Dead Sea (62 page)

George’s eyes lit up. He broke the seal and threaded off the cap, took a good pull off it. Pollard practically fell off the settee trying to get a taste himself.

After he had, he just shook his head. “Fucking civilization,” he said, the whiskey filling him with something that had long been missing.

Cushing smiled, dug a carton of cigarettes from his duffel. “Here, George. Bad for your health, they say, but piss on it.”

George’s eyes lit up. “Cigarettes? No shit. My perverse addiction thanks you.” He fired one up and smiled. “Oh baby, oh yeah.”

“Goddamn junkie,” Pollard said. He took the pack and fired one up himself. “I’m supposed to be quit … can’t see it mattering now.”

“Where’s Elizabeth?” George said, blowing out smoke. “Aunt Else has all but accused me of kidnapping her.”

“She’s coming,” Cushing said. He cocked his head. “You sure as hell aren’t gonna believe what she found.”

They heard her coming down the steps, saw her enter the cabin. She offered Pollard the thinnest of smiles and gave George the obligatory death-stare. He winked at her. Maybe she didn’t like him and his mouth much, he figured, but she understood him. Understood him just fine. She stepped aside and four men stepped in behind her.

“Jesus H. Christ!” George said, jumping to his feet. “I can’t … holy shit!”

Pollard was up, too.

They both looked like they were seeing ghosts.

But there was nothing spooky there, just Menhaus, Fabrini, Saks, and Crycek. And for all them, it was like the ball had just dropped at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

Saks gave him his porcine, wicked smile. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised, George, figured you and Cushing were holed up somewhere swapping spit.”

That made George laugh. Didn’t seem like he could stop. “Yeah,” he gasped, “but the whole time we were thinking of you, Saks.”

“Shit,” he said.

George shook hands with Fabrini, his favorite muscle-bound Italian. Fabrini looked so glad to see him, he had tears in his eyes. And Menhaus? Same old Menhaus. Thinner, certainly, more lines on his face … but the same old Menhaus.

“Jolly Olly,” George said and they hugged, slapping each other on the back.

“Boy, I’m glad to see you guys.”

“Glad to see us?” Menhaus laughed. “Shit, after … what? A week with Saks here? We’re definitely ready for some human company.”

Fabrini chuckled.

Saks laughed despite himself. “And after all I’ve done for you.”

“Or
to
him, don’t you mean?” Fabrini said, very little humor in his words.

“Kiss my ass, Fagbrini.”

There was tension there, but it faded about the time the bottle started making the rounds. Jokes and insults passed around like cold germs. Cushing said very little, though there was plenty he wanted to enlighten them on. But not yet. Not now. Not until they settled in.

Elizabeth just stood there, looking uncomfortable like she’d just wandered into a men’s club. The talk was both salty and spicy, the language a little rough. She looked a little surprised and taken back by it.

Cushing figured she wasn’t used to it, but with this bunch, she’d have the chance. That was for sure. Fabrini kept looking at her as if he just didn’t believe there could be something like a woman. But every time she looked in his direction, he averted his eyes like a shy schoolboy. Not so with Saks. He was eyeing her up and down like she was fresh off the grill and he was hungry. Like maybe he wanted to stuff an apple in her mouth and cut himself a slice. She saw it, too. It was hard not to. And the look she gave him … well, Cushing figured Saks was lucky she didn’t have a gun in her hand.

Gradually, the talk turned to more serious matters.

It was confession time. What happened and to who and what the hell did you do when the ship went down? Then it seemed like everyone was talking at once.

“Soltz?” Menhaus asked.

George just shook his head. “No. What about Cook?”

Menhaus shook his head this time.

Pollard was filling Crycek in on their shipmates. “Yeah, Marx … the chief. Squid got him and Gosling, too.”

“The First? Oh, shit,” Crycek was saying. “Not the First, not the First.”

George sketched basically what had happened to Gosling and Crycek told him about someone named Hupp, that George did not know. Whoever it was, you could see that Crycek felt the pain of his loss as he felt the loss of Marx and Gosling.

Saks was the only one unmoved by any of it.

He seemed oddly at ease with it all. But maybe that was because the gears were already turning in his head. Gosling would have definitely stood in his way, but without him? Maybe there was still hope to rein this bunch in.

All in all, the stories that passed now were grim. They had all survived the seaweed sea and its innumerable terrors. And you could tell by the way they told those stories that they knew damn well that none of it was over with just yet.

About that time, when there was a lull in the horror story competition as it were, Elizabeth announced. “You men must be hungry. I’ll get you some food. Will you help me, Mr. Cushing?”

That got Saks laughing.
“Mister
Cushing. I like that.”

Cushing smiled and went into the galley with her. He had things to say and George could see that, but he wasn’t ready just yet.

When the door was closed to the galley, Saks said with his usual subtlety, “Cushing? He banging that shit?”

“Jesus Christ, Saks,” Fabrini said.

George just laughed. Saks. Always the sentimentalist. “Could be. She’s taken a real shine to him. She’s okay, Saks, don’t give her a hard time. Wait till she brings out the food … better than that survival shit.”

George explained to them how Elizabeth was something of a professional scavenger. All the food she had stockpiled, the garden she had growing on a barge somewhere.

“Jesus,” Menhaus said, rubbing his hands together. “Real vegetables … sweets … goddamn bacon and bread, you say?”

“Well, don’t be in any hurry, Menhaus,” Saks said. “Cushing’s probably putting the meat to her right now.”

“They always go for the big Viking types, don’t they?” Fabrini joked.

Saks grinned. “Maybe we need to put more men on the job. Maybe I better go in there, show dumbfuck Cushing how it’s done.”

“Maybe you better just keep it in your pants, Saks,” George warned him. “This lady is tough, she don’t fuck around. You keep it in your pants or she’ll cut it right off. Trust me.”

“Listen to you,” Saks said. “You even got a dick, George?”

“Your wife thinks so.”

Saks flushed, looked like maybe he might go after George, but he kept it in check, offered up a little hollow laugh. And maybe his laugh was hollow, but Fabrini’s wasn’t … it was loud and booming. Menhaus was laughing, too. You could see that Saks didn’t like that. You didn’t go around laughing at Al Saks.

“Now listen to me,” George said. “I’m not trying to give you shit, Saks, but you’ve got to remember a few things here. This woman is letting us stay here and she don’t have to do that. And don’t give me that ah-she’s-just-a-fucking-broad look. This girl is tough. She’s a survivor. She knows how to survive. You cross her and you’ll find out. She’s been living here for years, fighting to stay alive. You think for a minute she won’t slit your throat she sees you as a threat, guess again. Leave her be. That’s all I’m saying. She likes Cushing and that’s the way it is. He gets some and you don’t, too damn bad. Go fuck your hand. Because you get out of line and you might screw it up for all of us. And I tell you what, Saks, I won’t put up with it.”

“Oh, you won’t?”

George gave him back his look. “No, I won’t. You don’t think so, try me.”

Fabrini was eating it up. Menhaus just looked tired by it all. Like maybe he’d been living on a steady diet of this kind of shit and the only thing it did now was fatigue him.

Saks smiled then, because it was all a joke, couldn’t they see that? Cushing was throwing the pirate-girl the old bone? More power to him. It was okay with Saks; he wasn’t the sort of guy to shit on a romance. “Okay, George,” he said, very calmly. “Don’t get your pecker hard, I was just kidding around.”

“Sure,” Fabrini said, touching the bandage at his ear. “Saks is like that. He’ll kid you right to death. See if he don’t.”

And, damn, what passed between those two … it wasn’t good. Like homicide put on ice, George was thinking. He didn’t need Menhaus spelling it out for him, because he already had a pretty good idea of what it had been like in that lifeboat. Saks and his mouth. Fabrini and his short fuse. It must have been really something.

“Well, Captain,” a voice said, “I see you’ve wasted no time in inviting your drunken cohorts aboard?”

Aunt Else. Fresh from her nap and ready to charge. She looked over the new faces and grimaced, apparently wasn’t caring much for what she was seeing.

“Who’s the old bag?” Saks said, around the back of his hand.

George made a quick round of introductions, but Aunt Else wasn’t exactly listening. Her eyes were sharp, but her mind was dull and drifting. She had, no doubt, already assigned Saks, Menhaus, Fabrini, and Crycek roles in her fantasy and that was enough for her.

“So, what now?” Fabrini said. “We’re all here-”

“And some of us are queer,” Saks said.

“Queer? Queer?” Aunt Else was looking over at the bar. “There’s a great many things queer, I would think. I’m finding this entire voyage queer. I’m finding your actions, Captain … or lack of them … certainly queer.”

“You tell him, sister,” Saks said, enjoying it.

She turned and looked at him. “I find you extremely queer, sir.”

Fabrini burst out laughing. “Yes, ma’am, old Saks … he’s as queer as they come.”

“I should say so,” she said.

George nodded. “Without a doubt. Good Mr. Saks was in the Navy, you know. I’m certain he was doing a lot of queer things in there. Tell us about it, Saks, tell us how queer you were in the Navy. I bet you were about as queer as they came. Yes, our Mr. Saks, he’s a queer sort, all right.”

Menhaus was giggling. “Queer. I like that.
Queer.
She’s saying and you’re saying and … ha, ha, that’s pretty good.”

“Shut the hell up, you moron,” Saks told him.

“Like I was saying,” Fabrini began, “we’re all here … what now? Where do we go from here? We got ourselves a nice base here, but I’m not about to kick my feet up and take root.”

“Oh, you’d take any root offered,” Saks said.

George shook his head. Christ, it was like being in the tenth grade locker room. Maybe not even that sophisticated, you came right down to it.

Fabrini went on. “We have to make plans. I don’t know what comes next, but we have to be ready. And we have to think about getting out of here.”

“Captain, will you please tell your subordinates to lower their voices?” Aunt Else said. “I’m working on something vital here and I can’t be disturbed.” She held up a book, shaking it at him. “This is a legal manual I have here and I am currently putting together the case against you.”

George saw that it was a romance novel with some woman on the cover busting out of her bodice. It was okay, though, there was some big Fabio-looking stud there to tuck things back in for her. Thank God.

Saks said, “Yeah, that Captain George … he ain’t much, ma’am. I’m about ready to mutiny here. What a mess he got us in. Captain, sir, you ain’t worth a happy fuck.”

George winced, wondering what kind of outburst profanity would bring from Aunt Else, but she was studying her legal manual. That was the way she was, though. She only seemed to hear fragments of conversations, the rest went out the window. She filled in the blanks as she saw fit.

Menhaus took a sip of whiskey. “Saks … you should watch your language, you know. We’re not out on the dock here.”

Saks slapped his knee. “Captain George? I sure as hell hope there isn’t an Uncle Else, because Menhaus is popping wood over the old bat.”

“Okay,” George told him. “That’ll do.”

“Sure, sure, Captain. Don’t throw me in irons or nothing.”

George was getting his fill of Saks real fast here. “Oh, I won’t. At least, not yet. As long as you’re a good little sailor-boy, I won’t have to do anything unpleasant. But I’m a hard master, so don’t cross me.”

It was a joke, but maybe not much of one. Maybe George was saying certain things without actually saying them.

“I can’t believe, Captain, that after all of this, you would still behave like such a terrible brute. Throwing your weight around and threatening your men,” Aunt Else said. “Have you learned nothing from any of this? Generally, I stay out of the affairs of men, but this has gone far enough. You’ve been hard enough on that poor boy as it is … just look at him! Dear God, he’s frightened of you.”

Fabrini barked a laugh.

George just shook his head. “I’ll be gentle.”

“See that you are.”

“You’ll protect me, won’t you, ma’am?” Saks said. “You won’t let him beat me or do any of those other awful things he likes to do?”

But she was gone again, scribbling with a pencil in her book. Throwing together an unimpeachable case against Captain George. At least it seemed that way until she looked up and said, “I’m afraid you’ll hang, Captain.”

“Damn,” George said.

“Don’t be swearing in front of the lady,” Saks warned him.

“Shut up.”

Aunt Else slammed her book down. “This has gone far enough! I won’t have you bullying the men! Do you understand me? My husband will have a thing or two to say to you when he returns. Mark my words, Captain.”

“You better listen to her, Captain Bligh,” Saks said to George. “You can’t go on treating us like this.”

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Menhaus said. “He can’t help that big mouth and small brain of his.”

“I don’t see where this is any of your affair, Doctor,” Aunt Else said. “As I recall you were invited as a guest, not to stir up trouble in general. Why, I’d be surprised if your degree is even from a reputable university.”

“Me, too,” Saks said.

“This place … it’s goddamn crazy,” Crycek said. “Well, you ought to fit right in then,” Saks told him.

Crycek didn’t say anything to that. But George could see it wasn’t just some off-handed jibe. There was more to it than that. A lot more. Crycek had that dazed, scared look in his eyes much like Pollard had when he first met him. He’d seen something that he just couldn’t get past.