of survivors welcomed aboard Haven. In the interest of the smoothest possible transition, it was decided that he should—for the time being—be housed alone.

  Lancaster looked himself over in a full-length mirror; it had been ages since he had seen his reflection. He was haggard and thin; his once-impeccable suit had become threadbare and quite frankly was an embarrassment.

  During their brief meeting with Naomi, he couldn’t help but notice a distinct contrast between the way she and her associates carried themselves when compared with Todd and his roughnecks from the dingy bowels of the ship. He would make it his mission to ingratiate himself with the Naomis of the ship. Whatever the cost.

  ~~~

  Markus and Damon sat at opposite ends of their shared living quarters. They had nothing to say to each other and had only grown more apart during their time on the island. They navigated the small confines of their interior room as if the other didn’t exist, and that was just fine for them both.

  ~~~

  Jeremiah and Aiko stayed at Casandra’s side at the infirmary until they were sure that she was stable. Nazneen handed them a stack of paperwork that was dropped off personally by Naomi. In it was a brief summary of the discussion they missed at the diner earlier in the evening and a keycard with the location of their living quarters scribbled down on a note. As a show of appreciation and to sweeten the offer of positions at the infirmary, like Miller, they too would find that they were given a room with upgraded amenities.

  They spent their first night aboard Haven sitting out on their balcony, trying to break down exactly how and when Bernie was bitten. No answers were forthcoming. There was another matter entirely that was a more pressing concern. What happened with Casandra’s childbirth and what did that bode for Aiko’s future?

  ~~~

  Radzinski, too, was given a room with a view. Fresh out of a hot shower and wrapped in a towel, he contemplated nothing. He sat on a balcony chair with his legs propped up on the railing. Radzinski took advantage of the complimentary bottle of wine and a handful of cheap cigars left in the nicer rooms. He had no intention of taking the captain up on his offer but would without a doubt enjoy the perks. For as long as they lasted.

  Fuck this, he thought. It was early still.

  Radzinski wandered the halls until he found the pool bar that was not so cleverly showed off earlier in the day. He was no fool. Raeni, Sweet Lips, and the others, even the captain, were trying to woo the Pepperbush survivors—and not just the soldiers, but the entire lot of them—so they could be of use. As far as he was concerned, the staff wouldn’t have shown off the ship’s amenities if they didn’t want the newcomers to make th
emselves at home.

  He bellied up to the bar. Tropical beats still played, courtesy of the steel-drum band, and he wondered if it was the same guys or if the musicians were periodically switched out. People drank and swam; the hot tub was at capacity, and the lounge chairs around the pool were mostly occupied. A carefree atmosphere swept the place. He lit one of his cigars as he took it all in.

  Chelsea approached from the other side of the bar; her brown skin glistened in the candlelight. Her hair was dyed a sandy color; it looked almost orange, and it was curly, wild, uncontrollable. She wore a red bikini with unbuttoned jean shorts and had a bartender’s towel draped across her left shoulder.

  “Come here often?” she asked with a smile and an English accent.

  “It’s my first time.”

  “I can tell.” She leaned over the bar to get a better look at his fatigues and boots. “The tank top’s not much of a disguise.”

  He chuckled.

  “What’ll it be?”

  “Something strong,” he said. “And a beer.”

  She chatted him up as she fixed his drink. “I’m Chelsea. I run the pool bar for Trix. She’s the general manager of all of our fine drinking establishments aboard Haven.”

  He nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. So you must have just come in with Cortez’s latest catch.”

  “Catch?” he asked. The insinuation caught him off guard.

  “I’m teasing.” She handed him a beer. “You must have met my roommate during your time in de-cons. Joelle. Tall, dark, beautiful. Way out of place down there.”

  “Hard to miss.”

  “I always said she should pursue modeling. I guess it doesn’t matter much now, does it?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “So what do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She single?”

  “Not Joelle.” Chelsea shook her head. “Everyone loves Joelle. No, this.” She waved her arms around and tugged on some hanging grasses from the tiki bar. “The bar, the scenery, man. Just look around you.”