“How are Pak and Marta?” Lanced asked in a shame-wracked voice.
“The two of them through no fault of their own were injured in service to Haven. For that, they have my condolences and my utmost respect. Which is more than I can say for you. Once they’ve recovered, and Doctor Nazneen assures me that they will, in time, there will be positions on my personal security detail awaiting them if they so choose.”
“I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t know it was going to be like this.”
“Apologies won’t be sufficient this time, Lance. Your blatant disregard for protocol nearly cost this ship an entire excursion team and with it the lives of those in your charge. You leave me no choice. Your duties as an excursion team leader will no longer be required. You are hereby demoted.”
“I can still go out on the road?” Lance asked with hopeful surprise.
“No. You will no longer be working with any excursion team in any capacity. Forthwith you are assigned to work under Todd in de-cons. If you can’t be trusted to follow orders on your own, you’ll be put to work under closer scrutiny.”
“But, Captain, it was one mistake. We all made it back alive.”
“And that had absolutely nothing to do with you. Miller made that possible. As far as I’m concerned, he’s earned your position.”
“What will I do? The team is all I’ve got.”
The captain removed himself from the view from Lance’s cell. “If things don’t work out with Todd, I hear there’s an opening for security at the Pit.”
Lance slid down the wall of his cell. He said no more.
Kayembe turned to Miller’s door and announced, “The position of team leader for excursion team two is yours, Miller, if you’ll have it.”
Miller weighed his options; he had been weighing them since Cortez let him know this offer was coming. Again, he was thrust into a leadership position he didn’t ask for and hadn’t sought. What was it that people saw in him, anyway? He would accept, for now. The excursion teams were going to continue going out on the road with or without his guidance, so Miller thought it best if he offered up what experience he could. His only response was, “Thank you, sir.”
“It’s settled then,” were the captain’s final words on the matter.
As Kayembe slammed the sea door behind him, a litany of congratulatory cheers erupted from the cellblock in Miller’s honor while Lance sat quietly in his cell and began his long, lonely final stay in de-cons.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Resolute
A cool morning breeze kept Miller and Soraya in each other’s arms. Any excuse to stay that way just a little longer. Soraya left the balcony door cracked before she and Miller went to bed the previous night. She often did the same during the five months she and Isabelle lived at the high-rise in Poseidon’s Rest. The sound of the ocean was soothing; it helped her sleep. Besides, Isabelle never slept—or so it seemed—so their high-rise sanctuary was never without a sentry.
Miller was the first to rise; he stretched in the cool morning air. The biting cold had relented; Haven was sailing into the warmer waters of the Gulf of Mexico. He wrapped a nearby towel around his waist before heading over to their humble kitchen to make coffee. Their kitchen. The thought made him smile and he turned to watch her nestle into the warm spot in the bed he had just left behind.
Not everyone had the luxury of a coffee machine in their living quarters. The vast majority of the ship’s residents had to make their way to the cafeteria for a cup. Another perk he loved and despised equally. By the time he finished in the bathroom and returned to preparing their cups of coffee, Soraya was already sitting on the balcony and wrapped tightly in a blanket. She had an air of euphoria about her.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked while brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Do you remember when I said that I had a surprise for you? It is time to share. I have just the thing to make you happy.”
“You make me happy. I have everything I need right here.”
Soraya sipped her coffee and smiled. “I know.” She took his hand in hers and kissed it. “But there is more, and you will like this.”
Miller remained silent. He loved her and with that love came trust. He would support her in whatever she had planned, and she had obviously been considering this revelation for some time.
“I was looking at a map yesterday in the wheelhouse. Navigator Pressly showed me how to determine where we are. Our next stop should be somewhere around the central Louisiana coast.”
“That’s what Cortez thinks. He says we’ll bypass the Florida Keys, then head north.”
“What if we stayed?”
“Stay? In Louisiana?”
“I do not mean to live there. Pressly says that Captain Kayembe wants to head south afterward, past Cozumel. That means it could be quite some time before we return to this area. If we ever do.”
“What are you getting at?”
“You said your family lives in Arizona, right?”
Miller felt a swell of anxiety in his gut. “They do. We’ve lived west of Flagstaff all my life. At the edge of a national forest. Why do you ask?”
Soraya reached out to run her fingers through his unkempt hair; he hadn’t cut it since they parted. She liked it, so he kept it long. “This is as close as we will ever be to them. We will never reach my family, Miller. But we can find yours.”
Miller smiled, and the only thing he could manage was a quiet, “Thank you.”
Soraya placed their steaming coffee cups on the table beside them. She wrapped Miller in her blanket and pulled him to the floor of the balcony.
~~~
Isaac was at his usual secluded morning spot with two cups of coffee in hand; it was his turn to buy. No Mara in sight. It occurred to him that she never mentioned where she lived, otherwise he’d go knock on her door to make sure everything was alright.
The Temple was located on the first deck below Underworld, not too far from the infirmary. He had yet to take her up on her invitation to at least come by and see what the Temple had to offer. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed.
The Temple was vast. Its location had been converted from a large ballroom to a place of worship. The site was generously donated by Captain Kayembe with only one stipulation: the heads of all represented faiths would ensure that their flocks all lived in peace, that they help each other and pray together. It was an audacious idea. Radical, even. Father Elwood, Rabbi Mordecai, and Imam Shamil agreed that it was in the parishioners’ best interest to put aside the misgivings of the past and forge together for a better tomorrow. Over time, others joined suit until Haven’s Temple boasted eight faiths, all living in harmony.
Isaac was greeted at the door by a nun and her Muslim counterpart.
“Greetings, brother,” said the nun.
“All are welcome,” the Muslim offered.
“Thank you,” Isaac replied with a sort of half nod, half bow. He wasn’t sure of the correct protocol or if he even belonged here.
Dozens of parishioners awaited beyond the doors. Some of the faithful were seated in pews. Others knelt beside them. More still were kneeling on prayer rugs. At the head of the gathering, Mara was in the middle of an impassioned sermon. She would speak for a bit, and then another representative would take her place. All faiths in attendance would share in the spotlight.
“Do you usually get started this early?” Isaac whispered to the nun.
She answered, “Today is a special day, my son. It is the anniversary of unification.”
“Eight months ago today, Captain Kayembe blessed us with the Temple,” the Muslim woman added.
Has it really been that long already? he thought.
From her platform, Mara noticed Isaac near the exit. She nodded in slow recognition and smiled a devilish grin at the man still holding her coffee. Isaac smiled and took a seat; he stayed for the remainder of the service. Afterward, Mara and the other leaders of the congregation greeted their flock. They
shook hands and offered words of wisdom or general well-wishes. Mara eventually made her way to Isaac; he still carried her long-cold coffee.
“Thanks, Isaac. I needed this.” She took a long sip and then tapped her left thigh where she kept her hidden flask beneath her clothing. “Let’s step outside where it’s a little quieter,” she said with a wink.
Mara led Isaac out into the corridor and down the hall where they could speak in private.
“So what did you think?” Mara asked, wide-eyed as she sipped her cold coffee.
“I’m not going to lie, that was pretty impressive. I never would have imagined such a thing was possible. Gathering all of these different people with different beliefs together, considering what’s happening out there.”
“Anything we can imagine, we can accomplish.” She eyed him from the rim of her coffee cup; the mug only partially hid her grin.
She was teasing him, and he knew it. Isaac smiled back. He didn’t need words of affirmation—he was good-natured by default and would never need that extra push to do the right thing.
They talked for nearly an hour as parishioners passed on their way to begin their days. She explained to a receptive Isaac the importance of faith when all hope was lost and that faith was more important now than ever. Mara would greet each and every one of the passing parishioners. She took the time to introduce Isaac as well, and to his pleasant surprise, everyone seemed content—happy even—in this new paradigm.
“It’s not even so much what you believe in, Isaac. It’s more important that you believe in something, something greater than all of us, and if that’s what it takes to prevent Bob on deck eight from killing Justin on deck seven over a card game, well, then, I’m all for it. It’s a net positive. I’m not just blowing smoke when I say that we’re all in this together. Speaking of, you want one?” She offered him a cigarette.
“Nah.”
“Suit yourself.” Mara took a long pull. “Here, hold this.” She handed him her cigarette so she could more easily top off her coffee. Sermon or not, she never went without her flask, or her knife. Both were clear to see. In Isaac’s eyes, she wasn’t hiding anything.
Isaac chuckled; Mara shrugged.
Their conversation continued uninterrupted until Lancaster strolled by. How he managed to get all the way to the Temple when he should have been multiple decks up at the Pen was anyone’s guess. Isaac could only assume that he was deliberately lost.
“Hello, Lancaster,” Isaac offered as politely as he could.
“Isaac.” As lonely as Lancaster had found himself aboard Haven, he wasn’t about to make friends with the former police officer. The man would never agree with Isaac’s lifestyle.
“Who’s your friend?” Mara asked.
“Acquaintances.” Isaac sighed. “At best.”
“We traveled the road together, nothing more.” Lancaster was quick to quell any misrepresentation, perceived or otherwise.
“I’m Mara.” She extended her hand. “I’m a nun at the Temple.”
“A nun?” Lancaster refused the greeting. He looked the woman up and down with a face full of scorn. Her bare feet and peculiar attire looked more like a Halloween costume than what any nun he’d ever seen had worn. “I simply cannot imagine that someone who looks like that would even want to attend mass.”
“Donald!” Isaac snapped.
“I’m from the Bible Belt, fuckface.” Mara turned to Isaac. “Remember when I said that everyone was welcome at the Temple?”
“I do.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly mean everyone.” She returned her gaze to Lancaster but said nothing.
“Well.” Lancaster straightened himself. “I can certainly tell when I’m not wanted.”
“Not in my experience,” Isaac remarked.
Lancaster sauntered off and Isaac and Mara continued their discussion of faith’s place at the end of the world.
~~~
Marisol was moving a bit slower than usual as she prepared for the long day ahead of her in the mechanics’ locker room. She struggled with her blue one-piece while she stared blankly at her reflection in a tiny mirror attached to the backside of her locker door. She sighed and sat down heavily on the bench. Behind her, Catherine was getting dressed for the day. At the other end of the string of lockers, Ames and Tate were changing into their work clothes as well. She had already hung up her personal clothes beside the work uniform she dreaded putting on. She sat there, glaring at both. Marisol kept a pack of cigarettes in her locker that she didn’t even smoke every day anymore. Cigarettes weren’t exactly easy to come by these days. She lit one up; there were only three left in the pack now.
Catherine sat down beside her to tie her boots. “You going to get dressed today?” She didn’t really expect a response. When Marisol got like this, Catherine found it best not to pry. She’d open up if she wanted to.
With a heavy sigh, Marisol yanked her worked uniform from its hanger. She slid both of her legs in, pulled it up to around her waist and sat again. After months of endlessly toiling away at menial tasks, she had come to an impasse. “Catherine, I need to say something.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“I think I’m done here.”
“For the day or—”
“No. I’m done done. I quit.”
“Don’t hold back or anything. What will you do?”
“I don’t know. I just know I can’t do this anymore.”
“You know, if you don’t work, you’ll be thrown into Underworld.”
“So be it. Maybe I can be of better use down there, or maybe someone down there needs my help. I just have to go.”
“I mean mechanical isn’t the most glamorous lifestyle, for sure, but it beats whatever you’re likely to get into in Underworld to make ends meet.”
Marisol shrugged. “It’s not the job. I like it fine, and you guys are great. Even Tate and his relentless positivity. It’s this.” She gestured with her hands as if referring to the ship itself as a sentient being. “It’s all of it—the parties, the dinners, the class separation. It’s all a big joke, and I feel like I’m sitting here waiting for a punchline that flew over my head.”
At the other end of the locker banks, Ames had a confession of his own. The idea of a soulmate was such a lame concept for Ames. He struggled with assigning a title to how he felt, but that was it. It was the kind of feeling that if one of the guys back home at the shop had dared to share it, he would have busted his balls from then until eternity. Now he was caught in the throes of emotions he wasn’t used to dealing with. He had never felt this way before, even for his daughter’s mother at the best of times. He simply could not get Alex off his mind, no matter how hard he tried.
Of late, Ames dove into his work harder than normal. Back home in his living quarters, he spent his nights with his daughter, but still, Alex lingered. What is it about this girl that possesses me so? he often wondered. Ames didn’t have many friends outside of maintenance, so Tate bore the brunt of his frustrations.
Tate was changing as well—slowly, as he tried his best to sneak a peek at the women at the other end of the locker room without getting caught. All the while, he listened to Ames carry on about a woman who made it all too clear that whatever they had between them was a temporary distraction at best. Tate wasn’t indifferent to Ames’s plight, but how many times a week did he need to suffer through the same spiel? Go with her when she finally decides to leave or convince her to stay. What’s so hard to figure out? Of course, Tate wouldn’t say that out loud. He would nod and smile and agree, then offer words of encouragement where he could. Tate cared, but he had plans of his own, and unfortunately for Ames, those plans didn’t involve being a part-time therapist.
“I’ve got to confess, man. I’m spinning here over Alex. No matter what I do, I cannot get her out of my head.”
“The one from the gardens?” Tate asked, feigning ignorance. “Not this again. You do realize that a confession is usually reserved for coming ou
t with something that was otherwise kept secret, right?”
“It’s that obvious?”
“Obvious? You follow her around like a lost puppy. That much is plain to see.”
“She hasn’t even left yet, and I’ve already got this sick feeling in my guts like I’ve been kicked in the balls. Honestly, I feel like I could throw up right now.”
“She’s leaving, dude. Any day now or maybe never. I say cut your losses and walk.”
“Eh. I’m falling hard for this girl.”
“Falling? You fell a long time ago. She’s going to break your heart, dude.” Tate couldn’t hide his disdain for the situation anymore if he tried. “You do realize that you and I both know a woman who is absolutely crazy about you. If you weren’t so preoccupied with pining after something you can never truly have, you might see that.”
“Catherine’s like a little sister to me, man.”
“She’s a year older than you for fuck’s sake.”
“You know what I mean.”
“If you say so. All I’m saying is you should give it some thought. You’ve got everything you need right here, man. You’re just too blinded with a schoolboy crush to see it.”
“Maybe.”
“Keep in mind it’s not like you can pick up and move a few towns over if you’re looking for a fresh start. Make the most of where you’re at.”
“That’s deep. Weren’t you a transient before all this?”
“Alright, be an asshole. Just remember when you’re old and alone that you had everything you were searching for right under your nose this whole time. Catherine’s a good girl and she’s not going to wait around forever for you to pull your head out of your ass.” Tate slammed his locker shut. He grabbed his tool bag and left the locker room alone. Ames did much the same, only slower.
~~~
Jeremiah meticulously arranged and cataloged the medical supplies down to the last Band-Aid. He did this daily. Sealed bottles of medications were noted; the opened ones were counted down to the pill. Shelf after shelf, cabinet after cabinet, he would call out the name of a medication or item of significance. Nia followed behind, carefully recording his numbers in the new inventory paperwork. Together, they were able to get through this mundane task relatively quickly, considering Jeremiah’s attention to detail. It was only when they started cataloging the medications—the more potent stuff in particular—that Jeremiah began to show signs of frustration. He would start again at the beginning of a shelf, checking and then double-checking. All the while, Nia recorded. She assured him as well as she was able that she was properly recording everything. He kept insisting that something was off.
The Roaming (Book 3): Haven's Promise Page 41