by Jon Schafer
Rejoicing at the prospect of coming out on top of the mess that had befallen him, and too arrogant to admit that he'd caused it, Ricky rushed to the front of the Crows Nest overlooking the pool area. He wanted to make sure his people were still there since he was long overdue to for his nightly sermon. Confidently thinking that the Faithful would rally around him once he got them worked up, this was replaced by; I am so screwed, as he looked down.
At the far end of the pool area were Steve, Heather, Randy and worst of all - Sheila.
***
With his M-4 held at port arms, Steve walked up to the startled man sitting in the DJ's booth. Stopping in front of him, he waved his rifle at the equipment stacked inside and asked, “You got a PA system hooked up to this?”
The man looked at him in shock and wonder, surprised to be suddenly confronted by this assault rifle-wielding stranger. Moving his mouth like a fish out of water, he only managed to make a slight squeaking noise.
Seeing this, Brain said, “I got it,” before going around the soundboard and gently easing the man from his chair. He sat down and scanned the controls in front of him before flipping a few switches.
Twenty feet away, a brief whine of feedback came through the amps mounted on both sides of a small stage set up for when the cruise directors hosted activities by the pool.
Steve told Brain, “Turn it down. Remember when we were at the rock climbing wall and it almost blew our eardrums out?”
Brain nodded and adjusted some dials. “You're all set,” he told Steve and then turned to the DJ and said in a low voice, “If you touch anything, I'll cut your fingers off and feed them to a Z while you watch.”
The man nodded vigorously at this and retreated from the soundboard until his back hit the rear wall of the booth. There had been rumors going around about people coming on board, but beyond that no one knew if they were friendly or hostile. After his first encounter with them, he decided they were hostile.
Steve climbed onto the stage and had a brief sense of déjà vu from when he had worked as a disc jockey and done his share of live shows. Standing in front of the microphone, a feeling of giddiness washed through him and he was overcome with the desire to grab the mic and say, 'And now, live and in concert, presented by KLAM Music Radio, BLUE-OYSTER-CULT, but lost this urge when he saw the faces of the Faithful looking at him with a mixture of fear, curiosity and hostility.
Tighten up, he told himself.
Speaking into the microphone, he said, “My name is Steve Wendell. My friends and I came aboard the Calm of the Seas a few days ago. We came in peace.”
Steve almost laughed at this. I come in Peace. I sound like an alien. But instead of ‘Take me to your leader’; it's going to be ‘Bring your leader to me so we can kill his ass’.
Steve cleared his throat and related to those gathered how they had come across Connie and Tim. He told briefly about how the two young people had to go into hiding because of Reverend Ricky. After telling them how Sheila had appeared, he related some of what she’d told them about the things Ricky was up to. How he preyed on the trust and fears of those around him while using the HWNW virus to keep them terrified. As he spoke, he noticed that the Faithful at least seemed to be paying attention. When he mentioned Sheila, he saw some of those in the front recognize her and point to where she stood nearby.
Then Steve hit the Faithful with the bombshells. Ricky had conned them. There was no rapture and the ship was sinking. He informed them that Ricky was the one who controlled where and when the dead were released on the ship and that he was preparing to abandon his people on the sinking ship. He tried to go on about how Ricky planned to kill them and steal their sailboat, but his words were met with open hostility as some of the Faithful tried to shout him down. Knowing this might happen; he waved Sheila on stage and turned the microphone over to her. She was his ace in the hole to get the Faithful to believe him. She had been one of them and had been with Ricky from the beginning.
The crowd grew silent as Sheila took the stage. This was someone they knew and could trust and the ‘boos’ and catcalls fell off. A few people even called out greetings to the redhead. This was until she started to talk.
Beginning with what she knew of Ricky's past, that he was nothing but a fast talking con-man who worked as a promoter, craved power and wanted nothing more than to wallow in sexual self-gratification, she laid out in detail how Ricky had conned them by using their fears and gullibility. She knew everything Ricky had been up to, like his pedophilia that many had turned a blind eye to, and she pulled no punches in talking about his other activities, including his having sex with some of the dead women locked up in the Sounds Lounge. By the time she finished vouching for Steve and telling the Faithful that everything he had said to them was the truth, the crowd was completely silent.
The Faithful were shocked at the revelation that they had been taken. Despite a few catcalls from the group, with so much evidence laid out in front of them they had no choice but to believe them. For quite a few, it blossomed into awareness with ease since hadn't this been what that little voice in the back of their minds had been telling them all along?
The Faithful now believed, but not in the rapture. Sad, embarrassed faces looked up at the stage as if to ask, how could this have happened? What did I do to deserve this?
Suddenly, the mood changed as a man’s voice called out sharply, “You were one of them, Sheila. You helped Ricky do this. If we got conned, you're one of the people who did it.”
The crowd turned angry at the accusation and hundreds of voices shouted out in agreement. Thankful at finding someone to vent their frustration and embarrassment on, as it was easier to blame somebody else than to believe themselves fools, in no time, heated voices were calling out, “Whore,” and “Kill Ricky's slut.”
Steve stood by patiently as he waited for the uproar to die down. Instead it grew louder. He looked at Sheila to find she had hung her head in shame, the microphone dangling loosely in her hand. He felt a moment of compassion for her. He turned back toward the Faithful and was about to tell them to shut the hell up when, to his amazement, he saw that the crowd had turned into a mob and were actually pushing toward the stage to get to Sheila. In their humiliation, they had found a target to take their frustration out on.
What in the hell is wrong with these people? Steve asked himself. Don't these morons realize they only have themselves to blame?
Anger replaced his confusion, and in a flash, he un-slung his M-4 and shouldered it as he saw from the corner of his eye Heather do the same. Brain pointed Steve's Glock at the nearest people in the crowd. Sheila had backed away as the mob started forward, the microphone still in her hand. In two steps Steve reached her and stripped it from her. Holding it up to his mouth, his words cut across the pool deck as he yelled out harshly, “Anyone who touches her dies. Back off! You fucking idiots brought this on yourselves. She's not to blame for your stupidity. You are.”
Hearing these words booming across the deck like the voice of God himself and seeing the weapons and the determination on the faces of the Steve and his crew, the crowd stopped with a jerk and started to back up. At the rear of the mass of people, a few of the Faithful broke and ran.
Steve thought, ain't no fun when the rabbit's got the gun.
He stepped protectively in front of Sheila, trying to reassure her by saying, “Don't worry, no one's going to touch one red, well currently blonde, hair on your head. If they do, they die.”
Until now, Sheila had been nothing more than a hanger on, almost a camp follower. Except for Mary, none of the group had much to do with her, nor wanted to. This had changed when she had walked into the casino and risked her life to help get Brain back.
Standing with his rifle pointed at the crowd, Steve realized that good, bad or indifferent, and despite her morals or lack thereof, Sheila was one of them now. She was part of their group and anyone who screwed with one of them would feel the wrath of them all.
“Calm d
own and shut up,” Steve ordered as the crowd backed up.
They began to comply and he lowered his rifle but kept it held at the ready as he started speaking into the microphone again, finishing his account of the events that had occurred since his group set foot on the Dead Calm. Just by looking at their faces as he spoke, Steve knew that the crowd was his and they would band together to search for Ricky. But when he reached the part about Ricky's Head Ushers being wiped out and that Ricky was hiding somewhere on the ship, he was surprised at the ferocity of the crowd as they screamed for the Reverend's head to be cut off and displayed on a spike.
Now you've got someone to really focus on, he thought.
Steve let them rage on for a few minutes. When they had quieted down to a dull roar, he started giving orders on how they should split up and search the ship for the Reverend Ricky Rose.
***
As soon as Ricky saw Steve take the stage, he knew his reign on the Calm of the Seas was over. Instead of crumpling to the floor like he had almost done earlier, a new resolve came over him as he spun from the window.
If it was over, then he had nothing left to lose.
With a purposeful stride, he walked to the elevators and pressed the call button, his irrational fear of someone waiting for him beyond the doors a thing of the past. He knew what he was up against now. Since the people from the sailboat seemed to have taken control, this meant his men were dead and it was just him against the world. But he’d grown stronger due to his near breakdown and could deal with that.
With everyone on the pool deck, Ricky had no problem making his way to deck eight and cutting across to the grand staircase. Huffing and puffing as he climbed, by the time he reached his cabin he was out of breath. Opening the door, he found the Hungarian sisters gone and felt a moment of mixed anger and relief. Anger that they were gone but relieved that he didn't have to drag them along with him. They might end up getting in the way of what he planned next.
With this resolved, Ricky made his way to the bridge.
As he approached the heavy security door, he noticed that it was slightly ajar and that the locking mechanism had been torn up by what looked like automatic weapons fire. At first it troubled him that he couldn't secure the door, but this worry went away when he realized that it wouldn’t matter anyway. He didn’t plan on staying for any length of time. He would be here just long enough to insure that the ship went down with its Captain.
Looking at the switches that controlled the watertight doors, Ricky hesitated as his mind flashed to the one person on the ship who could be an ally. One who could help make sure that no one escaped his final farewell to the Calm of the Seas.
Bringing the two-way radio to his mouth, Ricky pushed the transmit button and said in a firm, steady voice, “Tim, are you there? We need to talk about your father.”
***
As Steve jumped down off the stage, the jolt sent a shock of pain through his chest. Heather saw him wince and in a firm voice commanded, “That's it, buddy. You're through. You're benched. And if you try to fight me on this, I’m going to get some of the Faithful and have them carry you down to deck four and sit on you.”
“I'm fine,” Steve protested and smiled. “Besides, it looks like the Faithful are following me now, so they won't listen to a mere mortal such as yourself. I’m their new leader. All hail Reverend Steve, leader of the Church of Cosmic Reality.”
Heather smiled at the weak joke but it had a ring of truth to it. Steve had a charisma that seemed to make people want to do his bidding, the Faithful being no exception. They had gotten organized into groups of four under Steve's direction and were now filtering down to the lower decks in search of Ricky. Heather decided that if Steve asked them to storm the forward cabins and fight the dead bare handed, they would obey without question.
But that's them, Heather thought. There are two people on this ship that are completely immune to my man's charms. One is Mary and the other is me. And I’m done fooling around.
Giving Steve a twisted smile, she said, “Alright Reverend Steve. You want to play tough guy and keep running around until you really hurt yourself, then it's time for me to pull out the big guns. If you don't get down to deck four and get your ass into bed, then you're cut off. No more nookie, no more lovey-dovey, no more nothing.”
Steve deflated visibly at this and said dejectedly, “No more feather?”
“Separate beds,” Heather threatened.
Holding his hands up in surrender, he said, “Okay, you win. I’ll be good, I’ll go peacefully.”
“I thought you'd see it my way,” Heather said with a smirk.
Looking around at the pool deck where only a few of the Faithful still loitered, he nonetheless tried to stall by saying, “What about the lifeboats? We need to get everyone up to speed on how to pilot them.”
“But you won't be here to do it,” Heather shot him down. “Tick-Tock and I will take care of it.”
Steve looked at his second in command for help, urging him with his eyes to say they needed him.
Instead of coming to his aid, Tick-Tock said, “Go downstairs and lay down. Heather dropped the big one and it's over. Go peacefully.”
Steve opened his mouth to try and find another excuse, but just then, a sharp pain hit his solar plexus. Finally admitting defeat, he gave in. He knew he had to get some rest and let his body heal. Besides, everything is moving along smoothly now, he placated himself. They'd find Ricky, throw him to the sharks, evacuate the boat and sail off into the sunset. Ricky and his Ushers would be nothing more than a bad memory.
He decided to be satisfied with the successes of the day and give in - and besides that, the threat of getting cut off really hit home - he kissed Heather and turned to head for the stairs leading to the lower decks. Once he was out of sight, he planned on cutting over to deck seven to check on Mary and then going back to the Sombrero to collect the weapons left by the Head Ushers. He might be slightly incapacitated but he could still do his part as he went to convalesce.
Before he could make it two steps, he heard Heather call to Brain, “You and Sheila go with him and make sure he heads straight for deck four. No detours. If I find out that you let him make any side trips, I’ll talk to Connie about cutting you off from any more kissy-huggy.”
Brain opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't the one who was causing all the trouble when Tick-Tock cut him off by saying, “Don't argue, Brain. Chicks do that kind of thing for each other. She's not bluffing.”
“Whose side are you on?” Brain asked accusingly.
“My own, now unless you want to spend your foreseeable future alone, I suggest you do like you're told.”
Brain took his advice and with Steve and Sheila in tow left to go below.
Once they were gone, Heather turned to Tick-Tock and said, “Now let's go find Ricky. I’ll check deck ten again and you work on nine.”
Despite Heather's threat, Steve managed to convince Brain to stop off at deck seven so he could look in on Mary. He knew that Heather had nothing to coerce Sheila with since Mary would disregard anything she was told to do especially when it came to when she had sex. And besides that, after Steve saved Sheila's ass on the stage, she owed him one anyway. He wasn't concerned with her ratting him out. Knowing they would be at the aid station for a few minutes, Steve sent Brain to collect the weapons left in the Sombrero Lounge.
At least I got a few things done, he consoled himself.
After the tech was gone, Sheila stopped before he entered the aid station and said to him, “Thank you for standing up for me with the crowd. For a second there, I thought they were going to come after me.”
Steve gave her a strange smile and replied, “No problem. We stick up for our own.”
Sheila turned to go but was stopped when Steve said in a low voice, “By the way, now that you're part of the group, one thing you need to keep in mind is that if you ever put any of our lives in jeopardy, you'll wish I had let that mob tear you apart compared t
o what I’ll do to you.”
Without another word, he entered the aid station.
Shocked and angry at the threat, but then remembering what Steve had done to Brother Seth and the offhand way he had killed him, Sheila made a mental note to never cross Steve.
Looking at Mary as she slept on one of the padded examination tables, Steve tried to determine how bad the wound was. Around the bandages, all he could see was that her cropped hair had been cut even further away to dress her wounds. Susan joined him and said quietly, “She's in pretty good shape considering how many splinters I pulled out of her. I gave her some Ibuprofen for the pain and Sheila gave her a Valium.”
Sheila entered. Seeing her, Steve moved away from Mary's side to the far corner of the room where he beckoned for both of them to join him. In a whispered voice, he said, “Sheila, you stay with Mary. Don't give her anything besides some Advil when she wakes up. She might have a concussion. Watch her for vomiting.”
To Susan, he said, “You go below with me. I'm going to need you to check on Connie and the kids and then come back and watch the stairs.”
Steve then explained everything that had happened up on the pool deck so she would be up to date. He didn't think Ricky would try to make a grab for the sailboat now that everyone was turned against him, but anything was possible. He told her to keep a sharp look out. If Ricky did show up, he told Susan he would be in the Captain’s Clothes Store and would have his radio on.
When he was done briefing her, she insisted on examining his wounds. After he removed his shirt, she gently prodded the areas where he had been shot and told him that, to the best of her knowledge, nothing seemed to be broken. His ribs were bruised, but that was to be expected after taking two bullets at close range. Both discolored spots where the bullets had hit were about the size of a silver dollar and had turned black at their center. This color flowed to a dark purple and then to yellow.
As Steve was putting his shirt back on, Brain entered to let him know he had retrieved the dead Ushers’ weapons. With everything seemingly under control and nothing else to keep them, they headed to the grand staircase. On the way down to deck four, he checked in with Heather and Tick-Tock to see if they had found Ricky. He assured her he was calling from deck four when she asked suspiciously where he was, and she told there was no news on Ricky. She promised to call and let him know the minute he was spotted. Then she told him to stay where he was. If she caught him out of bed, he knew the consequences.