Kronos

by Jeremy Robinson

  The culmination of his plan had been to buy toys with his illicit money, but Andrea had laid into him, pouring on guilt, exposing him to higher morals. In the end, she talked him into giving the money back to the church, but in a way that would not get him in trouble. That night, they attended the nighttime summer church service and sat through an awful concert. When the offering came around, he placed the fourteen dollars in the offering plate. No one missed the wallets and the church had made more money from them than they would have trying to sell them in the church bookstore.

  Andrea smiled. “I still have one of those wallets.”

  “Me too,” Atticus said. In fact, several still hid around the family cabin. “You always knew how to make me see things from a different perspective. I was afraid you still could.”

  “And this time I’m not alone. I have something for you.” She unzipped the front of her wet suit, reached in, and pulled out a small Ziploc bag. It held a single photo; the one from the beach. Atticus took the photo, his hand immediately trembling. “Thank you—oof!”

  A blur of bright colors flashed by Andrea’s vision, erasing Atticus from her view.

  “I’ll kill you!”

  Andrea looked down and found her Hawaiian-clad rescuer pummeling Atticus. He took the first two blows, one to the head and one on his shoulder, but quickly managed to block the next few. Frozen by the sudden violence, she watched as Atticus’s face changed from that of a kind man missing his family to a trained killer’s.

  Then it happened. Atticus caught both of Remus’s hands, pulled himself farther down through his straddled legs, brought his own legs up behind the man, and looped them around his throat. With a sudden jerk, Remus gagged and was flung backwards.

  As Atticus and Remus regained their feet, Remus produced a five-inch blade and grinned fiendishly. Atticus moved his hand to his waist and found the .357 holster empty.

  “Looking for that?” Remus said, pointing behind him, where the revolver rested on the floor. There was no way Atticus could reach the weapon without receiving a five-inch puncture wound in his back.

  Remus moved in, whipping the knife back and forth so haphazardly that Atticus couldn’t block or predict where the next attack would come from. Each slice cut air as Atticus dodged backwards. The backs of his legs bumped into the slat of wood jutting from the wall. He fell back onto the seat just as the knife swept across his eyes, missing by inches.

  “Stop!” Andrea yelled, but neither man heard her. “Stop or I’ll shoot” She accented the statement by pulling back the hammer of her Coast-Guard-issue SIG P229R-DAK .40 caliber handgun.

  Remus froze.

  Atticus moved.

  With amazing speed, Atticus twisted Remus’s wrist, dislodging the knife. As Remus was just beginning to register the pain, Atticus caught the knife and brought it up to Remus’s throat.

  With a growl, he said, “Try to kill me again and I’ll return the favor.”

  Remus trembled as he glared at Atticus with liquid hatred, tempted to act even with a knife to his throat and a gun to his head. He looked like an animal, barely contained in the shell of a man.

  “Oh dear, oh dear. I do believe that will be quite enough of that.” Trevor Manfred slid into the room with a grin on his face. “Now that you’ve all had your fun, why don’t you explain to me what the devil is going on?”

  Remus replied, “He tried to—”

  “I would prefer to receive an answer from someone with more brains,” Trevor said. “It’s clear you have, yet again, offended our guest.”

  “He wasn’t that much trouble. Like a fly, easily swatted.” Atticus removed the knife from Remus’s throat and shoved him away. Remus caught himself against the wall, clearly enraged and ready to continue the fight.

  A strong slap on his ear shocked him out of his rage.

  “Switch off, you oaf!” Trevor shouted. “You are to stay away from both Atticus and his guest. I’m docking you one month’s pay. Don’t fail me again.”

  He bowed his head.

  “Now sod off.”

  Remus exited, his head turned down, afraid to look Trevor in the eyes.

  Trevor turned his attention to Andrea. His eyes burned with anger. “You have no business being on this vessel, and if I didn’t think your government would give me the runaround, I’d press charges. In the meantime, I leave you in Atticus’s hands. However, you must first sign a nondisclosure form.”

  With that, Trevor removed a folded piece of paper and a pen. “It’s fortunate I was on my way down here with this.”

  Andrea was incredulous. “What!”

  “Make no mistake; you are trespassing on this ship. If you do not sign a nondisclosure form, stating that everything you see, hear, and smell on this ship will be kept confidential, you will be thrown overboard.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “There are a number of technologies on the Titan, the nations of the world would love to get their hands on. I can’t have you leaking information.”

  “More like national treasures.”

  Trevor smiled. “You say tomatoes…Now sign it.”

  Andrea looked up at Atticus. With a sour face, he nodded his agreement. “Any testimony you could give about what you see on board would be disallowed anyway because you broke into the ship.”

  “The voice of reason!” Trevor slapped Atticus playfully on the back. “I like this man more and more every day.”

  Andrea took the pen and paper and quickly signed. Trevor took the paper and pocketed it. “There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it, my dear?” Before Andrea could object to being called “my dear” one more time, Trevor headed for the door. “Welcome to the Titan. Do try to get some sleep tonight; for in the morn, we hunt!”

  “Wait,” Andrea said. “Do I have a room?”

  Trevor smiled wide. “You can stay where you undoubtedly want to stay, with Atticus. After all, every hero needs a woman to couple with before the final battle.” With a “ta ta,” Trevor left the room.

  Atticus bent down and picked up the photo of his family and his .357, placing the gun back in its holster. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. It’s hot as hell.” He looked back at her and reached out his hand, causing a nervous twang to move up through her body. The idea of spending the night with Atticus was tantalizing, yet wrong. Too soon. When Atticus spoke, she realized there was nothing to worry about, or look forward to.

  “Tomorrow’s going to be a hard day, and I need to sleep.”

  Andrea left the room with him, glad to be out of the glowing white inferno but terrified by what the next day might bring. She’d seen the look of a killer in Atticus’s eyes twice—first, when he was launching the harpoon at the creature, then again, when he fought with Remus. When he transformed into that killer, when hatred clouded his soul, she feared him. But now, calm as he was, leading her to his room, she felt at ease and safe. She wasn’t sure she could handle seeing his dark side again, but knew she would.

  31

  The Titan—Gulf of Maine

  The heavy double doors opened automatically, allowing Remus access to his opulent bedroom. He silently stole through the room, avoiding the plush king-size bed set atop a frame of ivory tusks. He moved through the dimly lit space without incident, having memorized the room’s unchanging layout years ago. From the bedroom he entered a small library full of several aging first editions, then on to a living room, the modern accoutrements of which spoke in marked contrast to the ancient relics found around the ship.

  In addition to the pixel-perfect, fifty-inch flat-screen TV, superbly concealed surround-sound system, dark-wood executive desk, and plush leather seating found in the living rooms of the rich and famous, this room had an entire wall covered in security monitors through which every room on the Titan could be viewed in full color. The wall shone brightly with streaming video from every lounge, bedroom, and bathroom.

  As Remus entered the room, Trevor acknowledged his presence by leaning forward
and tapping on one of the screens with a letter opener fashioned like a scimitar. The brig, currently empty, filled the screen in all its stark white glory.

  “You’re lucky I was watching,” Trevor said. “I do believe you would have met your demise had I not arrived when I did. Do you know how hard it is for this frail body to move that quickly down so many flights of stairs? I expressed nearly a day’s worth of water through my armpits at the effort.”

  Remus huffed. “I could’ve taken him.”

  Trevor spun around in his jet-black swivel chair, his black-clothed body seemingly melting into it so that his face and Muppet-like burst of white hair hovered in space like a fuzzy planet. His crooked posture added to the odd look. “That’ I’m afraid, is still up for debate. It was the woman that would have done you in.”

  “Stupid bitch. I’ll—”

  Trevor waggled his finger in Remus’s face. “You are to treat the woman with respect for as long as she and Atticus are aboard the Titan. When she leaves, I will grant you shore leave so you can finish what you started in the brig.” Trevor sighed and looked back to the empty security screen. “It’s a pity, though; I was looking forward to the entertainment.”

  Trevor stood and moved to the room’s single window. The black sky outside shimmered with radiant stars and the white glow of the Milky Way. “Tell me, Remus, what were your mistakes tonight?”

  Remus stood suddenly rigid. He knew the answers to the questions would result in either a reward or punishment. He mentally replayed the night’s events and everything that went wrong. “I should have locked the brig behind me.”

  “Correct. You’re extracurricular activities will have to be conducted in a more clandestine manner while Atticus is on board. He may be a killer, but he’s got the moral fortitude of a saint. If he chooses to remain on board,” Trevor set his eyes to burrowing in Remus’s. “I expect this to be a permanent change.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now then, what else?”

  “I should have known I was being followed.”

  “Correct again. While having your fun, do be more aware of your surroundings. I’m sure Atticus is stealthier than most, but you know this ship. Stay off the beaten path from now on. What else?”

  “I…Damn. I didn’t check her for a weapon.”

  “Indeed. While you’re foolish mistake almost made your life forfeit, next time it could very well be mine. Do not make that mistake again, or it will cost you more than one month’s pay. Understood?”

  Remus began sweating beneath his Hawaiian shirt. Trevor’s calm exterior and half smile were no consolation because Remus knew better than to truly anger him.

  “Now, then, a final question.” Trevor clasped his hands behind his back and strode over to Remus so that they were face-to-face. “What two valuable bits of information did we learn tonight?”

  The first answer came in a flash. Remus gripped his fists tight. “Someone tipped him off about the woman.”

  Trevor nodded. “We’ll need to find out whom, of course, but I suspect any number of our crew might be cursed with consciences, so that will prove futile until the hunt is over. And, the second?”

  Remus grew nervous as nothing came to mind. Unable to concentrate he glanced away from Trevor’s piercing, light blue eyes. His vision landed on one of the security screens, and he smiled. He met Trevor’s eyes. “Atticus has a weakness. He cares for the woman.”

  Trevor smiled. “You just earned back your lost pay and saved your testicles.”

  Remus paled and looked down to find a silenced pistol aimed at his crotch. He let out a long sigh as Trevor moved away and placed the pistol on the desk. He turned to the security monitors. “Now then, let’s see what you were looking at.”

  An image of Andrea filled a security screen. She stood in Atticus’s Incan bathroom, removing first her wet suit, then a formfitting blue T-shirt, revealing her ample breasts concealed only by a sports bra. A moment later, Atticus entered the bathroom and crouched in front of her.

  “Oh, ho, ho! Our man moves fast!” Trevor said as he threw himself back into his swivel chair and propped his feet up on an end table topped in petrified wood. “It appears I will find entertainment tonight after all!”

  Remus pulled up a chair and settled in. He looked at the monitor, and growled, “Shoulda been me.”

  “Someday,” Trevor said, patting the hulking man’s arm. “You still have your manhood intact. Be happy for that. Now shush and watch.”

  Remus crossed his arms and focused on the screen. Atticus had his hands on her stomach and was moving up. Remus made a silent pledge to himself. No matter how much Trevor liked Atticus, he’d make him pay for what had happened. If Atticus left the Titan, Remus would hunt him down. If he stayed on board, Remus would bide his time and arrange an accident. And when Atticus was dead, the Coast Guard chick would be his. He’d keep her on board and alive until he got bored with her. Then Laurel could have his way with her.

  32

  The Titan—Gulf of Maine

  A groan escaped Andrea’s lips as Atticus probed her body with his fingers. She’d involuntary convulsed when he’d first touched her, and she found herself growing more nervous with every passing moment. Very few men had seen her in just a bra. Even fewer had touched her so gently.

  “Ouch!” Andrea winced, as Atticus pressed on her ribs with his fingers. “That hurt like hell.”

  Atticus smiled and stood. “It’d hurt a lot more if it were broken. You’ve got some good bruises though. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Anywhere else hurt?”

  Andrea thought about telling him that all sorts of body parts hurt, just to see if he’d give them the same kind attention as her ribs, but decided against it. Though they’d once been close, there was a lot he still didn’t know about her, and she didn’t want him to get the wrong impression. But what was the right impression? Every minute she spent with him, she was less and less sure. “No. Aside from being exhausted, just my ribs hurt.”

  Andrea moved to put her blue T-shirt back on, but he stopped her by taking hold of her wrist. “Not so fast. Hold on.” He moved back into the bedroom. What he was doing, she had no idea, and she did her best not to imagine.

  He returned a moment later holding three ice cubes. He opened up the bathroom closet and took out a thin washcloth, which he used to wrap up the ice. “Hold this against your ribs for about fifteen minutes. It will help with—”

  “I know what it’s for,” Andrea said. She looked out after him as he snatched a blanket off the bed and moved to the couch in the living room. I guess that settles that question, Andrea thought.

  Andrea sighed and returned her attention to the amazing bathroom surrounding her. It was otherworldly, and most likely belonged to a nation that didn’t know it was missing. She glanced back into the living room one more time and found Atticus’s eyes closed. Asleep already.

  Without bothering to shut the bathroom door, Andrea removed the rest of her clothes and turned on the Incan shower, which cascaded like a mountain waterfall. As soon as the water fell, gentle jungle sounds filled the air from a speaker in the ceiling. She felt her muscles relax and the tension that had build up over the past few days ebb slightly. As she stepped under the warm water, her eyes returned to the open door. It was a sophomoric invitation, leaving the door open like that, and she knew she’d chastise herself for it in the morning, but she couldn’t help but wish Atticus would join her, if only to hold her.

  As the room filled with steam, Andrea turned away from the door and let the water pour over her face, ignorant of the mechanical eye focusing in on her body from the ceiling above.

  The cushy sofa did little to ease Atticus’s chaotic emotional state. His body grew heavy and tense as it came down from the adrenaline rush brought on by his encounter with Remus. Memories of happier times resurfaced from the photo Andrea had given him and shouted to be recognized. Plans for the confrontation with the cr
eature dubbed Kronos scratched at his mind’s eye, eager to be seen. The death of Giona, still fresh, festered in his soul like an open wound. On top of all that, Andrea’s presence in the next room fought for his attention.

  Somehow her presence cast a shadow over the dueling thoughts and emotions, and as he lay on the sofa, pretending to be asleep, his mind fixed most keenly on his old friend, now a woman. He could still feel her soft skin under his fingers as he felt first her ribs for signs of fracture, then her belly and sides for signs of hemorrhage. Finding none, he let his hands linger on her body for a few moments’ longer, gaining renewed energy and hope from her warmth.

  Sensing motion, Atticus opened his eyes. He looked to the bed. Andrea had yet to return. The bathroom door remained wide open, and the sound of the waterfall shower falling onto the stone floor echoed out. She was in the shower. She’d left the door open.

  He knew Andrea was naked in the shower, but he couldn’t see her. He knew he had feelings for her, resurfacing with her return to his life, and had no doubt she returned…something for him. She was there, after all. But was the open door merely carelessness after the trials of the night or was it truly what it appeared to be: an invitation?

  Atticus sat up on the couch and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He stood and paced. He walked toward the open bathroom door, but stopped at the mini-fridge. He popped an ice cube in his mouth, and returned to the sofa.

  As the plush cushion absorbed him, he noticed the photo of himself, Maria, and Giona at the beach, still resting on the coffee table. He picked it up and allowed his eyes to trace the lines of his dead girls.

  God, I miss them.

  Andrea had risked her life to deliver the photo, somehow knowing that the sight of it might return some of his sanity. The woman was obviously insane.