Up Like Stairs, Down like an Elevator

The window shatters as the bullet bolts through the glass, throwing the trajectory of the projectile off just enough to miss Zandra's head. A wisp of her hair floats to the floor. The rest of Zandra drops to the floor with a thud.

Rev. Cash cries out and covers his face with his hands before joining Zandra on the floor.

"Fucking Glenn," Zandra says and rubs the hurt out of her bad ankle. The trip to the floor cost her.

He sees the Curd Queen is sinking, so he opens up on me? Asshole move. He ought to let me drown. It's more respectable than getting picked off by an emotional mercenary.

Wait a minute. If he can see me through the window, didn't he also see Aaron? And Aaron dying for the second time? More importantly, does any of that matter?

"Glenn?" Rev. Cash says.

"Shut up," is all Zandra can think to say in the moment, but what she really means is to stay on the floor. "Get to the lower level."

Rev. Cash starts to stand. Zandra slaps his leg and says, "Not like that."

Rev. Cash gets the message and belly crawls to the stairs. Zandra tries to follow behind, but Army drills aren't in her joints' wheelhouse.

"Little hand, captain?" Zandra says, cranking her neck toward the bar in the lounge. "Captain?"

He's gone. Did Glenn shoot him?

Captain Mel shouts from behind the bar, where he's crouched down. "I'm here. Are you hurt?"

Oh, so now he's trying to play the good guy? He's trying to redeem himself after fucking everyone for the benefit of his own personal whatever.

Zandra rubs her ankle and eyes the distance to the stairs leading to the lower level.

Well, isn't this a coincidence that he and I should be in the exact same situation?

"I know where he is," Captain Mel says. "I'll shoot to keep his head down. Covering fire, you know what that means? You move when I shoot."

You may not want to get on Glenn's bad list, but don't let me stop you.

"Covering fire. Yeah, got it," Zandra says as the Curd Queen lists another degree to its portside.

From behind the bar, Captain Mel grabs the feet of a barstool. He hurls it toward the nearest window. The glass cracks, and then cracks again, before shards fall like fists. Captain Mel rushes to the cracked window in a crouch. Keeping his head down, he pokes the Bobcat's barrel into the hole and fires twice at the shore.

Move.

Zandra scrambles to the stairs. She nearly rolls down to the lower level, bracing herself with a handrail. She knows the intentional leak in the Curd Queen is bad the moment she steps onto the carpeted hallway.

It's soggy.

She hears Rev. Cash knocking on doors and shouting in the distance. Cries of panic rattle the walls as the attendees get packed inside their rooms.

"Forget your suitcases. Get a life jacket and get off this boat right now," Zandra hears Rev. Cash yell. His voice carries with all his practice at the pulpit.

No. Stop telling them that. They need the suitcases.

Zandra pounds on the first door she comes across, but she's too out of breath to get noticed. She leans against the hallway walls for balance as she follows the sound of Rev. Cash's bellowing voice. A set of overhead hallway lights flicker for the last time. Zandra turns a corner. Her bad ankle makes a splash in a puddle.

Running out of time.

The slight incline of the hallway becomes more apparent as Zandra continues. She gives her heart and her ankle a break for a few seconds before continuing. Water covers both her feet now. A few attendees bolt out from their rooms, shoving past a wheezing Zandra.

No life jackets. No suitcases. Older couple. I hope they can swim.

A violent rattle from beneath Zandra's feet gets her moving again. She turns another corner and is almost knocked over by a breathless Rev. Cash.

Zandra places a hand on his shoulder to keep herself level and says, "Tell them to...take...their suitcases...empty. Use them to...hold on...and float. Tell them...no life jackets."

Rev. Cash doesn't question it. He immediately repeats Zandra's instruction, albeit in a much louder voice.

Zandra feels the cold water of the Wisconsin River creep up to her shin.

Fuck. It'll be hard for some people to open their doors.

Pounding and shouting from inside a nearby room confirms that thought. Zandra follows Rev. Cash to the door.

"You push, I'll pull," Rev. Cash says to the occupants trapped inside.

"The lock is jammed," a voice on the other side says.

"Fuck," Rev. Cash says under his breath.

Zandra draws the lawnmower knife. She elbows Rev. Cash aside and jams the tip inside the narrow slit between the door and the frame near the lock.

This breaking-and-entering trick only works on older, shittier doors, but the Curd Queen is an older, shittier boat.

The lock, however, is apparently newer than that. Zandra sheathes the lawnmower knife. The frantic mood from the other side of the door intensifies.

There's no other way out of there.

"You need some help?" a voice says from behind Zandra.

Zandra and Rev. Cash turn to see Cherry Peach. She's holding Captain Mel's master key.

"Lifted it off him when I got in his face," Cherry Peach says. She kicks through the water and hands the master key to Rev. Cash.

You're good people, Cherry Peach.

Rev. Cash works the master key and pulls the door open. A relieved Chad and Bexley rush out.

Oh, good.

The first thing Bexley does is hug Zandra. It's the first time anyone's hugged Zandra in a long time.

Many, many years in fact.

The hug feels good.

No, it doesn't.

"Fuck off, I'm not a hugger," Zandra says and slides out of Bexley's embrace. To Chad, she says, "That life jacket you gave me a little bit ago, where did you find it?"

Chad wipes the drops of water from his glasses and says, "Yeah, no, sorry, there was only the one. It was on a wall. Part of a display for employees about safety. I think it was by the kitchen."

That's just fucking sick.

"Then quit fucking around and help us get these people off this fucking boat," Zandra says, her pulse back up.

"But I wasn't fucking around," Chad says in a whine, but Zandra is already three labored steps away.

Between the five of them and the master key, they manage to evacuate the lower level. The water is at their knees by the time the last attendee makes off with an empty, hard-walled suitcase. By the stairs leading up, though, the water is at their waists and rising quicker than ever. It's a soggy slog to reach the lounge.

With their own suitcases in hand, Rev. Cash and Cherry Peach give a quick wave before heading off the rails—literally—into the Wisconsin River. Chad and Bexley linger by Zandra, who crouches on the last step of the stairway.

How the fuck am I getting out of here without getting shot by Glenn?

"We'll help you," Bexley says. "I'm a super good swimmer, I promise."

"Yeah, me, too. I've got lots of good swimmers," Chad says.

Even if Glenn wasn't waiting for me with that rifle, that'd be a hard pass.

Zandra spots Captain Mel hunched by the broken window, Bobcat in hand.

He can't have many more shots left for "covering fire." It wouldn't matter even if he did. Glenn's got full view of everything from that tree stand.

"Just go," Zandra says. "I'll meet you on the shore."

"You sure?" Bexley says.

The rising water meets Zandra on the last step of the stairway.

"Positive," Zandra says. She draws the lawnmower knife. "Don't make me say it again."

Bexley leans in for a hug again, but Zandra pushes her away. Chad takes Bexley by the hand. They're still holding hands when they jump into the Wisconsin River a moment later.

"Captain?" Zandra says.

"I'm here. I'm OK," Captain Mel says. "He didn't shoot back."

"He's more interested in me," Zandra says. "Can you give me more of that covering fire?"

"Yeah, but I only have two left," Captain Mel says.

That works. I've lost count anyway.

"Then do it and meet me on the stairs to the upper level, by the cases," Zandra says.

Let's see if he's saving a bullet for me.

Those stairs are covered and out of view from Glenn. We can wait there a bit. I need the time. Or, more accurately, the "demons" need the time.

The lights go out in the lounge, but the sun is enough to keep Zandra's path to the next flight of stairs lit. Captain Mel reaches up and fires through the hole in the window toward Glenn's position on shore. It buys enough time for Zandra to rise and hobble to the stairs. She's joined by Captain Mel a second later. They scurry halfway up the stairs, enough to give them cover from Glenn.

"You OK?" Captain Mel says, Bobcat still in hand. There's a crinkle of concern around his eyes.

Come on, now. Don't try to play the hero.

"I am, but are you, child?" Zandra says, lawnmower knife still in hand. She returns the look of concern.

"He didn't shoot back, like I said," Captain Mel says.

Zandra waves her free hand across Captain Mel's chest. "No. Deeper than that. Spiritually, child, are you OK?"

Captain Mel nods toward the top of the stairs. "We should really get going."

"Not yet. The demons attached to you, they'll do anything to keep you here. It could be a trap to go to the upper level," Zandra says. "Are you sure the right move is to get to the top? Think, child. Go deep. To your soul. Are you sure?"

There really isn't a right answer. This is to get him to stay put for a minute. I want him on the stairs.

"Zandra, this isn't the time," Captain Mel says. He shifts his feet and grabs the handrail that runs up the stairs.

It's not from the angle of the sinking Curd Queen, either. This shouldn't take much longer.

"The demons say it's time," Zandra says. "Best to stay right here until I can work out what they want. Hang tight, child."

Captain Mel obeys, but not willingly. He shakes his head as if invisible sand gets in his eyes. His chest heaves and his knees wobble. Slowly, Captain Mel curls into a seated position on the stairs.

There it is. Good.

It hurts her bad ankle to do it, but Zandra manages to both balance herself and kick the Bobcat out of Captain Mel's hand. He doesn't resist or react. The gun bounces off a step and skids into the lounge. It comes to a stop in a puddle.

Zandra leans down and hisses in Captain Mel's ear, "The demons made their choice. You're staying here."

Captain Mel swallows and tries to talk, but his mouth is too dry to speak.

You're having a hypotensive crisis, captain. That's where your blood pressure falls at a dangerous rate. It's got nothing to do with demons, though. The drug in play here is nifedipine. A doctor prescribed it to me during my stay in the hospital, where I met Ivy. I blew off the prescription originally, but I went back and picked up the pills.

The thing about nifedipine is that it must be taken whole. That's so the medicine releases slowly over 24 hours. If it's crushed or chewed, it can cause blood pressure to drop too fast. That leads to a hypotensive crisis, the symptoms of which are currently causing Captain Mel some "demonic" consequences.

So how'd I get the nifedipine into Captain Mel? Easy. Before I made the drinks for the "toast" to Aaron's spirit, I pounded on the bar with the handle of the lawnmower knife. That was me crushing a couple pills to slip into the captain's grape juice. Did the same thing with Aaron, but that proved unnecessary.

Always have a Plan B. Always.

And, no, I won't lose any sleep at night over this. Not just no, but fuck no. Captain Mel may be playing nice to me right now, but he didn't do shit to fix the mess he helped create. His crew must've grabbed the only life jackets on board and left, because not a damn one helped get people out of the lower level. And what was he doing here the entire time? He was here, waiting for me, waiting to "help" me. So who the fuck knows what he had planned once we got to the upper level. Maybe kill me, maybe not. But why take the chance?

Zandra continues in Captain Mel's ear, "The world needs bad people to do good things, because when it comes down to it, either that kind of person gets to live or people like you get to live. One or the other, but not both. Not just oil and water. Matter and antimatter."

"And what...kind of person...am I?" Captain Mel manages to say through ragged breathing and lips so dry they could soak up the puddles forming in the lounge below.

"You, captain, are a bad person doing bad things, and there is no fucking way I'm going to let you off this ship without a bullet in your head," Zandra says and raises the lawnmower knife.

Instead of bringing the knife down on Captain Mel, Zandra turns the blade toward herself. As carefully as she can, she cuts her purple gown down the middle.

Still got underwear, a T-shirt, and shorts on underneath. I'll get a new purple gown later.

Zandra slips out of the purple gown and drapes it over Captain Mel. Her knuckle presses into his back as she does it.

Something feels off.

She pulls the purple gown away and pokes at the captain's back. He focuses on breathing, not resisting.

That feels like a life jacket.

Using the lawnmower knife, Zandra cuts the light coat covering the captain's back.

It is. No wonder he was so barrel chested. He was wearing a life jacket under his coat the whole time. This little shit saved one for himself just in case, a Plan B.

Fuck this guy.

Captain Mel groans as Zandra works the life jacket off of him. She slips it on, and then covers the captain in the purple gown. She stuffs the fabric into his pants to keep the fabric anchored.

"See you in Devil's Hole," Zandra says and gives Captain Mel a shove. "Trend."

Captain Mel rolls down the stairs and into the lounge, where the water is now at ankle height.

You're up, Glenn.

A gunshot bursts through a window in the lounge. Then another. And another. Captain Mel takes three bullets the hard way. The water surrounding his body turns dark red and then pink as the gore dissipates.

Zandra doesn't linger. She sheaths the lawnmower knife and heads to the upper level. She pauses to cinch the life jacket tight to her body before rolling over the side of the Curd Queen for the second time today.

The soft current of the Wisconsin River still managed to push most of the chaos away from the Curd Queen, but Zandra can still see splashing and hear shouting after she bobs back to the surface.

At least I know what to do now.

Zandra points herself to the same strip of shoreline she visited earlier and kicks her feet. The wail of police sirens and the thunk-thunk-thunk of a helicopter in the distance cut through the water nipping at her ears.

Someone on board must've called for help. Good, but I don't want to stick around for that. This is yours to explain, Ivy and Jade.

Zandra pulls herself onto shore, desperate for a cigarette and a ride back to Stevens Point. She squeezes water out of her T-shirt and hears a rustling near the trees. She draws her knife and coughs.

Glenn? Wouldn't blame him for coming to finish me off for the second time. Everyone he shoots dead comes back to life. Must be very frustrating.

Instead of Glenn, Chad and Bexley step out from behind a thick birch tree. Zandra sheaths the knife.

Then again, I'll bet Glenn doesn't feel like sticking around, either.

"Oh, hell yeah, Zandra, I knew you'd make it off there. I just knew it," Chad says and claps.

Bexley hugs Zandra hello, and Zandra doesn't shake her off.

For the record, that's because I'm cold from the water. I still fucking hate hugs.

After Bexley releases her, Zandra watches the last bit of the Curd Queen disappear beneath the Wisconsin River on its way to Devil's Hole.

Déjà vu. It feels like I've stood on shore watching the Curd Queen just like this before.

A blast of water rockets into the sky, turning to mist that settles back onto the river.

"Wasn't expecting that," Bexley says.

Contraction.

Time for something new then.

"Well, what do we do now?" Chad says. He looks around. "And where the hell are we?"

"I don't know, but we should probably go," Bexley says. She links arms with Zandra. "You coming?"

How many people know about what's in those audio cases on the Curd Queen? Or how much it's worth?

Zandra thinks of the hospital. Of the people out of work. Of the suckers desperate enough for a break to come to Ivy and Jade's event on the Curd Queen. Of the debt. Of the misery.

Collateral damage.

Zandra tugs back at Bexley. "I'm coming, but let me ask you something first."

"What's that?" Bexley says.

"How would you two like to make some money?" Zandra says.