The Red Zone
What Zandra knows, and what Aaron knows, but what Jade can't possibly know, is that the psychic and the quarterback crossed paths not long ago. And it wasn't at a football stadium.
The Mead. Gene's ritual in the woods. Aaron was there.
"Zandra was a late addition to the instructor list," Jade says, oblivious to why Zandra and Aaron appear frozen in shock.
"Yeah. I didn't know you were going to be here," Aaron says. He doesn't bother trying to shake hands. Zandra doesn't mind.
"I didn't know I was going to be here, either," Zandra says.
Jade laughs. She's the only one.
You know what? Let's let him know I know. Athletes like Aaron get treated like demigods. A part of him probably holds out hope that I didn't notice him around that fire. Or maybe he's thinking that someone will come along to bail his ass out of anything that makes him feel uncomfortable, like this little introduction.
He is here, though. Things can't be going great for him if he's dancing for dollars on a river cruise. He'd do well to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.
Zandra sniffs. "Do you smell woodsmoke, child?"
"No," Aaron says and swallows hard. "I don't smell anything."
"I don't think I'm mistaken," Zandra says.
Jade breathes in deep through her nose. She pauses before saying, "Hmmm. I don't smell smoke."
A nervous chuckle dribbles out of Aaron.
I'll back off now, but I saw you, chuckles. I remember.
"Must be my imagination," Zandra says. "Anyway, nice to meet you for the very first time ever, Aaron."
Aaron nods and points to the bar. He mumbles something about grabbing a beer and shuffles away.
Jade pulls Zandra close so no one else can hear and says, "I didn't think he'd be that awkward. I hope he can pull it together for his presentation."
"What is his presentation about?" Zandra says.
"Digital coins or something? It took forever for him to explain it," Jade says.
If you can't explain something simply, either you don't understand it or you don't want others to understand it. Or both.
Aaron must've been tied in close with Gene if he fell this hard, this fast.
"How about a tour of the rest of the boat?" Jade says.
Zandra and Jade dodge the busy crew members as they make their way to the rest of the Curd Queen. Off the lounge are a series of "ballrooms," where the presentations and demos will take place.
They're too small to host a ball, but they might hold a few of the circular kind.
"The nice thing is the instructors won't need microphones," Jade says. "But maybe you do? I wanted to check. Don't spirits manifest their energy in electronics to speak since they don't have physical bodies to manipulate the air to create vocalizations?"
Uh, sure.
Zandra rubs her palms together and says, "The spirits that can manifest enough energy to do that are extremely powerful, child. That's not a spirit I would call upon for a room of mere tourists in the unseen world."
Jade buys it.
Of course she does.
"My mistake. I'm so glad you know this stuff," Jade says as she leads Zandra from the ballrooms toward a flight of stairs. "I'll show you the cabins."
The lower level of the Curd Queen is like the floor of a hotel. Unlike a hotel, there are no windows. A maze of cabins and hallways make it easy to feel lost. Jade stops at Cabin 27.
"Here's yours," Jade says. "Did you bring luggage?"
Did you see any luggage back at your apartment?
"You told me the cabin would have everything I needed," Zandra says.
"And it does," Jade says and opens the door to Cabin 27.
Jade's definition of "everything" starts and stops at the miniature soaps, travel-sized toothpaste, and foldable hair dryer. A Murphy bed highlights the minimalist layout.
"It's cozy," Jade says.
It's like living in an airplane bathroom.
"It's better than sleeping in a car," Zandra says. She glances at a No Smoking sign on the wall. "But not by much."
"Well, the good news is all the presenters are in the same hallway. You shouldn't have any late-night visitors wanting their fortunes told," Jade says.
Zandra steps into the bathroom and opens the cabinet below the sink. She sees no signs of a tunnel.
Good.
"Do you always inspect the plumbing?" Jade says.
"Always," Zandra says.
"OK. Water is a potent source of spiritual energy. I read that somewhere."
"Yes, very potent," Zandra says and steps away from the sink. "By the way, who was it who dropped out?"
"Excuse me?"
"You and Ivy mentioned that a presenter dropped out. That's how you had room for me. Who canceled?" Zandra says.
Looking for context here. This was supposed to be someone else's room.
"Oh, yeah. A body language expert," Jade says. She crosses her arms. "Bad timing. Some big, Hollywood couple broke up. Our expert got a lot of requests for analyzing some paparazzi photos."
Maybe it's better this expert dropped out. "Become a body language expert on a two-day river cruise in Wisconsin" is a hell of a way to frame your "profession."
Doesn't say much for me, either, but no one dumb enough to attend this cruise is smart enough to think that deep.
"Sorry I'll miss out," Zandra says. "And who has a room near me?"
"Well, like I said, all the presenters are together, but Aaron, the quarterback, will be your closest neighbor," Jade says.
Murphy's Law and a Murphy bed. Great.
"Maybe he can explain that coin thing to me," Zandra says.
Jade offers to show Zandra the top level of the Curd Queen. Zandra agrees, even if her bad ankle says no. It keeps saying no after Zandra finds out there's no elevator, just stairs, to the top.
The top level is open to the outside, with tables and chairs set out patio-style. Part of the deck is covered, with the rest exposed. Metal railing prevents anyone from falling.
Zandra walks to the railing and looks down. She gets a good view of the rest of the Curd Queen. It seems smaller from up here than it does on the inside.
"I don't see any lifeboats," Zandra says.
"Oh, yeah, Ivy said that's not really a thing on rivers," Jade says. "There's enough lifejackets for everyone, though."
Mini-Titanic indeed.
Zandra points to her bad ankle. "I'm not a great swimmer."
"Well, with lifejackets you only need to be a good floater," Jade says. She pauses. "Are the spirits telling you something?"
No, I'm just imagining what it'd be like to float in a lifejacket down to the Gulf of Mexico.
Zandra closes her eyes and digs a knuckle in between her eyebrows. "Water is very potent, child. Easy for spirits to manifest. Lots of voices trying to come through right now."
"Oh, sorry," Jade says.
"It's OK. I just need to adjust," Zandra says.
"Still getting your sea legs?" a gruff voice from behind them says.
Zandra turns to see Captain Mel and Ivy strolling up to her.
"You could say that," Zandra says.
Ivy, holding a clipboard, pulls Jade aside to go over some last-minute details.
Captain Mel lights a cigarette and points it toward the river. "Won't take you long to adjust. When the water is this high, the river is more like a lake. Only gets rough when it's low."
Zandra notices the smoldering tobacco. "Care to bum one?"
Captain Mel shakes a cigarette loose and gives it to Zandra. He sparks a lighter and holds it in place until her cigarette lights. She notes the absence of rings on his fingers.
Now that's service. They're even my brand.
Captain Mel smokes in time with Zandra. Both focus their eyes somewhere on the horizon. This is normally when Zandra would do a closer inspection of someone like Captain Mel. Establish a baseline. Pull some details out of his beard or his tattoos to store away for later. Instead, she enjoys the quiet as much as he seems to. It's a proper smoke break.
He knows how to shut the hell up. Some people have an allergy to silence. They can't stand the quiet, or that they're not hearing themselves talk, or that they have to think.
When they're finished, Captain Mel gathers the butts and drops them into a cigarette disposal next to one of the tables. Ivy returns from her sidebar with Jade.
"Everything is still on schedule," Ivy says. "Even the P&L is right on target with that last surge of attendee registrations."
"That means you," Jade says to Zandra.
Hopefully, that doesn't mean any more familiar faces.
"I'd blush if I still could," Zandra says. She turns to ask Captain Mel where the lifejackets are stored, but he's already gone.
Until we meet again.
"I still need to check in on that fuel surcharge issue. Why don't you come with me and we'll call on speakerphone this time?" Ivy says to Jade. Then to Zandra, "The rest of the time until the attendees arrive is yours. Feel free to make yourself comfortable."
Zandra is left to her own devices, which include shuffling around the top level and burning through a couple more cigarettes. She rests in one of the deck chairs to massage her bad ankle. A crew member offers her a sandwich and a soda from a rolling cooler. Zandra declines at first, but she accepts a moment later. Cigarettes are only filling to a point.
"Meals are free for all the presenters," the crew member says. "Just flag one of us down if you get hungry."
OK, I could get used to this.
Zandra takes her time and enjoys the meal in solitude. She polishes it off with another cigarette before heading back to her room. The tight stairs are easier to navigate on the way up; going down feels like falling. She slides her bad ankle from one tread to the next while grabbing onto the rails with her hands.
The middle level of the Curd Queen is still busy with preparations. The other presenters must've split off onto their own, since only the crew is in the lounge. Zandra takes a pause on one of the sofas. She leans over to rub away the pain in her ankle.
Wait. What is that?
A few inches from her foot is a rusty-red splatter roughly the size of a dime. It stands out against the retro, '60s flooring. It's also joined by two other dots of red an arm's length away.
Zandra scans the lounge. The crew appears busy, not distressed.
All this crew around, and no one cleaned this biohazard up. Must be recent and unnoticed.
Zandra feels for the lawnmower knife up her sleeve. It's still there. She rises from the sofa and checks for more blood.
There. And there. And over there.
The drops form a trail. Head down, Zandra follows the trail away from the lounge and toward one of the restrooms. That's where the drops swap the floor for the handle to the restroom door.
Do I knock?
Zandra looks from side to side. She's alone outside the restroom.
Maybe someone got a nosebleed. That matches with these slow, steady drips. I should just go back to my room.
A moan rolls out from inside the bathroom. It sounds miserable.
OK, fine. I'll knock.
Zandra rattles a knuckle on the door. To her surprise, the handle turns and the door opens.
That's not as surprising, though, as the blood and panic that looks back at Zandra from inside.