A Fine Cast of Characters - J. Dane Tyler [30]
Sam froze. “You hear that?”
Kelly stopped and tuned her ears. “Hear what?”
“Music. It’s music.”
Kelly listened. Somewhere in the bowels of the ship, she heard a faint rhythm, a percussion cushioned by walls, carpet and wood. Distant and faint, it wasn’t clear enough to identify, but just loud enough to detect in perfect stillness.
Perfect stillness. It dawned on her.
“Where’s … what happened to Flanagan?”
Sam started, looked down the empty hall. She listened too. “I don’t hear doors.”
“I don’t either.” Kelly stepped back toward the junction, stopped, listened. Silence. “Flanagan?” Her voice crashed onto the wooden walls and ceiling, and funneled down the corridor. “FLANAGAN!”
Silence.
They exchanged a glance and went back to the intersection, and stared down the hall where they last saw Flanagan.
Feeble lamps burned in the cross hall now, sconces casting the same weak, amber light onto the walls and ceiling of the cramped space.
None of the doors were open. Kelly’s heart jumped to her throat and tried to push past her teeth and lips to flee. She swallowed hard to dislodge it, trembling like a leaf in a high wind. She took a step in the direction Flanagan went.
“Captain Flanagan?” Her voice was weaker than she hoped. “F-Flanagan?” She couldn’t muster any power. She looked back at Sam, and found her wringing her hands in front of her, biting her lower lip, fear creasing her brow.
“Where’d he go, Kelly?”
“I don’t know,” she said, jaw slack. “FLANAGAN?” The strength she found to call out made her feel better. The way the sound died flat and unanswered frightened her more.
“I … Oh no. Kelly, look!”
Kelly turned, and followed Sam’s gaze down the hall the way they’d come.
Every door behind them was shut, all the lamps along the way extinguished.
Kelly felt a clammy sweat bead her hairline and breastbone, down the center of her back. She tried to swallow but couldn’t.
“Kelly … oh God, Kelly, what do we do?”
Kelly shook her head. “I-I don’t know. Where’s that music coming from?”
Sam looked back the way they’d come, farther to the fore.
“Shit! No!”
All the doors fore of the junction were closed too.
Sam moved beside Kelly, and pressed herself against her shoulder. “Kelly, I’m scared. I mean really scared.”
“Me too.” Kelly took the young girl’s hand and held tight. Sam squeezed hard enough to cause a moment of pain, and they swiveled their heads up and down the hallway.
“I … I think we should follow that music, Kelly.”
Kelly shook her head. “Why?”
“Well, somebody’s playing it, right? It’s a stereo or something, right?”
“Not … Sam, look at the lights. Who’s working them? Who’s closing the doors?”
Sam sniffled. “We can’t just stand here doing nothing. Should we … should we go back on deck?”
“I … yeah, I think we should. That way we can at least—”
A thump from somewhere amidship down the hall made them jump and gasp.
“That had to be Flanagan,” Sam said. “He must’ve finished on one side and … and went down the other.”
“He said he wasn’t going that way until the way back.” Kelly shook and her knees wanted to give out.
“I think it’s Flanagan. Or Charles. We … we need to check. Right?”
Kelly swallowed. She didn’t want to check, not at all. She wanted to run screaming up on deck, get back into the dinghy and go back to the charter. She nodded though. “What if … someone needs help? Yes … we … we have to check.” Her palms sweated, her hands trembled, her insides were gelid and fluttering. She took a halting step toward the middle of the vessel, then another. She made ten paces with Sam still clutching her hand, when she stopped and pulled Kelly to a halt with her.
“Listen! I hear it! The music!”
Kelly perked her ears. The music was clearer, drifting from nearby. She couldn’t pinpoint a direction but now could make out melodic sounds, notes, voices.
“It’s … Alabama.”
“What?”
“The music playing,” Kelly said. “It’s Alabama, the band Alabama. Close Enough to Perfect. I can’t make out the lyrics…”
“No, it’s Coldplay!