Date: Fri, 24 Oct 1997 08:09:41 MDT From: Robyn Meta Herrington Subject: SUB:CONTEST:Dreamboat Dreamboat I watched the attractive man in the front seat of the trolley car. I'd been following him for a week. That was my job. As a woman with average height and average figure with medium brown hair and nondescript looks, I usually don't get noticed when I tail people. I didn't think he had noticed me A breeze from the open trolley car window tousled his blonde hair. He used the hand wearing an onyx and gold ring to smooth his recently-barbered hair back into place. This ring was the reason I was here. Sam Martinelli in our New Orleans Antiquities Protection office had decided that this was a man who needed watching. There was no alert out on a missing ring of this description. Sam just found the design "disturbing". What had I found out so far? His name was Rev. Brandon Canns, a Baptist minister, well-liked by his congregation. I was beginning to believe that my friend Sam was becoming a bit obsessed with this "disturbing" thing. However, this morning Rev. Canns did something out of the ordinary. He left his apartment with a large suitcase and took the trolley car down St. Charles toward the middle of town. I shook my head at my own paranoia. The man was probably just a much overworked minister taking a much needed vacation and here I was tailing him like some kind of criminal. He got off the trolley near Canal St. and caught a taxi. I caught the next taxi and followed. He went directly to the docks, to a boarding ramp loading onto a ferry boat of some kind. A sign above a ticket shed next to the ramp said, "Boarding for the Bluesky. Cabins available. Working $500, Passenger Only $1,500." I had heard of the Bluesky. She was a large wooden sailing ship that went from just outside the Mississippi River Delta to Rio De Janeiro. Passengers could reduce their fares by performing some of the tasks on board. Well, I'd always wanted to sail on a big ship. The young girl behind the counter said, "Thank you, Reverend Canns. We hope you enjoy the cruise." "I'm certain I will," he replied. I had never heard him speak before. His voice was definitely that of a minister...confident, convincing. I could hear crystal bells in his voice. A hum. An underlying tone that relaxed me. Made me want to... "Ticket?" the girl said to me. I snapped out of my daydream and started fishing around in my wallet for the company credit card. Sam was going to pay for this vacation. "I don't have a ticket," I said, "but I'd like to buy one. I really need to get out town for a while." "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we're all booked up." I looked up at the sign once again. "But your sign says that you have cabins available." "I'm sorry," the girl repeated. "But..." "Look again, miss," the reverend interrupted in a subdued, silky voice. "My church group has booked a number of the cabins, but I remember the travel agent telling me that there would be a few cabins still open to the public." The girl blinked at him. She looked back down at the registry. "We do have one cabin, but it's in the bow of the ship. Not real smooth." I was about to decline the seasick chamber and go tell Martinelli he was crazy, when Rev. Canns said, "Here, I'm used to rough seas. Take my cabin near the center of the ship and I'll take yours." "Oh, no," I started to say and then made the mistake of glancing up at the reverend's handsome face. He made it sound all right. I had always thought my eyes were an attractive shade of blue, my one distinguishing feature. His eyes were the iciest blue that I'd ever seen. Clear. Aware. Knowing. "I insist," he said as the girl handed him another passage ticket. "Now, where is your luggage?" I blinked. Luggage? I turned back toward the taxi drop-off. Then, I felt his hand on my elbow as he said, "Oh, dear. Don't tell me the taxi drove off with your luggage." "The transport ship to the Bluesky is leaving in a few minutes, lady," the girl behind the counter said and closed the ticket window. "My name is Brandon Canns," he said with a smile. "I'm Kate MacDonne," I said. "Well, I know some of the ladies on this cruise," he added. "I'm sure they'd be happy to lend you something." His voice told me not to refuse him. His eyes told me I would be taken care of. His smile quelled the alarm bells that should have been going off. "I'd hate to be a bother," I said. He smiled again. "The ladies from my congregation are most generous, Kate. I'm sure you wouldn't be a bother." "All right, I have been looking forward to this trip for a long time," I lied. "But, just until we get to a port and I can buy some things for myself." I wondered if I'd go to hell for lying to a minister. Then, I felt like he knew I was lying and it was all right. As we stepped up to the Bluesky's transport boat, I shrugged and smiled at Brandon. Sometimes this job had nice benefits. _Wooden planks groan and creak beneath my feet as I walk the deck of the ship. I climb the ladder to the upper deck. I'm wearing a white linen shroud-like gown. I'm alone. Horribly mangled bits of flesh hang around me. Dripping red. Always dripping. Always red._ That was when I awoke the second night at sea. I didn't think that I had screamed. At least no one knocked on my door. The first night's mare had stopped at walking up the ladder with this sense of dread. I had to get a grip. We dropped anchor in St. Thomas on the third day at sea. I hadn't seen the good reverend much. He always seemed sequestered with his flock, saying prayers and singing weird songs in a language that sounded something like Spanish. So, when Canns went ashore, I went ashore. I don't know why, but it surprised me to see him shopping just like any other tourist. I went shopping, too. I was tired of wearing the second-hand frumpy dresses that the out-of-fashion, but well-meaning ladies had sloughed off on me. I had just located the perfect dress for the Captain's Dinner that night when I heard a male voice say, "Kate!" I turned. "Reverend Canns." He stopped and tilted his head. "Now, you don't have to call me that, Kate." He stepped closer and actually kissed my hand. Apparently the few days at sea had relaxed him. I couldn't hear the hum in his voice anymore, but the crystal tones were still there. "This is my vacation, too. Please call me Brandon." "Brandon," I corrected myself. The tittering of a passing lady from the ship made me blush more than I cared to as she shook a teasing, jade-ringed finger at us. He looked around and pointed to a nearby cafe. "Let's sit for a while and talk. I've been wanting to get to know you better." "You have?" "Yes, I have," he said. He pulled out a chair for me. "What would you like to drink? I'm a rum punch fan, myself." I gave him a half-smile. "Alcohol?" He cocked his head and winked at me. "I don't think abstinence solves anything unless you have a problem with overindulging." "Ah, a modern minister," I said. With a wink, I added, "Good. I'll take one of those, too." He went to the bar to get our drinks and I got to have a long look at him. Brandon Canns filled out his cut-off jeans in all the right places and that burgundy t-shirt accentuated his well-muscled chest and back. I closed my eyes and shook my head. Now, I know I'm going to hell, thinking such things about a minister. He returned with the drinks and the rest of the afternoon proved to be a lot more fun than I ever expected on an investigation. In fact, I had forgotten that I was on an investigation until I got back to my cabin. The empty bunk reminded me that I'd have to sleep again sooner or later. And, a telegram, sealed in a white envelope from an office ashore, was pinned to my bunk pillow. MACDONNE STOP YOU ARE IN GRAVE DANGER STOP STAY IN ST. THOMAS STOP ON MY WAY STOP MARTINELLI END OF MESSAGE I snatched up the telegram and intended to go back to send Martinelli a reply to stay away when I noticed that we were already underway. I went up on deck. I was right. The Bluesky had lifted anchor and was already heading out of the harbor. "Looks like we just made it," Brandon said as he walked up behind me. "I thought we weren't leaving until after dinner tonight," I replied. Brandon pointed to dark, roiling clouds on the northern horizon. "The Captain thought it would be better to get under sail now before that storm gets any closer." "Have fun ashore today, Reverend?" an older man taunted as he winked at Brandon and passed by, not expecting an answer. "Apparently, everyone was waiting on us to return to the ship," he said with a sheepish smile. I sighed. "Is everything all right?" he asked. "Did you forget something?" "I wanted..." I began and then stopped myself. I crumpled the telegram and tossed it to the goddess of the inky blue waters of the Caribbean. "I wanted to take a nice walk along the beach at sunset. That's all." He smiled. His smile was so pleasant, so inviting. "Well, you never know. Something better may come along." I smiled back and noticed that he was standing closer than he had all day. My heart actually started beating faster as he leaned down. I lifted my face in tacit permission of what I thought was coming. I knew I was being swept up. He was a preacher. He had charisma to spare. Those blue eyes. Some memory was beginning to surface... "Reverend!" a woman called from the aft deck. "We're all waiting for you!" He stopped and shook his head. "I'll be right there, Mrs. Donereaux," he called back to her. To me, he said, "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Captain's dinner tonight?" "I'd love to," I answered quietly and shook off the almost realized memory. "I'll be by your cabin at 7:15," he said as he walked down the deck backwards so he could look at me. He was certainly not like any Baptist minister I've ever met before. Suddenly, that thought scared me. My intuition finally woke up and rang all kinds of apprehensive alarms...telling me to be careful...that something was wrong here...that maybe Brandon was involved in... Maybe Sam was right. Promptly at 7:15, Brandon arrived at my door. He was holding a gardenia wrist corsage. He paused and asked, "Ready?" I instantly felt better. He was dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and black tie. His hair was conservatively groomed and he looked every bit the young, southern Protestant minister. I laughed. He looked down. "Is something out of place?" he asked. "No, come in," I said as I reached for my shawl. He stepped in, took the shawl and draped it around my shoulders. Then he showed me the corsage. "May I?" I held out my left arm and he quickly wrapped the soft, covered wire around my wrist and kissed my hand. The gardenia's scent was strong, sweet, ambrosial. He looked into my eyes, pulled me close, and kissed me. "That's for the interrupted kiss this afternoon." Then, he kissed me again...a bit longer, a bit more passionately. "That's for when I saw you just now," he whispered in a voice that sounded of seduction rather than psalms. I reached up to wipe the red smudges off his lips. "It wouldn't do for the preacher to go to dinner with makeup on, now, would it?" I laughed. "No," he agreed. And, as if he knew about my doubts that afternoon, he added, "But, they know I'm not a typical preacher. I think that's why they like me." The ship lurched me back into his arms and we both laughed. "Looks like the Maker approves of us," he said as he kissed my cheek and opened the door. With the layout of the ship, we had to make our way along the outside deck to reach the Captain's dining room. The sky overhead was clear, but an ominous dark horizon still followed us from the north. The Captain set a scrumptious table and was a gracious host all evening. After an entertaining dessert of Bananas Foster and wine-loosened conversation, most of the seven couples left for their cabins. Soon, only the Captain, Brandon, and I were left. "I've been admiring that ring all evening," the Captain said to Brandon. I almost choked on my cordial and wondered if Martinelli had planted the captain on this ship in advance. Brandon looked at his hand and frowned. "It was a gift from a friend," he answered calmly. "It's unusual enough, though, isn't it?" "So, you don't know what that design means?" the Captain asked. "No, I don't have a clue, Captain," Brandon replied with a hint of surprise at the question. "Do you?" Seemingly ignoring the question, the Captain rose and walked to his locked wine cabinet. "I always save the best wine for the last couple to keep me company after these dinners." He took out a bottle of some dark red wine and handed it to his steward to uncork. The look of surprise on the steward's face wasn't lost on me. While the Captain was turned toward his steward, Brandon caught my attention and his eyes asked me if I minded staying. I shrugged and smiled. "Well," the Captain continued, " I've sailed this route many times over the years." He sat back down across from us. "Done some exploring along the coastal areas. That design looks familiar, but I can't seem to place it right off the bat." The steward handed out the filled glasses. "This is a merlot from California of all places. I really enjoy it. I hope you do also." He lifted his glass. I matched his motion and drank. The taste was musty...not a favorite of mine. Brandon only took a sniff of the wine and smiled politely as he set down his glass. I assumed that Brandon would rather talk about his ring than drink the Captain's merlot because he held up the ring. The onyx inlay formed the outline of an eye...a cat's eye. Brandon moved it closer so I could see it better. What I had thought was a tear coming from one corner of the eye, I could now tell was a fang. A drop of something... something red... was bubbling from the tip of the fang. I looked at Brandon in surprise. He gave me a half-smile in return. Blackness began to fill my vision. My eyes closed. Hands moved me, touched me. Large hands. Small hands. Gardenias. Echoes. Echoes. Echoes. Blackness. Hands went away. Echoes died. I opened my eyes. It was night. I stood outside my stateroom. I looked down and noticed that I was wearing a translucent white linen gown and nothing else. A fog danced above the water, the inky blue Caribbean water. It was so quiet. The boat rocked slightly. Lap. Lap, lap, lap. The boards creaked where I stood. Rusty metal against wood groaned aft. A sail rustled from an impotent breeze. Lap, lap. But, the water writhed with hissing reptiles of all sizes and kinds and bubbled as if boiling. Whispers. I heard whispers in the bow. I crept forward. Something was strange. The lighting. It was torch light, lantern light. Not electric. I took a step and the deck groaned a warning to the whisperer. I turned the corner. Something warm dripped on my face. I wiped it off. It was red and sticky and smelled of iron. I looked up and saw a face, only a face. The skull it had covered was missing. I should have retched, but I didn't. I looked around the bow of the ship. The rusty metal was hanging from the broken mast. Hanging from the mast was a shredded sail wrapped in yards of mildewed rope netting. Hanging from the rope was everyone who had been on the ship with me. The woman who had giggled at Brandon and me in St. Thomas was hanging near the center, and on the bottom, and on the top, and that was her arm swinging from a broken and rusty link of chain. I recognized the ring permanently imbedded in a blue, swollen finger. The old man who had taunted us on the deck was hanging upside down, his body ripped down to the neck, dark oozing organs dangling in front of his face. And, Mrs. Donereaux was nailed to a crossbeam like Jesus Christ. Her head lobbed to the side, connected by only a few stretched muscle fibers; her eyeballs were popped out. One was missing. The other one rolled on the bridge of her nose. The Captain was tied to the wheel facing forward. His neck had been twisted. His face faced backward. His eyes bulged and his black tongue stuck out like a coat hook. Everyone was there, but... "But me," Brandon whispered from the upper deck. His voice no longer tinkled with fine crystal. It grated with rough gravel. I looked up at quite a different man than the one I had followed onto the ship. This...creature...stood and threw the half-eaten skull of the steward over the side of the ship. The splashing and slithering and snapping only lasted a few minutes before the quiet returned. He stood there and stared at me. Bloodshot white showed all the way around those icy blue irises. However, the blue was only a small, thin ring around his enormous black pupils. His fingers ended in claws and the claws were covered with blood and bits of flesh, clumps of skin with matted hair. White stringy hair, drenched with sweat and mucus, laced his forehead and the sides of his face. He smiled. The same half-smile as before, only this time, a forked-tongue darted out between two fangs. Red-tinted spittle dripped from the fangs and drooled down the sides of his chin. "I saved you for last," he chuckled hoarsely as he started down the ladder from the upper deck. "I think this is much better than some walk in the sand, don't you?" A rancid, decayed smell preceded him. I backed away. I turned and ran aft as fast I could. I hit something slippery, red. I fell in the drainage. Blood drainage from the carnage above. He was walking after me, laughing. The laughter dampened in the fog-insulated silence. I covered my ears, pulled myself up and kept running. I turned and jumped down into the hold. I saw the crew there as I fell on one of them. A broken bone ripped open my arm. All dead. Rivulets of dark red rolled from side to side with the rocking of the ship. "You can't get away," he cried and then howled. Not the howl of a beast. The howl of a demon so far denied his rightful reward. I looked around for a way out. There wasn't one. I was trapped. I backed toward one of the walls and looked around for any weapon. Ropes. Oiled cloth. Net. A leg that ended in a spiked boot lay in front of me. I swallowed the bile that threatened and picked up the leg. It was cold and the flesh was already starting to dry. The demon laughed and jumped down in front of me. With every bit of strength I could muster, I struck wildly and the spike caught on something. I yanked. I prayed that whatever the spike was caught on would at least slow him down. He screamed. The spike on the boot caught on the ring -- the onyx and gold ring. When I yanked, I pulled off the finger with the ring still on it. He kept screaming, but soon his screams began to echo and dissipate. The blackness closed in. I awoke in a New Orleans hospital. Martinelli told me that they'd found me alone on the Bluesky, adrift in the Bermuda Triangle. The ship was in perfect shape. All that was missing was the crew and the passengers, except for me. Everyone had a lot of questions. I told them that I didn't have any answers. -- ---------------------------------*=*=*=*=*=*-------------------------------- Robyn Herrington,Editor rmherrin@acs.ucalgary.ca InfoServe www.ucalgary.ca/~rmherrin New Currents in Teaching and Technology Communications Media MacKimmie Library University of Calgary Ph: 220-3716 (temporary) == Inter tormentia latitia == ---------------------------------*=*=*=*=*=*--------------------------------