Waves of Fate | Book 1 | First Fate

by Talbot, Kendall

  It was a sick joke.

  Here’s the escape hatch, little girl.

  Your freedom is right here, baby Jewel.

  But let’s not make it that easy. Let’s padlock the door shut. See how you handle this new challenge.

  Madeline screamed her fury.

  Sterling wobbled beneath her and she nearly toppled off his shoulders. “Jesus. What? What?”

  “It’s padlocked.”

  “What? Are you sure? Why would they do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hop down. I have to see.”

  Madeline scooped her legs off his shoulders and slid down his back.

  “Do you think you can hold me?”

  She tried to recall his size, but his appearance was already a forgotten memory. “Maybe. What do you weigh?”

  “About a hundred and eighty pounds.”

  She groaned. “I don’t think so. Sorry.”

  “Okay. Okay.” He paused. A scratching sound had her trying to recall if he had a beard. “Are you sure it’s a padlock?”

  “Yes. I felt it.”

  “All right, we’ll have to pick the lock. What’ve you got in your pockets? Anything?”

  She had nothing. The only item she needed on the cruise ship was her door card, which acted as both her cabin key and a charge card if she wanted to buy something. And she never carried her phone. Nobody ever called her, and she didn’t have anyone she wanted to phone either. She’d stopped carrying it around since she’d started working on the cruise ship. “No. Sorry. Nothing other than my lanyard and a card swipe.”

  “What about a hairpin or jewelry?”

  Her hair was in a high ponytail and it was long enough that she didn’t need clips. “No, I don’t. But it won’t help anyway. It’s one of those padlocks with the numbers. Not a key one.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Sterling’s booming voice echoed off the walls.

  It was the first crack in his calm demeanor.

  It scared the hell out of her.

  Coughing had the acrid air stinging her throat. The smoke was like chalk on her tongue, bitter and wrong. This wasn’t ordinary smoke. It was from burning rubber or fuel, dense and hostile. It hurt to breathe. Smoke stung her eyes. Panic barreled through her. Shoving backward, she crumbled to the floor.

  She hugged her knees. “We’re going to die.” Her heaving sobs had her gasping for breath. “We’re going to die.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Gabby clutched Jennifer’s tiny body to her chest and raced to the crew huddled at the bar. “Please help me. I have to find my children. They were doing a Pokémon hunt. Do you know where they are?”

  The chubby security guard looked down at her. Tiny spider veins across his nose flared red and the flush of pink invading his neck exaggerated his unfit appearance. His cheeks wobbled as he shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. No, I don’t.”

  Gabby peeled the little girl off her chest and thrust her at the guard. “Her name’s Jennifer. Do something useful and find her mother.” She spun around. Max ran toward her. Desperation flared in the whites of his eyes. He knows the kids are missing. Over his shoulder, was Pricilla, tears streaming down her face as she watched Max sprint away.

  “Let’s go.” Max clutched Gabby’s hand and as he lurched her forward, she tried to block out Jennifer crying out for her mommy.

  But just as Gabby had done with numerous disaster scenes, she cast the harrowing wailing aside, along with the tangled emotions it provoked, and focused on her job. That job was finding Sally and Adam. Max’s vise-like grip around her hand and the determination on his face confirmed he was right there with her.

  It was about time.

  Hand in hand, they sprinted around the bar, past a miraculously intact hot tub and back up the stairs to the running track.

  “How will we find them?” By the time she’d reached the top, she could barely breathe. The exertion was more physical exercise than she’d done in years.

  “We’ll start up here and work our way down,” Max spoke without breaking stride.

  The sun was gone. Low on the distant horizon was the three-quarter moon. Stars dotted the velvet blackness and without the dazzle of lights that usually lit the top deck, the Milky Way was as brilliant as it was dramatic.

  She hoped like hell that the crew knew how to read the stars. If the high-tech navigation equipment on the ship had been obliterated by the EMP strike, even if they scrambled into life boats they’d be screwed if nobody knew how to navigate them home.

  Her thundering heart slammed to a halt. They could be lost at sea forever.

  That was a headlining story she did not want to be a part of.

  Fighting a vision of drifting at sea for days on end, she scanned the deck below, searching for Sally and Adam.

  The farther they ran from the wreckage, the less people they encountered. Once they reached the front of the boat, they were the only people on the running track. Max launched down the steps two at a time and Gabby scrambled to keep up with him.

  “Sally! Adam!” They alternated turns in calling out their names.

  Every silent response stacked another layer of dread in her heart.

  The entire play area that was usually bustling with children of all ages and their cautious parents watching over them, was deserted. They raced past the bowling green, the crazy golf, the basketball court, the ping-pong tables, and through a set of doors to a video arcade that was eerie and quiet without the bright lights and thumping music that usually blared in the confined space.

  They ran past the coffee shop and the beauty salon where just two days ago Gabby had taken advantage of a full treatment . . . eyelash extensions, brows waxed, fake tan intensified, and her nails done. It had been the best four hours of the cruise.

  They passed the gymnasium. It, too, was dark and empty. Max had spent most of his cruising time inside those sweat-infused walls. It was where he’d met the two young women who apparently ‘needed his help’. It was an annoying coincidence that they lived just one suburb over from their home, where Max had set up his fitness studio. The women had promised to become Max’s tenth and eleventh clients. They would have no idea that they’d instigated Gabby and Max’s latest argument.

  That heated discussion already seemed like days ago.

  Rowdy noises emanated somewhere up ahead and when they passed through yet another doorway, she groaned. The stairwell was packed with people charging upward.

  Gabby paused at the railing to catch her breath.

  The people were of all ages, young and old. Some were dressed for dinner; some were in their swimsuits. All looked petrified. In the minimal glow from their phones, their troubled appearances were just ghostly outlines.

  Only a couple of them looked to be physically injured. Mentally, however, was no doubt another story. Dozens of women were crying. Some sobbed hysterically.

  The ship swayed and her hip slammed into the railing. Wincing, she clutched the balustrade to steady herself and peered down the stairwell. It was dark. Very dark. It explained why everyone was coming upward.

  All the lights were out. She had thought the ship’s hull would’ve protected the lighting down below. It hadn’t. And that meant things were much worse than she’d thought.

  On a lower landing, a couple wearing cheesy souvenir T-shirts were using a phone light to guide their way.

  Gabby’s tiny flashlight was useless in comparison. She clutched Max’s arm. “We need a phone.”

  Max frowned at her. “They don’t work.”

  “For light they do. Phones that were inside the ship seem to have the flashlight working.”

  Max’s eyebrows drilled together. Obviously, he still had no idea what was going on.

  When the stranger with the phone reached the top landing, Gabby touched his shoulder. “Sir, may I borrow your phone please? I need to find my children.”

  He cocked his head and an inquisitive frown corrugated his brow. It was possible he recognized her.
She decided to capitalize on that. “I’m Gabrielle Kinsella. You may have seen me on America Today? I’m the news anchor.”

  He nodded once, but shifting his phone aside, he shook his head and lowered his gaze. “Sorry. We need it too.” They started to move away.

  “Sir, please . . . my children are somewhere on the ship. I have to find them.”

  “Look, I sympathize.” He eased in behind his wife and hustled her forward. “I really do. But my wife—”

  “Forget it.” Max snatched Gabby’s hand. “I have an idea. Let’s go.” He led her down the stairs, pushing past more passengers.

  “What idea?”

  “That restaurant we went to, with the candles.”

  She’d scheduled that dinner to coincide with the ship’s departure from Hawaii. The pretty lights of the port, the candles on the tables, and the fancy champagne were all meant to be romantic. But while Max had rambled on about jogging through Kaloko-Honokohau National Historical Park with a group of young fitness fanatics he’d hooked up with, she’d tried, but failed, to explain her fascination at flying in the helicopter over Kilauea Volcano. It wasn’t their first conversation that highlighted just how detached they’d become. “Lily’s?”

  “Lily’s. . . that’s it.” He clutched her hand, leading her around the turn in the stairwell. “We’ll grab candles and matches. Come on.” He leaned toward the plan of the ship positioned at the edge of the stairs and she shone her light there.

  “We’re here.” Max pointed at the schematic. “We need to get here. Deck seven.” Lily’s was three floors down, and at the rear end of the ship. He nodded at her and it took her a moment to realize he was seeking confirmation.

  “Yes, that looks right.” It was probably the first thing they’d agreed upon since they’d boarded the ship.

  Back in the stairwell, darkness swiftly descended on them. When the floor shifted beneath her, Gabby stumbled sideways, clutching Max’s hand for support. She hadn’t noticed the ship swaying like this in the previous twelve days. Maybe the darkness was playing havoc with her equilibrium. She hoped that was all it was.

  Max strangled her hand. “Maybe we should go back up to the running deck and approach Lily’s from the steps at the rear of the ship. Agree?”

  “I agree.” Another joint decision. Things were looking up.

  By the time they’d returned to the top deck, the crowd had tripled. The chaos had tripled with it. Voices were loud and riotous.

  Gabby raced to the railing and searched the throng, desperate to see her children. “Do you see them? Are they down there?”

  Sally was wearing a fuchsia-colored matching shorts suit Gabby had bought for her more than a year ago. It’d been too big for Sally at the time and her daughter had only just started to wear it. Gabby’s mind snagged on the fight she’d had with Sally that morning. She’d wanted to wear the outfit again, but she’d already worn it four times on the cruise. Her daughter’s lack of fashion sense was an ongoing battle. Thank God Max had intervened though. If he hadn’t, Sally wouldn’t be wearing the bright outfit, and therefore wouldn’t stand out in the crowd.

  There was sufficient light from numerous phones and the silvery moon, now high above them, but she still couldn’t see her daughter.

  Her eyes kept darting to the number of bodies lined up against the far railing. The quantity of deceased had accumulated significantly since she’d last been on that deck. Some of them had been draped with jackets or towels, and she was equally torn between racing down there and inspecting the bodies beneath the covers and refusing to believe that her daughter or son could be amongst them.

  The passengers were like disturbed ants. Chaos reigned and there were no clear leaders. Hundreds looked like complete fools standing around in bulky life jackets.

  Nobody seemed to be in charge.

  Gabby had witnessed her share of situations where a lack of leadership led to dreadful decisions. The distress of the burgeoning crowd confirmed it wouldn’t be long before fractured groups began to form. Bedlam was about to take over.

  Max’s wide darting eyes flicked from one injured person to the next. His anxiety confirmed he was torn between helping the wounded and looking for their children.

  Gabby’s heart hit a maximum tempo as she prepared to give him an absolute mouthful.

  He turned to her, maybe sensing her fury, and his eyes confirmed his turmoil. “We’ve got to keep moving.”

  Relief flooded through her as she squeezed his hand to hers. He led the way, pushing through the crowd, back past the bar, and in through the double doors.

  People were still streaming up the stairs, all going the opposite way to them. Some looked petrified. But, in a disgusting contrast, several were sniggering, and looked to be enjoying themselves. Clearly, they were still oblivious to the disaster unfolding around them.

  From what she’d learned from the Preppers about the predicted aftermath of an EMP strike, those idiots wouldn’t be so amused come morning.

  If they made it through the night, that was.

  Thankfully, there were enough phone lights amongst the crowd to give them sufficient light to see their way. Nearly every person they encountered fired a question at them.

  What’s going on?

  What was that noise?

  Why are the lights out?

  Gabby ignored them. Max didn’t. He wasted precious time by directing them to the top deck where everyone else was. When he stopped at an elderly couple, Gabby clamped her jaw and surged ahead. Hopefully her leading the way would be the impetus Max needed to keep focused.

  Back at deck seven, she stepped through a set of double doors and entered a dark corridor. Using the walls to guide her, she edged along the passage.

  “Gabby. Gabby, wait!” Max’s feet pounded behind her.

  “No, Max. We don’t have time to waste.” She pushed through yet another set of double doors and immediately felt an openness, like she’d entered a massive room.

  She’d reached the atrium.

  The giant stair-lined void was the centerpiece that linked four levels. She stepped up to the railing and looked down. A dim light filtered from somewhere below, but its eerie green hue made the area look as uninviting as a mass suicide.

  Max pointed into the void. “Look, the emergency lighting is working down there.”

  “Oh, yes. You’re right.” She wanted to slap herself for not thinking of that.

  “Maybe the kids went to our cabin?” Max said.

  “Oh God, I hope so.” At the sound of giggling, Gabby spun toward the avenue of shops that lined the atrium.

  “Max. The shops!”

  He spun to her, frowning.

  “The souvenir shop has candles and lighters.”

  “Good idea.”

  Utilizing the broad, curved staircase, they raced down to the shops Gabby had strolled through way too many times out of sheer boredom. The creepy green glow gave the atrium a weird ethereal hue but thankfully, it provided sufficient light to allow her to see the way.

  As they sprinted across the carpeted area, a couple of teenagers rummaged through the shelves in one of the tacky resort-wear shops. “Hey!” Gabby yelled out.

  They both ducked down behind the counter.

  “I know you’re there.” She scowled.

  Gabby wasn’t surprised to find no staff minding the shops. She also wasn’t surprised to see people picking their way through the wares. She’d witnessed enough pillaging in her life to know it was inevitable. When things got tough, grubs went looting. That’d been the headline she’d wanted to put on her report during the riots that’d occurred as part of Occupy Oakland in 2011. Her boss had vetoed it.

  Gabby strode into the souvenir shop. “Do you kids know the ship is sinking?”

  “What?” A girl who was barely older than Sally stood up.

  “Where are your parents?”

  “None of your business.” The girl’s head wobbled and Gabby wanted to slap the immature indignation off h
er pimply face.

  “Well, you need to find them. The ship’s sinking. You should be on the top deck.”

  “Bullshit.” Pink chewing gum danced across her tongue. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Really? Do you see anyone? Any crew?”

  “Oh, yeah?” A young man, probably just shy of eighteen, strode to the girl’s side and in the glare of his cell phone, his enormous black afro made his white skin look deathly pale. “Why aren’t there any warning sirens?”

  Gabby flicked her hand to the surrounding darkness. “Look, genius. The power has gone out. They can’t sound the alarm.”

  The pair looked at each other and without a word, they simultaneously spun around and bolted away. Seconds later, four other people much older than the first two popped out from behind cabinets and raced after the teenagers.

  Gabby rolled her eyes to Max. His skin too looked pale.

  “Do you really think the boat is sinking?” His shoulders rose with a deep breath, like he was steadying himself for her response.

  “I don’t know. But I do know the ship’s in trouble.” She strode to the wall of candles at the side of the shop. “And we need to find the kids.”

  Forcing the word hypocrite from her brain, Gabby grabbed the biggest candle she could hold with one hand and went to the front counter where a selection of tacky cigarette lighters plastered with Rose of the Sea emblems were displayed. She also shoved as many Snickers bars as she could fit into her pockets. Lord knows when they’ll be eating again. And the kids will be hungry.

  They set off down the atrium stairs. With each new level they descended, her heart pounded more and her brain swam with rotten thoughts and unfathomable questions.

  They didn’t encounter any more people and the silence was disturbing.

  It was like the whole ship was deserted.

  At the bottom landing, Max lit his fist-sized, coconut-scented candle and leaned over to light hers. Using the light, he studied the ship’s deck plan. “We’re here, deck six. We need to get to deck four.” Using his finger, he pointed out the way. “We’ll go along this corridor to these stairs. Come on, let’s go.” He raced off ahead, and shielding her candle with her hand, she scrambled to keep up.