The Roaming (Book 3): Haven's Promise

by Hegarty, W. J.

  “What’s wrong, Jeremiah? We just inventoried this stuff yesterday. The numbers should be the same. You’re probably just overthinking things.”

  “I’m not. These numbers are off. We seem to be missing a large amount of lorazepam. Was it needed elsewhere?”

  “Lorazepam? Not a clue. I never administer anything stronger than aspirin or an IV drip. You’ll have to ask the doc. Only she and Jonah have access to the meds.”

  “Thank you, Nia. That will be all for now.” Jeremiah’s radar was pinging. Once again, the numbers were off, and one staff member in particular wasn’t available for questioning.

  Jonah was rarely around whenever Jeremiah was on shift. He always had something else that required his attention somewhere else. When he was around, he was standoffish and downright rude. Aiko chalked it up to jealousy; two Navy medics with real-world experience and training appeared and suddenly Jonah wasn’t as invaluable as he once imagined himself. He’ll get over it or he won’t was about as much as Aiko had to say on the matter. And how could Jeremiah blame her? After all, she was going through quite a bit herself. Pregnant in a new home, surrounded by strangers, and sailing for an uncharted future was enough to keep just about anyone on edge.

  Nazneen was in her office, flipping through case reports and patients’ records. There really wasn’t much to go on concerning patient needs. Other than those residents with serious illnesses or allergies, the inhabitants of the ship were mostly a blank slate concerning medical histories. Paula’s suicide was tragic and a loss the ship would not soon forget, but Rodrigo came as a shock. He left a note on Nazneen’s desk that simply read, I’m sorry. Those two words, accompanied by the disappearance of Paula’s baby, explained everything. Nazneen hoped that by studying people’s behavior she could possibly prevent the next one.

  She leaned back in her chair and stretched and yawned as Jeremiah entered. “Hello, Jeremiah. What can I do for you?”

  “I have concerns regarding inventory.” He handed her his diligent notes. “Medication in particular. Higher doses of antidepressants seem to be going missing at an alarming rate.”

  “Let me see this.” She sat up straight and adjusted her glasses. “You’ve been taking inventory?”

  “Daily.”

  She smiled at the implication, but it quickly faded as she read through his notes. “It seems antibiotics and pain medication numbers also fluctuate wildly.” She removed her glasses. “Close the door, please.” She stood so they could better peruse the notes together. “Are you saying there’s theft? Someone is stealing our medication?”

  “It’s worse than that.” Jeremiah thumbed through his paperwork to a section with highlighted dates. “On the fifteenth we had seventeen unopened bottles of oxycodone and twelve loose pills. On the twenty-first, we were down to fifteen bottles, three of which were opened.”

  Nazneen crossed her arms, intrigued. “Go on.”

  “I compared the contents of the tampered bottles with those from a fresh case.” He poured a sample of each out on her desk. “Someone is replacing the prescription drugs with over-the-counter replacements of a lesser potency. Antibiotics are the same.”

  “This is a serious concern.”

  “To put it lightly.”

  “Do you have a suspect?”

  “I do.” Jeremiah studied her.

  “Surely you don’t think I’m involved.”

  “I don’t.” Jeremiah was confident. “Or I would have gone straight to the captain.”

  “Then who?”

  “Jonah is strangely absent whenever I’m on duty. Aiko rarely sees him, either. At first, I believed it was mere jealousy. I was mistaken. He is your thief.”

  “Jonah has been with me since the beginning.” She slumped back into her chair. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Was he on staff before the crisis? Or did he gain your trust afterward?”

  “After. He came aboard with a large group when we docked in St. Lucia. He said he had medical training and he clearly knew his way around a pharmacy. I was understaffed with no means to check credentials, anyway. How could I have been so careless?”

  “Second-guessing yourself won’t make this go away. This is in no way your fault, Nazneen. Jonah’s actions are his own. These days are bringing out the best and the worst in all of us.”

  ~~~

  Vanessa and Trix chatted up another round of customers. It seemed the most prevalent talking point in recent days was the ship’s heading: due south and around the Keys into warmer waters. Winter—as far as the ship was concerned—was a nonstarter and was over before it really began. Which was the captain’s intention all along. Best to avoid the added pressure of winter at sea if he could help it. Having never been a fan of cold weather, Vanessa appreciated it. She was farther from home than she had ever traveled before, a talking point that fascinated Trix, who herself was a traveler of sorts in better times.

  Trix lived for months and sometimes years at a time in new cities. She had been in Miami for about six years before the crisis hit. New York for two years before that, and she lived in Los Angeles for a year even before that. Her next stop after Miami was a planned sojourn to Milan. She always wanted to travel to Europe. That was probably her biggest regret in all of this: never getting the chance to explore the European countryside or its famous nightlife. She had it all planned out. She would spend a few months at a time in Europe’s biggest and most famous cities and maybe ultimately put down roots in one. All of that was, of course, not to be.

  Trix was at the very beginning of a tale of a brief stay she had in Vanessa’s hometown of Baltimore and a doctor’s visit that brought her there when Vanessa’s face dropped. A familiar but most certainly unwelcome face had entered Trix’s bar.

  Lancaster strolled through the happy customers, cutting a line through them with an aversion and an upturned nose. It was a sight Vanessa was all too familiar with. This was how Lancaster viewed his constituents back home so long ago. He saw them then and these people now as nothing more than chattel who were more of a burden or a hindrance than anything resembling equals. How he could maintain that air of condescension considering his newfound place in the world was a mystery for her.

  Even in its worn state, Lancaster’s filthy suit and matching bowler had not a wrinkle to be found. He did keep himself well-groomed despite appearances, though it wasn’t at all apparent from a cursory glance. The stains on his formerly white suit had long ago set in. His shirt and tie were meticulously done up, minus a button at the center of his chest that he subconsciously fingered. It was a point of contention that he did not look out of sorts even among those he deemed beneath him. Some customers quietly snickered at the state of his attire. Most of them were dressed down as far as Lancaster was concerned, but they were clean; at least they looked it.

  Lancaster took a seat at the bar. Vanessa sighed heavily at the sight. As far as she could remember, she hadn’t seen the man since their brief stay in de-cons. What could he possibly want?

  “You want me to…” Trix began.

  “No. My days of avoiding him and those like him are done.” Vanessa strode over to just opposite him on her side of the bar. She didn’t offer him a drink or even the most casual of platitudes reserved for her surliest of customers. Instead, she approached him with a certainty, a demeanor that made clear that she was a woman who was not about to be swayed by whatever he was selling.

  “Good afternoon, Vanessa.” There it was: the cocksure grin with the swagger to match. “It seems that our paths rarely cross these days.”

  “That’s something I’m completely fine with. What’s the matter, Lancaster? You can’t snake your way into the good graces of the Elite so you thought you’d come crawling back to the little people?”

  “Nothing of the sort, my dear. Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. You and I are more alike than either of us give the other credit for.”

  “Is that so?” Vanessa almost burst out laughing.

  “Yes, ta
ke yourself, for example. You’ve returned to a profession that you excelled at and have made yourself a home here among strangers, and I…” He trailed off as he realized he hadn’t completely thought this through.

  “The way I hear it is you’re cleaning up chicken shit these days. It suits you.”

  “There’s no need to be cruel.”

  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

  Lancaster quickly changed topics and tone. “It sometimes feels like a blessing, you know?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you expound upon me one of your famous pearls of wisdom?”

  “Starting over fresh is the blessing I’m referring to. All the bad decisions we’ve made don’t matter anymore. The regrets, the people we’ve hurt. None of that matters. We’re free to begin anew, to be whoever we choose to be.”

  “By we you mean you, right? Because I’ve never hurt anyone in my life.”

  “Jim would argue otherwise.”

  “He was trying to kill me. I didn’t let him.”

  “Be that as it may.”

  “For all I know, you sent him to my home that night.”

  “Absurd.”

  “Maybe. But I know you’ve always been a coward, and without Jim and the rest of your cronies to do your bidding, you’ve been lost.”

  “All I’m saying, my dear—”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “Vanessa. All I’m saying, Vanessa, is that we should be able to put the past behind us.”

  “Yes, some of us can and should, but where you’re concerned? Never. You let your family and friends die. You locked them inside town hall to buy yourself time to escape. So, no, you’ll get no sympathy here. I hope you think about them every night for the rest of your life.”

  Lancaster sneered as his truest self burst forth. “Do you think of your dead husband at night while you diddle your girlfriend?”

  “Get out. Right now.”

  “You heard the lady. Leave before I make you leave.” Trix had crept up behind Lancaster to keep within earshot of the conversation. She had heard enough about the man in previous months, especially from Marisol, to know he was no good.

  Lancaster removed himself from the bar without any further comment.

  Trix laid a hand on Vanessa’s forearm. “You okay?”

  “Just fine. Fuck him.”

  ~~~

  Miller stood at Captain Kayembe’s side. The wheelhouse was full of activity. Monitors and weather stations were manned, and ship diagnostics were checked and double-checked. Kayembe was proud of his crew, and it showed. Haven was sailing due west, past the Keys and into the Gulf. The island chain was barely more than a speck in the distance. Captain Kayembe scanned the horizon. There it was: a dull-gray eyesore against the backdrop of a tropical paradise. A United States Navy destroyer was anchored off Key West. Giant red letters at least twenty feet tall were haphazardly painted onto the side of the ship. The letters read, TURN BACK.

  Captain Kayembe handed his binoculars to Miller. “Have a look.”

  The destroyer’s guns were tracking Haven; that was clear enough to see. What was odd for Miller was the lack of personnel on deck. No activity whatsoever. If it wasn’t for the gun’s movement, the warship could have easily been mistaken for derelict.

  Haven’s communication officer promptly hailed the warship. “Attention, destroyer, this is the ocean liner Haven. We mean you no harm. We are only passing through. We will not stop in your waters.”

  “Status?” Kayembe asked.

  A few brief moments passed before the communications officer answered. “Message coming through comms, sir. They’re not responding to hails.”

  “Patch it through.” Kayembe directed his binoculars to the destroyer.

  A static-laced recording played repeatedly through the wheelhouse’s speakers. “Unknown vessel, you are trespassing in sovereign waters. Maintain your course. Do not attempt approach or you will be fired upon.” The message repeated.

  “There it is, people. Navigator Pressly, maintain heading due west, twenty knots.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Miller remained by Kayembe’s side. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this entire scene was all one big show. Whether it was being orchestrated by whoever manned the destroyer or Captain Kayembe himself remained to be seen. “Your crew seems rather calm, considering there’s a warship off our starboard with its guns trained on us.”

  “We’ve navigated these waters before. We give them a wide berth. They don’t blow us out of the water.”

  The destroyer’s guns stayed locked on Haven as the cruise ship moved farther away.

  “We’ll be safely out of range momentarily. You had something you needed to speak with me about?”

  “I do, sir. Give me a second to catch my bearings. I wasn’t expecting to face down a gunship this afternoon.” Miller played his part.

  Captain Kayembe led Miller out to the deck. A bit of fresh air could do them both good after those few tense moments.

  Away from the myriad of ears in the wheelhouse, Miller spoke first. “I’ll just come right out and say it, sir. Soraya and I are leaving.”

  “Your timing is impeccable, Mr. Miller. That wasn’t the response I was expecting from this encounter.”

  “I think you knew that we weren’t in any real danger.”

  “Perhaps. May I ask why you’ve decided upon such a reckless course of action?”

  “It’s my family, sir. I need to find them. I don’t know if they’re alive or…” He trailed off. “For all I know, my family is already gone.”

  “You can’t even say the word, can you? Your family is dead, Miller. Accept it.” Captain Kayembe wasn’t cruel by nature. He was a realist and never one to mince words. “You’ve achieved a wonder rarely dreamed of. Can you not sit back and rest on your laurels, if only for a moment?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t. Not when there’s a chance they’re still out there.”

  “I’d like to say something regarding needles and haystacks but won’t for fear of you misconstruing my intent. I wouldn’t want to sound that optimistic. This is folly, you realize.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Beyond all expectations, beyond even a glimmer of hope, you got your woman back. You pulled her from death’s clutches. You tested fate once and found her wanting. You would attempt this again? On an even bigger fool’s errand? I’m sorry, Mr. Miller but I cannot spare the time or the manpower.”

  “I’m not asking, sir. I’m telling you. I’m leaving. Soraya and I are traveling alone. We’re going ashore with the next excursion. Cortez will see us off.”

  “And what if I were to throw the two of you in the brig, if only to save your lives?”

  “I don’t think you’ll do that, sir.”

  Captain Kayembe nodded. Miller called his bluff. “You know me too well, Mr. Miller.” Kayembe gripped the railing with something resembling a smile as he peered out to the sea. “And to think I was planning a banquet in your honor to formally reintroduce you as the new leader of excursion team two. I suppose that’s a moot point now.”

  “I appreciate the offer, sir. But yes, I’m afraid I have to decline.”

  “I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

  “Sir, if I may? I have a suggestion for someone who would make an excellent team leader.”

  “By all means.”

  “Genevieve has shown exemplary command skills in my time with Cortez’s team. Even as far back as our first encounter at Poseidon’s Rest, it was clear that she knows what to say and how to say it to defuse a bad situation or ease scared children into trusting her. And I don’t need to mention her combat prowess. She wouldn’t be on the team otherwise. I can’t think of a better candidate.”

  “Noted. Ironically enough, I was considering offering the position to Ahole if you declined.”

  “Well, you can’t have one without the other, so…”

  “Indeed.”

  The pair of them
chuckled over the shared imagery of Ahole being the leader of men.

  Miller smiled. “I’d like to think we’re a lot alike, you and I.”

  “Perhaps.” Kayembe sighed. “I can’t convince you to stay, can I?”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Apologies are unnecessary. Go find your family. But know that you’ll always have a home here if you so choose.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Good luck, son. May our paths cross again.”

  “I hope that they do.”

  Miller and Kayembe shared a mutual respect. No more words needed to be spoken on the matter. A part of what attracted Kayembe to Miller in the first place was Miller’s staunch views on right and wrong. When Miller came to a decision, it was likely the right one, and he would see it through to its natural conclusion. They shook hands, and for the final time, Miller left the wheelhouse. Captain Kayembe didn’t watch him leave; he kept his eyes trained on the horizon.

  ~~~

  Lillian hauled a small plastic tote through the winding halls of the ship. She was returning bar supplies from Trix’s to the pool bar. She backed into the two-way door leading onto the deck, where she found the temperature rather pleasant for early February. The hint of warmth on her cheeks reminded her of springtime back home when the winter chill would finally release Pepperbush from its icy grip. Even after months at sea, some things were still new to her. T-shirt weather in the middle of winter was one of them.

  In light of Haven finally making the turn around the Florida Panhandle, the pool bar’s patrons had eased their way back to the deck from the stuffy confines of the ship’s interior. This was the farthest south Haven had reached since Lillian arrived months ago. For her, even in the dead of winter, the new locale felt like the changing of seasons, like the ship itself was shaking off the shackles of a long, brutal winter for the relief of spring and the promise of rebirth.