Chapter 4; Alaska
Once they get within a reasonable distance of the research center, and finally tell the passengers that they’ve lost communication, the new is taken much better, and much worse, than he’d imagined it would be.
The initially announcement doesn’t seem to go over too badly. There’s disappointment all around, but Rick and the rest of everybody, have been hearing the whispered rumors and doubts and fears of the ship for the past few weeks, adding up to, “What if there’s nobody there? What if we get there, and nobody’s there? What if everybody really is dead?”
It’s the days
after the announcement that has made Rick’s nights increasingly restless and
his days an increasing ware on his already strained nerves. They’re on day
four, about halfway to
Rick has no small delusions about his sanity and what it says about him as a person, when he’s relieved when he finds people are missing, instead of stumbling on their bodies hanging from the ceilings of their rooms. The lone passengers that disappear are, for the most part, only missed by Rick and the Captain and the select few crew members they have in charge of keeping the ongoing headcount. Dead bodies require them to block off whole sections of halls and deck, and by now, the whole ship knows what it means when they do that. More than the discomfort of knowing there is a body somewhere close by, it’s a reminder of the situation they’re all in, that it really is that bad. For the moment that “somewhere” isn’t known among the populous, which is for the better, because after a heated discussion between the Captain and the Senator, which Rick actually got himself involved in, it means “over the back of the ship.”
As an agent of the FBI’s Counterterrorist Division, turned secret service for this little fling around the glaciers, Rick’s more use to having to scope out potential killers and suicide bombers, than dealing with a group of terrified people who aren’t quite sure why they’re still alive. He’s more use to strapping on a Kevlar vest and hunting down terrorist threats, dodging the occasional bullet and filling out the ensuing paperwork. So when he was put on a boat and told to “Protect the Senator and make sure the thing doesn’t fucking blow up, which you should be able to manage just fine,” all of this hadn’t even been something his mind was aware of as an option, other than in the sense remaining memories of bad science fiction movies.
Rick’s on the
topmost deck, which has long since been quartered off only to the Captain and
specific crew, his arms resting on the railing as he looks out over the ship
and the icy waters. He has a long, thick parka on that he took from the cabin
before coming out, though it’s open and not doing all that much to block out
the freezing bitter cold that makes his balls shrink up into his body. He’s
been out here for the past half hour, as though he’s going to be the first to
see the shores of
“Hey Harvard.” Terry Ferris comes up behind him, chuckle in his voice, joining Rick at the rail a few seconds later. “What’re you beating yourself up over?” Ferris is just a few years younger than Rick, and while he hasn’t been cashing in on the meetings with Captain Greer and the Senator, it’s more because he’s been busy with actually managing the security crew, acting as the go-between between Rick’s increasing crazy, and the normal guys who gave up the military for the much less luxurious life of making sure people don’t disappear from a cruise ship, and none of the rich and famous on board decide to go insane and shank each other.
Rick never would have thought he’d need a buffer between him and normal people, because, at the beginning that was him. Until he actually started participating in those meetings between Captain Greer and the Senator. He’s not quite sure what to think of everything that’s happening, there have been so many changes and adjustments just in the last few days that it’s taking all his energy just to keep focused on what he’s supposed to be doing, much less trying to track the morphing power axis on the ship.
“Hey, you there?” Ferris nudges Rick’s elbow with his own.
They’re friendly enough that they were actual friends back home, barbeques, beers, the whole nine yards. Rick takes a breath through his mouth that dries his lips and makes him cold to the center of his belly, before letting out a barely warm sigh. “Yeah.” He looks over, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s all he can pull out of himself right now, but it’s not like Ferris is going to hold it against him. “Long day.”
Ferris lets out a high-strung laugh. “It’s ten in the morning Harvard.” He joins Rick in looking out at the deep blue water and floating chunks of ice that make Rick remember Titanic all too clearly whenever they scrape against the hull of the ship. “But I get where you’re coming from. You get any sleep last night?”
Rick wants to
laugh, but just comes up with a low snort that’s meant to say something along
the lines of, ‘are you kidding me?’ which he’s pretty sure Ferris picks up, but
he puts it to words anyway. Ferris went to grad school for psychology for a
year and a half before he decided to ditch that lame job and try to weasel his
way into the FBI – though Rick’s still not sure how he managed to do it. It
means that Ferris has this elitist view of the world in which he thinks he’s
part psychologist and takes it upon himself to be the one to get Rick to do
ridiculous things like talk. Occasionally, in frightening bouts of weakness on
Rick’s part, it’s even about his feelings. “Not much sleep. I heard someone go
overboard at
“You know that’s not possible. You wouldn’t hear someone go over if you were standing right next to them.” Ferris says it with the conviction of knowledge and truth.
But it’s not that Rick doesn’t know that it’s unreasonable, it’s the fact that his brain doesn’t like to listen to reason half the time, and gets carried away in gnarly fantasies a lot. Being on a ship in the middle of freezing waters with a dead husk of a world around them, hasn’t helped his problem of constantly focusing on the next bad thing, the worst thing that can happen.
“And it’s not like you can do anything about the people who are jumping ship. If they wanna die, they’re gonna die. You tackling them to the floor the first time just means they have to figure out something else to do for the second.”
Again Ferris is right. Again Rick knows this, knows this because he’s been through all those FBI psych classes learning about the enemy and the victims and how to handle both. He’s been to therapy more times than he can count on his fingers, because he’s gone on more than ten cases where he’s shot someone, and that’s an automatic pass to a sit down for a quick, typically painless, review. Knowing these things isn’t his problem. “Not like it makes it any less shitty,” he throws back, finally looking over at Ferris from the corner of his eye, content when he finds the other nodding.
“True.” Ferris looks back over at him, and now that they’re actually looking at each other they’ve gone from having a pretend conversation to what Ferris likes to call a “real” conversation, though Rick’s not sure how he gets the distinction, because sometimes Ferris’ “real” conversations can take place when they’re not looking at each other too. So it’s not so much the eye contact, as much as it is the fact that Rick can feel it in the air, thick and stifling, wrapping around him and he’s on a mother fucking boat, so it’s not like he can go anywhere. “You know, you can’t take it personally.”
Rick lets loose another sarcastic snort and half rolls his eyes, looking away again, because it’s easier to look at the water than at Ferris’ all too serious eyes. “Yeah, Ferris, I know. You know, you kind of act like I’m not used to people dying around me.” He spares another glance back at the other man who hasn’t looked away. Ferris almost looks like a god damned therapist sometimes. “Because, you know, I’m typically the one killing them.”
Ferris makes a sound of his own, giving a soft shake of his head. “Killing some guy who’s going to send a .33 through your ribcage, or has a rocket launcher aimed at some building, isn’t quite the same as people committing suicide around you left and right.” He says it a little too seriously that Rick should probably not make a snarky comment about it, but he doesn’t really pay attention and his mouth goes off before his brain’s caught up.
It doesn’t happen often, but the times that it does, it’s potentially devastating. “Yeah, and you’re the pillar of knowledge here.”
The silence that drifts between them is as cold as the arctic around them, and Rick knows almost instantly that he’s said something not good. For all them being friends, they’re men and they don’t really console in each other. There’s a lot about Ferris that Rick doesn’t know, and visa versa. Finally Ferris says, “My mom hung herself when I was in middle school,” making Rick feel like a complete dick. “It was pretty bad for awhile. I didn’t know what to do with myself, what was wrong, what had happened. I had a lot of questions, and she was really the only one who could have answered them.”
Rick wants to say something along the lines that these are not people he knows and loves, and thus should not be caring nearly as much as he is that they’re hurtling themselves over railings and plunging into the deep blue. Then again, he really can’t bring himself to be more of a douche and say that right after Ferris has confided something like this, so he just shuts up.
“And when I was a junior in college there was some freshman girl who jumped out her window in the dorm rooms. Complete stranger, didn’t know her from Eve, but it was still pretty bad. The whole campus seemed to shut down for the next couple of days before it blew over. Kids being kids, you know, nothing can hold them down for long.” And this is a lot to be processing from Ferris at once, and somewhere in the back of Rick’s mind he thinks that he should have known these things about his partner, that this is a lot of big stuff to just not know about a guy you hang out with on a daily basis. A guy whose wife made the best pork loin this side of ever, which they’re never going to eat again.
“I don’t know these people Ferris,” Rick finally says. The words are heavy on his tongue, and for some strange reason he feels guilty saying it.
Count on Ferris to put it into words. “Just because you don’t know them, doesn’t mean you can’t care about them. Besides, come on Rick, this is you. You’re like, the everyman’s hero. You kind of get attached easily.” Rick makes a noise of protest, and Ferris just chuckles with a warmth that Rick thinks is a little strange to be coming from a guy who was just talking about how his mom committed suicide when he was a kid, but he takes it in stride. “Besides, these are your people now. Right?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rick can tell Ferris has just turned to look at him again, sharp eyes taking in Rick’s profile as he mulls that one over. His people. It sounds epic and completely ridiculous, but in a word, it describes exactly how he feels. This ship, these passengers, they were handed over to him for protection the moment he got the assignment, before he ever stepped foot on deck. Just because they’re there to witness the devastation of humanity and the possible end of civilization and the death of billions, hasn’t changed this for him. If anything, it’s only made his mind solidify around that fact. These are people who rely on him, depend on him to help make the right decisions and keep them safe.
And that’s what’s
eating at him. They depend on him to keep them safe, and people throwing
themselves overboard is the epitome of them not feeling safe. They’re scared
and horrified and they don’t know what to do. They’ve lost everyone they’ve
ever known and loved, with the exception of whoever, if anybody, they’re on
this ship with. The world has just stopped around them, and they don’t know
what to do with themselves. Even the promise of
Ferris lays his hand on Rick’s shoulder, freezing cold and heavy. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to make you do that.”
Rick blinks slowly, gaze flickering over to the other man, raising an eyebrow in question. “What do you mean?”
“Damn Harvard, I’m trying to make you understand that you can’t do anything about this. You can try to protect these people, but that’s about it. Instead you look all,” he drops his hand from Rick’s shoulder and makes a vague motion toward Rick’s face, “like I just told you you’re personally responsible.” A heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes and Ferris is back to leaning his full weight on his elbows on the rails. “Something just killed off the whole planet Harvard, don’t eat yourself up if a few loose ends slip through your fingers on board.” He looks over at Rick again, gaze startlingly heavy and intense, almost like he gets when they’re in an interrogation. “Stop beating yourself up Shit Face. Because I really don’t want to take your place in those meetings if you get all emo and depressed.” His lips twitch into a grin as he turns back to watching the water. “And I don’t think we have enough black eyeliner on board to handle it if you do.”
Rick lets out a disgusted snort and slams a loose fist into Ferris’ shoulder, shoving him over and nearly making him loose his balance. Ferris laughs and pulls his way back up and Rick just shakes his head. “God, nobody told me you would be such an annoying prick.”
Ferris is still all chuckles under his breath. “Probably because they’d had to have taken me if you’d said no.”
“God damned, people at the office really did hate me.” Rick can’t help himself, he’s laughing now too, closing his eyes, lids warm over his frozen eyeballs, shaking his head as he laughs. “Of all the people to be stuck with when the world ends. I get the man who secretly still wants to be a psychologist and tries to talk his way through bombings.”
“Hey.” Ferris protests and punches Rick back.
Rick stumbles to the side and pushes himself from the railing. “Alright. Alright.”
Ferris steps away
from the rail as well and they head back to the cabin together. “God damn you,
making me come out here like this. It’s fucking freezing out here Harvard. I
hear shit that you come out here all the time.” Ferris is blowing moderately
warm breath into his cupped palms. “Where the heck were you born?
“
“
Rick will take it.
He nods. “
“Spam for lunch, I hear. That should be exciting.”
Rick doesn’t have to look at his partner to see the grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He snorts. “There’s not a can of Spam on this boat Ferris. I checked.” They hang up their parkas and head out of the cabin. “And if there were any when we got on, there sure wouldn’t be any now.” Because there aren’t that many things that Rick won’t eat, but the major one is Spam.
They part ways
almost as soon as they’re out of the cabin, Ferris going to make his rounds and
Rick to make his own. After his morning walk around the decks he moves through
the divisions of the ship, checking with each security team leader, which takes
a good majority of the afternoon. He’s actually heading out of the
“Hi there Agent Harvard,” she greets warmly once she’s caught up and slowed to a walk.
“Hi there yourself.” His eyes dart around the path behind her, finding it empty except for a few passengers meandering around. “Where’s your father?”
“Out getting himself another book I’m sure, or playing poker. What time is it?”
Rick takes a glance at his watch. “A little after two.”
She nods knowingly as they start forward again. “Poker it is then.”
“A little early in the day for poker,” Rick muses, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he’s happy to have some company other than his own dark thoughts. Despite his conversation with Harvard earlier in the day, he’s been allowing himself to get a little too lost in the depths of his own mind. It’s been more difficult than he’d like to admit not to. Back in the day, and Rick has to stop himself from sounding an indignant snort at that, because ‘back in the day’ was all of three weeks ago, anything happened on the job and he was sitting in front of a review board and a therapist almost before he could grab his end of the day beer.
“Despite being on a ship meant for entertainment, there aren’t too many people who have the spirit for it anymore.” Lacy’s voice is a little too subdued and run down, and when Rick looks over at her he can see the echo of his own exhaustion in her face. But somehow, she’s still smiling widely, and it’s a genuine one. “But the casinos still seem to be doing alright, not that I’m all that surprised.”
Rick chuckles. “It’s probably easier now since money doesn’t mean all that much.”
Lacy cocks her head and looks over at him, something tightening in the creases around her eyes, not from her smile but something more serious. Whatever it is she’s thinking though, she doesn’t put it to words. Instead she decides to go with, “I don’t think it’s the money that matters.”
“Well, no…” Rick concedes, and somehow feels a little like an ass for bringing it up in the first place. If something’s making people happy these days, he doesn’t have a place to be making snarky comments about it. Just be happy that they’re keeping themselves content. “But not your thing?”
“Not so much,” she gives with a shake of her head.
“You two spend more time apart then I’d thought you would.”
She gives him a look that clearly says, What do you mean by that?, and she knows it well enough that she doesn’t even take the effort to put it to words. Rick wonders if he’ll ever get over coming off as a douchebag, Ferris has always said he’s a permanent cynic. Not that it makes a difference what you call it, it all means the same thing. “I don’t know. Being family in a time like this, I just thought you’d be spending a little more time together.”
All in good spirit, Lacy takes pity on him and pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I understand. But while I might be following him in his political footsteps, it doesn’t mean I like spending time with him more than any other kid with their parent.” They break out of the park and Rick pauses for a moment, not quite sure where he’s headed now. “So, is this what you do everyday Agent Harvard?”
“Just Rick is fine.”
“Alright then. Is this what you do with your days, Rick?” He doesn’t answer right away and she takes the moment to slide in another curious question. “Looking for something?”
Pulling his eyes away from the world around him that resembles a small town than any kind of ship he’s been on before, he looks over at Lacy. “I do rounds of the ship everyday. And right now, I’m trying to decide if I’m actually hungry.”
Lacy laughs. It’s a light, warm sound that makes Rick think that she must be make a great girlfriend. “I haven’t eaten either, let’s go find something.”
Rick’s half afraid all they’re going to have to talk about are the problems on the ship, dredging up everything that he’s trying to forget. He’s surprised when they easily fall into a loose, friendly conversation that has nothing to do with precarious problems of the world ending. They’re even able to talk about things from their normal lives, without a dark cloud descending on the conversation, which is a miracle in itself.
They’re just finishing their meal when Rick’s radio beeps for his attention. Thanks to no cell reception more times than not, when out on the high seas, almost all the security personnel and quite a few crew in general have radios. The worst part was having to memorize most, though he couldn’t quite manage all, of the different stations. Though there were really only a few that mattered to Rick to know off the top of his head.
He looks down at the radio clipped to his belt, sees the incoming call is from security in District Three. Excusing himself, he answers with a clipped, “Harvard speaking.”
“Agent Harvard, it’s Gnash. Do you know where Ms. Dunnier is?”
Rick’s eyes flicker back over to the table where Lacy is waiting, finishing her ice tea, and something heavy pulls at his gut. “Yeah, actually, I got her right here. What’s up?” Lacy looks up at him, question in her eyes at his suddenly somber tone.
“We’ve just had a situation on the first deck.”
Rick’s blood runs cold, his heart hammering heavily behind his ribs. “What?” But he already knows the answer. “Who?” Though he has a strong suspect of that as well.
“Mr. Dunnier just tried to stop a jumper.” Gnash’s voice is a low groan, and Rick finally tunes in to the sound in the background, the chaos of people and the sharp voices of other officers. “He got pulled over along with.”
It feels like he’s been sucker punched, as Rick lets out a sharp breath, unable to stop himself before his eyes flicker back over to Lacy, who’s gone from curious wonder to a somehow knowing kind of panicked concern that has her clawing out of her chair and moving over to Rick in a hasty flourish. She gets there after he’s signed off with Gnash, her thin, cool fingers pressing to his arm. “What happened?”
When he looks into her eyes it’s a nervous kind of relief to see that, while she knows something is wrong, because he doesn’t even pretend to think it’s not obvious to tell, she doesn’t actually know. But then… He hasn’t had to break this kind of news to many people over the course of his career. He’s just not that person. He’s a field agent, built for a couple different things, none of them that really include having to approach relatives of victims. It happens, sure, but not enough to quell the nauseating bubble deep in his gut. “Someone jumped.”
Lacy’s features tighten in an anguish that Rick’s never quite been able to muster for complete strangers. He may feel guilt or responsibility, but not the same thing that Lacy’s experiencing right now. Her fingers slide away from his arm, her thin lips settling tightening, her face settling into an expression for politics. From their meetings, he knows well enough that this is her business face. “Another one…” She murmurs under her breath, shaking her head softly. “It feels like another one every day.”
Oh, and does Rick know that only all too well. “Lacy…” It’s his turn to reach forward, laying his hand on her shoulder gently. The motion is unexpected, and she turns back to him, half surprised, half shadow of confusion crawling over her face. She must see something in his eyes, knows there’s something else.
“What…?” There’s a tremble to her voice. As though she knows. As though she can tell what he’s about to say, even though that’s just plain impossible. She asks, “Who?” at just a whisper.
“Your father tried to stop the man.”
The shadow passing through her eyes spreads, swallowing up her face. Already falling apart.
“I’m so sorry.” His fingers tighten around her shoulder, trying to be supportive as her eyes, wide with horror, well with unshed tears. “He was pulled over.”
“Oh God.” Her eyes dart from him, dashing around the shops and the streets around them, stuttering between the few people walking about. “That’s not possible. And…” She reels her gaze in and turns her attention on Rick with an intensity that’s near uncomfortable. “We need go down then. And get Captain Greer to stop the ship for the moment. You can reach him on the radio, right?” She reaches forward for the radio at his hip, and he grabs her wrist with his free hand. Eyes narrowed, she looks up. “What?”
“Captain Greer’s not going to stop the ship Lacy.”
Something snaps in her and Lacy wrenches her hand away from him, her narrow eyes flashing anger and danger and hurt, jaw clenched tight against the quelling need to cry. “For my Dad, Agent Harvard, the Captain better stop this ship.”
Still holding onto
her shoulder, Rick keeps her in place, trying to keep as calm as he can.
There’s a panging ache in his chest when he shakes his head. “No, he won’t. We
can’t afford to, and you know that. Your father- he didn’t surface Lacy. Even if
we did stop now… I’m sorry, but he’s
gone.”
Continued next month...