Sons of Abraham: Terminate (16 page)

              “I think they’re gone,” he whispered, a smile locked on his face.

              “Who’s gone?” she asked, trying to look around as if she hadn’t a clue.

              He looked up the hill, catching the back of the Divinity employees as they passed under the archway.  He picked up the cases, his eyes still looking towards the area they’d recently passed.  One of the two port authorities caught his stare, the whites of his eyes boring down from the top of the hill.  Bearden smiled, then turned and hurried his fake bride to their fake honeymoon.

              The remainder of the walk went unnoticed as the duo reached the dock, almost skipping across the resin planks.  They were greeted by an unhappy Captain, wearing the style of old shipmen, topped off with a blue hat with the yellow anchor on the front.  Even with the thick beard, the man’s frown was obvious. 

              “Bout time,” he muttered, standing to the side to allow the couple to pass. 

              The Sargent handed him their tickets before his companion grabbed his hand and drug him onto the platform.  Their shoes found the ship, thankful to be onto the sea.  A short woman, dressed in a white uniform smiled at them, rattled off the schedule, and told them how to get to their quarters. 

              The Sargent ducked under the doorway, following Janys through the narrow hallways.  Twice they had to press flat against the wall to allow others to pass in the opposite direction.  After a nearly treacherous journey down a spiral staircase, the duo reached their quarters. 

              Janys plunged onto the bed, releasing a faint sigh as the mattress engulfed her aching muscles.  Her pale arms wrapped around one of the pillows, which she squeezed tightly and closed her eyes. 

              Bearden dropped the luggage by the closet, his eyes attempting to measure the available space on the floor.  The entire room was only eight feet square, leaving little room for which to maneuver.  He stepped through the doorway to the bathroom, hoping to find a full bath.  His face locked in a frown as he saw only a standup shower. 

              He closed the door, stripped off the hideous clothes, and turned on the water by running his finger over the tiny panel inside the stall.  The jets came to life, spraying his arm with an ice-cold blast.  He stepped back, examining himself in the mirror as he waited for the water to heat up.  The cuts on his face were starting to heal though he couldn’t say which cut came from which incident.  His shoulder was a mess, turning a mixture of dark blue and green.  He scowled, realizing how poor he’d appeared as he attempted to resemble a tourist.  No one went on their honeymoon with so many injuries.  The mirror steamed over, signaling it was time to get clean.

              He made no effort to be quick, knowing that he had another hour before dinner was to be served.  He took the tiny bottles from the shelf though reminded himself to leave the majority of the shampoo for Janys.  He squeezed out a small circle and scrubbed his red flattop.  The water ran brown, with more streaks of red than he cared for.  The skin was sensitive, reminding him of his multiple head injuries he’d incurred at the Tower.  He opted to use the bar of soap to perform a second and third washing, thankful that the ticket bought them a full bar as long as his palm.  He continued to scrub until the water ran clean, then focused upon the rest of his body.  His skin protested against the scrubbing, begging to be left alone as he lathered a washcloth and scoured the infected skin from his wounds.  The white rag ran red, forcing him to rinse it thoroughly before dropping it into the basket. 

              He gave up and just stood there, allowing the hot water to sooth his soreness.  His eyes closed, begging once more to never be asked to open again.  His foot slipped as his head bobbed to forward, gently tapping his forehead against the showerhead.  He shook it off and stopped the water.  The towels were laughably small, taking two to dry his oversized frame.  He started to put his clothes back on, then realized that he was long overdue for a change in underwear.  The pants and shirt were new, but the rest was what he’d worn during the attack on the Tower. 

              He laughed as he tried to wrap a towel around his hip, realizing that it couldn’t reach far enough to tuck inside itself.  He picked the second towel back out of the hamper, foolishly attempting to form the two pieces of cloth together.  The sides kept coming untucked, forcing him to use both hands.  The doorknob was a problem, leading him to test how quickly his hand could hit the lever, then return to his towel.

              The door swung open as he darted out, making straight to his luggage.  He frowned as he realized he’d have to let go in order to grab the handle of the bag, leaving him exposed to the unruly skirt he’d fashioned.  His eyes shot up, noting that Janys was still hugging the pillow, her eyes locked shut.  He let out a breath, then dropped his hands to grasp the handle to the bag.  As he’d expected, the towel fell open, exposing his manhood to the room.  He ignored it, hoping that the Corporal was sleeping, leaving him free to retrieve the clothing he desperately wished was on his body at the moment.  He’d no such luck.

              “Wow, it’s true what they say,” Janys remarked, an evil grin forming on her thin lips.  “Big guy and a big……..”

              He caught her gaze, realizing that she wasn’t looking at his nose.  Something inside him gave up as he let both hands go, grabbed the bag, and held it over his lower body. 

              “Show’s over,” he muttered.

              “Nah, you still have to turn around.”

              His face grew red as he whirled around and stormed back into the bathroom.  He slammed the door shut, but not before she managed to let out a whistle.  He looked at himself in the mirror, noting the dark red circles on his cheeks and forehead.  He couldn’t help but laugh. 

              Thirty minutes later, the pair was seated at a table on the deck of the ship.  The table was a black frame, bolted to the deck, with a quick release to allow for clearing it away when needed.  It was covered with a white tablecloth, along with several thick, white plates, silverware wrapped in a silk cloth, and several empty glasses. 

              Unable to contain her hunger, Janys snatched one of the rolls from the basket.  She nearly tipped over the fake candlestick upon her return, then realized it was fastened onto the table magnetically.  The dim light shined off her face, catching Bearden’s focus as the sea gently rocked them.  The same white uniformed woman from before came to their table, bringing them both beers in silver cups. 

              “Dinner will be ready in a moment,” she informed them before moving to the next table.

              Janys looked around the deck, noting there were six couples, but seven tables.  The variety was abundant, the couples ranging from young to old, white to black, and from varying degrees of wealth. 

              “I like the dress,” Bearden stumbled, trying to sound flattering.

              True to his word, the Sargent DID like the dress.  It was a wrap, similar to the flowered dress from earlier, but pure black in color.  The fabric mimicked silk, shining off the moonlight that poured from the horizon.  Despite his best intentions, he couldn’t help but notice how thin the material was, or how low it hung on her upper body.  Her pale skin glowed in the dim light, forcing him to look into his cup as he drank.

              “Wow, date much?” she laughed, leaning into the table. 

              He nearly dropped the glass and spit, his throat overfilling with liquid as he nearly laughed mid-sip.  The cup smacked against the metal table, leading every head to turn his way.  The Sargent hung his head, turning red once more.

              “Yeah, social graces are a little lost on me,” he whispered, pleading for everyone to look away. 

              “Hey, look at me,” she replied.

              Bearden dared a glance, her pale blue eyes locked upon him as the moon broke free from the clouds behind her.  A tear trickled from her eye, shoving the embarrassment from the Sargent’s face.

              “What is it?” he asked.

              “I can’t stand you feeling ashamed,” she whispered, trying not to choke on her closing throat.  She took a quick sip, pleading for the food to come quickly.  As no plate as placed before her, she had little choice but to explain her words.  She returned her gaze, finding the strength to speak her mind.

              “You take the gun and uniform away and you act like you’re worthless next to these people,” she sighed.  “You’re not.  These people are NOTHING compared to you.  Just think of these last two days.  How many people tried to kill you?  Hell, how many Cybers tried and failed?  You never gave away your confidence then, so don’t give in to these civs now.”

              She took a sip, her eyes growing wide as she saw the food trays coming around.

              “Besides, you’re up five to three,” she whispered quickly.

              “Five to three?” he asked, his cup nearly touching his lips.  “What the…..”

              “Dinner’s ready,” the white uniformed lady sang. 

              Bearden paused the thought, waiting for the woman to place to silver covered dishes on the small table.  She uncovered both, offered a quick nod, and tried to hurry away.

              “Wait,” Bearden snapped, looking down in displeasure.  “We should both have steak.”

              The woman looked down at the plates, shame filling her face as she saw one plate with steak, the second with some white meat that they assumed to be chicken.  The woman sighed, and shoved her hands behind her back.

              “I’m sorry,” she replied.  “We didn’t have enough to go around.”

              “We’ll make due,” Janys offered.  “Thank you.”

              The woman nodded and scurried away, leaving the couple alone with their meals.  Janys looked down, offered a weak smile, and switched the plates.  She placed the steak in front of Bearden and settled the chicken in front of her. 

              “Ya think?” Rolland snapped, snatching her utensils from her hands.

              “Uhm, yeah, I THINK,” she replied.  “You’re injured, which means you need protein to rebuild your muscles.  Besides, I like chicken.”

              Bearden shook his head and drug her plate next to his.  With a knife and fork, he cut into both slabs of meat, attempting to create equal halves.  He stabbed half a steak and placed it on top of half a chicken, then repeated the process until he had two equal plates.  He shoved her plate back across the table and nodded.

              “Always a simpler solution,” he sighed.

              Janys smiled as the two ate in silence.  Both were famished but didn’t wish to appear animal-like in the way they consumed their meals, at least not in front of the other couples and the crew.  They happily ate the meal, requesting two more cups of beer each as they told stories about their youth.  One by one, the duo outlasted the other couples, quickly left alone on the deck, the moon rising high above the ocean.

              “And that’s why you never steal a teacher’s desk,” Bearden said, finishing his story.

              “Wow,” she offered, shaking the last sip of her beer around in the bottom of her cup.  “I bet he was pissed.”

              “Oh yeah.  Especially when he came back to the room and saw all his things neatly placed on the floor, just as they were on his missing desktop.”

              Janys laughed, falling back into her chair.  She was about to offer her own story when a man in a white uniform appeared, quietly waiting for their laughter to die down before speaking.

              “I’m terribly sorry,” the man started.  “We need to clear the deck for the remainder of the evening.  I’ll have to ask you to retire if you please.”

              Bearden laughed and quickly stood, stretching his massive frame over the far shorter man.  The uniformed man looked up, his jaw dropping an inch as the moonlight disappeared behind the mountain of strength before him.  Bearden finished his stretch, then slapped a meaty hand down hard on the man’s shoulder.

              “We ARE exhausted,” he replied, patting the man gently.  “But thanks for the lovely meal.”

              “Of course,” the man stammered.  “And we ARE sorry about the steak.  I’ll set a little something extra aside for breakfast for the both of you, free of charge of course.”

              Janys nodded to the man as she stood from her chair.  Bearden arched his arm, allowing for her to slink her wrist into the hole and be escorted back to the narrow hallways.  She told the story of her first date as they walked, leaving Bearden to pity any young man attempting to win her Father over.  The duo continued to laugh until they unlocked their door, a new problem presenting itself to them.

              “Yeah, you take the bed,” Bearden offered, closing the door behind him. 

              “Oh I don’t think so,” she replied, throwing a pillow on the floor.  “Five to three, remember?”

              She disappeared into the bathroom, returning a minute later with a long t-shirt on that stretched halfway down her muscular thighs.  She grabbed a blanket off the bed and sat on the floor defiantly.

              “About that,” he started.  “What the hell were you talking about, I forgot to ask.”