Dead Calm

by Jon Schafer

“But it's blonde,” Sheila whined as she fingered it. “I look like a ditz. Blondes are all airheads. Everyone knows that.”

  Steve checked to make sure the transmit button on his radio wasn't pushed. If Heather had heard that comment, war with the Ushers would pale in comparison to the one between her and Sheila.

  Seeing Susan hurrying toward them, Steve said to her, “Good job on Sheila. She could pass for Heather's sister.”

  Susan thanked him and then rolled her eyes as she said, “Wait until you see Mary. She's not a happy camper.”

  Susan had taken both Mary and Sheila into the Four Bells Hair Salon to alter their appearance while Steve, Connie, Tim and Cindy made a show of searching deck five in case any of Ricky's people were watching. Just then, Mary appeared and Steve had to stifle a laugh. Most of her long blonde hair had been cut off and what remained had been stuffed under a baseball cap. It was a good thing Mary didn't hear Sheila's comment about blondes either. Or maybe that's where it stemmed from.

  Steve wasn't sure what Susan had used to strap Mary's breasts down, but whatever it was had done the trick. It had taken her from about a 34C to flat-chested.

  Seeing his gaze, Mary said angrily, “Quit looking at my tits, Steve.”

  Or lack thereof, Steve thought, but didn't dare voice. Averting his eyes, he found they'd settled on Sheila's chest for a moment. She's got bigger ones than Heather but she'll pass, he decided.

  Not wanting to micro manage a plan that had been put together on the fly by comparing boob sizes, he cleared his throat and asked, “Everyone know what to do?”

  “I'm supposed to be Heather,” Sheila said despondently. “I stay ten feet behind you. When the first shot is fired, I find something to hide behind.”

  “I'm with her,” Mary said as she pointed to Susan.

  “And?” Steve prompted.

  “Same as Sheila, only I'm supposed to be Tick-Tock. I stay ten feet behind Susan. When the shooting starts, I find cover,” Mary motioned to her legs and complained, “Why do I have to wear blue jeans? I'm already chafing.”

  “Because Tick-Tock does. We need to convince them that you're Tick-Took,” Steve explained. “Take a little of the wiggle out of your walk too,” he added. “You need to be convincing. Walk like a guy.”

  “I feel so butch,” Mary moaned.

  Steve had to cough to cover the laughter welling up in him. When he got himself under control, he turned to Susan with a raised eyebrow.

  “I'm on point. I listen to the radio and follow Tick-Tock's instructions,” she said, “He'll let me know where any targets are that he can't hit. I have to take them out.”

  “And I’ll be doing the same with Heather,” Steve finished. “As you all know, Connie's on The Usual Suspects with Tim and Cindy. If anything happens to us, she knows to cut loose and head west. She'll have enough gas to make it to land and she knows about Cindy. She'll try to get her somewhere safe.”

  Checking his watch, he saw it was almost time to check in with Heather and Tick-Tock before moving out. One by one, he looked each of them in the eye to check their resolve. When he was done, he said forcefully, “Let's go get Brain.”

  ***

  As he sat in the cockpit of The Usual Suspects, Tim's mind was in turmoil. He felt trapped no matter the outcome of Steve's plan and it was tearing him apart. If Steve and the rest of them succeeded in killing Ricky's men and freeing Randy, they would surely find out his part in the kidnapping. Tim's biggest fear was what his punishment would be.

  I know that treason is punishable by hanging so that's what they'll probably do to me, he thought. The words 'hung by the neck until dead', echoed through his mind.

  And if Ricky wins, he wondered. Then my sister will cut the sailboat loose and head for land and I'll never see dad again. Ricky will kill dad after torturing him because I lost the sailboat. But if Ricky wins, he can force Connie to stay on the Calm of the Seas. Tim brightened at this until the thought came to him that he'd still have to live with what he'd done. Things were so messed up.

  At that moment, Connie came up the ladder from below. Seeing her brother looking tense and frightened, she asked, “Are you okay, Tim?”

  With guilt racking his brain, Tim glanced up at his sister. Instead of seeing her face and the concern on it though, his eyes focused on the small pistol Steve had given her for protection. His mind screamed, she knows. She knows I betrayed them all and handed her boyfriend over to Ricky. They're all after me. They know I'm a Judas.

  With a cry of anguish, he bounded to his feet. His fear suddenly turning to rage at the thought of what they'd do to him. “I hate you all,” he screamed. “You did this to me. It's your fault.”

  Stunned by her brother's outburst, Connie took a step back down the ladder. Jumping onto the gunwale of the ship, Tim found it was an easy leap through the hatch.

  Connie screamed, “Tim, come back. What are you doing?” But it was too late. He'd already disappeared into the Dead Calm.

  ***

  Jackson Willis looked out at the casino through the steel grill protecting the cashier's cage. Glancing down at the cash drawer with its money placed neatly in its slots, he knew it was worthless, but every few seconds he would peel a one hundred dollar bill off the top of the stack and stuff it in his pocket. Finding his left pocket was starting to fill, he switched his .38 revolver to his left hand and started in on his right pocket.

  Curious as to when the people he was supposed to kill would show up, he considered the revolver and wished he had his own piece with him. Due to the security on the ship though, he'd left it at home.

  Now that's a gun, he thought. A ghetto sweeper. My little nine-millimeter exterminator with an extended magazine. Twenty-two rounds coming out as fast as you could pull the trigger.

  Hearing a plinking noise, Jackson brought his pistol up and leaned toward the security screen to get a better view. Seeing nothing, he eased back and methodically started putting bills in his pocket again.

  That cracker Ricky thinks he's got me fooled, Jackson thought. Telling me if I do this thing, I'll ensure my place at the right hand of God. Bullshit. The only reason I even went along with his shit in the first place was ‘cause of all the pussy. I grew up on the streets of Overton, mother-fucking mister Ricky, I know what's what. You can snow the rest of these dumbasses with your fake-ass religion, but I got to have me mine. I'll do this thing, but then your gonna pay and I know just what I want.

  Sheila.

  I seen her struttin' her fine ass around before she left your dumb ass. You can promise these other boys everlasting life but I want to get me some of that redhead. You tell me that if I kill these people when they show up that I can have anything on the ship. We’ll want to see your face when I tell you I want your ex-old lady, a lifeboat full of gas, food, water and all the booze I can carry.

  Jackson chuckled softly at this.

  I been dealing drugs since I was nine and I ain't never been busted. That's 'cause I always knew when to haul ass, and I see that time as soon. Too much hinky shit going down. Things is startin' to get flaky. Time to cut and run to Mexico and find me an island or somewhere there ain't no dead tryin' to eat my black ass. Just me and Red.

  The plinking noise came again and Jackson finally figured out what it was. It was the sound of a coin hitting the outside of the cashier's cage. Thinking that one of the other men were screwing around, Jackson scowled and looked out to see who it was.

  Probably that mother-fucker Don Parsons checking to see if I'm paying attention, Jackson thought. Or that ex-cop Seth. When we saw each other that first time, we didn't need no introduction or any of that bullshit. Making small talk like, “So what do you do for a living?” We knew each other on sight. Ain't much separating most cops from criminals. Some are straight, but the rest... same as me.

  Looking around and not seeing the other two men looking in his direction, Jackson leaned back and continued to wait.

  ***

  Seth looked out from where he was
lying under the blackjack table and thought; I wish they'd hurry up and get here. I’m tired of waiting for this shit. I just want to cap these people and get on my way. I never thought all this shit would come down when I took this cruise. Screw it. I’m coming out on top no matter what.

  Glancing to his right, he saw Don Parsons crouched behind a row of video poker machines and considered the swing he would need to make with his rifle to take him out. Two easy shots, he thought to himself. Put one in the chest of whoever was on the left, leave the one on the right for Jackson, let Parsons get off a few shots and then, BANG, I’m now the number two man on the totem pole according to Ricky.

  Looking again at Parsons broad back, Seth thought, what the hell, it's not like I’ve never shot someone from behind before. The only difference is that I’m not a cop anymore and Parsons has a gun in his hand. Not that it'll do him any good, Seth gloated. He's pointing it the wrong way.

  ***

  In the Sombrero Lounge, George Day was thinking along the same lines. The Reverend Ricky himself had confided in him that this was to be Cal's last rodeo. There would be a slot open if he helped kill the man, and George could move up to the position of Head Usher. Being one of the true believers, George had jumped at the chance. Especially when the Reverend told him that Cal was a spy of Satan sent to assassinate him. Even if it cost him his own life, George couldn't let this happen. The plan was for him to help kill the Satanists that had invaded the Calm of the Seas and then to turn his gun on Brother Cal. But George had ideas of his own on who posed the bigger threat and should die first.

  ***

  Steve gave some last minute orders to Susan before they split up and he moved to deck eight. “Remember that Tick-Tock will point you in the direction you need to shoot. When he opens fire on his target, you need to shoot for the center mass of yours. When I get into position upstairs, we'll wait to make sure Heather and Tick-Tock have spotted all the shooters before we move in. The casino is directly above the Sombrero Lounge, so we need to time our movements so we can reach both places at the same time. If for some reason you hear shooting from upstairs before you reach the Sombrero Lounge, listen on the radio for instructions. But if you see a threat, take it out. Just make sure it's not Tick-Tock.”

  Susan nodded grimly so Steve gave her an encouraging smile. When he turned to go, she said, “Heather's lucky to have you.”

  Steve wasn't sure how to reply so he smiled again and promised, “I’ll see you when this is over.” To Sheila, he said, “Let's go.”

  Poised at where the grand staircase emptied onto deck eight, Steve waited for the call on his radio from Heather telling him to move. He was impatient to get this over with, but since Heather and Tick-Tock had to go in and check the situation out before retreating a safe distance to relay what they'd seen, the initiative was theirs.

  Worried that something had gone wrong, he was relieved when he heard Tick-Tock relaying whispered instructions to Susan. Hearing what Tick-Tock said, he felt the urge to give Sheila a high five.

  Perfect, he thought, now for Heather. Come on baby. Tell daddy some good news.

  Moments later, Heather called and said she'd spotted all three of Ricky's people waiting in ambush in the casino and that there were no snipers visible on deck nine. With the three armed men that Tick-Tock had spotted, this accounted for all six weapons they knew Ricky had in his arsenal. Brain had his .45 Colt with him, but it was easy to assume that Ricky had that weapon with him.

  Then Heather told Steve there was a slight problem. She only had clear shots at two of the three Head Ushers. She proposed a solution that Steve agreed would work in their favor. After exchanging I love yous, they signed off and Steve turned his full attention to what he had to do.

  After giving Heather and Tick-Tock five minutes to get into position, he raised the radio to his mouth, pressed the transmit button and said, “Time to roll, Susan.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Dead Calm:

  The Reverend Ricky Rose tapped his foot impatiently on the deep pile carpet of the Crows Nest Lounge. Looking at the hand held radio sitting on the bar next to him, he hoped that any minute Brother Seth would call and let him know that both missions had been accomplished. The people from that sailboat were dead and Don Parsons had been eliminated along with Brother Cal.

  Glancing down at some movement on the pool deck far below, Ricky could see a few people begin to gather for his nightly sermon and the rapture if it happened, which was not very fucking likely, or the party if it didn't, which was a given.

  Good luck dipshits, he thought maliciously. He glanced at his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes and then took a sip from the drink sitting in front of him. Grimacing slightly, he reflected that one aspect of having his good buddy Don taken out was that he'd have to teach one of his other people how to make a descent Black Russian.

  Turning to look out at the Gulf of Mexico, Ricky could see small white caps forming. Good, we've got a decent wind, he thought. Tim told me the sailboat is loaded, so all we have to do is load our things, dump whatever personal crap Steve and his people have on board and take off. Good-bye Calm of the Seas and not a moment too soon.

  Earlier that day, Ricky had gone to take a bath and found the water only trickling from the faucet. It took thirty-five minutes to fill the tub half way. When he finally lowered himself into the tepid water, the lights had started flickering and gone out. Cursing, he yelled for one of the Hungarian sisters to bring a candle and his radio. He contacted Brother Cal and asked what the problem was. After checking, the pseudo engineer called back and told him that the generator, which powered deck ten where Ricky had his cabin, had died and they couldn't get it restarted.

  Ricky wondered how this would affect his plans but couldn't see how it would hamper the ambush. The action would be on decks seven and eight, not ten. Thinking about the numerous security cameras covering the ship, he wished they were working so he could watch his plan unfold. Up until a month ago, he used the surveillance system to keep tabs on his people and sate his voyeuristic tendencies. A power surge had blown the computer that controlled the imaging, and no matter what Brother Cal tried, he couldn't bring it back on line. Ricky briefly wondered if Randy could fix some of the malfunctioning systems aboard the ship, but sitting in the half empty tub reminded him that the water was running out.

  Screw it; it's time to move on, he decided. Randy could be put to better use building a new life for us in Cozumel than trying to keep this shit bucket afloat.

  Picking up his drink from the bar, Ricky glanced at his watch again, took another sip of his Black Russian and said to the empty lounge, “Come on, Seth.”

  ***

  Steve stood well past the landing of the grand staircase on deck eight as he looked at the upper decks of the Centrum. As they crossed the huge shopping area, he wanted it to appear like they were searching for someone, so they went through the motions of testing the doors of the shops in the Centrum while Steve called out for Brain. From below, he could hear Susan's voice calling out the man's name too. Mary and Sheila stayed mute so they didn't give away the fact that they weren't who they were supposed to be.

  When he reached a point halfway down the Centrum, Steve called Susan and asked where she was on deck seven.

  “I'm about three quarters done with the observation area,” she replied.

  “Slow down just a bit,” he told her. “You're getting close to the lounge. I don't want these guys popping off prematurely. If we can, I want to hit them at the exact same time.”

  “Roger that, over and out,” Susan said, the words making her feel like she was in an old war movie. Clipping the radio back onto her belt, she considered what she was about to do and hoped she wouldn't fail.

  Although she'd had some qualms about shooting a living person when she boarded the Dead Calm, those had passed when she saw how Ricky and his people ruled, yes, ruled, she thought vehemently, not worked for his people. It was like watching some despot
dictator getting his kicks by abusing his power and she had seen enough of this around the world to make her sick.

  Her entire life she had watched how men ruled the world. She abhorred the way most of them treated the people who were supposed to be under their care. Even in America, people were constantly being taken advantage of. To try and right the situation, she had joined protests against leaders who abused human rights. She had even gone on aid missions to Serbia and Darfur to help people displaced by civil war. But it seemed that, despite her efforts along with those of millions of others around the world, nothing ever got better. Men continued to commit war crimes and get away with it, their only punishment a strongly worded letter of condemnation from the United Nations. Peaceful protests were broken up by gunfire, dissidents were jailed or just disappeared, women were raped and abused daily by the millions, and no one gave a crap.

  Hefting the M-4 rifle in her hand, she said to herself, no more will I stand by and let that happen. As the thought completed itself in her mind, in that one micro second she realized that a single motivated person with a weapon could get results faster than a thousand peaceful protests. In the new world that had come about as a result of the HWNW virus, guns ruled.

  Excited yet scared by this thought, Susan hoped it would be people like Steve or Tick-Tock who came to power. Or even herself, she thought fleetingly. This was followed by a feeling of sadness for the world that had lost so much that it would never go back to the way it was. Ricky and his bunch were a microcosm of what's out there. People feeding off what's left of the old world or setting up their own little fiefdoms where they can pick up where they left off before the dead came to life.

  How will it end? She asked herself.

  At this, her thoughts turned to Cindy. She decided that the little girl was their best chance to bring stability back to the world. But even then, its fate would be back in the hands of men. Shaking off this depressing thought, Susan forced her mind to focus on what was before her. Susan gripped her automatic rifle tightly and decided that while she didn't know how things would end out there, she knew how they would end on the Dead Calm.