Deadlock

14

When morning came, Arturo returned with the two sailors that had been waiting in the van. After steeling themselves with coffee, the three of them boarded the ship. They searched the decks and holds, cabins and lounges, but they could not find Charlie Petty. That was all the sailors needed, they left in a hurry. There was no way they were going to put a crew about this hoodoo vessel.

Arturo lingered. He went into the captain’s cabin. It was a mess. Sitting at the captain’s desk, he said, “It must have been some kind of night, eh, Charlie?”

His voice echoed and died.

In the head, something too thick to be water and too thin to be slime dripped and dripped. He did not go in there to look. He did not dare to. The porthole was open and yellow light pooled on the floor and glared against the walls.

He knew Charlie was here… somewhere. Oh, there was always the possibility a guy like Charlie might throw himself overboard as so many sailors had, but he didn’t think so. A guy with balls like Charlie Petty would tough it out right to the last.

Arturo opened a beer and ate a sandwich. “Looks like I better get this place cleaned up,” he said under his breath. He worked at it for the better part of an hour, washing and scrubbing and arranging things. Everything had to be right. There was no way his wife was going to spend the night in a pigpen.