Serial Fiction -"The Cruise" - Week Nine

Alex didn't wait for Lawson to radio agent Rebecca Simpson, he dashed out the infirmary door and headed to Sherri's room at a dead run, tearing open his stitches as he ran.

"Don't give her ANYTHING!"  He gasped before the door was even completely open.

"No, Mr. Nimilov, not until the lab has analyzed everything.  Lawson filled me in about your epi--pen over the radio.  The infirmary has enough emergency supplies to get her through until that is accomplished, I believe."  Sherri just sat and stared at the pendant around Rebecca's neck, noting how it moved as she talked.  It was a gold letter S, very delicate; it seemed unsuited to her somehow. Something caught her attention and she looked up.

"Alex, Alex are you all right?  I was so worried!"  Sherri held out both hands to Alex although she made no other movement in the chair.  Alex was very concerned.

"I'm fine darling, but we must get some more food into you -- and I don't want to hear any arguments."  Tragically, the infirmary did not have any glucagon, as some idiot had required two treatments since the last stop.

"Alex, I feel funny, all floaty.  I keep thinking of Mama.  She would've been so proud of us, Alex.  Her routines for the last Olympics were unparalleled, but I think she'd still be proud.  Alex, what makes someone think they can drive a car when they're drunk?"  Tears were trailing down Sherri's cheeks as sweat began to beat up again.

Slowly, Alex and Rebecca provided Sherri with the nourishment she needed to regain that delicate balance.  As Sherri regain her senses, she became more and more concerned with Alex.

"Alex!  You're bleeding.  What happened?"

"It's okay Sherri, my stitches must have loosened.  I will get it looked at shortly."

"No, Alex -- I'm okay, really.  Please, you're bleeding a lot -- and, I need you.  I can't go through this again.  Please."

"Very well Sherri, but do not leave this room, and do NOT take anything without my okay.  And Sherri, besides myself an agent Simpson here, who else has been in your state room tonight?"  Alex had been kneeling next to Sherri since he first entered the room, but now he rose so that she was looking up at him.

"Jack Stiles and Susanna Ozier." Sherri's eyes widened at the implication even as she spoke the names.  "Alex, Stiles was alone in my room waiting for me!  He could have done anything.  Susanna was only here when I was, but she did trip and fall right next to my bag.  Oh Alex, this is awful.  You think someone is purposefully trying to hurt me, don't you?"  Sherri had begun to shake again, but this time it had nothing to do with her blood sugar.

*****

Susanna Ozier screamed with rage.  Someone was interfering with her plans.  It looks like they almost killed that girl -- and it wasn't time yet.  She must die in Alex's arms, she was like a daughter to him; and he must he blamed for the death.  He had to be made to pay.  It was his fault their child died; his fault she was too upset to eat or take care of herself before she knew of its existence; his fault she lost it.  He would pay.  He would pay!

*****

Stiles paced the length of the crew deck.  It was only a matter of time before they came for him.  Blast Fischer and Lawson.  Why did they have to interfere?  It was all so perfect.  Nimilov would've had no alibi if they hadn't decided to do their rotting hypno-session.  There had to be a way out.  It was always a way out.  He got out of that mess with Paovil Nimilov, didn't he?

*****

"Okay Renée, we got Mary Beth out of the way -- a little more extreme than I'd counted on, but it worked.  Now, besides us, that leaves two more special presenters to deal with: Briony Hunter and Sherri Lee."  Renée Layne and Penelope Rogers were sitting at a small table in one of the state rooms.  Ball gowns hung on the closet doors.

"The way I see it Penelope, Sherri Lee is toast anyway.  Someone is definitely out to get her.  We should concentrate on Briony Hunter.  A broken leg should be enough, don't you think?"

"Definitely."

*****

Mrs. Genevieve Hunter rose to answer the rap at her door.  A man handed her a large manila envelope.  She paid him, closed the door, and immediately slid the single sheet out of the top.  A triumphant smile blossomed on her Pillsbury face.

©  TSW  2007