Sweet (23 page)

Stupid idea, stupid idea.

I round a corner headed upstairs and I run into a tiny Latino man. He's emaciated and wearing a chef's white uniform.

He snarls at me, then he … he smells it.

Teeth bared, he lunges at the bag.

“No!” I shout. “It's not for you.”

I take the two loose packets and throw them away from me, down the hall.

The man shoves me aside and leaps after them.

I take the stairs to the deck two at a time and burst out onto the deck.

Every
one.
Every
addict on the deck turns their head toward me and sniffs.

Tom is down on the ground. He's curled into a ball, hands over his head.

The addicts who were beating him up just a second ago are now frozen. The man with the baseball cap has a rope in his hands.

Every addict eye is on me.

I figure I have about two seconds before they all swarm me.

I throw the whole bag. Away, away, away from me.

I throw the Solu into the pool.

With a shriek the addicts all scramble, scuttle, dive to the bag of Solu packets floating in the pool. I'm knocked down as some of them trample me from behind.

Head dizzy now, I crawl my way over to Tom.

He's bruised and battered, but he's alive and trying to get to his feet.

“Tom,” I cry. “Are you okay?”

Horrible gurgling and splashing, wailing, cursing come from the pool behind me.

“Laurel!” he shouts.

He staggers to me.

“Laurel. How did you get them off me?”

“I threw some Solu in the pool.”

The water is churning with deranged skeletons, fighting it out for ten packets of poison.

“What do we do?” I ask him. “Should we try to get them out?”

Some of them are dragging themselves out, but more are still fighting in the water. I don't want to be responsible for (seventy-five? one hundred?) human beings drowning (as deranged and violent as they may be).

Like he's reading my thoughts, Tom says, “Laurel. I think you need to stop thinking of them as…”

“As what?”

“As people.”

“If they're not people, what are they?” I ask. My voice breaks. I feel like I'm losing it.

“Monsters?” Tom says. “I don't know—cannibals? Zombies?!”

“Viv is not a zombie,” I protest.

I look up to the observation deck, where Sabbi and Viv and the rest of them are still bent over the fallen girl, sucking her dry.

(Vampires? my mind asks. Are they
vampires?
)

“They are past help now,” Tom tells me.

Thank God for his hands on me or I'd think I'd died and gone to hell.

“TOM! LAUREL!”

It's Jaideep! Jaideep and Vihaan.

“Over here!” Tom yells and he leads Jaideep and Vihaan away from the pool, around the corner to the rear pool deck. It's abandoned—all the addicts are fighting it out on the other side.

“What happened to you?” Jaideep asks Tom, as Vihaan asks, “What is happening in the pool?”

“Laurel threw some Solu in there. A crowd was whaling on me and she saved me. They … they hanged Zhang and they wanted to hang me, too. Because I was the spokesperson,” Tom says.

“Did you find a phone?” I ask them.

“No, it's a freaking bloodbath down there,” Vihaan says.

“The first mate got his hands on a gun,” Jaideep adds. His brown face is gaunt and there are dark circles under his eyes.

“Kiniana and the others should be here by now. Have you seen them?” Tom says.

“People are crazy,” Vihaan says. “You would not believe the things we've seen.”

“We know!” I say. “Sabbi and her group … They … She…”

“She killed a girl,” Tom says for me. “They drank her blood—to get the Solu.”

“Ah!” Jaideep exclaims, disgusted. “That's what they're doing.”

He looks like he might be sick. “There's a group of them in the dining hall doing the same thing…”

Vihaan grabs me by the arms. “We must abandon ship,” he whispers. His eyes are bloodshot. Terrified.

“But we have to make sure the word got out—” I say.

“They'll get us next!” Vihaan says.

“We can't just leave Kiniana and Milo and Anna,” Jaideep protests. “What about the rest of our friends?”

“They're going to kill us!” Vihaan repeats.

I know how he feels. My brain is shouting at me: LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE!

But a cold, heavy dread sits like a brick in my stomach.

“But, Vihaan, if they never radioed for help,” I say. “If nobody knows we're in trouble and nobody knows how bad Solu is…”

The three men look at me. Tom's battered face. Vihaan's flushed with panic. Jaideep's dread pale brown.

“Then Solu launches at midnight tonight,” I remind them.

Tom wipes a hand over his eyes.

I see him changing his mind about something.

“She's right,” Tom says. “We have to make sure the message has been sent. Then we can evacuate.”

“To the bridge, then,” Jaideep says.

“To the bridge,” we repeat. It sounds like some weird drinking toast. But we're not kidding and we're not drinking. I wish I were drunk.

I wish I were dreaming.

(I wish I were on the beach back in Key West, talking to Tom back when my best friend was overweight and happy in her regular unhappy way.)

But all that wishing doesn't keep me from hearing the screaming, spitting, splashing from the other side of the deck.

 

TOM

DAY SIX

WE GO INSIDE THE SHIP
and down one flight of stairs to the part of Deck 11 that gives you access to the bridge.

The hallway is disgusting. The carpet's stained in places and littered with clothing that no longer fits, wadded and walked on. I see someone brought up their leather ticket holder—maybe they wanted to go over the guarantee on the paperwork.

I must make some sound of disbelief because Laurel says, “What?”

“The paperwork!” I say. “Can you imagine the lawsuits from this mess?”

“This is a multibillion-dollar nightmare for the Solu people,” Vihaan declares. “Murders have been committed because of this Solu. People have lost their minds. People have died.”

“Almstead's bankrupt, as far as I can see,” I agree.

“I think he's going to prison,” Laurel adds.

“I hope they throw away the key,” Vihaan says. He spits on the ground.

Jaideep presses a button on the telecom touch screen next to the bridge door.

It's working, which is kind of surprising, considering the rest of the ship is shut down.

Jaideep speaks into the lens of the camera.

“Hello?” he says. “This is Jaideep Coffey, a member of the waitstaff. Requesting a word with the captain—”

Vihaan pushes next to him and edges into the sight of the lens.

“We are not addicts!” Vihaan says. “We just want to make sure that people have been warned about Solu. We are prepared to abandon ship.”

There's no answer. No sound from the intercom.

No sound at all from behind the heavy gray door. It's probably solid and thick.

“Let Tom try,” Laurel says. “Maybe they'll open for him.”

Jaideep shrugs and Vihaan is grumbling as I come up to the front.

“Captain Hammonds, this is Tom Fiorelli. There are a few of us out here who aren't on Solu and we just—”

The door opens.

And I'm looking into the muzzle of a semiautomatic assault rifle.

“Fiorelli! Come in!” I hear the old man's voice. “Vince, let him in!”

The guard, Vince, sizes us up. He's wearing a tank top and fatigues. He's got a bristle-brush crew cut and a bicep tattoo of an eagle ripping the head off a guy with a turban.

We step past the door and into a narrow hallway. On one side is a room with a brass placard:
CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS
. The one on the other side says
CHIEF SECURITY OFFICER'S QUARTERS.

The one to the captain's room is open.

We catch a glimpse of a beautifully decorated suite beyond the door—one that's been trashed.

There's blood on the carpet and I think I see feet, but Vince pokes me in the back with the muzzle of the gun.

He reaches in, grabs the door, and shuts it.

“Go on,” he growls.

We step forward, onto the bridge.

I take it all in. The floor is cobalt blue, with rubber treads. A series of windows wraps all the way around the deck. Below them is a long, curved panel crowded with dozens of small computer screens and other panels, flashing lights, levers, buttons, all that stuff.

And they're all working. They're
working
!

Almstead stands near a captain's chair, looking like he's thrilled to see us.

And behind him, Amos and other armed guards are talking on headsets and checking some of the panels.

“I'm so happy you're all right, Fiorelli! Aren't you clever to stay alive!”

“What's happened?” Vihaan erupts as he and Jaideep enter. His eyes bulge as he takes in the scene, “Where is the captain?”

Vince looks to Almstead, who shakes his head. He pushes Vihaan and Jaideep back, hard.

“Wait!” I say. “They're our friends.”

Vince checks Almstead's response again and Almstead shrugs.

Vince says, “Out!” He pushes Jaideep and Vihaan back out to the main hallway.

“Knock again on that door and I'll splatter your haji guts on the carpet,” he says.

“Laurel!” Jaideep cries out as the door shuts.

Vince smashes the door with his fist. A warning blow.

Laurel's got a death grip on my hand.

If they try to take her from me … I don't know what I'll do.

“Say, what did you two pull over at the pool?” Almstead asks me and Laurel. His expression is polite and interested. Calm as could be. “To make them all do this?”

He gestures behind us and we turn.

The back wall of the bridge is lined with TV screens showing areas all over the ship.

There are two views of the carnage in the pool. There must be twenty people floating, dead, in the water. Blood is leaching out of them, making hideous swirls in the water. Two addicts are still duking it out in the shallow end while other addicts are in the pool—
drinking
the bloody water. The bloody chlorine water.

The screens show widespread carnage across the ship.

In the Celestial Lounge, in the casino, in the hallway outside a suite, there are people clustered around the fallen, drinking their blood.

There's an inside shot in one of the glass elevators, the glass walls splattered with blood.

There's a shot of a man in uniform putting a gun to his head.

“Well, what was it?” Almstead repeats.

“We … Laurel, that is, she threw some Solu in the pool and now…”

“How many packets?”

“Ten,” Laurel says weakly.

“All that bloodshed for ten packets!” Almstead marvels. “You know, out of the passengers on the ship, we estimate … what is it, Amos?”

“We estimate at least three hundred dead, sir,” Amos answers without taking his eyes off a small screen.

“We don't know about the crew, though,” Almstead says. “Far fewer of them were taking Solu. Maybe twenty percent.”

Laurel catches my eye: He is, what, crazy?

“Mr. Almstead, please, what's happening? Where is the captain?”

“Captain Hammonds and the rest of the crew up here are dead,” Almstead says.

Amos steps up. “Excuse me, sir. Jack says the speedboat's here. We can move into the final phase whenever you say.”

“Lovely,” Almstead turns to us. “You want something done—hire a mercenary! They can do anything! They could navigate this ship, if need be. But that's not the plan. No, it's time for us to make our exit.”

“So the rescue…,” I say. “It's not happening.”

“Rich said the coast guard was on its way,” Laurel sputters.

“That was, well … that was a lie,” Almstead says.

“What about what you said about pulling Solu off the market? Delaying the launch of the product. All that stuff,” I say.

Almstead nods his head, wincing. “Guilty! But those lies were all part of the plan.”

“What is this plan?” Laurel asks.

“Dear girl, what's your name?”

“Laurel Willard.”

“Ah, you remind me of a girl I knew when I was young. Frances McMahon. Freckles are so fetching on a young girl.”

I start to talk, but he holds up his hand.

“Phase one—Create bait to lure fat, lazy Americans into a trap. Phase two—Promote the trap. Make it look safe and easy.”

Almstead turns to Vince, “Go get Rich. Bring him out here.”

“Rich was in on it?” Laurel asks, her voice cracking.

“No, no. He had no idea until it was too late. And please, just 'cause you're pretty doesn't mean you get to interrupt. Phase three—Spring the trap and enjoy the show! What fun Zhang and I have had, watching our creation take hold. We never thought it would act so quickly. The weight loss was like watching one of those sped-up movies. And the vampirism! That was completely unexpected!”

He gestures to the screens. “Solu works far better than we ever could have hoped.”

“What's phase four?” I ask.

“Sir,
Entertainment Daily
is on,” Amos tells Almstead.

“Turn it up. Look, Tom—here you are. This was phase two—you did it!”

He indicates a small screen set into the navigational panel. It's a live TV feed—
Entertainment Daily.

Anchorwoman Kim Wooster sets up the clip: “Unless you've been hiding under a rock, you know that the new non-nutritive sweetener, Solu, will be released to the public in just a few hours, at midnight tonight! Solu-mania has been sweeping the country. People are lined up on the streets outside drugstores and many stores have hired extra security—it's like Black Friday—but all for one product.”