Sea Sick: A Horror Novel(2)

Ahead, the little girl’s parents took their turns with the alcohol, rubbing their hands thoroughly like a surgeon scrubbing up. Once they were done they ushered their daughter over to take her own turn.

“Can my dolly have some, too?” the little girl asked as she ran over to the man with the dispenser. “I don’t want her to get a horrible cold.”

The alcohol-man seemed unmoved by the girl’s cuteness, but he obliged anyway, spraying an additional blob onto the plastic hands of the toy baby. Jack smiled at the innocence of it all as he passed by the family and headed inside the ship. He didn’t need any rubbing alcohol. It was a mildly-effective precaution at best, made necessary only because people were, for the most part, unconcerned with personal hygiene and good manners. Disease spread because of lazy, unwashed people, not because of individuals like Jack. He skipped right by the man with the dispenser and showed his pass to the Filipino woman inside the corridor. Then he headed further inside.

The open area at the end of the corridor housed an extravagant foyer with staircases on Jack’s right leading up to an ornate balcony. On his left was a walkthrough jewellery store and gift shop. Straight ahead was a pair of smoked-glass doors; the words, OCEAN VIEW RESTAURANT, written above it in calligraphic script. A crowd of people – passengers and crew members alike – were already buzzing about the area with excitement and energy. It was likely that Jack’s group was the final intake of passengers for that day. Everybody else had probably arrived earlier in the morning, or perhaps even the previous day. Suddenly Jack felt like a newcomer to a party that was already well under way.

A party I don’t even want to be at.

Several yards ahead, a crew member had noticed Jack standing there aimlessly. The man – also Filipino like the woman checking passes in the corridor – hurried over, smiling warmly as he approached. He even waved a hand in a friendly – yet awkward – gesture. His gawky appearance and bemused expression made Jack think he was unused to greeting passengers.

Perhaps he’s new.

Jack didn’t give a wave back, choosing to nod instead. The crew member’s uniform was a light-blue waist jacket with a white shirt beneath, black bowtie, and trousers. His hair was slicked back and dark, making him look older than the thirty or so years he probably was.

“Hello, sir. Let me show you to your room. Do you have your boarding pass?”

Jack nodded and handed it over.

“Ah, okay. Cabin B-18. Is very nice – a double.”

Jack took the man’s word for it. He hadn’t booked the cabin himself and only expected the bare minimum. If his superiors had authorised the extra expense of a bigger room then he was grateful, but they needn’t have bothered.

“Right now we are on A Deck. We take the elevators down to B deck. This way, please, sir.”

Jack followed after the man, rounding a corner beyond the foyer’s furthest staircase and entering into a slim hallway. On the right was a pair of brass-framed elevators. The crewman prodded a silver button on the wall between the two sets of doors.

While they were waiting Jack asked what the man’s name was.

The man tapped a badge on his chest that Jack had missed up until now.

“Joma. My full name is Jose Mariano Panalan, but you can call me Joma for short.”

Jack nodded, but found himself without a follow-up question. An awkward silence began to crystallise, but Joma managed to stop to it from manifesting fully.

“Can I ask what your name is, sir?”

“Of course. It’s Jack.”

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Joma took Jack gently by the arm and ushered him inside, stepping in after him. “Is your first time on cruise, yes?”

Jack nodded. “It’s my first holiday in…ten years, maybe.”

Joma whistled in awe. “You must be excited then, no?”

Jack was about to answer that no, he was not excited, but reminded himself that the man was just making small talk and not offering therapy. “Yeah,” he decided to lie. “Very excited.”

Joma stared at Jack then, drilling into him as if he had a secret tattooed on his skin. “You not bring your wife?”

“I’m not married. Never have been.”

Joma didn’t probe Jack about it, which was good, as sharing wasn’t one of his strong suits. They both chose to remain in silence as the elevator descended to B deck. It was a relief when the doors finally opened again.

“This way,” said Joma, heading out into a warmly-lit corridor. Sconces lined both walls and seemed to bathe the ceiling more than they did the deep -red carpet. It created a strange, yet calming, atmosphere. Joma padded along between the various cabins, left and right, until he came to one and stopped. “18-B. This is your room, sir.”

“Thank you,” said Jack, reaching into his pocket to find his wallet.

Joma waved his hand. “You don’t need to, sir. All gratuities are included in your fare.”

Jack liked the sound of not having to tip. He’d been unsure about the required etiquette aboard a cruise liner and it was a relief that Joma had just informed him what was expected. He decided to give the man a tip anyway. He’d been preparing to do so throughout the entire week, so if this was going to be the only time he was obliged to hand over money, he’d still be way ahead of budget. Jack gave Joma a twenty-euro note.