Chapter Three

 

Perry’s file occupied the rest of my morning. He was somehow sixty-four-years-old. He was born in Idaho, raised mostly in Kansas. He had no college education, had joined the Army right out of high school and served for about ten years, earning no significant rank. His thirties seemed a turbulent decade, containing two DUI’s, a divorce, trespassing and vagrancy charges in Washington, a simple assault in Texas, a one-year sentence, reduced to six months served in a county jail.

After that, he seemed to have worked with Habitat for Humanity all over the world, doing odd jobs between his trips on fishing boats and working as a janitor on cruise ships. In his fifties, he came to work for our company, first as a security guard at home base, then a ship’s mechanic at the port in Alaska, then on flight crews for the rigs. Each post he had held for a few years, before finally signing up for his latest experiment and setting sail with the Captain on the Baton Rouge.

If he planned to work the tankers for a few years, like he had with all his other posts, then, well, he would never make it that long. His crimes in his youth did not surprise me; I assumed the assault had been earned, or was at least regretted. It couldn’t have been so bad, if he spent only six months locked up for it.

Not like Roshin, who was disappeared for six years…

Perry, more likely, was a bit of a thrill seeker. The army probably warped his teenage brain. I could see how being sent overseas for the first time in your young life to kill brown people -and slowly coming to realize you had no idea why any of it was really happening- could lead to drinking, turmoil, fighting and other risky behavior. And also to the genial and curious and self-contained man who ate fruit on the ship’s bow every morning amidst the sea spray.

I closed Perry’s thick file and replaced it in my locking cabinet. In a different drawer on the bottom, I found a tablet and charger for Ceely to use, along with two sets of medium-sized coveralls from the hall closet. I was starting to feel hungry, although it was a bit early to head to lunch, I decided to go. Maybe she could use some help.

Maybe I should try to put together a file on her, for my own comfort and for the company’s records… for their protection. Something about knowing I had all of their information tucked in those files, at my disposal -under my lock and key- made the crew feel less frightening to me. And she, she was not frightening in her mystery, but not understanding her still irked the meticulous part of me.

At the galley’s door, I knocked. After a minute she appeared in the round window, then let me in. Sliding in with arms full, I let the door swing closed behind me and offered the goods to her.

“Thanks. Lunch will be a few more minutes, but I made a pot of coffee…”

“That would be lovely. I stay away from most substances, and usually only indulge in one cup a day, but… I didn’t sleep too well, last night.”

We settled into seats at one of the pale blue tabletops with our mugs. Ceely said, “I slept better than I have in weeks. It didn’t really matter, though. I don’t have the energy that I used to.”

“I can’t imagine sleeping in that little sub of yours, out on the ocean, all alone…” Just saying it made me shudder.

“It was eerie at first. After a few days and nights, I hardly remembered the way that it was before. But then meeting your crew, and having a bunk again, I realized how unnatural and how hard it had been.”

“You’ve got a unique story under your belt, now. It’s what I’m doing here, on this mission. Life experience is a good thing to have, when applying for a job or promotion.”

“Mm.” She murmured her agreement as she sipped. Then, with her eyes seeming to stare at something miles away, she said, “I’m not sure how many jobs there are in my future.”

I scoffed as I stumbled on my words. “Well, you can’t be sure, especially not when you’ve been out here for so long… but if you’re only here because you’re not sure what other choice you have, I think you should really consider catching a ride back to headquarters with the flight crew. Or even returning to the mainland in your sub. It would be safer for you than staying here. I could put in a word for you with my superiors and almost guarantee they’ll find you an entry-level assistant or filing job.”

She smiled and shook her head, reaching up to tuck messy cropped gray hair behind her ear. “You haven’t known me long. I’m better suited to-.”

The door swung inward, cutting her off, and into the galley stepped Jason Jones and his friend named Colson. The sight made a prickle of discomfort skitter from the back of my neck all the way down my spine. I hadn’t relocked the door behind me, that much was clear, but with it being almost lunch time, I supposed it did not matter.

Both men looked between me and Ceely.

JJ reached back and twisted the lock, closed, open, closed, fiddling with it. Something heavy settled in my guts, static rushed to my legs and I found myself on my feet. Ceely, too, stood beside me.

“There’s coffee, gentlemen,” I said, pointing to the coffee station on the side wall, decently far from the two of us. I hoped my fears were misplaced but I had a growing certainty that we were in trouble. The men looked at the coffee station and back at us; they looked long at Ceely, then one after the other turned their gazes on me. I was about to have a choice to make. Let them go around me or let them go through me, buy Ceely a second or two with which she could run back into the kitchen. The swinging doors had no latch, let alone a lock. There were knives back there, but ultimately it would make little difference, I decided. And was it really worth sacrificing my body to buy her those few seconds? Was the principle of the thing worth being mangled over? They primarily were interested in her, but men wishing to exert violence on someone of a sexual nature cared more about the act itself than the target. That had to be true, if the glamorous but matronly old woman next to me would do. They just wanted someone to hurt, to scratch some festering itch. If I didn’t move aside, I could easily become brutalized as well.

I had nothing within reach but my mug of coffee, so I grabbed it. It was decently hot, it would scald the face enough to stun someone, if not to actually incapacitate. I still didn’t know if I was going to make that move or just put my hands up and shuffle to the corner. Indecision and fear had paralyzed me for too long; the men shuffled a few feet closer, keeping their movements slow -JJ in the lead had his hands in his pockets- they came forward like mountain lions hoping not to scare a deer. As it was, neither Ceely nor I bolted. My feet acted on their own, sliding me back a few inches as my heart hammered and I realized I had forgotten to breathe for a torturously long while. I was out of time to figure out who I was; I hadn’t moved and I wasn’t going to. Not bravery but indecision decided my fate.

Sucking in a breath, it then tumbled back out of me in a quiet, “Fuck.”

The door handle jiggled and everybody froze. The advancing men glanced at each other again, while I finally shook myself out of my stupor with urgent thoughts of: There. People. Help.

“Coming!” I found my voice as I took two big steps, then Colson who was the nearer of the two men took a step and reached for me. I tried to step faster out of reach of his hands but I was yanked off of my feet with an arm encircling around my throat, cutting off my shout of, “No!”

I was aware of JJ stomping across the room, running toward Ceely who had bolted for the kitchen as I expected. I grappled at the thick arm constricting tighter around my windpipe, feeling blood pounding in my temples and my vision blurring and going black. I had dropped my cup of coffee the moment he’d grabbed me.

A crash from the kitchen. Another. My legs were giving out and I was swimming upward through staticky pain toward the blissful surface of unconsciousness. A few more seconds, I was sure, then it would be over. But the seconds ticked by and I was still suffering, trying to let go but unable.

The next thing I comprehended was the thud of a body dropping to the floor; it was not mine, as I thought at first. It was Roshin landing in a crouch. A vent clattered on the floor, having fallen from the ceiling. Roshin brushed himself off.

“Hello,” he declared, and I was dragged back a step by the startled man holding me. The arm around my neck loosened just a little, still holding me in place but allowing me to suck in a gulp of air.

Roshin looked at me; I could see him through the black dots swarming and my vision returning. He looked at Colson. Colson let me go and I collapsed flat on the cold tile. Roshin was only two steps from the door and his eyes lingered on me wheezing on the floor as he crossed to it, slamming a hand down on the handle and popping it open.

Perry stood on the other side, muscular old arms folded. He flashed a smile that made his eyes wrinkle. “Look at this crowd. Lunch must be ready, huh?”

Roshin passed the older man a multi-tool Swiss-army-knife thing, and he pocketed it.

Across the room, Ceely came flying through the swinging doors from the kitchen, panting. Her stance was still defensive, she held a lethal looking paring knife already coated with blood.

My wheezing turned to coughing. My throat burned and crinkled like tissue paper. And from where I was still sprawled out, I could see a section of the ceiling missing in the hallway, it was propped against a wall, giving a clear view up into the ductwork. Perry must have boosted Roshin up to crawl through.

Hands on me made me flinch. I began to scramble back on the floor before I had even whipped around to look. Roshin was the one crouching, holding his hands up.

“It’s alright, Jacob. I was just helping you up.”

“Oh-.” My voice came out a croak. I nodded, taking the slender brown hand that he once again offered me. My heart was still racing, I was wobbly as he pulled me to my feet and steadied me. Unwilling to be rude even in pain as I was, I forced out, “Thank you.”

JJ lumbered out of the kitchen. He held a white dish towel to a gash in his forearm, had damp hair and a scalded red face. He was glowering.

Perry looked them over, his face was blank. “Helping with lunch, gentlemen? What are we having?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but was seized by another coughing fit. I didn’t understand, how could Perry be so obtuse? Thinking we had left the door locked on accident, that might be one thing, but seeing all of the disarray, and Ceely holding the knife… No. He did know what had just happened. He had to. He was choosing not to acknowledge it, just as Roshin had played cool when he dropped in on Colson strangling me.

They had come to some agreement and Ceely and I were being asked without words to go along. I didn’t understand it. I wanted to run from that room and straight to the Captain’s quarters, or to find him on deck, demand that the two men be thrown in the brig to await prosecution… But I also didn’t want to realize that I had made the wrong move when I didn’t have all of the facts. I looked to Ceely.

She answered Perry’s question for the two men, wiping blood off the paring knife on her apron. “Chicken salad, collard greens and fruit cocktail.”

“Sounds delicious,” Perry said. “It’s about that time, need help bringing it out?”

“Sure.”

They went into the kitchen together and each came out carrying a hotel tray. Roshin moved to the steam table to turn one of the warmers on for the collard greens, and then two more men from the crew came in, chatting. They made a beeline for coffee, while the fruit cocktail, plates and silverware were brought out. JJ and Colson both went to get coffee, still stiff and staring at me. Wondering would I be the weak link in the chain? More men of the crew came down from the deck, and suddenly lunch was in full swing around me, and I, still standing in the center of the room, rubbing my sore throat.

Ceely appeared with an icepack for me. Her gentle hand on my back guided me to the serving bar. “Something to eat, Jacob? Maybe something warm would be good for that sore throat.”

“You’re going to pretend nothing happened?” My voice was still rough.

“Come sit down.”

She had built us two plates and carried mine for me. She did not sit us near Perry and Roshin, instead going to an empty table. “Think about it, Jacob. Nothing really happened. -A few cuts and bruises, sure,” she tacked on the amendment when I opened my mouth to object, then rushed on. “But those will heal. If we blow this out of proportion, nobody wins. Not me, not you, not the Captain, not the company or the government.”

“Well, it’s not just about winning. It’s about protecting the company.”

“From what? Lawsuits? Lost time? Lost profit? We do that by moving forward.”

I looked behind me at Perry and Roshin, who had two others now sitting at their table. They were each watching me, and neither pretended not to have been. I turned back to Ceely. “You’re worried the Captain won’t let you continue on, if he knows about the incident.”

“Near-incident,” she replied. “And remember, I’m not the one who left the door unlocked, Jacob. That detail will have to go in your report, if you file one. With nearly half the crew involved, the entire mission might get scrubbed, the Captain might be demoted or even court-martialed. And you might never see another job outside of a cubicle. But of course, it’s up to your discretion…”

She started to eat her food and looked completely unphased by the ‘near-incident’. I searched the lines of her face, and I distantly hoped that someday I would have the same ability to compartmentalize. What a tough old bird. Stabbed one assailant scalded him, might have made it out fine if Perry and Roshin hadn’t shown up. Probably would have left me on the floor, but who could blame her?

Maybe I should trust in her wisdom and incredible resolve. I had frozen, when last I needed to decide what to do. I had wound up useless, almost unconscious, while she led that man on a chase around the kitchen, fought him off.

Ceely’s eyes opened wider, focused on something over my shoulder, and I whipped around to look.

The Captain walked in the galley’s door, scanned the room. He headed for coffee first, he took it black. Then he made himself a plate and made his way over to us. And as his steps approached, my back straightened on its own. He slid right in next to me, as I hoped and feared he would.

“Afternoon,” he said.

“Hello.”

“Good afternoon, Captain,” I said.

“Lunch looks good. Didn’t have any trouble?”

“None,” Ceely breezed.

I said nothing, took a bite and chewed, mulling over all the things that would come of speaking up. In the end, I worked my way through my plate, while the Captain and Ceely made small talk, their energy strangely false, him almost combative toward her.

“Finding everything alright?”

“It’s a big kitchen, but I managed.”

“And your room?”

“It’s cozy. There’s nothing I can’t find, in there.” She had a pleasant smile for him.

“You must feel… confined.”

“Well, I would like to see more of the ship.”

“I’m sure you would.” The Captain shut down the conversation for a minute. We all chewed in heavy silence.

She tried again. “Could you or one of your men find the time to show me around? Or at least let me check on my sub.”

The Captain scooped up the last of his fruit cocktail, popped it into his mouth, chewed and made her wait for his reply. She watched his angular jaw moving, head down, looking up from under her lashes, and her eyes were dark and unflinching. She looked to me like she was simmering with indignation. More than indignation. Rage. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable to be sitting near the two of them. Then Ceely took a breath, blinked, and looked over at me, then down. Her face had smoothed out, she flashed a tiny smile my way. The tension left the air around the table.

I wondered, had I just seen through a crack in a careful façade? Or had I just misinterpreted? There could be a dozen explanations for that look; perhaps the stress of the recent attack had gotten to her more than she was letting on, had sent her into a numb place or a panicked place for that second and fight or flight was reading to me like anger… Maybe her head was hurting, or her hip. My mother always became irritable when her arthritis acted up... It had to be one of those. They all made more sense than a graceful, grey-haired woman of Ceely’s age still smoldering that way. That would sure be something.

The Captain finally answered. “I guess even inmates get yard time.”

I felt relieved. I knew that Ceely would be safe with the Captain for whatever time they spent together. And maybe once I made it back to my office, locked myself in, I would feel safe, too. For a few minutes the two of them finished their lunches in silence. I hardly ate because my throat was sore, and my stomach was still uneasy.

When the Captain stood, picking up his tray, Ceely did the same and held out her hand.

“Let me get that for you. Finished Jacob?”

I nodded, and she stacked the trays, taking them to the wash bin. The Captain watched her go, not taking his eyes off of her even as he addressed me.

“I need you to come with us, Jacob. I’m sorry if it’s an imposition.”

My heart sank. I couldn’t help it, I scoffed. “What for? Protection?”

He blinked, glanced over, then back. “Exactly. She’s not here just for the work.”

“You think she’s scheming to claim some sort of abuse, and sue the company?” I said it slowly, knowing it was not correct.

“I don’t know if that’s it, but we need to protect ourselves as best we can. Would you be here, just for the work? Just because you had nowhere else to be?”

“No.”

“Nobody would.”

“Maybe Perry.” The older man had met Ceely at the wash bin, said something, then left the galley with his usual unbothered smile.

“Maybe Perry,” The Captain conceded.

Ceely rejoined us. “Ready?”

Down, into the lowest level of the ship. I had never ventured so low before; the machinery held little interest for me. The ductwork, pipes overhead. Darker than the halls on the other levels, even with bulbs attached to the metal walls at even intervals. We meandered around a massive furnace unit, cold and dusty, and past the locked door to the engine room.

In the back nook -where the ship’s massive, metal walls curved toward the aft, and gargantuan, rusted bolts held two huge sheets in place- sat Ceely’s sub. There were hydraulics and motors for a pair of mechanical arms on either side of the closed porthole door, another small vessel meant for unmanned, underwater rig repairs nearby, but it was all cold metal. The sub’s sunny yellow paint made it stand out, look lonely among them.

Ceely’s face looked empathetic, as though she thought the same way I did. She traced a hand along the sub’s side. She was sorry to have left it, even for a day, I could tell. It had to be like a friend to her, after so many years on board.

“Perfectly safe. Just how you left it.”

“You really haven’t gone onboard? You or your men? Not even to search?” Her question was directed at the Captain.

“Just a scan for harmful materials that the ship’s computer ran as you docked. It would be a breach of policy and of the law for any of my men to trespass on your vessel, as I said.”

“There are cameras,” I added. “All over the hold.”

Ceely nodded. “I’d like to power up the engines, perform a quick systems check.”

The Captain nodded.

She reached up to get a grip on the manhole cover, lifted one foot up on her sub’s starboard side, and puffed out a big breath as though she was going to haul herself up. I had enough time to doubt that she could make it before the Captain hurried to her side.

“Here.”

He cupped his hands, let her put the toe of her work boot into them, and then grunted as he heaved her most of the way up. She only had to swing one leg over the submarine’s big tube of a body and then, balancing -and the Captain and I surely feeling the same trepidation at seeing her fragile, old body so high up- she opened the hatch and climbed down inside.

The submarine’s engine roared to life a minute later. I had never been particularly good with machines, but even I could tell that its whir was not healthy. The thing bogged down and its shaking became more pronounced but then it smoothed out again.

I found myself circling the sub, while the Captain just stood with his arms crossed. The propellors whipped up dust, the rudder shifted as Ceely no doubt directed it to. I hurried to the front where I could see her through the wide glass window. She did not notice me, taking notes on a little pad as she manipulated controls. Even when she looked up, it was to take stock of the submarine’s mechanical arms. Both moved left to right, up and down, but only one could still grab with its two prongs. The other grinded and then sparked, and moved no more.

Ceely shook her head. Took more notes. Watching her, I felt strangely moved. She had to have a wild passion for the machine, to live in solitude out on the ocean the way that she had. I had never found such an interest in anything; I only found joy in living between the lines, thrived on conformity, excelled at normalcy. I felt okay about it except for in the rare moment when I met a true wild person. And I was surrounded by primitive, wild people on the ‘Last Chance’. It made me feel inadequate.

Burning in the sensation, I tapped on the glass. Ceely started like a deer in headlights, an animal in an enclosure. Her hands even shot to the steering console of the sub’s, like she was ready to take evasive action.

I put my own hands up immediately. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Remembering where she was, she rubbed a liver-spotted hand over her heart, surely pounding. “It’s not your fault.”

“Your sub is incredible. I only wanted to ask if I could come aboard?”

“There’s no room.” Her answer so sudden and sharp wounded me as efficiently as a knife would. She seemed to see it on my face, even though I tried to shake it off. “I’m sorry, Jacob. It’s nothing personal. My sub is just very personal to me. It’s private.”

“Of course… no worries.”

The Captain furrowed his brow, deep in thought, and said nothing.