by B. C. Tweedt
They zipped into an expansive kitchen that was plunged into darkness. Counters and carts filled the middle, but rows and rows of ovens and mixers and other appliances surrounded the edges. Amongst the electric hums filling the room, one small person sat on a counter with his back to them, silhouetted by the light from an open refrigerator. His hands reached down to the platters in front of him, grabbing at the food and carrying it to his face. Wild hair bounced around his scalp as he chewed.
When the door closed behind Sydney, the person sat up rigid and turned slowly, a piece of cheesecake halfway in his mouth.
“Sammy?” Nick asked, his heart pounding up to his throat.
“Ugh?” Sammy asked, mouth full enough to overflow with each attempt at words. “Udda uh unt?”
Sydney shook her head in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“Eh-eh. Ooo?”
“We’re being chased! We got to - ”
“Oh!” Sammy spat out the half-finished cheesecake into one hand and patted a spot next to him on the counter with the other. “In that case. Jooooooin meeee.”
Nick glanced back at the door, his heart still racing – imagining the men giving chase through the corridor. “No. Umm…we got to go.”
Sammy waved his head back and forth. “Fine. More food for me.”
The two gave the boy a confused look.
“Quick!” Sydney commanded. “Is there another way out of here, Sammy?”
He put the half-finished blob of cheesecake back in his mouth and pointed toward another door on the opposite side. “Ub-bye!”
Just as Nick and Sydney escaped through the opposite door, two men burst through the other door. One limped and gritted his teeth, still cursing the ball bearings under his breath.
“Were you just running from us, kid?” they asked Sammy.
Sammy spat out his cheesecake again. “No, you’re not.”
The men looked at each other in confusion. “What? We’re not what?”
“You’re not that stupid. Do I look like I’ve been running…ever? Or maybe you are that stupid.”
The man in front shrugged again, eyeing the kid’s pot belly. “Have you seen anybody else come through here?”
“I heard someone run past.” He pointed at the door they’d come through and then slammed the cheesecake back in his mouth. The men, getting nowhere, bolted out the way they had come.
Sydney slowly withdrew her eye from the kitchen window. “They’re gone. What now?”
Doubled over and still catching his breath, Nick gave her a thumbs up. “Now…we go to bed…and wake up…alive.” He stood up, panting. “And then we go about our business….”
“But you heard them…”
“…until we find out how to steal one of those watches. And we got to do it before we reach Nassau.” He looked at his own watch and did the math in his head. We have 80 hours.”
Chapter 30
48 hours later…
With a satisfied smile on his face, Greyson wiped the last dried blood off of the bolt-arrow using the flickering light from the dying fire. After a successful hunt and a cooked meal, his stomach was full, really full, for the first time in a long while, and he couldn’t help smiling. The fire had been worth the risk. Added to his list of favorite foods, right along bacon and Dr. Pepper, was cooked rabbit and crabapple mash.
Ever since the creamed corn trap had worked two mornings ago, he had been desperately hungry. Kit had stirred awake first at the sound of the rabbit’s squeal, but the deadfall hadn’t been heavy enough. It had been more of a paralysis-fall. He had felt sorry for the little bunny, but Kit had put it out of its misery in quick fashion. Greyson had then spent the next hour skinning and deboning the thing for Kit to eat raw, too afraid to start a fire.
Greyson rose from his log-seat and walked to his practice tree, where his other bolt arrow stuck halfway inside the trunk. He tied the bag of crabapples tight and hung it on the bolt to keep the night critters away. Raw, the things tasted like stale grapefruit. But the fire had done wonders on them as well.
Putting out the fire and surveying the darkness one more time, he crawled into his crude shelter, curled into his blanket, and turned on his flashlight to scout his route on the map. When he saw their progress, he let out a frustrated sigh. If he calculated their current location correctly, they would come across a town in the morning called Meyer’s Crossing. And if that were true, they had only traveled 18 miles in three days.
On one hand he knew he should be thankful for the miles he had gone. On the other hand, at this pace, it would take weeks to get to Florida.
He had to do something different. Maybe he’d cut toward the coast and hope to find a ship to the Bahamas from there. Or maybe he’d ask someone where the nearest trains heading south were. Or, he thought, he could try to make money in Meyer’s Crossing tomorrow – enough for a taxi to get out of the mountains, and maybe even around Atlanta.
Still undecided and frustrated with the uncertainty, he put the map away and switched to his nighttime reading. The last two nights he had stayed up late reading Luke by flashlight, almost until his eyelids couldn’t stay open any longer.
Most of the time he loved what Jesus said. He even drew a star by a few verses he especially liked. One said, “Don’t be afraid of those who kill the body and after that can do no more, rather fear him who after the killing of the body, has power to throw you into hell.”
Greyson loved that thought. Don’t fear those who kill the body. It meant he shouldn’t fear the terrorists, because even if they did kill him, they’d just be killing his body. So he must be more than a body. He was a soul. He thought that was cool. And it comforted him to think that his mother and Liam were still out there. It had only been their bodies that had died.
But that also scared him. What did God do with their souls? What will he do with mine? Does he throw them into hell or heaven – or just destroy them or something? Greyson didn’t like thinking about that. But he knew what God should do with the terrorists’ souls. If they even had them.
On top of certain verses, he was rarely bored with the stories and already had plans to reread them. But for now, though, he just wanted to to see what happened in the end; so he read faster and faster, chapter after chapter.
Soon, though, his eyes grew weary and his flashlight flickered off, leaving the text unreadable. The flashlight was running out of juice, so he shook it until it shone again. Quickening his pace, he read on.
He read of a short man named Zacchaeus and sped through a summary to Kit. “This guy named Zacchaeus – let’s call him Zach – is so short he has to climb a tree to see Jesus over the crowd. Jesus sees him and then invites himself over to Zach’s house; but the crowd complains that Zach is a sinner.”
There was that sinner word again. And poor Zach. Everyone knew he was a sinner. At least there aren’t as many people who know how much I’ve sinned. The flashlight flickered and once again he had to shake it back on. In the flickers he caught the last exchange between Jesus and Zach.
“Zach yells, ‘Look, Lord! Here and now I give half my wealth to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.’”
Greyson glanced at Kit. Four times? Kit cocked his head. Greyson mimicked him with his own confusion. “Anyway, Jesus says, ‘Today, salvation has come to his house, for the Son of Man came…’”
The flashlight blinked its last. Giving a frustrated sigh, Greyson rolled his eyes and tried to fight back his anger. Suddenly he slammed the tiny book as hard as he could and turned over on his back, staring into the night sky through a gap in his shelter’s roof.
Four times as much.
“That’s stupid, Kit. There’s no way! How am I supposed to pay back four times as much as I’ve taken? How am I supposed to repay Liam’s family for letting him die? It’s not possible.”
Kit nuzzled closer into his armpit like he wanted a hug, so Greyson massaged his ears, grateful for the distr
action. For several minutes he fought both his hopelessness and his tiredness. He didn’t want to sleep; he knew the nightmares would come back. But he didn’t want to stay awake with his frustration either.
Turning onto his side, he put his arm around Kit and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the night and making his decision. Zach had earned enough money to pay off his sins. The least I can do is make enough money to get a cab.
Chapter 31
24 hours until Nassau
Sydney woke up slowly, her eyes fluttering and adjusting to the sun coming in from the sliding glass doors. After nuzzling her face on the cool side of the pillow, she stretched, curling her toes around the silky sheets. The bed was too comfortable to leave easily, but the sunrise was calling her.
Careful not to wake her parents in the bed next to her, she made her way to the balcony and lay in the deck chair with a towel as her pillow. The ocean greeted her with brilliant, cascading sunlight glistening off its waves.
It was the perfect setting to read Sam’s next note. She unfolded it and read it with a smile.
Hi. I hope this note finds you enjoying the American Spirit and the sun. Don’t suntan too much and get Melanoma. I think you’re pretty just the shade you are. Me, I’m half Asian, so I don’t know whether to try to tan or try to be white. You can tell me what I should do when I see you next. PS – My mole’s not cancerous in case you were wondering. Just looks like it.
“Morning.”
Sydney jolted. She hadn’t heard Nick open the door from the adjacent balcony.
He yawned and sleepily sauntered to his own deck chair.
“Morning,” she replied, yawning and hiding the note in her shorts. “Mind if we skip the fitness center this morning?” They had worked out together the past two mornings – though the morning after their adventure in the bowels of the ship hadn’t been very productive. They’d been so paranoid, they’d spent most of the time looking over their shoulders rather than working out.
Besides working out, it had been a long and eventful two days. They had made port in Key West, Florida, where Jarryd had shown off his waverunner prowess and Sydney had fallen asleep on the beach. When not at port, they’d tried all the ship had to offer, even the zip-line.
But beyond all the fun, Sydney and Nick had been scouting the men with smart watches, readying the next phase of their plan. They’d documented nearly a dozen already – all employees. Again, they caught two of them receiving some sort of message on their watches at the exact same time. And as Nick had feared, all of them had the Pluribus mark.
Nick scanned the horizon through his red-framed glasses.
For the first time, Sydney realized how much more attractive he was than Jarryd, without the pudge on his cheekbones, and with leaner arms. The way the breeze blew through his short hair, glowing a bright yellow in the sun’s rays, made Sydney imagine him as an actor in some seafarer movie.
“Let’s go down,” he said. “We’ll go easy on the legs. Just in case we need them in top shape tonight.”
“Getting one of those watches better be worth it.”
“We need a watch. You heard them. They’re up to something.” He descended into thought, staring at the deck below his feet. “It doesn’t make sense, though. Why would we want to sink a ship? How does that help the cause?”
Staring at him, Sydney cocked her head. Finally, she gave him a scoff so that he would notice her staring. When he looked, she raised her eyebrows. “We? You said ‘we’.”
Caught, Nick shook it off. “Sorry. Whatever. I didn’t mean it.”
“Sure you didn’t. But you’re right. It doesn’t make sense. Why kill a bunch of innocent people? But that’s terrorists. They don’t make sense.”
“Oh, come on,” Nick said, frustrated. “Lumping all terrorists together is what the government does. Anyone who is willing to stand up to tyranny is…” he stopped himself and let out a sigh. After a breather he started again, more in control. “It could be nothing. They could have been talking about life vests preventing people from going down with the ship.”
He leaned his elbows on his knees, making gestures with his hands but staring straight ahead as if speaking to a camera. “But if it is something, we know how they work. They’ll have security on their side. If we report to them, they kill us. Plus, they’re probably listening to every method of communication on this ship. If we try warning someone on the outside, they kill us. We tell our parents – our parents tell someone else – the Plurbs kill us and them.”
Sydney nodded along, agreeing with everything he said. “So…we steal the watch, get more evidence, and…stop them ourselves.”
Nick finally turned to her. “Yeah. At least until we get to Nassau tomorrow. Then we can find a way to get the word out without them knowing.”
“Sounds good.” Sydney started to lean her head back to relax, but stopped short with a thought. “But, about tonight. I want to scout a few more people. I’m just not sure…there’s gotta be an easier way. It’s too hard to get to the workers’ rooms. And I don’t want to go that deep into the ship again.”
“We can try,” he said finally. “But the only time we’re able to get their watches without them noticing is when they take them off. Employees don’t swim, so…”
“Showers, I know. But maybe…I don’t know.”
“It’s the only way.”
“And why Jarryd?”
“I think I’m made to be the one behind the scenes,” he said, remembering the fear he’d felt in the ship’s belly. “And he’s sneakier. One time he snuck into our parent’s room – before the divorce – and wiped chocolate on our Dad’s underwear,” his eyes sparkled as he tried to contain his smile. “He actually didn’t notice, but Mom did when doing laundry!” He laughed under his breath. “She thought he had some digestion issues – wanted him to go to the doctor!”
Sydney laughed politely, shaking her head. Together they let the sound of the waves gradually replace the silence. Nick’s smile faded with the memory.
Debating whether or not to ask, Sydney finally blurted, “What do you think of him and Avery?”
After a pause, Nick shrugged. “They seem happy together. They got up early for a spa treatment.”
“Together?”
“Yeah.”
“Your parents were okay with that?”
“Yup. Well, at least my stepdad was. And that’s who he asked.”
“He’s not going to tell Avery about tonight, is he?”
“He promised not to.”
She sighed. “You should have dared him not to.”
-----------------
Jarryd groaned with pleasure. The masseuse’s hands were like angel hands. “Angel hands made of pure warmth,” he said, nearly drooling as the masseuse pushed at the muscles on his back. “You’re like the Greek goddess of massage – Massage-a-phone or something.”
Avery laughed through her squished cheeks at the table next to him where another masseuse gave tiny karate chops to the sides of her spine. “This is awe-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-some,” she moaned with the chops.
“Can you get my calves next, please?” Jarryd asked the masseuse. She nodded, put a warm towel over his back, and lathered oil on his calves. “Ah, yeah. That’s the stuff.”
“I still like y’ah calves,” Avery said, catching a glimpse of them being oiled.
“I still like your face.”
“I like y’ah mum’s face.”
His squished face smiled. “You Aussies are like boomerangs. You always have a comeback.”
She laughed.
“Just so you know,” Sammy said from his massage table. “Both your faces suck. Straws.”
Avery and Jarryd rolled their eyes. They’d almost forgotten that he was there. His presence was the one condition her parents had set for the spa privilege.
“Thank you, Ross,” Jarryd muttered with sarcasm. “Now, be quiet or I’ll massage your brain, with my fist.”
“To massage
my brain, you’d have to get through my skull first. But nothing gets through my skull – rocks, the street, walls, a football, a tack hammer. So good luck.”
Avery laughed, defusing Jarryd’s anger with her smile. He soon laughed, too, until the masseuse made her way to his calves with a rolling rubdown. He groaned in delight
“This…should never end.”
But it did. Just in time for the mud bath. Fully immersed in the mud with their swimsuits, they sat in separate tubs with mud caked on their faces and cucumbers over their eyes. Incense candles burned around them and oils were dripped into the bath for aromatherapy. The mixture was pungent, but heavenly.
“What do we didgeri-do now?” he asked with a muddy smirk.
“Just relax,” Avery whispered. “Let it take away the toxins or whatev’ah.”
Jarryd started reaching around the edge of the tub, blindly. His fingers could barely reach the ground. “Where is…?” His fingers found the can of Dr. Pepper. “There it is. Come to papa.”
“You’re supposed to be gettin’ rid of toxins,” she noted.
“Dr. Pepper knows what’s good for me. And listen. She speaks to me.” He opened the can. PSSSSST. “Hear that? Every time I open her she says, ‘Pssst. I love you.’”
Avery laughed, trying to imagine his face though she couldn’t see him through her cucumbers.
“Then we open mouth kiss and I feel all bubbly inside.”
She laughed again, listening to him gulp the fizzy drink. “You two take it easy ov’ah the’ah.”
“Ahhh!” He set the can back down. “She’s good for a few swigs, but I’d spend time with you over her any day. Kangaryou go to the sauna with me after this?” he asked with a muddy smirk.
“Sure thing. Get ‘ahr sweat on?”
“Or off. So, we’ll sauna it up, dingo to the buffet after.”
“Sounds good.”
“Then we can go outback to the water park.”
“How about we sunbake first?”
“Sure! That’s what I aboriginally wanted to do.”
“I’ll need to check in with my oldies around noon for lunch.”