by Lyle Howard
This crazy train had entirely jumped the tracks. Whatever concoction of psychopharmaceuticals was wreaking havoc in Nick Coltello’s system, they were obviously munching away on his brain cells. “I’ve always got your back, Nicky. You know that.”
Coltello’s smile seemed abnormally exaggerated, like the Joker in the Batman comics. “I do.”
“Maybe we should just call it a night,” Diaz suggested. “I can set up a one on one with Mason some other time.”
Nicky the Knife shook his fists jubilantly. “And miss the party of the year? Are you fucking crazy?”
Diaz could feel the bile burning its way up his esophagus. “I’m not so sure…”
But it was too late. Nicholas Coltello was halfway out the door and screaming hysterically. “Would you look at that fucking boat! It’s fucking beautiful. I want one!”
Jimmy Diaz sat silently for a moment and prayed. Perhaps in his divine wisdom, God had a plan. Albeit not a very coherent one, but a plan none the less. Maybe it was all supposed to end this way. Perhaps Nicky the Knife was destined to accidentally tumble overboard tonight, or give up the ghost in a hail of gunfire this evening. A slight grin creased Jimmy Diaz’s lips. Would that be such a bad thing?
50
Matt and Simone stood under one of the streetlights lining the pier so each could see what the other was signing. When the Hydra made her debut, and all the lights went out, Simone panicked and pulled Matt close to her, feeling that her only form of communication had been cut off. They held each other close, with the beam of the helicopter’s searchlight illuminating them briefly. Ten minutes later, when the Hydra was tied to her berth, the lights returned and Simone released her grip.
“You didn’t have to let go,” Matt signed. “I like it when you hold me close.”
“I don’t like the dark,” Simone gestured back. “Sometimes I sleep with a nightlight on.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Matt replied.
Although their relationship had reached the point where intimacy might play a part, Simone was always reticent to take that next step. Even though she felt more for Matt than she ever thought possible, something held her back. It wasn’t physical, but emotional. She had this nagging fear of the dark and the sense of isolation it created for her. She knew it was childish, but she imagined the moment would be awkward. She found it hard to comprehend that finally being with Matt would be just as amazing in total silence. She slipped her arms back around him and squeezed him tightly.
Matt checked his watch one more time. Hope Jannick was late. They were standing at the correct meeting spot, but half the crowd was already boarded, and they still had no credentials.
As the invited guests crossed the gangway, Matt studied each of them carefully, keeping an eye out for the one person that mattered the most. He had been keeping a watchful eye on the entire crowd, but there was still no sign of anyone involved with the baseball team. He considered that they may have boarded ahead of time, but he wouldn’t know for sure if he wasn’t granted access.
On the aft deck of the Hydra, below the pair of huge fans that steered the vessel, a calypso band, steel drums and all, was performing Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds,” which had everyone who was shuffling up the gangway swaying in time with the iconic reggae song. Little did the crowd know how significant the late Jamaican’s lyrics would turn out to be:
“Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”
Matt could feel the rhythmic beat resonate in his head, while Simone could feel the vibrations, but could not decipher the sound. It looked like everyone was having a good time, since her appreciation was strictly visual.
Hope Jannick was fighting against the tide of the crowd. Her blond hair was braided down her back and whipped from side to side as she weaved her way toward their designated rendezvous spot. The fact that her shimmering black gown was ankle length and restricted her movement wasn’t helping the situation at all.
When she finally reached the couple, she was waving their badges and lanyards above her head in victory. “Matt, over here!” she called out once she was in earshot. When he never reacted, she thoughtlessly remembered that her words were literally falling on deaf ears. It wasn’t until she crossed into the circle of light they were standing in before they noticed her.
Matt held out both his hands to greet his old friend. “Hope! You look terrific! The computer screen doesn’t do you justice!”
Hope smiled as her aquamarine eyes sparkled in the light. “And look at you! You’ve grown so tall and handsome! Your speech is still excellent!”
Matt shook his head. “You don’t have to say that. I know it’s going downhill fast.”
“No,” Hope disagreed. “Trust me. It’s still very good!”
Matt slapped himself in the forehead in an exaggerated movement. Exaggeration was an essential component of communication for the deaf. It conveyed the importance of a feeling or a statement. “I’m so rude. You’ve never met Simone in person! Hope Jannick,” he said and signed, “this is Simone Goodman.”
The two young women shook hands politely.
“You are so beautiful,” Hope said, as she pointed as Simone and gathered her fingers in front of own face.”
Simone smiled and repeated the gestures back.
“When did you learn to sign?” Matt asked warily.
“You would be proud of me,” Hope signed. “I took two classes in high school for college credit. It’s considered a foreign language.”
“That’s so great!” Simone signed.
“So why didn’t you ever sign to me when we spoke online?” Matt asked and interpreted.
Hope shrugged. “I was embarrassed. I thought I would make a mistake.”
Simone shook her head. “No, you are very good at it.”
“Maybe,” Hope said, alternating her palms up and down. “Just enough to get by.”
Matt translated the last part for Simone.
“Are those our boarding passes?”
Hope mimed being a ditzy blond and handed over the laminated badges and lanyards. “Stupid me. Of course. Here they are.”
Matt handed one to Simone who examined it before placing it around her neck. “You don’t know how much this means to me, Hope. I owe you one, big time.”
Hope looked at Simone and then back at Matt. “This is such a small thing. I’m glad I was able to do it. If you should happen to come across my father onboard, it’s him you should really thank. He remembers you well and misses your parents. I’m sure he would love to see the grown man you’ve become.”
Simone rested her head against Matt’s shoulder as he interpreted Hope’s heartfelt sentiments.
“I would love to see him. It’s been so long, I hope I recognize him.”
Hope signed. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll be standing right next to him. He’s my date tonight.”
“Your mother isn’t here?”
“No, my grandmother isn’t doing well, so she wanted to be with her.”
Matt frowned. “I am so sorry to hear that. Tell them both I wish them well. I still remember your mother’s pistachio cake. It was so good.”
Hope smiled. “She’s still making them. I’ll see if I can’t box one up and ship it to you.”
Matt rubbed his stomach. “That would be so yummy.” He signed turning to Simone. “Her mother makes this amazing pistachio cake that is actually green! It’s so good!”
Simone licked her lips.
Then Hope turned serious. “So, do you want to tell me the real reason you wanted to be here tonight?”
Matt looked at Simone and then back to Hope. “It’s probably a better idea if I didn’t.”
Hope frowned. “You two aren’t radicalized or something and planning on taking everyone hostage, right?”
Matt was appalled. “Are you serious? You’re kidding, right?”
“It happens all too often nowadays,” Hope worried. “Especially in Florida. First with the nightclub massacre in Orlando and then the high school shooting in Parkland.”
“And you think I’m capable of something like that?”
Hope immediately regretted her remark. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. My father has been obsessed with the security surrounding this ship, and his anxiety has probably rubbed off on me. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything by it. It was stupid. I’m an idiot.”
“Do you want the badges back?”
Hope’s eyes began to tear up. “Can we just rewind this conversation back two minutes? I don’t even know why I brought up those terrible things. Tonight we should be celebrating. You have to forgive me. Please!”
Matt reached out and took Hope’s hand. “Don’t be sorry. No one should ever forget what happened to those people. I understand we’ve grown apart and don’t talk often enough, but I’m still the same guy who raced you to lunch every day when we were kids back at Whitehall Academy.”
Hope squeezed his hand. “I know you are. It just makes me sad that we’ve taken different roads.”
Matt lifted her chin. “The great thing about roads is that they intersect all the time.”
She smiled. “So we’re good?”
“We’ll always be good.”
“Will you save me a dance?”
“Of course I will.”
Hope turned to Simone. “It was so nice to finally meet you in person. You’re a fortunate girl. Take care of this guy. He’s very special,” she signed.
Simone signed back. “More than you will ever know.”
51
Just as the gangway was about to be removed, two late arrivals scurried up the ramp. One flashed a badge; the other remained silent, but from his demeanor, the security guards assumed he was also with law enforcement.
On the second of four decks, the attendees had been ushered into the main dining room. Thirty-five formally set tables surrounded a brightly lit black marble dance floor. At the back of the room, a ten-piece orchestra made their last-minute adjustments on a stage bathed in multi-colored lighting. The carpeting was a muted maroon with a subtle beige pattern that was pleasing to the eye. A lone microphone stand bided its time as the privileged guests retrieved their place cards and settled into their assigned seats.
The two late arrivals never made it to the dining room; their interest lay elsewhere. Only one would have had a seat reserved for them anyway.
Waiters in formal attire came around the room pouring imported champagne into the delicate flutes that adorned each place setting. Many took their seats immediately; others mingled with people they knew or had always wanted to meet. The crowd ranged from athletes to scholars, bankers to politicians; almost every component on the spectrum of the elite had been invited. It was a Noah’s Ark of the rich and famous.
Peter Mason took the stage at precisely eight forty-five. His hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and bound by a simple orange rubber band. True to his roots, he looked particularly uncomfortable in his tuxedo. If he lived in a perfect world, this cruise would have been held on a Sunday afternoon, with everyone wearing Hawaiian shirts and bikinis out on deck, sipping boat drinks and getting baked. But his world was far from perfect.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you could all take your seats for a few minutes,” he said, after tapping the microphone to test the volume. “I would really appreciate it if you could all find your seats.”
Mason smiled genially and returned a few waves and catcalls while his guests settled in.
“Good evening, everyone; I’m your host, Peter Mason.”
The room burst into applause.
Mason bowed his head and accepted their admiration appreciatively. “Welcome aboard a ship unlike any other you’ve ever traveled on…the Mason Cruise Line’s crown jewel: the Hydra!”
People stood and applauded while Mason bathed in their recognition. “Thank you very much. You are all too kind. If I could have your undivided attention,” he continued as a large screen slowly descended from the ceiling behind him. “There is a short but mandatory video we must show that describes the Hydra’s safety and lifeboat procedures. It is a requirement that this video is viewed by every passenger, so I ask that you pay close attention to this important information, and then we’ll be able to start the evening’s festivities.”
The video played for seven minutes, explaining how to evacuate the ship in an orderly fashion and where each of the six lifeboats was located. Each guest’s place card had a number in the upper right corner which identified which of the boats they were to report to should an emergency evacuation become necessary. Each of the lifeboats could handle eighty passengers, so there was more than enough space should the unlikely happen.
When the presentation was over, the screen retracted into the ceiling, and Peter Mason once again took center stage. He made a quick adjustment to raise the microphone to his mouth. “The Hydra is a marvel of marine engineering and technology. At four hundred twenty-five feet stem to stern, she is the world’s largest vessel using hydrofoil technology.” He paused to consider his words, which were improvised despite his staff’s opposition. “The Hydra has taken the basic principles of lift and propulsion and amplified them a thousandfold. We’ve added an aerodynamic design and made comfort and safety our top priorities.”
The room filled with applause again.
“Now, I’m going to ask that you all remain very quiet and still for the next two minutes so that you may experience the wonder that is ‘The Hydra.’”
Just over three hundred formally-attired guests fell still, but seconds later, all grasped their seats as the sensation of lift became suddenly apparent. It felt like the entire room was rising in an elevator. Passengers lucky enough to have seats near the windows could see the pier silently fall away as the ship rose unnaturally out of the river. The fourteen independent pontoons inflated in less than two minutes, and the Hydra suddenly sat eleven feet higher in the water.
Peter Mason checked his watch, and when two minutes had passed, he began to speak again. “How was that folks? Pretty amazing wasn’t it?”
The crowd cheered wildly.
Mason motioned for those who stood to take their seats. “Thank you. Thank you. But to quote Al Jolson, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet!’”
The guests laughed with nervous excitement. This was like nothing any of them had ever experienced. It was almost surreal.
“The Hydra’s hull is between ten and twelve feet above the water line right now. Fourteen independent pontoons have just inflated beneath us. You may wonder, why fourteen instead of one on each side? The reason our engineers designed these pontoons separately is for your safety and comfort. They spent months considering every possible scenario, and have built in an exclusive backup system should one be breached or deflate unexpectedly. Should one of these pontoons be compromised, it will be automatically ejected, and another will inflate and replace it. I’m sure you would agree that we would be in a heck of a situation if we only had one large pontoon on each side and had a problem. Traveling at the speeds we are capable of, the Hydra would end up in a barrel roll that wouldn’t end up well for any of us.”
The guests began looking nervously at each other.
Mason held up his hands. “Folks, not to worry! I assure you that the Hydra was built for safety first as well as comfort and speed. Once we are underway, you will understand how safe and exhilarating traveling on the Hydra can be.”
Gerald Banks who was standing in the back of the room put his head in his hands. That’s why you’re supposed to stick to the script, moron!
“In a few moments, Captain Oskar Karrlson will be unleashing the Hydra’s full capabilities by starting up our patented fanbine technology. You will hear n
othing, but once again feel the sensation of lift as this nearly three thousand ton ship is lifted out of the water like the mythological creature she is named after.”
The room fell suspiciously quiet.
“I know it sounds impossible, but that is what skeptics think about any great achievement in history, and I assure you, tonight, we will be making history.”
A few of the guests clapped, while most of the others downed the rest of their champagne in one giant gulp.
“Later on during dinner,” Mason continued, “I’ve asked Captain Karrlson to join us here to answer any questions you may have about the Hydra herself. But before that, we’ll be offering a guided tour of a few of the more than one hundred luxurious cabins and twenty opulent suites the Hydra has to offer her passengers on future trips. I do want to apologize in advance, but some areas of the Hydra will be restricted for guests tonight, including the control room and the cargo hold, but you should be able to see enough to appreciate that the Hydra is far and away the most phenomenal ship on the...”
Once again, the ship began to rise, only this time a slight vibration could be felt beneath the passengers’ feet. Through the starboard windows, the colorfully lit skyline of Jacksonville sank as if in quicksand. Seconds later, the vibration stopped, and the guests could feel the ship beginning to turn. It wasn’t the slow calculating turn that cruise passengers were used to, but more of a pivoting while in place. The bow of the ship was simply spinning on an imaginary axis and changing its heading from west to east.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Mason proclaimed. “It’s like riding on a cloud. The Hydra no longer has any draft—she is completely out of the water!”
The crowd cheered and applauded wildly. He had won them back.
“Once we reach the mouth of the Atlantic Ocean, Captain Karrlson will open her up and show you what she’s capable of. Where an average cruise ship would travel the thousand mile trip to King’s Wharf Bermuda in two days, we should arrive just in time to see the sunrise tomorrow.”