by Chanel Smith
Realizing that we had nothing else to do, I wrapped my arm around Ellen and we started back to our cabin, delighted to be able to use the elevator to reach the 9th deck instead of having to use the stairs. When the door opened on the 9th deck, we ran directly into Bernie and Jill Hill.
“There are my Brizzy mate and his sheila now,” Bernie bellowed. His smile broke and he frowned as he got a look at us. “You look like bloody hell, Monty!”
“It’s a long story, Bernie,” I replied.
“Well get yourselves straightened up and come tell us about it in the lounge, aye mate?”
“Sure,” I replied, knowing that we might not make it out of our suite until the next morning.
Chapter Twenty-five
Bridge of the RAN Melbourne, Friday morning
“What do you mean the Eucalyptus arrived on schedule in Auckland this morning?” Captain Ellington bellowed as he came onto the bridge.
“The report came from Rear Admiral Douglas himself, Captain,” Commander Samuels replied.
“Well, that’s bloody good news, XO, but how the hell?” the captain responded.
Samuels shrugged. He had no reasonable answer available. He’d asked the same questions of LC Coventry when he’d gotten the call and Coventry hadn’t had any answers either.
“LC, take the con,” Captain Ellington growled. “Link the admiral into the conference room. XO and I are going in there right now.”
“I’m glad they’re found, but none of this makes any sense, XO,” Captain Ellington said. No doubt he feared the ass chewing about his group’s incompetence which was surely coming from RA Douglas.
“I’m as gobsmacked as you are, Captain,” Samuels replied.
“Rear Admiral Douglas is linked,” the communications officer announced over the squawk box in the middle of the conference table. “We’re also linking in Captain Norris from the Eucalyptus momentarily.”
“Gentlemen,” RA Douglas voice came over the squawk box.
“Admiral,” they both acknowledged together.
“I just had a conference with Captain Norris. I can’t even begin to explain what he has told me, so I’m having him linked into our conference. Are you here yet, Captain Norris?”
“I am,” Norris’ voice responded.
“Captain Norris,” Ellington and Samuels called out their acknowledgment to him.
“I take it the Eucalyptus has disrupted your sleeping patterns over the past several days, Captain Ellington,” Captain Norris chuckled as he addressed his former comrade.
“You might have let me know you were going to present us with a search and rescue drill, Captain Norris,” Captain Ellington growled.
“I’m a lot more pleased with the fact that I got one over on you. It’s about bloody time, is all I have to say.”
“Gentlemen, can we postpone the pleasantries a moment,” RA Douglas cut in. “Captain Norris, please fill in Captain Ellington and Commander Samuels about what has transpired aboard the Eucalyptus since early Tuesday morning.”
Commander Samuels and Captain Ellington could do nothing more than stare at one another as Captain Norris told them what had taken place aboard the Eucalyptus. It was so bizarre that it made them both wonder if Norris had been hitting the sauce, but it wasn’t the kind of story that anyone could make up in such vivid detail. Though their rational minds refused to believe it, they were forced to accept what they’d been told, simply because they had no means of proving any of it false.
“You understand, gentlemen, that we can’t have this account become public knowledge,” RA Douglas said in a grave tone once Captain Norris completed his narration. “In fact, I’m not even going to tell this story to the PM. We have to come up with a plan to squash this version of the story and make certain that we have an official version that is more palatable. Do I make myself clear?”
“Aye, Admiral,” they all responded in unison.
“It’s going to be bloody ugly for you Commander Samuels, but you’re going to need to have to present the official version to the public at the press conference that I’ve arranged this afternoon.”
It was all that Commander Samuels could do to keep from swearing aloud. He sighed, however, glanced toward Captain Ellington and then replied, “Aye, Admiral.”
***
Aboard the Eucalyptus, Waitemata Harbour, Auckland, New Zealand, Friday mid-morning
“I can’t begin to tell you two how thankful I am for what you have done,” Captain Norris said. He looked directly at Ellen and grinned. “I don’t understand a bloody bit of it, but I accept the outcome with great pleasure.”
“I’m just glad that we were able to solve the problem,” Ellen responded humbly.
“Monty,” he said. “I sure thought you told one hell of a windy at dinner the other night and I didn’t believe a word of it before, but I bloody sure do now. What you do at this woman’s side is admirable and unless I miss my guess, we both learned a bloody difficult lesson from this.”
“We sure did, Captain,” I replied. “She’s been teaching me similar lessons for years. I’m afraid she’s not yet done with me.”
“The sheilas never are, mate,” he laughed. The deep, rich tone felt much better in his warm quarters. His expression turned serious. “I’d like to come up with a way to repay you, though I haven’t the slightest idea how.”
“I’m hoping to be able to see New Zealand and Australia just as we’d planned,” Ellen responded. “I hope we can join another cruise in the future.”
“You’ll continue on this cruise,” he chuckled. “In order to make things appear normal and not ruffle too many feathers, it has been decided not to cancel this one, though there was plenty of opposition to that decision.”
“That is repayment enough, then,” Ellen beamed.
“Not hardly,” Captain Norris said, leaning forward and frowning. His stern expression slowly transformed into a smile as an idea came to his mind. “How about this? How about I arrange for the two of you to have a lifetime free pass on any and all of Koala-Kiwi Cruise Lines vessels?”
“That would be extraordinary, Captain!” I gushed.
“It’s much too generous,” Ellen responded.
“Nonsense,” he growled. “It’s a bloody small token of what we owe you for saving the crew the ship and all of the innocent souls on board, not to mention Mr. Hillary.”
“How is Mr. Hillary?” Ellen asked. “We need to stop in and visit him before we go ashore, Mon.”
“He’s doing quite well,” Captain Norris responded. “If you’re going to visit him, however, you’ll have to go by his cabin. He’s no longer in the infirmary.”
“That is bloody good news, indeed!” I blurted, giving my Australian accent another go.
The reaction that I received from both Captain Norris and Ellen was enough to tell me that I still hadn’t gotten it quite right.
“You’re going ashore today, then?” Captain Norris asked after a moment.
“That’s our plan,” I answered.
“Well, how about you join me for dinner tonight? I know the best place in Auckland. You’ll love it!”
“That would be splendid,” Ellen replied. “That is, assuming that you’re not tired of being around us by this point.”
“I can’t think of any two persons that I’d rather be around. You’re extraordinary people.”
“Well then,” she said, glancing over at me, “we accept your invitation.”
“Very good!” Captain Norris responded, rising to his feet.
Taking that as our cue, Ellen and I stood as well.
“Just speak to Mr. Billings before you go ashore and he’ll make all of the arrangements.”
“We certainly will,” I replied, feeling his firm grip on my extended hand.
We walked out of the captain’s quarters, smiling broadly and thrilled to not only have the rest of the cruise to enjoy together, but also a lifetime pass to cruise anytime that we got the urge to take a break from the grind
.
“You know,” I teased, wrapping my arm around Ellen’s shoulders as we strolled down the corridor. “We could leave off going into Auckland today and spend it all in our suite.”
“Not hardly, Mr. Drew,” she responded. “I’m going to enjoy this trip.”
“Staying in with me all day isn’t enjoying this trip?” I asked with a hurt expression on my face.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “Join me in Auckland today and I’ll see if I can arrange to have the balcony lights stop working tonight.”
“I bloody love it!” I answered.
Epilogue
The Australian, Thursday Morning Edition
Headline: Australian and Kiwi Navies Explain Reappearance of Cruise Ship in Waitemata Harbour
The vessel called the Eucalyptus left port from Brisbane New Zealand at about 4:00 p.m. on Sunday. The Eucalyptus had 2,368 passengers and crew aboard (according to the manifest on file in Brisbane) and had embarked on a 15-day cruise from Brisbane to New Zealand before it vanished at sea. To everyone’s surprise, the Koala-Kiwi Cruiseliner was seen, on schedule, rounding Cape Reigna early this morning before sailing along the Jellicoe Channel and into Waitemata Harbour.
“The entire exercise was designed to help train the vessels and crews of the Anzac forces—joint operations of the RAN and RNZN—in responding to potential disasters of this kind,” Commander Arthur Samuels said.
When asked why it had been necessary to misinform the public about what had actually transpired, Commander Samuels explained. “Part of the exercise was to test our response to the concerns of the media and the public in as real of a situation as we could possibly provide. In order to do that, the entire scenario had to seem real to everyone. It is regrettable that we had to make use of misinformation to carry out that end, but justifiable in the higher level of skill with which our two navies will be able to respond to future crises.”
Commander Samuels took quite a beating from those assembled at the press conference as they questioned how the militaries of the two nations and even the prime minister could have been kept in the dark about what was going on in the North Tasman Sea.
“We have been severely reprimanded by the PM on this account entirely. The Royal Navy of the United Kingdom has also come down very hard upon our forces for this particular lapse in judgment as well. I can assure you, it will not happen in the same manner again,” Samuels said.
The joint forces of the Australian and New Zealand navies, typically referred to as Anzac-conducted searches, making use of air, surface and sonar assets in a search grid for the Eucalyptus from early Tuesday morning through yesterday evening as part of the training exercise.
Passengers and crew aboard the Eucalyptus were entirely unaware that any of the training operations were being conducted in their wake. The exercise had been focused on a particular point at which the vessel had allegedly disappeared from radar contact at midnight on Monday night/Tuesday morning. According to Samuels, the disappearance had appeared to be entirely legitimate to the crews of the Anzac vessels and “allowed us to test the capacity of a new radar cloaking device on board the Eucalyptus, which functioned to perfection.”
Owen Hume, noted paranormal investigator, weighed in as well, after having been made aware of the fact that the Eucalyptus had mysteriously reappeared and he’s not buying the official story of Anzac. “There are phenomena on the open seas that we do not understand and cannot be explained. It isn’t beyond the realm of possibility that these two governments are engaged in an enormous cover up.”
When asked what explanation he would give for the Eucalyptus reappearing on schedule and unharmed, he suggested that “the Eucalyptus likely continued sailing, unseen to the human eye or human instruments within an inter-dimensional vortex. Passengers and crew would never have been aware that they had even passed over to the other dimension because everything would have appeared the same to them.”
Regardless of which version of what really happened to the vanishing cruise ship, one thing is for sure: it has shaken things up in not only Australia and New Zealand, but has even invited an uncomfortable glare from Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, though no officials above Commander Samuels’ rank were willing to comment further on this ill-advised training exercise. It makes one wonder if there will be some naval officers performing some vanishing acts of their own.
The end.
Monty and Ellen return in:
Ghost Net
Coming soon!
Also available:
Zombie Party
by Chanel Smith
(read on for a sample)
Chapter One
Wheatville, C.A.
35°46′08″N, 119°14′49″W
I live in hell.
Okay, maybe not literally, but damn close. Even during springtime, there were days when the town of Wheatville felt like an armpit by anyone’s standards. A filthy, sweaty armpit. It was hot, smoggy and hellish—living and working here rendered people into cranky, mean rednecks. If the devil wanted front-row seats to the decline and fall of blue-collar humanity, this would be where he’d build his stadium.
That is, if he could handle the heat.
I doubted it.
The way I figured it, we were already miserable enough with the drugs, the drinking, the relentless heat, the damn flies, the dust, and the shit jobs. Did I mention the flies? Anyway, we sure as hell didn’t need the turning, too.
On this day, before Wheatville managed to make the valley squirm, I sat on the family’s John Deere 5E tractor. It was the small green one that had been specially manufactured to move bales of hay. It was a damn fine tractor, but only a bumpkin like me knew the difference between one tractor and another.
I hate my life.
As I sat high upon the 5E, wiping my brow and wishing for death, I stopped in the middle of the field to gawk at the glitter and the sparkle on the highway in the distance. So many commuters sped through town in shiny luxury cars that cost more than I would earn in two years—hell, in six years. I looked at them and wished I were anywhere but here.
But my Porsche-Beamer dreams didn’t last long. They couldn’t. The heat evaporated them. Rural realities kept me grounded, too. Nearby, within a copse of spindly trees lining the highway, my eyes caught the fluttering of sun-sprinkled black feathers. Starlings chirped up a storm as they gathered by the hundreds, competing with each other for shade in the heat of the day.
Good luck with that.
As for Wheatville, it was pretty much what anyone expected from glancing at it as they passed through. For most travelers, Wheatville was nothing more than just some random rest stop—all right, probably not as random as it once was. Nowadays, Wheatville narrowly beat out McFarland for the only drive-thru Starbucks north of Bakersfield. As for the residents, and what they thought of Wheatville, well, I guessed we considered our lives here an uncomfortable existence, one that happened to be a bit closer to the sun than say, Death Valley.
There was not much to do in Wheatville for fun, except have sex and drink alcohol. And yes, the foregone conclusion of these activities was increasing the population. But if those activities bored the living hell out of the residents, they were more than welcome to partake of the town’s emerging meth scene. In fact, the whole valley seemed to be having the same problem. For whatever reason, meth had hit Wheatville, my hometown, the hardest. The meth problem was also a popular escape because things tended to get very lonely around here. Especially for me and the rest of the stragglers who had failed to successfully launch ourselves after graduation.
Half the graduates from my high school had fled for either coast. Some had fled into the military, like my older brother, Tommy, who had gone into the Air Force. Anything to get away from working the dirt. He’d said it was either leave or die, but he didn’t want to saddle me for life with… this life. Farming. But I’d told him, “Leave, bro. Just go. Become a fly boy. I got this.”
Tommy was my hero and the badass who
had showed me how to wrestle, how to pound a beer, and how to treat a girl. But he’d also taught me that heroes sometimes lost sight of what had made them heroes in the first place. Now that he was gone, I saw it all the time when I looked to my peers instead of to my older brother. All around me in Wheatville were crumbling role models who chose personal gain over the sacredness of human relationships… blood or not.
The other half of the graduates who hadn’t fled Wheatville? Well, there’s my type. The type who felt compelled to stay because of obligations, or maybe the obligations were an excuse to stagnate in this lack of progression toward anything worthwhile. Hell, that would have taken some balls to risk everything by leaving the evil we knew.
Then, there were those who stuck around, not because they loved Wheatville, but because they loved the easy availability of meth. And why wouldn’t they? It was cheap, addictive and it took them away, albeit briefly, from this dusty sphincter of a town. The devil’s sphincter.
That the meth ate away at the brain like a parasitic worm was of little or no concern to many of my fellow Wheatvillians. To them, the hangers-on to the squalid familiarity of Wheatville, life was about living in the moment. Party hard, live fast, die young, and all that bullshit. Of course, many meth heads in Wheatville didn’t die young. They just lived with an addiction that rendered them nearly useless to society as it eventually turned them into desperate criminals and ruined their faces with telltale picking marks.
Methamphetamine was, of course, the cause of this small town mess. Hell, maybe it was the cause of most urban messes, too. But, in particular, this upcoming local mess could be traced back to some bad meth.
Some very, very bad meth.
Chapter Two