by Trimboli, TJ
Left.
Right.
Left.
Up.
Right.
The ship rattled exponentially shaking the vent as if she was driving over a rumble strip. She remembered they were used to alert drivers of oncoming danger, who drifted too far from their lane. She don’t know why she suddenly remembered the crucial aspects of sleeper lines but in her mind it felt prudent.
She waited till the rumbling ceased before continuing on. She crawled on her hands and knees towards an UP vent that would take her towards the bridge. She needed to beat Kendra there, and make sure no one got through that door even if it meant giving up her life in the process. She always rationalized to herself that she would lay down her life for others if need be. She never had a chance to while on the force and somewhere deep in the back of her mind. She always thought her line of thinking to be bullshit. She never thought she could go through with it but here she was ready to sacrifice her life so others could live—the last humans on the planet.
Every single one of them should be willing to do the same thing for the other. If not, then did they really deserve to live while the rest of the world perished?
The thought burned out of her mind as she placed her hand down on the boiling hot vent. It felt like putting one’s hand in an oven pre heated to four hundred and seventy five degrees. She blew on her hand seeing the boils and blisters already forming. She looked more closely at the vent and could faintly make out the stream rising off of it.
Peering towards the UP vent, she could see it was about a hundred feet away. She guessed, just barely able to make it out. Light crept in from the edges and slits in the vents giving off some semblance of illumination but for the most part, she was taking an educated guess.
She looked back to the junction fifty or so feet back. She didn’t want to double back and find another way through but the universe had her by the throat and there was nothing she could do. If she moved as fast as she could to the UP vent the heat on the vents would ruin her hands.
I would be defenseless.
A bright orange flicker of light erupted in the Up vent. It made a whooshing sound as it barreled through the vent.
Bobbi peered towards it, listening intently. Whatever it was, it seemed to be coming fast. Pools of sweat accumulated on her brow dripping intensely off her face onto the vent below evaporating as soon as they hit the metal frame. She could feel the vent below her now heating up as well.
This isn’t good.
She slowly backed up keeping her eyes on the orange ball of light that grew bigger and bigger. It roared to life as an explosion of fire reared its ugly head careening straight towards her like a freight train from hell.
Her eyes widened as she raced back like a baby crawling on all fours to escape bath time. The junction had a DOWN vent she aimed for. The fire encompassed every square inch of the vent as it tore through. It had the speed of a 747. She crawled as fast as she could, feeling the heat on her legs. The junction only a few strides away but the fire was gaining fast. She glanced back quickly to see the flames nipping at her heels.
Seven feet.
Six feet.
Five feet.
Jumping forward, she slid face first down the shaft. Her pant leg combusted burning her calve. She hit her leg against the vent trying her best to douse the flames. She peered up to see the flames split up, barreling down on each section of the junction, including hers. The fire would not quit until it feasted on her flesh, charring it to a blackened crisp.
Light glared into her eyes as she flew towards the vent access point. She fell head first busting it open with her forehead, free falling the seven feet to the hallway floor. She flipped forward as she fell, landing square on her back. She rolled out of the way just in time as the fire exploded out of the vent like a dragon roasting its dinner.
In the blink of an eye, the fire receded back from the depths it came vanishing into thin air like it never happened.
Bobbi leaned towards her leg stomping the embers out with her hand. She peeled at the fabric of the jeans but it grafted with her skin creating an entirely new skin color—blue jeans.
Steam rose off her leg, and she could smell the charred flesh of her skin. It nauseated her.
Is this ever going to end!
That’s when she heard it. It sounded faint and she almost wrote it off to be a figment of her imagination when she heard it again, louder and clearer.
Someone was begging.
Crying.
Pleading.
She couldn’t make out the words but she knew torment when she heard it. It was in their inflection, the stifling of words uttered as one tries to talk through the sniffling of their nose and the lump in their throat. She forced herself up limping towards the whimpering.
It came from the one room in the hall whose lights were still off. Someone didn’t want anyone to know what was going on but they didn’t account for the tears. As she got closer, the cries become comprehensible.
“No. Stop. I should have killed you from the start, you son of a bitch. Let me go. Owe. Stop.
Stop it. Don’t. You can’t do this!” the voice wailed. It was a woman.
Bobbi could hear a bed gently rocking, creaking with every amount of pressure pushed upon it. A lump formed in her heart kicking her into high gear. She practically jumped on her one leg towards the door.
Kicking the door open, the light from the hallway illuminated the horrors awaiting her within.
A large man stood with his back to her, pants down, ass exposed. On both sides of him were a set of legs. He either paid no attention to the light that magically painted the room white or had no idea it even happened.
The woman squirmed, punched, and kicked with all her might but the man was too strong to over power. She came into view and Bobbi stood shocked to see Kendra staring back at her, eyes full of tears, raw and puffy, pleading with her, woman to woman, to put a stop to this. Thousands of emotions ran through Bobbi’s body. Pain, sorrow, anger, guilt. This woman who’d caused so much wanton destruction and death. One who backstabbed and lied her way to the top, damning everyone in her path.
She turned leaving Kendra to her fate. She got no further than the hallway when her mother approached. Before she could utter a word, her mom strolled passed her.
“Bobbi Shaw you stop that laughing right now.” Her mother barked.
A few feet in front of Bobbi stood a younger version of herself doe-eyed and full of vigor. The little girl she once was, was standing over a boy who had fallen on his bike scrapping his shin. Her mother strode over to her kneeling down beside her.
“That’s not anyway for someone to react, especially my daughter. We help people in need sweetheart, no matter the cost. It’s what makes us, us. Empathy. Humility. Humanity. Without these, you are nothing and are no better than the people who have wronged us.”
Her hand was on her hatchet before she even knew she made up her mind. She turned back for the room. Kendra had done unspeakable, heinous things and nothing could ever change that but that was something she had to live with but she knew in her heart there was nothing in this world you could do or say that would warrant you to be physically assaulted. No one, man or woman, no matter how evil, deserves to be raped.
I choose humanity.
Bobbi limped up to the man setting her hatchet against the right side of his throat. His rhythmic humping ceased. “Listen to me very carefully. Pull your dick out this instant, and step away from the woman with your hands up. You will take three steps backward. If you move even a pinky finger out of place, I will open your throat and not think twice about it. Do you understand?” Bobbi said emphatically.
His hands raised to his shoulders, and as he pulled himself out of Kendra, he turned to face her.
Bobbi practically dropped the hatchet in agony.
Trent stared back at her, only it wasn’t Trent anymore. The Trent she knew wouldn’t rape a human being. This wasn’t her husband. This man’s ha
ir had greyed and became splotchy in area’s as if he spent nights pulling pieces out with his bare hands. Bags permanently resided under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His eyes, manic, widened, blinking vigorously. There was no recollection in his eyes of her. He stared at her blankly like she was just another stranger passing his way on a busy street, or subway station.
He took a step towards her.
Bobbi raised the hatchet. “Trent. Don’t come any closer. Just stop. Stop moving!” she shouted.
He just crept towards her, no longer Trent. All that seemed to be left was the fire of destruction in his eyes. He pounced at her, hand on throat, lifting her up against the wall. With his free hand, he grabbed her wrist doubling it over, wresting the hatchet free. She tried to wiggle free but he was too strong. At the moment, all pent up with rage, his hands felt like King Kong’s.
He squeezed and her face turned blue, her lungs shutting down.
Now Bobbi hung on the verge of incapacitation.
Kendra leapt from the bed onto Trent’s back wrapping her small little bird arms around his throat. She pulled back tearing Trent away.
He let go of Bobbi dropping her to the ground. She gasped for breath searching for her hatchet.
It rolled its way under the bed. Scooping it up, she arched back, tucking in her elbow swinging over head towards Trent’s face. He dodged the blow, landing a powerful right fist to her cheek. She felt her jaw explode with pain, swelling up instantly. She staggered, another punch like that would knock her out for the count.
Trent flung his arms back in an attempt to fling Kendra off of him. She held on for dear life choking the shit out of him. His face turned blue, and his erratic movements slowed.
Bobbi raced in again, slashing at Trent’s left, and right in a fury of cuts.
Trent managed to block and dodge each one. He flung his head back connecting with Kendra’s forehead splitting it open and knocking her out cold.
Bobbi charged at him throwing a punch with her left hand. He caught it but she swung upwards with her free hand digging the hatchet into Trent’s ribs. He screamed grabbing Bobbi by the head, tossing her across the room. She rolled over the bed colliding with the tiny wooden dresser next to it. It crumbled from the force of her body.
Trent bent down, grabbing Kendra by her head. Flipping her over his shoulder, he threw her into the glass mirror next to the bathroom that rested on top of the makeup counter. The mirror shattered into a dozen tiny sharp weapons each piercing, and shredding Kendra’s skin open. She collapsed onto the dresser, blood flowing from her body off the side of the dresser, turning it into a morose, macabre version of Niagara Falls. Kendra’s eyes stared at Bobbi momentarily before life seeped out of them indefinitely.
Bobbi screamed her voice full of rage and anguish. Instinctively, she pulled her revolver unloading every chamber at Trent’s body. However, each chamber was empty, and had been ever since Trent wasted that last bullet, a bullet she could have used right now.
This irony seared through her hippocampus.
Using the bed as leverage, she jumped towards him.
He was briefly distracted by the hatchet in his gut.
She leveled him with a right hook connecting with his jaw perfectly breaking it. He fell back. As she landed, she grabbed hold of the hatchet ripping it from his flesh. He grabbed at his gut crying out in pain. Bobbi wasted no momentum flinging herself back at him. She swiped at his throat but he evaded it by side stepping to her right. Using his weight to his advantage, he shouldered tackled her as she came down next to him. She flew up into the air tearing clean through the bathroom door.
The bathroom was barely big enough to fit one person but Trent tore his way in anyway. He swung fist after fist her way. She dodged his right hook, and it connected with the wall breaking clean through it. She took the moment of defenselessness unloading on the wound at his side with punch after punch. He grabbed her with his free arm shoving her into the glass sliding door of the shower. She tore through it as if it were tissue paper.
Trent tore his hand free from the wall turning back to face her. Through the blood, and swelling on her face she could barely make out anything anymore. Trent just looked like a big blob in a sea of big blobs.
The only difference was this blob was trying to kill her.
She charged at him ducking low, digging her shoulder into his wound.
He stifled a cry as his back collided with the sink. It buckled under his weight breaking free from its wall placement. Water sprayed out from the pipes spraying her in the face. It felt invigorating. The sink broke clean in two of the floor.
Trent grabbed her by the waist flinging her out of the bathroom into the closet directly beside it. The wood splintered and she fell into the cubbies. She heard a pop in her right shoulder as she landed, a torrid burst of pain blistering down her arm. She knew it’d just popped out of the socket. The longer this fight went on, the better his advantage was. She had to end this now. She scanned the room to find her hatchet but it was nowhere to be found. She looked to find anything else to use.
Trent regained his composure in the bathroom. He stalked towards her, and that’s when she saw the broken sink at his feet.
He came at her and she kicked at his face ferociously channeling her inner Bruce Lee. He ducked one of the kicks grabbing her by her leg and thigh. He spun her backwards flipping her over him, back first, landing her on her spine on the bathroom floor.
The wind knocked out of her, all she could do was sit gasping for breath.
None came.
Trent fell upon her pinning his gut against the under carriage of her breasts cutting off the supply to her lungs. He wrapped both hands around her throat. His eyes burned with the intensity of a thousand serial killers.
Kendra was right. He was rabid.
A smile burrowed across his face.
“Do you see Noah? I told you I would get you. No one is invincible and nothing can keep me from my wife,” he vowed vehemently.
She had no time to process what he was talking about or who Noah was because life was quickly slipping away from her. She reached with all her might towards the sink. It was just beyond her grasp. Her fingertips touched the edge of it but she couldn’t get a firm handle on it.
Consciousness slipped in and out. She could practically feel her loved ones on the other side beckoning her to them.
I’m sorry but I can’t. Not yet.
She slid her left hand free from Trent’s gut, digging her fingers directly into the wound.
He screamed bloody murder while releasing her throat.
She rolled over grabbing the sink with both hands leveling it towards Trent’s head. It connected right on the temple.
Trent immediately went loopy, the manic fire behind his eyes disappearing. He fell back staring at her like a catatonic. The lights were on but nobody was home. She leapt at him hitting him again. He doubled over onto his back as she fell on top of him. Mounting him, she slammed the sink down on his face over and over again, each time more forceful than the last until there was nothing left of his face to identify.
When it was all said and done, she burst in tears dropping the once pristine white porcelain sink, now dark and bloody with bits of brain stuck to it aside. She rolled off of him sliding her back up against the wall. The adrenaline wore down basking every ounce of her being in pain and agony. Her heart swelled at the realization of how she’d just murdered her husband. Then agony and anger rose in her of what he became…but mostly, the pain of knowing if it weren’t for Richard’s backstabbing, Trent would have been off this ship and away from this hell hole and his mind wouldn’t have failed him—or maybe it still would have? She would never know now.
The pain became so intense, and the heartache grew so quickly it overwhelmed her and she slipped into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
BOBBI
A foghorn sang the sound of its people coursing its way through the pool doors, down the nine fli
ghts of stairs, through the corridor, into each individual state room, and ending at Bobbi’s ears. She jerked awake instinctively kicking out with her heels to ward off attackers but she was alone excluding the two dead bodies in front of her.
She tried to lift herself up but the pain from her right shoulder was still coursing through her body.
“God dammit!” She cursed.
She knew what needed to be done.
Peering around, she found her hatchet wedged behind the small love seat couch next to the bed. She reached over prying it free. She took three quick breaths and bit down on the handle.
She lifted the dislocated shoulder to a ninety degree angle at the elbow pausing just long enough to get her body into position. She sat up against the wall to use as leverage to keep sturdy. She lifted her arm over her shoulder reaching out like she was scratching her neck. The pain increased leaving her woozy but she pushed on. She took a deep breath and cut her arm across her shoulder reaching for the other side.
Her shoulder popped as it slipped back into place. She ground her teeth against the handle while kicking at the floor. The pain overwhelmed her and she once again felt faint slipping out of consciousness but she held on. Closing her eyes, she breathed steadily, sucking in for five and pushing out for five. The pain subsided after a few minutes. She spit the handle of the axe out of her mouth putting it back in its holster.
Rolling over, she stood upright. When she did, she caught her reflection in the bits and pieces of the mirror left in place on the wall. She was unrecognizable. Her left eye had swollen, blackened like an overcooked marshmallow. Dry blood and dirt mixed to create a paste that covered her whole upper body, the slash across her face had grown blotchy, and raw. Her top lip bruised like a bee sting and her right cheek looked like she held acorns in her mouth from Trent’s punch.
She was a mess but still alive.
The foghorn sounded once more signaling that which she worked towards for so long.