Chapter 16 #3
Succinylcholine? Was that the drug that whoever was doing this was hitting people with? But how could he, she or they have
moved people around once they’d struck them with a needle? Kilbride had fallen after a few words, apparently having no idea
that he’d been hit with anything.
And now . . .
Here was Daniel, flat out. But there was no sign of Gina—or the others.
“Daniel, try, please try! Where did they go? Please, help me!”
Daniel’s mouth moved. His eyes flickered.
“Down . . . down . . . down . . .”
The man’s eyes closed. He was out. And no matter how hard he was shaken, Wes knew, there was no way that he would speak again.
With any luck, he’s only been drugged. He will live. Unless . . .
Was the he his own brother? And did whoever had done this plan on coming back to kill him when he’d finished whatever he was doing? Who
the hell was involved—and who, besides Edward, might the intended victims be?
“Hey!” Wes shouted. “Anyone medical? Please, if so, come help this man!”
He was gratified when a woman of perhaps thirty-five excused herself from her group and hurried over to him.
“Can’t take him to the doctor right now, the hospital area is compromised. Please don’t spread fear until we can rectify the
situation, but he’s been drugged if you can keep an eye on his vitals!”
“Oh, my God!”
So much for don’t spread fear.
“Hold on, please.”
His phone buzzed. He answered it quickly, praying first that it might be Chloe, but grateful to see that it was Captain Millbrook.
“Security cameras were compromised, but not before I saw your group heading to the elevators going down. And not before I
saw Amelia leaving the infirmary with George weaving around all over the place, just like the man who had been at the door.
I’m afraid to leave the helm right now—”
“You don’t need to leave the helm. You do need to get a couple of security officers up to the kids’ pool to help a woman look
after a man who has been drugged. I’m going down. Send backup behind me, but tell them to stand down until they hear my order,
we need to know who is doing this and who is victimized. Order them quickly, please!”
“You got it. Can we keep an open line—”
“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 said we and used survivors in 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 . . .
Chloe was good; she might well be pretending, or . . .
Only halfway paralyzed?
One way or the other, he needed to let her know that he was there, that others were behind him. First, however, he had to
inch forward; he needed to see.
Who was creating this horror.
And who was a victim.
Still . . . Chloe had to know. Had to know that he was there.
And that someone might well die that day, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be her!
“As you wish!” he whispered softly. “As you wish!”