Chapter Four

 

The captain shows up after a few hours. He stands in the doorway, and McKenzie is sitting on the edge of the bed by then, waiting. “Alright, escape artist, come on. Dinner service at six.”

And that is all that is said, for the time being. McKenzie jumps off the bed and hurries out into the hall. The captain shuts the door, checks that the latch and lock are secure, then leads the way to the stairs and up. The next floor looks much the same as the one the med bay is on, white, peeling, rusting metal and track lighting and closed doors close together.

The galley is brighter, with tables and bench seats. A tub of dirty dishes waits, and the captain wheels it to the back, through swinging double doors. The kitchen itself is a lot of stainless-steel tables and counters, with plastic cutting boards, a large six-burner stove and four ovens, walk-in fridge and freezer. The place is made to feed several hundred, but if there were that many on the ship, McKenzie is sure he would have seen some around. He gets the feeling he has wound up on a ghost ship, crewed by the dead; they are either doomed to sail forever under the smog and the threat of the monster, or they get closer to Hell and its massive jaws every day… He wonders if the purgatory of it never ending isn’t worse. Maybe they need to find their way out, earn their judgement through some act of attrition.

The captain opens an oven and the warm steam that wafts out carries the scent of delicious, spiced meat. He heaves a massive, foil-covered pan out and drops it on the counter. Inside is a trussed-up piece of pork, stewing in fragrant juices and herbs.

“We’ll let that sit while we whip up some salsa… Wash your hands, I’ll get you some veggies to cut.” He collects tomatoes and onions, and a large knife, which to McKenzie’s surprise, he is given. “Let me see your form?”

What he means is, does the kid know how to hold a knife? McKenzie does, it’s one of the first things his father taught him in the kitchen.

Looking at his fingers on the knife’s grip, the captain nods and pushes vegetables at him. “Good. Let me get a fine dice on these onions, then move on to the tomatoes, and then all into this big bowl, got it?”

McKenzie nods and gets to work.

The captain is charring up dozens of corn tortillas when a short woman with short, dark hair comes in. “Sorry I’m late, Amor. What do you need?”

“Help McKenzie with the salsa, please, Mom. Then maybe a salad.”

She smiles a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, McKenzie. I’m Regina. Let’s see, you’ve got tomatoes and onions. We should add some peppers, some cilantro and lime…”

The captain finishes charring tortillas and starts shredding the pork, right into the juices it cooked in. Regina gives McKenzie a couple of cucumbers to slice and collects greens and dressing. They toss it all together in a hotel pan and then dinner is ready to be served.

Out in the galley, men are already gathered, about a dozen. Several of them start to pound their fists on the tables, increasing the speed as the captain carries the heavy pan of shredded pork to the serving bar. Scattered applause breaks out and men rush to be first in line.

The captain nods his acceptance of the praise, and gestures to McKenzie and Regina. “My assistants. Dig in.”

Men build heaps of tacos on their trays, jostling and joking as they do. McKenzie waits, he does not want to wade into the fray. The captain and Regina seem to feel the same way, although the former steps away for a minute. Before he goes -leading a rangy Arabic looking man back to the kitchen- McKenzie notices him scan the room, lock eyes with Perry, and nod to where his mother and the boy stand patiently.

Keep an eye on them, it denotes.

He wonders if there would be any point to sneaking away, even if he could. His stomach growls, and the pork smells so good that he knows there is not. Even if he found an unfindable hiding place, he would not have the strength to stay there for long.

Finally it is his and Regina’s turn at the serving bar. He makes up two tacos, with plenty of the pork stock dripping off of them and big heaps of the salsa he helped to make, and a serving of the green salad, too. Unlike most kids his age, he will eat fresh greens any day, with gusto, providing that the dressing is halfway decent. He thinks of hobbit meals eaten in the Shire made from all sorts of fresh things, fresh breads and cakes and cheese, eggs and meats, berries and veggies with herbs and mushrooms. He takes a bite and decides the captain has them beat, the pork is falling apart, tender and with multiple layers of flavor, acid of citrus at the front, then one spice after another catching the tongue’s attention, billowing out like a sail unfurling and catching a breeze.

He closes his eyes and all thought fades away. His father would be impressed. That was what his father loved about food; that it could keep you guessing. That anybody could make a meal that could knock your socks off, even in a place like this, for people like these.

Several of the crewman take up seats beside and across from Regina and McKenzie. Some stop as they pass and stoop to get a good look at him. They each ask him something, try to get him on the hook so that he’ll talk. They think they’re special; the chosen one to break the curse afflicting the poor boy.

“So, who made you walk the plank?”

“Hey, boy, do you want a dollar?” It’s waved in front of him. “Just say, ‘yes’ and it’s yours.”

“I’ve got a candy bar. Only cost you one word.”

One burly and mean looking fellow just stares him down for a few seconds, then orders, “Talk. I know you can.”

Each time, McKenzie spares the man a glance, then focuses on his tacos again. The captain reappears and goes to the serving bar, where he starts to make up two trays of tacos and salad. The Arabic man has come out of the kitchen with a few tacos of his own, and as he sits at the next table over, McKenzie decides they contain chicken or fish. The captain holds two trays when he comes over. One has a mug of coffee on it. Apparently, he has decided that his recruiting his mother and Perry both to watch McKenzie is not enough.

He issues a stern order. “Stay here or in the kitchen until I get back. Help Regina clean up, please.”

She says, “Go ahead, Caesar. We’ve got this.”

McKenzie realizes that the other tray must be for the prisoner. The woman in the brig. What did they say that she did? Broke an important rule. Put everyone in danger. She must have nearly brought that thing down on the ship; what else could that mean? He will stay away from her, he decides. No matter how kind she seems. She is dangerous.

The captain goes, and as he is stepping out into the hall, Jacob steps in. He looks exasperated, and tries to speak to the captain, but the older man shakes his head and goes. Jacob looks after him, sighs, then comes into the galley. His eyes land on McKenzie, he gives the boy a smile but it’s uneasy and doesn’t last. He gets food and goes to sit with the Arabic man, seeming to immediately spill his worries, and then both of them glance over at McKenzie in the same moment.

Jacob and the boy’s eyes meet, the man blushes and looks away.

A pit forms in McKenzie’s stomach. Something is wrong, and it’s about him. He must be in trouble for sneaking out. What can they do to punish him, other than putting him back in that room? Starve him? Torture? They are in international waters… Jacob looks sick from whatever he knows.

A tall black man wearing a gun in a holster on his hip and a button down blue shirt enters. He fills a tray, comes and sits next to Regina, scarfs down four tacos, gives her a kiss on the cheek and then goes.

Men of the crew go back for seconds, and some even for third helpings of the delicious tacos. Jacob and his friend do not, they finish their meals and then sit, and wait. McKenzie waits, too, and watches, until almost a full hour later it is only the five of them left in the room; the two young men, Perry, Regina, and himself.

The old man has drifted over to the window. He stands looking out. McKenzie watches him and sees a hint of a smile on the man’s face, placid and open. The evening sun is dying out that way, and Perry looks ten years younger in the golden-orange light. He isn’t scanning the horizon for signs of the monster, he’s just finding his peace out there, somehow. He must be the bravest man to ever live. McKenzie wants to be like that.

“Let’s clean up,” Regina says, and takes McKenzie’s hand. He lets her have it, although it feels strange. There are no leftovers at all. The two young men stand and automatically start to help them carry dishes to the kitchen.

The darker man introduces himself to McKenzie. His name is Roshin.

Perry, alone, stays out in the galley. The rest head to the kitchen, where there are two different two-compartment sinks, one on either side of the long room. They start washing dishes in pairs. Regina scrubs them in the soapy water, McKenzie take them from her, rinses them and stacks them nearby. He doesn’t mind the work, although part of him is exhausted and actually longs for the seclusion of the room. That part of him has been tricked; it’s safer out here where he can run if sirens blare.

He has forgotten his objective of stashing some food. There is very little out on the counter, but there are some bananas hanging from a hook. He tears one off quickly while Regina’s back is turned, and sticks it in one of the sweatpants’ cavernous pockets. She hangs mugs to dry on the further hooks underneath the taller cupboards. There’s a box of protein bars in a cupboard under the sink, along with tins of tea and a huge tub of coffee. He sticks two of them in his other pocket.

He is still crouched in front of the open cupboard when the door opens and the captain comes in, holding two empty trays, two empty mugs. He takes in the sight of the boy -who has given the appearance of guilt, shooting to his feet and dropping his hands to his sides- but the captain says nothing about it, just walks over and starts washing the trays and mugs in the soapy water.

Jacob spins, not knowing what to say for a second. His eyes skip over McKenzie, then color rises in his face again. “Captain, I still need to speak to you.”

“So speak.”

“We should speak in the galley.”

The captain looks at McKenzie, too, then nods, taking a hand towel off the counter and drying his hands as he goes. Jacob follows. As soon as the door has swung closed, McKenzie starts to go after then, but Regina catches his shoulder.

“Don’t.”

But they’re talking about me, he thinks, and stands on his toes, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the captain through the small window at the top of the door. His face is smooth, empty, and then it’s cloudy, cold as steel. His heated reply can be heard through the door.

“I don’t care what Scott says. Go over his head if you have to.”

Jacob’s voice was lower, impossible to make out. It sounded negatory, though.

“That’s unacceptable! I’m gonna get those bastards on the phone right now.”

“It won’t help.” Jacob speaks up, this time.

But the captain is going, and calls over his shoulder, “You and Roshin take the kid to his room, and my mother up to the flight rig. Go together. Make sure the damn door is locked, this time.”

McKenzie’s stomach drops. He goes back to the sink and finishes washing the last of the mugs the captain dropped in. There’s nothing left, though. When Jacob comes in, Roshin is drying his own hands and Regina is going to shut the lights off inside the fridge and dry storage pantry, drain the sink.

Soon he is back in the white and grey hospital room, alone. He adds the supplies he smuggled to the bundle with the lantern and batteries in the bathroom cupboard. He knows he won’t sleep easily. He curls up under the bed and can’t focus on The Fellowship of the Ring.

What made the captain so angry? Something Jacob told him, pertaining to McKenzie. It has to be that they aren’t coming to get him, of course. Leaving him to be monster bait on this boat, and the captain is angry for him, and for the hassle it is keeping him locked up and under surveillance at all times. He’s never getting out of here. He’s not surprised. He knew he would still be here when the creature came. He needs to be ready.