Waves of Fate | Book 1 | First Fate

by Talbot, Kendall

  “Oh my God.” She glanced at the mother who lay with her two children in her arms. “These poor people.”

  Sterling clutched her hand in his. “Come on. Let’s keep going.”

  Squeezing his palm to hers she knew in her heart that Sterling would do anything to protect her. It was a powerful, delightful yet peculiar sensation, especially considering they’d only known each other for a few days.

  Along the passage, they found many more bodies. Men, women, young and elderly. And children. When they finally reached the medical clinic, Madeline wasn’t sure she could enter.

  Sterling squeezed her hand. “You okay?”

  He must’ve sensed her hesitation. “No.”

  When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, as if he were forcing back nausea. “You can stay here if you want.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “We stick together, remember?”

  With a small nod and a heavy sigh, he crossed the threshold.

  A shiver ran up Madeline’s spine at the sight before them. Each seat in the waiting room was occupied. But every single person had their eyes closed and mouths open . . . a morbid homage to those creepy clowns at the penny arcades. Sterling didn’t bother to check if anyone was alive. There was no need.

  Clutching his hand again, she stepped with him through the waiting area to another room where there were ten patient beds. Each one had a patient. Each patient was dead.

  In the doctor’s office, they found three nurses and the doctor. They were seated side by side, and the three nurses were holding hands.

  Sterling reached for a note on the table and cleared his throat. The paper quivered in his trembling fingers as he read aloud.

  I’m Doctor Phillip Merkley, lead physician on Rose of the Sea, of Blue Earth cruise lines. Rose of the Sea has experienced a massive explosion and is critically damaged.

  Sterling glanced at her and cocked his head. “Maybe he didn’t know it was from the plane.”

  “No. Maybe not.”

  He continued reading.

  We have no power and no running water. All communications are down and we’ve been unable to connect with the bridge.

  One hundred and sixteen souls, including myself, have been trapped in a section of the fourth deck since the explosion. Within minutes, several people started falling asleep and couldn’t be aroused. I have diagnosed this to be carbon monoxide poisoning. Based on the speed with which people succumbed, I estimate the concentration to be extremely high—at least 1000 part per million. Without an avenue for escape or immediate ventilation, we will all die. If you have this letter, it means my prediction is true.

  I hope the remaining passengers onboard Rose of The Sea survived.

  Please tell my wife and children that my last thoughts were with them.

  Dr Phillip Merkley

  3 Hudson Parade

  Palm Harbor, Florida

  “Oh, that poor man.” Madeline looked at the doctor. He had a kind face and a half smile was etched on his lips, like he was about to say something cheeky. He looked peaceful despite the gut-wrenching truth in his letter. “He knew what was happening, but could do nothing about it.”

  Sterling shook his head, and when his eyes met with Madeline’s, they’d taken on a darker, fearful shade.

  “What?” Dread crawled up her neck. He seemed frozen, unable to speak. “Sterling. What?”

  He drove his fingers through his hair and placed his hand over his mouth.

  “Sterling, talk to me.”

  When he removed his hand, his pale lips quivered. “What if everyone was poisoned and we’re the only ones still alive on the ship?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Gunner snapped his eyes open. He sat bolt upright, wiping sleep away. His stomach groaned. His back hurt. His brain was a clouded fog. Thankful for the pre-dawn glow filtering in through the giant windows, he glanced at the people sleeping nearby. Something had woken him, yet everyone else appeared to be still asleep.

  Rubbing his eyes, he scanned Blossoms. After the disastrous funeral yesterday, he’d kept as many people as possible busy with setting up the lounge bar as a communal encampment. There was plenty of seating for people to rest, and each of them had dragged their own mattress up to the area too. And an additional bonus was that they could open the doors on either side to keep fresh breeze flowing through. Their precious supplies were now stored in the duty-free shop with a door they were able to secure with a padlock and key.

  While many had taken to sleeping in cabins in the deck below, just as many people wanted to stay near him and the crew. He scanned a couple resting nearby. They looked peaceful. But it was a cruel illusion. Sleep was a necessity. Everyone was exhausted.

  Starvation was another factor exacerbating their fatigue. More than half of them had been suffering sea sickness for days.

  A shudder rumbled through Rose of the Sea, low and deep, like she was a giant trembling dog. Sykes sat up this time and when he blinked at Gunner, Gunner placed his finger over his lips. Keep quiet.

  Stifling a yawn, Sykes frowned at him and Gunner shrugged.

  Rose shuddered again. This time it was significant enough to have a portion of the crowd stirring. Gunner jumped to his feet, and careful not to step on anyone, he strode to the outside deck. Sykes and Quinn joined him. The nearly full moon added additional light to the pre-dawn sky, providing a decent visual over the ocean. Eight-foot waves were big enough to be visible, but not too big to be trouble.

  Clutching the railing, he rode the ship’s dip to port side. Without ballast, once she’d started the perpetual rolling it was likely never to stop. Size didn’t matter when it came to competing against the ocean.

  Rose began her steady rise upward and the railing beneath his fingers quivered like it was high-tensile wire that’d been flicked.

  Sykes’ eyes bulged. “What the hell’s that?”

  Shaking his head, Gunner leaned far over the railing, peering up the length of the ship toward the front, but in the dim light, he saw nothing out of the ordinary—except for the tail of the plane and a mighty big hole in the side of the ship, that was.

  The ship slumped into the next swell, but when it shuddered this time, it came with a horrific noise, like a demonic scream. Gunner shot a glance at the two men at his sides. Their fear-riddled eyes confirmed their dread.

  He turned and sprinted through Blossoms, no longer caring who saw. At the starboard-side deck, clutching the railing, he peered over the side and up the length of the ship.

  Air punched from his lungs. “Jesus Christ!”

  A huge container ship was wedged against Rose of the Sea.

  Gunner ran along the railing and shot in through an open set of doors, and as he raced past dozens of mattresses lined up on the floor, passengers popped up, jolted from their slumber. His dash across the room would alarm them, but he couldn’t help it. His thumping feet were matched with the pounding boots of Sykes and Quinn behind him. He raced down a set of stairs, then another, and when he sprinted onto the promenade deck, he just about choked on his tongue.

  Rows and rows of shipping containers were lined up alongside Rose of the Sea. It was as if they’d pulled into port, except they were moving up and down in opposing directions. As Rose went up, the other ship lumbered down, each countering the swell of the other.

  “Fucking hell!” Sykes’ hollered as he clutched the railing.

  When Rose lowered into the trough, she released an almighty squeal as her sides scraped against the container ship.

  “Why isn’t it being pushed away?” Quinn asked.

  “By the list on that ship,” Gunner shouted, “my guess is she’s wedged up against something. Maybe another ship, or worse, a reef.”

  “Why’s that worse?”

  “If it’s a reef, her hull will be shredding to pieces and without power, we’ve got no chance of getting separated.”

  The crowd doubled in a matter of minutes. Alarm flared across all their faces.
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  Gunner peered over the shuddering railing again as the Gannila clashed into Rose of the Sea. The point of impact affected about three decks. His ship was taking another battering. How much more could she take? She was twenty-five years old, but she was sturdy. This old girl could’ve gone for another fifty years. Before she’d become a total write-off, that was.

  Rose did another bone-rattling shudder and emitted a deafening screech like she was experiencing an exorcism. Bolts of dread shot up Gunner’s spine.

  He turned to Sykes. “We need to get onto that ship. I doubt there’s anyone alive. If there was, they’d be looking at us right now. But we need to check. And, as dishonorable as it is, we need to raid their ship for supplies. We’re desperate enough. Who knows? Maybe they have a Morse code machine.”

  First Officer Sykes was a big man, bigger than Gunner by a good four inches. He was built like a fridge too. Normally he looked like he could handle anything. This was not normal, and for the first time since everything went to shit, Sykes’ troubled eyes showed signs of him cracking. “Agreed. How?”

  “Don’t know yet. Follow me.” Gunner pushed through the crowd, ignoring questions the terrified passengers fired at him.

  “Is it damaging our ship?”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “Should we abandon ship?”

  He couldn’t answer any of them anyway.

  By the time Gunner had sprinted down to deck six, the sun was a golden haze on the horizon, and the additional light made the cargo ship look even more ominous. As the two boats came together again, he leaned over the railing to assess the impact.

  Thanks to the minor swell, the two ships were barely kissing. But when the tide turned and the wind and swell started ramming them into that cargo ship, it was going to be a different story.

  He turned to Sykes. Cloe, Quinn, Jae-Ellen, and Pauline stepped up to form a huddle around him. “We need to get over there. Any thoughts on how we do it?”

  “Just jump over.” Gunner turned to the voice. The bald man with a red beard standing behind Jae-Ellen had a weird grin on his face, like he was actually enjoying himself. He’d seen the man around a few times, but for the most part, the passenger had kept his distance. Gunner forced back a retort. “Any other thoughts?”

  “Actually, I’m with this guy.” Sykes thumbed at the bearded man.

  “Zon.” The man offered his name and stepped up to their huddle.

  “I’m with Zon.” Sykes nodded at him. “Jumping over there is the only way.”

  Gunner eyeballed the towers of shipping containers as they swayed with the roll of the Korean ship. They were stacked five containers high, like giant Lego blocks. Only these had the potential to be lethal. A coil of dread twisted in his gut at what Sykes was proposing.

  Sykes unclenched his jaw. “We’ll need to—”

  “Just—” Gunner held up his hands, cutting Sykes off. “Just, let me think this through.” The boats collided again and Gunner looked over the railing and timed the connection. Seventeen seconds from initial impact to parting. It was sufficient time to jump over to it, but it could be a different story when it came to returning to Rose.

  “Captain, I’ll look for the best place to make the jump.” Sykes’ voice was assertive, and without waiting for Gunner’s response, he strode toward a section where two life rafts had been ripped from their brackets by the colliding ship.

  Everyone, including Gunner, followed him.

  If they’d had a full contingent of passengers, the loss of the two life rafts would’ve been a problem. But now that they were down to just eighty-two survivors, they had more than enough.

  Eighty-two souls. The death toll was sickening.

  Gunner gripped the railing and as he leaned out to watch yet another collision, he hoped like hell that, come lunchtime, there wouldn’t be more bodies to add to his morbid list.

  As Rose’s starboard dipped into the swell, the Gannila shunted upward. At the pinnacle, the stacks of shipping containers towered several decks above them, but the cargo ship’s main deck was barely a few feet away. As the boats shifted, he glanced through a row of containers at the sunrise glistening off the water on the other side.

  He studied the dual movements six times, analyzing the situation and counting the seconds of contact. A plan firmed in his mind and he turned to the crew. “Okay, this does look like the best place to jump. If I time it right, it’ll be easy.”

  “Whoa . . . Captain. Sir. You are not going anywhere.” Sykes dropped a bombshell on Gunner’s plans. “You cannot leave this ship.”

  “I will not be asking any of you to do—”

  “You didn’t ask, sir.” Sykes thrust his chin forward. “I volunteer.”

  “Yo, me too.” Zon’s weird grin had Gunner wondering if the man was missing a few brain cells.

  “Thank you, Zon. But you’re a passenger; I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Gunner shook his head. “It should be me.”

  “No, sir.” Sykes shifted his feet apart as if preparing to wrestle. “Rose of the Sea is your responsibility. The Captain stays on the ship.”

  The decision was taken out of Gunner’s hands and the effect was like a grenade being lobbed at his feet. His thoughts shattered to a million pieces and a thousand unanswerable questions whizzed across his brain.

  But as Gunner watched the preparations unfold with crippling distress, one question slammed into his conscious over and over.

  Were Sykes and Zon about to be added to his unacceptable tally of deceased?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Zon knew every one of ’em fuckers was watchin’ him. They was probably hoping he missed the jump and face-planted into the hull. Or, for a real show . . . that he missed everything and splashed into the ocean below.

  It was time to prove ’em all wrong.

  Sykes was already over there, and he’d done it just fine. Zon wasn’t worried he wouldn’t make it. But he didn’t wanna make no fool of his-self either. Not with Jessie standing at the front of that railing, watchin’ him.

  The other ship dropped lower and lower and the second it started to rise again, he aimed for the gap between a row of shipping containers and jumped. The change in direction from one ship to the next caught him unawares and even though he landed on his feet, he went ass over tit and rolled headfirst into a forty-foot container. Didn’t hurt none, but after rubbing his skull, he blinked in surprise at the blood on his fingers.

  “Shit, Zon, are you okay?” Sykes tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, it’s nothing.”

  “You sure?”

  He wiped the blood on his pants. “Yep. I’ve had worse.”

  “Okay then, let’s get this done.” Sykes took off, running ahead without waiting for him.

  Zon glanced up at the row of containers and between the moving clouds and rocking ship. It looked like the fuckin’ things were swaying.

  He tried to keep up with Sykes, but with his missing toe, runnin’ just about killed him. He was dizzy too. Probably ’cause them fuckers were starving him with their rationing crap. He’d barely eaten in the last twenty-four hours. It was a wonder he could move at all.

  Most of the cargo ship’s top deck was covered in shipping containers but at the back, about a football field away, was the wheelhouse. That was where they was headed.

  He couldn’t believe Captain Dickhead was hoping someone was alive. The last thing they needed were more fuckin’ mouths to feed. Zon was happy that people were still dropping like flies. Each morning, there’d been more dead bodies. So long as it wasn’t him kickin’ it, or Jessie, he was mighty fine with that.

  Up ahead, Sykes reached the door to the tower. He turned and nodded at Zon, like he was checking he was still followin’, then he went on inside. The door was shut by the time Zon got there, and it pissed him off that Sykes hadn’t waited. But the second he opened the door, a rotten stench hit him like one of his daddy’s su
cker punches. Death.

  He sucked in some fresh air, then stepped through the doorway.

  The room was about the size of one of ’em shipping containers. The walls were mostly windows and some of ’em were open. It had a few tables and chairs, and Sykes was just standin’ there with his hand over his mouth and eyes that were as big as Zon’s mama’s cakehole, which she never shut. Zon searched for a body or bodies, or whatever was making the stink. He didn’t need to look far. An arm was visible near the corner of the room, hidden behind an overturned table.

  Suddenly, the arm moved. Zon glanced from the arm to Sykes. He mustn’t a seen it ’cause he didn’t move. “Hey, he’s alive.”

  “Shit.” Sykes dashed toward it, and when a pile of birds burst into the air all squawking and shit, Zon was grateful it hadn’t been him checkin’ it out.

  Sykes reeled backward, lookin’ like he was gonna chuck his guts up. “Son of a bitch!”

  Zon gawked at the body. It was a bloody mess. Eyes gone. Lips gone. Flesh mangled. Zon had never seen anything so disgusting. And he’d seen his share of rotten, half-eaten animals out in the swamps.

  “Fucking hell.” Sykes strode away and paused at an exit leading deeper into the ship. “You coming?”

  This time, he waited for Zon before he opened the door.

  They entered a corridor and the stench was worse than anything Zon had ever smelled. And that was sayin’ somethin’. His granddaddy’s body, after they’d dragged him off the crawfish griddle, had been the worst stink up until now.

  “Fuck me, this’s bad.” Sykes pulled his shirt up and covered his mouth with it and his hand.

  Zon did the same.

  They had three ways they could go: up, down, and straight ahead. Zon waited for Sykes to decide, then followed him up the metal rungs. The boat’s angle shifted and when the whole fuckin’ thing rattled and a roar bellowed up the stairwell, Sykes gripped the walls like he was gonna shit his pants.

  When it stopped, Sykes bolted up the stairs like he had a firecracker up his ass. He paused at the top for Zon. Zon gulped a breath and nodded that he was ready.