shower. There are no towels.
I’m really glad I put the blanket over Bossman’s body. The thick fabric soaks up most of the blood, and I’m able to pick a path toward the door without getting my feet bloody. My lack of footwear will be a problem, but there’s nothing to do about that. Whether I lost my sandals on the beach back in Santa Monica or somewhere in transit between here and there is a moot point.
It’s time to head outside and figure a way off this ship, but I hesitate. My hand rests on the doorknob, and I find myself filled with fear. This is different from living with Bossman these past few days. It’s different from the terror rushing through me when Shelly tried to rape me.
For some crazy reason, this tiny cabin is my refuge. Does Stockholm syndrome apply to places? Because if it does, I’m oddly attached to this small space and incredibly fearful of whatever I may find out there.
And what am I going to find? This is a ship, a large one. I’ve figured that out, and my assumption is that this is one of those cargo tankers. So where does that leave me? If I can’t approach the crew, then do I stay in here?
I don’t know, but I have to leave sometime. Then what? Hide?
Where would I hide?
There’s still the matter of getting off the ship. I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to waltz off. There will be questions, and those questions lead right back to the dead body in this room.
What I need is a rescue. Fortunately, I know a few Guardians who happen to be pretty damn good at rescuing damsels in distress.
But how to contact them?
Use a phone idiot. A quick search around the cabin and I locate Bossman’s cellphone.
When I pick it up, it tries to unlock using facial recognition, but my face is the wrong face and I don’t know the passcode. Over the past few days, I should’ve paid better attention.
But I do have one very important person’s face. Hopefully, the phone will unlock with a dead man’s face. Not wanting to, but having no other choice, I peel back the blanket to reveal Bossman’s face.
It’s a bit of a struggle, but I eventually get the phone to unlock.
Now what?
First things first, what’s the time? That’s easily answered without any effort. Just past nine, it’s still early evening. I don’t know how crew hours and shifts work, but I’m going to assume the graveyard shift is sparsely manned. No idea why I’d think that, but I’m working with very little information right now.
I need to call for help, but Bossman’s phone is nearly dead.
Quickly, I type in the emergency code drilled into all our heads, but when it comes time to input my personal code, the phone shuts off—dead.
Fuck! Why can’t I catch a break?
There must be a charging cord. It’s not at the desk. There’s no outlet there. So where would he plug in his phone and why did it never occur to me to pay attention?
I’m really not very good at this rescuing business.
I close my eyes and take a few breaths. Come on, Moira, you can do this.
Eight
Griff
Axel and I spend two long hours in the gym, not an uncommon occurrence for us, but me staying away from anything that might mess with my leg is different.
We repeat it all the next day and the next. With each passing day, my hopes for finding Moira sink. My leg is slowly getting better. It’s still not fully functional, but I’m babying it every day. If something changes, I will be on that mission.
Axel and I are at the chin-up bar, on the last of five brutal cycles of one hundred pull-ups followed by one hundred push-ups.
My entire upper body is spent, muscles scream, acid burns, and fatigue saps my reserves. I can go for hours more, if the situation demands it, but CJ enters the far side of the gym and cups his hands over his mouth. His deep, resonating voice bellows across the massive Guardian gym.
“Buckle up, bitches. We’ve got to go.” He circles his hand over his head and points to the door. Without waiting to see if we heard, he does an abrupt about-face and marches back out the way he came.
“Do you think?” I’m too afraid to hope.
“Could be, or…” Axel doesn’t finish his sentence. It could be a different mission.
We get called at all hours of the day