Chapter 2

  It took ten minutes to rouse the small, pale, and surprisingly bald man to consciousness. After about three minutes of shaking him, I thought to check him for serious injury. After giving him a once-over he was already developing a few nasty bruises and a small cut with a smear of blood on his palm from a sharpened middle fingernail he had, but nothing appeared to be broken and he wasn’t bleeding any longer. When he did come to, I was sitting facing him, knife in hand.

  He groaned and slowly shifted until he was sitting up again, glazed eyes looking around blearily trying to piece together where he was, not altogether different from how I woke up just 10 something minutes ago. He slowly focused on me and after a moment recognition crossed his face and he groggily said, “You kicked my ass, didn’t you?

  To which I replied, “I actually barely touched you; it was mostly your dog trying to kill me, and if you try to bring that damn thing back, I will kick your ass.” I was still pretty shaken up, but I needed to act intimidating and find out what was going on. “So, who the hell are you, you lilliputian asshole?”

  “My name is Miguel.”

  “Why are you here, Miguel? What are you and your “friends” trying to do here?” I spoke.

  “Why should I tell you…” he trailed, clearly waiting for me to give my name.

  I lied and said “Andy”.

  He continued “Why should I tell you anything Andy? I just want you to go back to your room and forget about this. I may look mean, but I am very nice compared to my friends making sure everyone stays in their rooms. It is our ship now and I am just supposed to help any stragglers get to their rooms without any problems.” clearly trying to look as innocent as he could, it was not a good look on him, with his smile obviously fake and not reaching his eyes.

  How do I get out of this? If these guys have taken over the ship, what can I do, maybe I should just hide somewhere else until help arrives. I thought to myself, remembering that I had left my cell phone in my room to charge I do have to get to my room and call…someone? I don’t know who I would call but I’m sure I could get some kind of help if I just dialed 911 and told them what happened.

  “So, what are you going to do, Andy? I’m not going to tell you what we’re doing here, and I think we both know you’re not going to use that knife on me, you’ve got me beat, I’ll give you that, but you’re no killer.”

  “Shut up, I’ve got to think.” I snapped at him, knowing he was right about me hurting him. I’ve got to call for help, he’s probably got a phone on him that I can use. “Empty out your pockets, slowly. I’m going to make a call and you’re going to shut up.” I told Miguel as he frowned and began pulling a few items out of his hoodie pouch. He pulled out a bent spray paint can, a small notepad and a small glass lens on a metal chain. “You don’t have a phone on you?” I said to which Miguel just shrugged and pulled out a fistful of plastic and wires, the remains of a radio likely smashed in his fall. I picked up the items save for the radio and saw Miguel’s frown deepen, which was a cold comfort to me realizing I wouldn’t be able to call for help. “You have a freaking monocle but not a phone, and spray paint, really?”

  Miguel continued to glare at me and said “What, now you’re just stealing from me?” to which I replied, “The difference between the spoils of victory and a random mugging is as simple as who started with the knife”. Meanwhile I had begun flipping through the small notepad and trying to see what was in it, the written notes were all in Spanish by the looks of it, but there were a few drawings in the later pages that caught my eye. One was a strange drawing, almost like a stick man with several crosses in one hand and a crescent instead of legs, another was a star of David which was weird. I was reminded of dungeons and Dragon’s cult imagery.

  “Is this a cult thing? Are you a cultist, Miguel? I wouldn’t drink the flavor aid if I were you, tends not to end well” I mockingly said when he sprung up and clocked me in the jaw before going for the knife in my hand. My jaw stung, but I pulled my arm with the knife away from him, breaking free from his grip surprisingly easily. He snarled at me in rage and went for the knife again only for me to punch him across the jaw with my left and collapse in a heap. No wonder he used his dog, even if he wasn’t weak from blood loss, he was still a pushover. I thought, the momentary panic from the assault fading quickly.

  Miguel was out cold, so I took a moment to restrain the man. Taking off his hoodie with the idea to use it to tie him to the railing of the stairs. As I pulled off his hoodie, I saw yet another tattoo on his back, in fresh black ink was a bull’s head with three eyes staring ahead. Holding back a shudder from the creepy tattoo I stuck his arms through the bars and tied them as best I could with the sleeves from his own hoodie. I stood and looked at my knot, it wouldn’t hold him for long, but I was hoping to be back to my room soon, making a call for help and ducking these crazies until the whole thing blew over.

  As I began walking to the door out of the atrium there was a moment, as a chilled sea breeze wafted past me, that I looked around and had to pause and think. Did that really just happen? The absurdity of what had happened made me second guess myself. There was no evidence of what had happened with the dog left, all vanished into smoke, leaving only the unconscious man tied to the railing for answers. Thinking back on what just happened it seemed ridiculous, that the man summoned the dog like magic behind me, that the man’s blood had somehow made the dog larger. A new memory slowly slid into place over my doubts about what had just happened until the picture of me kicking the dog off me faded in my mind, only for a new memory, one of Miguel and I getting into a fight and my sore hand being from punching him, rather than the heat of his hound’s breath being enough to burn my hand. Wait a minute, if my hand hurt from punching him why am I burned? I thought and I felt that new memory beginning to shift, trying to find reasoning for my burnt and blistered hand. Did he have a lighter? Wait, that’s ridiculous. The morphing thought faded as I thought again on the strange occurrences and I recalled the dog, it’s burning hot breath and its sudden appearance behind me yet again. The false memory slid away, so subtly that I felt like the thought never occurred. Maybe magic is a real thing. I thought.

  As I approached the door out of the atrium, I knew I had to avoid any of Miguel’s “friends” as I made my way to my room to find my phone. I fumbled with the items I held in my hands as I pocketed Miguel’s notepad in my short’s pocket and tried to fit the paint can as well, to no success. I decided to hold on to it, deciding that it may come in handy as I inspected the small monocle and chain. The monocle had about a foot’s length of a small gold chain leading to the small lens held in place with an odd stone-looking frame which looked like marble, with the flowing white and black stone it looked like an expensive piece of jewelry for the strange man to have. I held the monocle up to my right eye and blinked in surprise as looking through the lens looked odd, like the monocle put everything in greyscale. Looking around I saw that even the dark corners of the atrium away from the main light were just as bright as anywhere else, one more strange thing that I don’t have time to figure out. I thought to myself as I cracked open the door to peer down the hallway, checking to make sure it was clear before making my way to the stairwell.

  The atrium was on deck 19, and my room was on deck 15 on this same side of the ship. If I was smart, I could stick mostly to a single stairwell and be back to my room without incident. I walked towards the nearest stairwell, listening for any sign of people, with it being only a little past 1 most everyone, even the nightlife crowd was likely asleep. After reaching the stairwell without hearing anything or anyone I peeked in and listened once again. After making my way into the stairwell I began heading down the stairs, walking quietly and listening at each floor’s door for a moment before continuing.

  On Deck 17, after a couple of quiet doorways, putting my ear to the door I began to hear something down the hall. After a moment of quieting my breathing and calming down I thought over my options. I should probably just keep going, make my way down to my room. There’s the possibility that noise is one of Miguel’s “friends” … or It’s someone like me just confused and trying to get somewhere safe. I paused, mulling it over for a minute or two before I cracked the door slowly with a quiet “I’m a friggin idiot” as I slink through the door.

  Upon opening the door, I recognized the sound as the usual clamor from the casino on board and I thought about taking the stairs deeper but thought better of it, if I’m going to find other people who can help, the casino is the best place this time of night.

  Deck 17 is one of the main entertainment levels, with a Theatre Hall on the other end of the ship and a casino on this side and several stores in between. I crouched low, trying to stay out of sight in the middle of a well-lit hallway for a few steps before berating myself a little bit, thinking you look like a damn fool, I’d be better off just walking normally instead of sneaking in a well-lit area. With the stairwell and one of the two smokestacks behind me I was walking towards a large, enclosed glass dome that contained the entirety of floors 18 and 19 as well as a good portion of floor 17.

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  Before I turned into the entrance of one of the Casinos, an aquatic themed joint called Poseidon’s blessing, I heard the smashing of a glass over the whistles, dings and other chimes emitted from the slots and just barely caught the sound of an irritated and slurred voice with a slight British accent say “hey mate, watch the glass, those are 10 dollars a round” daring a peek I looked around the corner and saw only 5 people in the nearly empty casino. A tall man in a crumpled blue suit and shoulder-length blonde hair, at the near side of a blackjack table. A short, thin woman in a croupier getup of a white shirt with black slacks and vest at the dealer’s position of the table. Finally, there were three men in crisp black suits on the far end of the large table, facing me with their attention on the man, after seemingly knocking his drink on the table over with a suitcase. They began talking, but the background noise from the machines was too loud and I couldn’t make anything out. I don’t want to just walk up to them in a panic in case those three are “friends” of Miguel’s.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the mutter of voices raising above the machines once again with the man in the blue suit saying, “I strongly recommend that YOU bastards return to your room and leave me to this game.” His body language was aggressive towards the three men, each of whom in return had hands in either their suitcoats or nearing their waist. A fight was about to kick off and I needed to help, even in a small way. I leaned over and grabbed a stool from the slot machine next to me and swung it wide to throw as a distraction. As I swung and threw the stool everyone’s attention but the croupier focused on me finally and I heard one of the men yell “What?!” before my attempt at a distraction became outright assault as the seat hit bar-to-forehead of the left of the men with a P-TING as he collapsed backwards in a heap.

  The whole scene paused for just a second as what had happened registered to all present, the clanging of the stool still rattling around and the machines with their music playing giving a sense of time still passing. It would have been downright hilarious if there weren’t suddenly two knives drawn with glares just as sharp from the two remaining men focused solely on me. I gulped and just as they started toward me, the man in the blue suit yelled “close your eyes!” as he lunged toward the blackjack table, scooping up a fistful of the chips and raising them above his head. I listened and the last thing I saw were the two men looking at the man in blue quizzically before I closed my eyes, and light assaulted me even through my closed eyes. Like someone had turned on the sun in the middle of the room, I was seeing spots even as the light disappeared after just a second as quick as it had come. Tears coming, I opened my eyes blearily trying to blink away the spots as two blurs approached me and a command of “follow me.” Gets my legs moving again. Down a hall and around a few bends I followed the blurs, my vision slowly returning to me until we stopped, and the blurs came into focus.

  The croupier I saw was confirmed to be short, maybe around 5’2” or so, with a professional suit, vest and slack combination that all casinos apparently decreed be the dealer uniform. Her eyes, still watering and a little red, were a deep amber like sunset over the ocean. With a pleasing face and fair skin she was quite the looker. A layered shag haircut of alternating black and red caught my eye and my attention lagged on her for a moment, before looking at the other rapidly clarifying blur I had been following.

  The man in the blue suit, I realized, looked almost every bit the stereotypical Victorian man I could imagine in my mind. With a head of coiffed brown hair and a long moustache with a strong set jaw he was by all metrics a handsome man with a solid frame standing a little over 6’. His dark blue velvet suit was crumpled from a long day and night. There were small bags under his eyes, which were a deep blue neatly matching his suit. His watch was gold, and I’d wager it cost more than my little ford car waiting for me at home.

  Taking the initiative, I asked if they were alright, only to be met with the croupier quietly hissing at me “Are you the jackass who threw a stool? I didn’t see you before this asshole” she motioned at the Victorian man “pulled the pin on a freaking flash-bang on all of us, those guys had knives and I think one had a gun” what had started quietly was raising in volume with every word as panic and realization began to stretch across her face before the Victorian man raised his hand so as to pause her rising emotions

  “Quiet.” He interjected during her pause for the interruption “we’re a few hallways down, but they might be looking for us now, we’ve got to get Security here, let them handle it.”

  “Actually” I butted in “I think those guys and others have taken over the ship, another guy attacked me in the solarium, and he said his “friends” had taken the ship over and were forcing people to their rooms.”

  “Shit, we should get out of the halls then, where are your rooms, we need a place to hide that’s close.” Mr. Victorian said

  “Mine is two floors down, Room 1518” I stammer.

  “Crew quarters are on the lower decks, so no.” the croupier added, a small glare remaining from her previous outburst.

  “Your room it is, lead the way” he said, pointing to me.

  I began guiding our little trio towards the stairway to my room while listening for any noises along the way. We made it to the stairwell without issue and began our descent. When we arrived at floor 15, we crept through the stairwell door and saw the rows of rooms on either side of us, with something strange, there was a cable running through the center of the hallway, looped on the doorknobs on either side of the hall. It was affixed with a simple loop and clamp, looking down the hall there was a cable on every pair of doors.

  “What the hell is this?” I heard the Victorian man whisper to which the croupier answered “It looks like they’re trapping people in their rooms, all the cabins on any ship open inward to avoid blocking escapeways”

  I added “odd, so they’re trying to trap everyone in their rooms while they take over the ship? What are they trying to accomplish, Ransom maybe?

  “Unlikely, but possible” the croupier whispered while twanging the tight cable between two rooms before ducking under it as we all continued down the hall, ducking under cables every so often “it’s not unheard of, but it’s never REALLY worked out for anyone, only time a group got control of a cruise liner was in the 80’s and they all got caught after they killed some guy.”

  I looked to my side at her with a smirk “you sure seem knowledgeable on it, thanks for the history lesson” I teased, she snapped back with “I work on one of these things, so yeah, I’d be a little invested in their history. They also covered it in orientation. Do you think these guys are some kind of nationalists, or terrorists?”

  I thought of the possibility before thinking about what Miguel had on him “It might actually be some kind of cult-thing based on what that guy earlier had on him, some freaky journal full of symbols in Spanish.”

  “Wait,” the Victorian man said, turning to me with wide eyes “You got his journal, I thought you ran from someone?”

  “Nope, I knocked him the-hell out, kept his dog from ripping my throat out too.” I boasted, as his eyes got wider still, seemingly re-evaluating me “I took his knife, the journal and a few other things before leaving him in the solarium. Room’s down this hall” pointing to my room “should we take these cables off? Let people out?” I said while waving a broad arm around us.

  “No, we would only be exposing them to danger, let’s take the cable for your room only and hope it goes unnoticed, we can leave a note for those across the hall to not leave their room. Can I see that journal?”

  “yeah” I say as I pull on the taut cable and unlatch it from my hooked door handle and then the room opposite of mine as I coiled the cable in my hands. “let’s get out of these halls” as I fished around my pockets for my room key, sliding it into the reader and ushering us inside. Closing the door quietly behind us I observed my room, a little bit embarrassment at the discarded clothes and towels strewn about the nicely decorated living space.

  “Uh, home sweet home? Let me grab my phone real quick, try to call for help.” I said, approaching the table currently charging my phone. I plugged in my passkey real quick and prepared to dial…911? Whatever, call enough people and word will get out about what is happening here. I looked at my phone and waited for it to get a signal, meanwhile my newfound companions took a seat and started chatting quietly with each other about what had just happened. “c’mon, connect you bastard” I pleaded to my little pocket overlord, I could visualize an end to this shitty night, I’d call and call until someone who knows what the hell they’re doing can come and resolve this like the expert they are. Maybe seal team six would drop in on a helicopter and save the day, fighting off these crazies and foiling whatever plots they may have. “I’d watch a movie about that.” I mumbled to myself attempting to distract myself from the reality. It’d been a few minutes, and my phone had no signal whatsoever.

  No service, no rescue, no seal team six. Just me, hiding in my room waiting for our new “Captain” and company to tell us what’s going to happen next.

  “Shit”