‘That was real?’ I asked. I’d always thought that Operation Spiral was a combat myth.
‘That’s what they’re saying,’ Mudge said, shrugging.
‘What’s he saying?’ I asked, meaning about Spiral. I was interested despite myself.
‘That he’s seen the face of the devil. If the rumours are right then everyone either got their frontal lobes burnt or were driven irrevocably insane,’ Mudge answered.
‘He’d be the latter then?’
‘He’d be the sanest,’ Mudge said.
I was actually surprised it took as long to come to a head as it did. We were only two days in. The drink and drugs were probably going to run out tomorrow and then we were looking at a lot of military-issue tranquillisers and cold turkey. That was when things would get really bad.
As far as I could tell, the guy who flipped out was on some kind of evil psychotropic and Vicar’s never-ending monologue had played into the structure of his hallucinations, wrapping him up in a hallucinogenic Christian hellscape. Needless to say the guy wasn‘t too pleased about it.
I could hear the screaming. The tripper’s voice had reached the pitch of the truly fucked-up, making him sound inhuman. Vicar responded by attempting to cast the demons out of him. The tripper had some friends with him, presumably to stop him hurting himself or anyone hurting him. I assumed that this was the end for Vicar. I surprised myself when I realised I was going to miss the noise.
I was more surprised when I found myself getting out of the bunk and climbing down eight storeys of berths. I clambered past squaddies and troopers who were propping themselves up on their elbows, a drunken murder audience. I should’ve been doing the same. Mudge told me later he thought I was trying to get myself killed.
On the cold deck floor I could see what was going on. The tripper was holding Vicar down on a bunk. The guy whose bunk it was had pushed himself up against the partition between his bunk and the one next to it. His eyes were wide open, black lenses like everyone else’s, a voyeur’s smile on his face as he watched the tripper carve Vicar’s flesh. Well it wasn’t like there were any sense booths onboard.
Vicar was covered in blood but in between screams he was still managing to quote scripture, a degree of commitment I can’t really understand.
‘Do not be afraid of what you are about to suffer!’ Vicar screamed.
The tripper was naked and covered in blood as well. It looked like he’d been cutting himself as well as Vicar. A naked self-harmer, it was almost a psychotropic cliche. He was holding a jagged peace of metal, though I was pretty sure he had implanted weapons. The hardware implanted in his skull told me the tripper was a signalman like Vicar. Judging by his swimmer’s physique, the webbed fingers and toes, what tattoos I could just about make out through the blood and the gills, he was probably a SEAL. Which meant the two women stood just behind him were SEALs. They outnumbered me and SEALs knew what they were doing. Then again I wasn’t all that sure I knew what I was doing. The tripping SEAL was just sobbing and begging Vicar to shut up. Neither of the women looked happy about what was going on but they were making sure their guy was all right.
‘Let him go,’ I said quietly.
‘I tell you, the devil will put some of you in prison to test you, and you will suffer persecution for ten days!’ Vicar screamed. One of the women, small, compact, tough-looking, wearing combats and a cropped T-shirt, a sweaty bandanna wrapped around her head, changed her position better to see me and so she could move if it got violent.
‘Private matter, mind your own fucking business,’ she said. The forceful-ness in her voice was adopted for the circumstances but you could tell she wasn’t liking this either. I looked at her for a while, her black soulless lenses looked back at me. Vicar screamed as he was made to bleed some more.
I wasn’t sure I could’ve taken both the women even if I was on top of my game, and though I was healing fast I was pretty far from being there. If the psycho joined in I was definitely screwed. Where the fuck was Mudge? Then I realised I hadn’t contacted him. I sub-vocalised a message and spent the time waiting for a reply staring at the SEAL woman.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
‘What’s it to you?’
‘Mine’s Jakob,’ I said, ignoring her aggressive reply.
‘Look, this is none of your business. Just let him finish and we’re out of here,’ she said.
‘And if it was one of yours?’ I asked.
‘He’s not one of yours,’ she said. She knew that because if he had been we wouldn’t be talking now, I just would’ve attacked them. ‘Besides it’s one on one.’
‘What’s your name?’ I asked again. I guessed the deadness of my tone was beginning to get to her. Vicar screamed out as he was cut some more. If I didn’t do something soon I was going to be wasting my time. Needless to say, since I’d gotten involved more people were beginning to pay attention to what was happening.
‘Reb,’ she finally said.
‘What? Is that short for Rebel?’ I said, smiling. It was a pretty thin, humourless smile.
‘Rebecca,’ she answered. She didn’t sound amused.
‘Well, Rebecca,’ I said. ‘It’s not really one on one, is it? What’re you guys, SEALs?’ I asked. She nodded. ‘And he’s just some deskbound hacker, not even a field op. Not really fair is it?’ I asked.
‘ Neither’s having to listen to twenty-four hours of fire and brimstone,’ she answered. There were a lot of muttered assents from the surrounding crowd.
Vicar didn’t help by taking this moment to scream, ‘Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you the crown of life!’
‘Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!’ the SEAL on the bad trip was screaming, his words running together to become babble. There was more screaming as the SEAL drew on Vicar’s flesh some more.
‘Your man’s hurting,’ I said. ‘This won’t help him.’
‘Kill that noisy fucker!’ a woman screamed from high up on one of the bunks. I looked up to the area where the voice had come from.
‘Shut the fuck up or you’re next!’ I shouted. Reb shifted again, readying herself for violence. Mudge pushed himself through the crowd and nodded to me, making sure that Reb and the other woman knew it was two on two if it came to that. Pub car park politics.
‘You ‘re right. It’s not fair that you have to listen to that twenty-four seven, or hear the guy in the bunk below you chronically abusing himself, or smell two hundred, filthy fucking squaddies shit and sweat. It’s not fair that most of your friends are dead and those that aren‘t are fucked up one way or another, but it’s not his fault and this won’t help,’ I said. I had no idea where this was coming from but I knew I sounded angry. How much worse shall we make today?’ I asked. It was a bad situation for her. She couldn’t be seen to show weakness in case someone decided she was a victim. I also had a feeling she knew what I was talking about. I gave her a way out. After all I didn’t care about me at that moment, let alone some stranger madman.
‘Fuck it.’ I said. ‘You’re right. This is nothing to do with me.’ I turned and started climbing back up towards my bunk. Behind me Reb and the other SEAL woman pulled their signalman off of Vicar and started dragging him back to their ghetto. I opened a comms link to Mudge.
‘Look after Vicar,’ I sub-vocalised.
‘What am I, his fucking nurse?’ Mudge demanded. I closed the link down.
‘God has chosen you as his righteous sword!’ Vicar howled. I screamed and sat bolt upright in my bunk, banging my head on the bunk above me. This was not a good way to wake up. My blades were out, already shredding the cheap sheets on my bunk. I guessed he’d only gotten so close because I’d finished most of my rum ration and the rest of the whisky I’d taken from the guy I killed. I mean the guy I’d murdered.