“Oh, you bet!”
“Help is coming,” Wes told the woman.
She nodded, obviously getting a grip, though she was still nervous. “Melinda Dougherty, Doctor Dougherty, pediatrician, but I went to med school. I know who you are—the guy who saves everyone. I’m here, go stop this, whatever it is!” she told him.
The guy who saves everyone.
Wes realized he had never prayed so hard to be someone that others expected him to be.
He nodded to her and strode as quickly as he could back to the hallway and down to the elevator.
Down, down, down, but to which deck?
He thought he knew. The deck where the security offices were behind the rows and rows of recycling.
Cruise ships were allowed to dispose of certain rubbish at sea, and if that was where all the recycling and trash was kept, a disposal apparatus would be found there, as well.
Was that the intention? Paralyze a group of people, and then dispose of them in the sea?
As the thought raced through his mind, he heard Millbrook on the line, still there from the call they had never ended.
“I was thinking, I don’t know, but while security offices are below there, there’s also a clearing section beyond the bins, places where what can be disposed is sorted out from what must be recycled or—”
“My thought exactly, sir. I’m on my way!”
The elevator came to a halt.
Wes stepped off as silently as he could, reaching beneath the casual jacket he had worn, grateful that he had chosen to carry his 3D-printed weapon.
He inched along, heading away from the security office, following along a row of the giant green bins.
There was movement behind him. He spun.
It was his backup.
But he lifted a hand; the man in the lead nodded gravely. The five men followed slowly and silently.
Finally, Wes heard soft laughter from ahead.
“Well, we’ve gathered you all here for a lesson! One of the best lessons you’ll ever learn, except, sadly, you’ll never get to use it. You see, that’s the thing. It’s a dog-eat-dog world, my friends, and we’re going to climb to the top of it! How, you ask? You see, those of us who should be in power, who should be at the top, well, we’ll be found here... survivors. Because that’s what you have to be in a dog-eat-dog world. Survivors! Now, we’re just about ready, I have everyone I need, and of course, a few of you who are—sorry, guys—collateral damage!”
Wes recognized the voice, but the man had saidweand usedsurvivorsin the plural, so...
He turned, nodded to his backup and indicated that they should come close, but still hang back.
Then, he went down to his knees and carefully crawled along the last of the green recycling bins until he could see the sorting area.
And...
Chloe.
Chloe, lying just inches from him, prone, flat on the deck.
Of course, they’ve managed to drug her. To get her down here. But she knows what they are doing, she would have avoided a needle...
But she isn’t moving!
She isn’t moving at all. I can only pray...
