An excerpt from SAILORS TAKE WARNING
A tale of horror aboard the USS Nimitz
Kate Conrad sat in the back of the stacks and watched thousands of books slide an inch over
the edges of their shelves, and then the ship rolled the other way and they
slid back. The librarians strung bungee
cords to prevent books from falling off and they were working pretty well, but
tonight the sea ran rough and every few minutes a book or two, usually a thick hardback,
leaped over a rubber cord and tumble to the deck. She walked over and picked up a book that had
fallen. As she slid it back into its
spot, a librarian wearing black plastic-framed glasses entered the row carrying
a box of clattering metal rods.
“I’ve
never done this before.” He dropped the
box.
“What’s
that?” Kate asked.
“Battening
down the hatches.” He pulled a rod from
the box and fixed it against the books along one of the shelves.
Kate
saw right away how he attached the metal rod to little brackets on each shelf
and then removed the bungee cord and tossed it into the box.
“Here,
I’ll help you,” Kate said as she pulled a rod from the box and snapped it in
place, securing another shelf loaded with books.
“All
hands on deck,” the librarian said.
“I
wish they’d steer out of this storm,” she said.
She
braced herself against the bookshelf as the ship began nosing over. Her entire body clenched as the compartment seemed
to turn over on its side. Thousands of
books slid partway off their shelves—the weight of a million words shoved by a
violent ocean, straining against elastic bands.
She felt the weight of the entire stack threatening to topple over and crush
her if the ship tilted another inch.
“We
better get out of here,” the librarian said, as hundreds of books tumbled over
the elastic cords and crashed all around, several knocking them on their heads
and shoulders.
Right
then the alarm bell rang, and the ship pitched back to almost level.
Kate
quickly snapped another metal rods in place.
“I
wish I could stick around and help,” she told the librarian, “but I have to
respond to this alarm.”
“Be
safe,” he said.
Kate
bounded over books scattered on the floor and headed out of the library. In the passageway, she was surprised to hear
for the second night in a row, “SECURITY BREACH IN THE AFT WEAPONS MAGAZINE.”
The
ship leaned so far over it caused cabinets and drawers to spew their contents. Fire extinguishers, spanner wrenches, pots
and pans and toolboxes—anything not securely stowed—broke loose and rattled
about on the deck.
Kate
grabbed both railings as the ladder pitched forward and jerked sideways like a
rodeo bull. She tightened her grip and
hooked one foot under a rung as she recalled stories about sailors on smaller
boats attempting to climb down ladders on rough seas, only to be bucked off and
thrown to the deck where they suffered a broken wrist or a concussion.
She
wondered why they were calling her to the aft magazine again, especially after
Jenks had been shot dead there the previous night.
Music
and crowd noise came up from the hangar, and she wondered why the MAA hadn’t shut
down the party by now, especially after hitting the crowd with pepper spray and
the runway collapsed.
A standoff between roughnecks in pirate
costumes and MAA with their clubs drawn blocked the main deck passageway.
“Make
a hole!” Kate shouted, but nobody stepped aside.
A
burly MAA held one reveler in a headlock while another MAA tried to cuff
him. Two more MAA had their Tasers
drawn, holding the anxious gang at bay.
“Flying
Squad,” Kate shouted, “coming through!”
“Move
aside,” one of the MAA shouted, waving his Taser.
The
fellow in the headlock gave his captor kidney punches and kicked at the woman
trying to put the cuffs on him.
As
Kate barged into the crowd, she counted a dozen of them and they were dressed
more frighteningly than anyone she’d seen earlier at the rally. Several held swords and knives.
An
old-timer in officer’s regalia, including a black tricorn hat, a tattered blue
jacket with faded gold trim and a full rack of worn-looking medals, stared at
her with flared nostrils and lust in his eyes.
Another man’s scraggly beard hung from ruddy cheeks; the whites of his
eyes set off by heavy black mascara. She
pushed through and saw a thick bunch of dreadlocks hanging lopsided from a
woman’s head, crawling with silver insects.
A length of wire wove through multiple piercings in one guy’s ear and metal
tacks poked out through the sides of his nostrils.
“Excuse
me,” Kate said as she shoved through arms with elaborate full-sleeve
tattoos. Many of the faces sneered at
the MAA as if itching for a fight. Nobody
on either side was backing down.
A
man with dark eyes, deep in wrinkled sockets, his withered cheeks stretched
over bulging cheekbones, grabbed Kate and pulled her close. Face to face, his thin gray lips opened over toothless
gums. On feculent breath, he whispered,
“Have you come to play with the dead crew, missy?”
“Let
me go!” she yelled and broke free. The
entire gang erupted in laughter. She stumbled
backward. A hand groped her ass. She spun away and ran.
She
shot a glance over her shoulder just as one of the shirtless derelicts threw a
punch at an MAA who fired his Taser. The
fool collapsed in a fit. His mates
hooted like a bunch of schoolchildren who’d never seen a stun gun.
As
she ran, Dutro’s warning about a mutiny on the equator skittered across her
mind.
A
moment later, she arrived in the galley and saw her Flying Squad mates with
painted faces, kooky wigs, pirate hats and plastic swords. A hip-hop hit with a throbbing bass beat
pulsed in the hangar above and her worries about the gang scuffling with the
MAA dissipated.
O’Malley
stood at the center of the team with his reassuring linebacker shoulders and
chop-top crewcut. He held a clipboard
and shouted, “There’s no problem, nothing like last night. The guard just wanted someone to check the lock
on the nuke vault, so we’re standing by.”
Kate
took a seat and waited. She thought
about how the ship usually rolled fore and aft—up the face of an ocean swell,
over the top and down the other side—but not tonight. A growing unease sloshed in her belly. The bright blue deck in the dining area
heaved and pitched at an odd angle as the ship slid sideways across an
unpredictable swell.
She
wanted to run back to the library and meet Terrance and find out what had
happened, but a dreadful awareness filled her.
Curiosity about everything happening—missing bodies, the rash, warnings
of mutiny, seeing Comello, Jenks getting shot, and now for the second night in
a row, on the very night the ship arrives on the equator, a security breach
called away to the weapons magazine—and it all connected. A sinister energy fired through the synapses
in her brain, connecting seemingly unrelated events. Static crackled all around her. Her clothes charged with prickles of electricity
like a cheap synthetic blanket just out of the dryer. A tingling sensation crossed her scalp, a low
voltage current charging the roots of her hair.
The follicles on the back of her neck stood up as if she’d swallowed a
hot pepper. She bolted from the chair because
she realized that Danny Jenks was dead and his body would certainly be missing
from the morgue!
She
imagined Jenks’ corpse walking along the main deck passageway, limping,
dragging his cast, poop leaking from his diaper. She almost giggled, but no, she thought, and
then easily imagined Jenks as a pirate with a sword, running with that gang
she’d seen challenging the MAA.
The
deck heaved beneath her, and she reached to grab a pipe running along the
bulkhead, but as she did, an electric spark shot from the pipe into her
fingers.
“What
the fuck?” She yanked her hand away!
She
had to do something and thought about her boss, but knew Sternz wouldn’t be any
help in this situation.
She
walked quickly to the hatch and went down the ladder into the weapons handling
area looking for Fire Marshall O’Malley.
SAILORS TAKE WARNING is on Amazon in paperback and eBook
Malcolm Torres writes sea stories and nautical novels, but they are not like the books your grandfather read. Mr. Torres does not glorify brave officers and mighty ships. He writes about common sailors, the deckhands, who work hard and travel the world having adventure and romance in foreign ports.
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