REND

“Fuck,” I groaned, recalling the beginning of the end of my condo building—a zombie parasite knocked on my door. A pretty polite zombie, thinking back. Now, someone else was outside. If this was another zombie, I’d sink this ship. “This better be a good sequel. Parasites II: Infested Cruise, just released in theaters. Or should this be the third—hang on…”

I blinked my heavy eyelids, trying to clear my suddenly watery vision.

SpookyErind was no longer in front of me. And I wasn’t sitting on my bed. I was lying down, staring at the ceiling. I felt a slight rocking of the ship. The waves outside must be strong to affect this hugeass ship. Bad weather?

I sat up, feeling groggy with a slight headache. No more slow-motion bullshit. This was the real world.

I rubbed the sleepiness away from my eyes and checked the clock. It had just ticked exactly midnight. Some dramatic shit concocted by SpookyErind? Time went on unlike the other instances she visited me. Around two hours. Or maybe, she visited me and then forced me to sleep to have some rest before this next nonsense. She did care, to an extent. How sweet.

More importantly, who was at my door?

That annoying person kept pressing the buzzer. Probably thought I was asleep and was trying to wake me up.

“Housekeeping,” came a woman’s voice. Knocking chimed in between the buzz.

“Wha-what?” My brain, freshly-addled after waking from SpookyErind’s dream world, was still trying to piece itself back together.

Housekeeping? Adrenaline coursed through my body as I frantically searched the blankets around me. Wait, why was I so panicked? So what if they charged my credit card? There was no drop of blood anyway. My shirt was also clean. Feeling around my neck, I didn’t find any wounds. Dumb. If I had any, it would’ve healed by now. In any case, the entire choking bit seemed to be an illusion.

“Housekeeping!” The voice was louder, the knocking more urgent.

I hurried to the door, a grim smirk on my face. I didn’t call for anyone, and employees wouldn’t bother passengers at this hour. I wasn’t like seven years old not to put things together that this was trouble. The annoying kind, not the exciting fighting kind.

Checking the peephole, I confirmed it was the woman who previously delivered clues from Big Marcy about the transport ships to Red Island. I had a hunch of the reason she was here again, and I wished I was wrong. Looks like my long day was extending to the next day. How was I going to look presentable next to Deen if I didn’t have my beauty sleep?

Well, I got two hours of shuteye thanks to SpookyErind. But getting woken up in the middle of a deep sleep made me cranky.

“What is it?” I asked the woman after opening the door, keeping the annoyance out of my voice.

“Sorry for the disturbance, miss. Here are the fresh linens you requested.” She handed me folded blankets, while intently meeting my gaze.

“It’s tonight, isn’t it?” I asked, hugging the blankets, hoping this was all a bad dream and people would leave me the fuck alone. I wasn’t in the mood to do anything after SpookyErind’s visit; my thoughts were quite a jumble from our conversation. “Erm, it’s past midnight already, so it’s ‘to-morning’, if that’s even a word.”

The woman wordlessly nodded.

“That nod is probably not for agreeing that ‘to-morning’ is a word but for the other thing.”

She nodded again. “May you find what we provided to be helpful. We regret that your stay is shorter than expected.” She bowed and went away.

Closing the door, I said to myself, “The word I was looking for was ‘today’. What the fuck was that ‘to-morning’ crap? She must think I was an idiot. And what was that about my shorter than expected stay?” I took it to mean that I didn’t have much time. The ships would soon leave. I quickly unfurled the blankets.

There was a packet inside. It appeared to be waterproof, judging from the texture of the fabric. Big Marcy discerned my plan. I wasn’t giving him points for this one though because we only had two options: either we sneak aboard the fake fishing boats or we swim after them after they departed. The first option wasn’t happening in such short notice.

“What do we have here?” I unzipped the packet and found several papers.

Some of them appeared to be blueprints of buildings. I peered closer, running my fingers over the line. I first thought it was printed because of how neat they looked, but they turned out to be drawings.

The building floor plans had lots of scribbles, arrows pointing out where sensors and cameras were, denoted by tiny labels. There were notes of possible guard placements including names of, most probably, Adumbrae. I wasn’t familiar with any of them. Some plans were labeled with ‘Laboratories’, with underscoring. Was I being told to target those? I assumed the labs held the secrets of how the 2Ms clients remained outwardly human and kept their personalities despite gaining the powers of an Adumbrae.

There might be a cure for me. But did I want it?

The last of the plans had a note at the end written in beautiful penmanship—‘Beware, might not be up to date. B. M.’

“Big Marcy drew this? I’m so touched,” I sarcastically said. “His handwriting looks so feminine. And the letters are super tiny.”

Amusing that he took time from his busy schedule entertaining snotty clients to prepare stuff to help me. He must really want to ensure my success in killing his brother. I imagined Big Marcy, hunched over a table, scribbling away, alone in his office. Only he could make these maps. There should be others who know the same information, but they were probably not on his side. Even among his men, he couldn’t be too sure they wouldn’t betray him.

There was also a sketch of Red Island.

Or islands… And not only red.  

The picture was of several islands on drawn top of each other, the differing perimeters outlined in different colors. I counted four of them, with the last drawing only halfway finished. Landmarks and buildings were also drawn with the same colors like there was a green building labeled as the ‘clubhouse’. I assumed the clubhouse was on the green island, and so on.

Did this mean that Red Island was comprised of several islands? Makes some sense. A little island hopping for the guests while isolating the more dangerous experiments. But what was up with this illustration? Did Big Marcy run out of paper that he had to fit all the islands here? If so, why superimpose them on top of each other? Looks confusing.

“Hidden meanings again,” I grumbled. Big Marcy made the wrong call assuming I was a genius.

I was smart but not like a detective character in an old-school mystery movie who could deduce how the entire crime played out just by looking at the dog poop the suspect stepped on. Big Marcy had such high expectations of me after I snuck into his secret office on the first night of the cruise.

Big Marcy had more parting gifts other than his drawings. The next papers looked like resumes… of Adumbrae.

“Bludgeon,” I read the name on top of one of them. “Real name, Keith O. Mcintosh. Yeah, Bludgeon is so much better than that unthreatening name. Goes well with his ugly, grouchy mug too.” My eyes scanned the rest of the details. “Abilities, enlarging fists, coating them with a hardened material, can form other melee weapons, blah, blah, blah, higher than average regeneration, shoots lasers out of his ass.”

That last one obviously wasn’t there. I was just so giddy realizing what Big Marcy gave me. Personal data sheets of Adumbrae on Red Island, almost a dozen of them!

This was a huge help!

If true. A very big fucking if.

I should keep in mind that even if Big Marcy was a hundred percent set on helping me, stuff here wouldn’t be unquestioningly accurate through no fault of his. Theo the Dead Monkey hid some abilities during his evaluation, for example. That could be the case for some of these Adumbrae. Or they could’ve developed new powers in the meantime. In fact, Big Marcy scribbled warnings on some of the data sheets about powers that might’ve been wrongly recorded. He also put a tiny reminder that there were more Adumbrae on Red Island I should look out for.

I’d love to pore over these data sheets and study them. Going to be super fun surprising an enemy that I was prepared for how his abilities worked or that I knew of his weakness. Even just saying his real name the first time we’d met would be a cool scene.

But I didn’t have the time. I returned the papers in the packet, put the packet into a plastic bag from our shopping spree, and then chucked that into our waterproof bag for our mission. Time to get packing.

“Oh, but before that. Deen!” I almost forgot my most valuable asset.

Just as I started to look for my phone, it rang. I found it under a pillow. Deen was calling me.

“Hello, Deen. You’re staying up late? Anyway, we have to—”

“Erind! Listen to me. This is very impor—”

“We’re leaving tonight.”

“How did you—?”

“You-know-who,” I said. “What about you? Did Yara tell you?”

“Yeah. She also said they were supposed to surrender their phones before boarding the transport boats. We’re not getting any more updates from her.”

“We’ll be fine on our own. Let’s prepare. We meet at the bow in… I dunno. Just move quickly.” I ended the call before she could say anything else. She’d shower me with reminders and waste our time. Plus, I didn’t want her motherly antics when I was pissed off at the short notice of this mission.

Mission. Yep, this was it.

I stuffed a bunch of clothes and sandals into the small backpack. The flashlight, batteries, bottles of water, and other stuff we bought earlier were already inside. Thanks to Deen for thinking of this. I’d never tell her that, of course.

I wore some comfy clothes, just a shirt and shorts. Halfway through fitting myself in the diver’s skinsuit, I realized that it might be better if I wore pants. Islands. Bugs and stuff. Could a mosquito even pierce my skin? Distracting thoughts. I zipped up the suit and examined myself in the mirror.

“Looks good.” I did a twirl. My clothes didn’t bunch up beneath the suit. Pretty unnoticeable.

I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, waved goodbye to my belongings I wouldn’t see again, and left the room. I sprinted down the corridor barefoot. We were going swimming. Why bother wearing footwear? As I ran, I tied my long hair into a tight bun; it was going to be annoying being in the water with loose hair.

“A long time since I’ve gone swimming,” I muttered.

Swimming by the beach or in a pool was way different from swimming in the middle of the ocean, flung around by towering waves. I slowed my pace, having a sense of sanity for a moment.

What if I drowned?

Then I’d be dead.

Solution: Don’t drown.

“Simple enough,” I said, focusing on all the fun things I’d do on the Red Island instead of the chore of getting there.

This is fucking it! I had a huge grin plastered across my face as I ran. Try as I might, I couldn’t push it down. Gone was my irritation. Electric shocks tingled up my side. Excited was an understatement. This must be what kids feel when told by their parents they are going to a theme park. I wouldn’t know because I’ve never experienced this heightened giddiness before, though I’ve been to many theme parks. I almost wanted to skip all the way to the ship’s bow

Fortunately, I didn’t run into anyone in the corridor. Midnight wasn’t that late—there were bars on board that people frequent—but most were probably tired of their day at Catalina Island. I envied them that they could rest.

Don’t be reckless, came the whisper in my mind. I imagined either an imaginary Deen or SpookyErind telling me that. Such a downer thought. Or it could’ve been me, reminding myself that dying wasn’t okay.

Grating it might be being told not to be reckless like a stupid kid, it was sensible advice that I should heed.

‘Should’ didn’t mean that I was going to.

I was already locking in my bet that SpookyErind would be very disappointed that Domino if I’d ever be forced to use that face, would teach me any lesson. Blanchette was supposed to help me learn control… which I did until I got tired of controlling the urge to have fun. Pino was about teamwork—I had zero learnings from that one. I was pretty much hopeless in this department.

I met a couple of people in the elevator—a drunk couple. They spoke to each other in slurred words while looking at me, wondering if I was real. I did look weird. I got out on the floor that led to the ship’s railings. I had to pass by some stairs and a common area first. Some people were there, listening to a pianist.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar figure.

Was that Reo?

He was alone, walking at the far end of the room. He turned to look at me as I passed.

It was really him. And he certainly noticed me because I was running barefoot in a skinsuit. What would he do about it? Report me to Dario? They wouldn’t be able to do anything because Deen and I would soon leave the ship.

When I reached the northernmost point of the ship that passengers could reach, Deen was already there, wearing a shimmering blue blouse and dark green slacks, waiting for me. It was a starless night, the wind cold and strong. We could hear the waves slapping the hull. No one else was around.

“Erind! What took you so—?” Deen scanned me head to toe. “You’re just wearing that suit?”

“I have clothes beneath it, and I also packed clothes in my bag. What about you?”

She pulled up one leg of her pants, revealing the tightfitting dark fabric of the diver’s skinsuit. “I wore clothes over it so people wouldn’t get suspicious of me. Didn’t you meet anyone on the way here?”

“Some people,” I said, mulling over if I should mention that I might’ve seen Reo. “So, what if they’re suspicious of me? I don’t want to go for three layers. We’re going to be gone soon. And you’re going to take off your clothes anyway.”

“It’s prudent to avoid suspicion,” Deen countered. “What do we do next?”