Come Back To Us - 46. Chapter 46

“Freedom, here I come!”

That was the first thing he said when he got on board the ship that would take him to the other side of the world. The sunset made that moment even more perfect. It was the symbol of a beautiful promise to a new beginning. He had left his home to discover by himself the far away and immense landscapes he had heard so much about. The trip to London hadn’t been an easy one, but it had been worth it in the end. He remembered the amazement making him hold his breath when seeing the ship for the first time. He had never seen so big a ship in his whole life. It was much huger than all the houses he had seen in his village, including his own. Yet, there weren’t so many people on board. There were forty of them, he counted when he explored the ship. They were all people like him, leaving their homes for a new and more exciting life, some of them probably richer than he was but maybe tired of their life as it was.

A wide range of nationalities, which ignited such fascination in him. English, Spanish, Danish, French, Portuguese, Polish, Chinese, Italian, German, Dutch.

Men, women. There was even a little girl who was fluent in all the languages belonging to these nationalities, which wasn’t common. She must have received a very strict education. She was the bridge between all of them, the knot that united them despite being strangers. She came from Poland and was there to go and join her father who had left her mother when she was just a baby after the poor woman died from some illness. She had been her only family back there.

There was only one youth who seemed to be the same age as him. The rest of them were all adults except the little girl, whose name he had discovered was Aldona.

Messy dark brown hair. Green eyes. He was a loner. Since he’d never talk to anyone, no one knew where he was from, let alone his name. Until…

After only one week of crossing the Atlantic ocean, someone was murdered under mysterious circumstances… An Asian woman who must have been in her thirties. Her inanimate body was found in the cabin she occupied. It wasn’t a pretty sight to see. There was blood everywhere : on the floor, on her, on the walls.

People started thinking about the worst. Terrified at the idea of being the next victim. It was easy to understand even without words. Their body language spoke for them.

“If it happened once, it will happen again. I highly doubt that anyone bore a grudge so great against her to the point of being able to kill her.”

That was the very first time he had heard his voice, and oh God, did it sound nice.

“So it means the murderer is amongst us,” another English man interfered but his accent was much thicker and different.

The little girl translated what they both said in every language. There was a tense and awkward silence that filled the room. Each of them glanced at the others suspiciously, trying to probe them to find out the killer.

“Of course, he will fake his innocence. A culprit will never admit his crimes,” the English youth spoke again.

“Let’s not yield to panic. To avoid this happening again, we must always stay in groups. Someone alone is an easy prey. It’s sure he will always strike at night. We must stand guard everywhere.”

People seemed to be reassured as the older English male proposed his idea.

But despite their efforts, the second murder couldn’t be prevented. Five days later, the noble widow Italian woman was found dead. But her face was hardly recognisable….

“We were staying with her to keep her some company, but something knocked us unconscious,” one of the two Spanish twin sisters said horrified at the sight of the mutilated body.

“He could have killed us both…”

“We were not careful enough,” the Frenchman spoke. “The killer must be quite the clever kind.”

“We should put all the women together in one room and guard their door. Creating small groups won’t be enough,” the English Northerner proposed.

“And how will we sleep?” The Portuguese woman asked.

“You’d rather sleep and die?”

“It’s certain his next victim will be a woman.”

“And if not? What do we do? Especially if the killer is amongst us and can hear about our plans to try to defend ourselves. This isn’t really clever.”

He was the one to voice his opinion this time.

“Then what do you suggest?” The Frenchman countered, making him look like a know-it-all.

He had no idea.

“Should we kill each other before the killer can murder us all?”

“Let us not listen to this youth. What does he know about this kind of situation?”

“He’s right though. Informing the killer about our plans is definitely the last thing to do. I don’t claim to have the right solution that will solve everything. But let’s avoid this type of gatherings and stay alert to avoid being slaughtered. A killer is either really stupid or a genius anyway.”

That was when their eyes met for the very first time. Grey versus green. The contact was intense though brief. He felt something strange making his stomach churn. This kept haunting him for the following days.

Everything was too calm. So much so it became weird, at least to him.

One night their anxiousness was raised by strange noises coming from the hold. As everyone was skeptical to go, he sacrificed himself to go and see, careful to take a rifle with him just in case anything bad happened.

“Hold on, I’m going with you.”

Their eyes met for the second time at that moment, but this time they lingered on each other.

“We’ll have your back,” the older Englishman spoke, although he didn’t understand as the little girl was sleeping, her door being closely guarded by one stout looking man. Polish was he maybe?

They went down into the darkness, the only light an old oil lamp to know where they were going. But the noises had faded… The only noise left was the sound of their steps making the floorboard creak. Everything was suddenly too calm. It was disturbing. The killer was probably trying to play with their nerves, but he must have been somewhere there then….

He wanted them to stay close because he feared the worst was going to happen if they parted. His heart was racing like it never had before, his fingers clenching the rifle but it felt dirty with all the sweat produced from the palms.

Their pace was a very slow one, careful through every corner of the room. But they both stopped at one point and stared in shock and fear at what they saw. Something was written on the wall but he couldn’t understand what because it wasn’t Danish. But the worst part was the red colour. As the sudden realisation hit him, he felt nauseous. It was written with blood.

He glanced at the English youth who seemed to understand the meaning of those scary words. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling it was English.

“The one reading those words will be dead before they know it…”

He said it with such anguish that it sent shivers down his spine.

“Let’s go back up. Quick!”

The English youth started running and he only had the instinct to follow him but as he started running he tripped on something and fell to the floor. And as he wanted to get back on his feet, he was dragged backwards. He didn’t understand a thing. It was all dark suddenly. When he thought he could sit up, his throat was constricted and he was having trouble breathing. He couldn’t even shout…. He was suffocating. He started feeling all dizzy. Could it be the end for him or was it just a bad dream?

He heard a shotgun, then another one and suddenly, he felt himself fall to the floor once again.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

He saw a glimpse of light. He saw him despite his critical state.

“Come on! Let’s hurry up.”

He helped him back up and they managed to go back to the surface.

They discovered the man guarding the little girl’s door was murdered. She was terrorised but at least she was safe.

Everything was calm again after that, but everyone was sick with fear and anguish. He went to see the English youth in his room the following night. He felt it was necessary after what had happened. They stared at each other silently, feeling somewhat uncomfortable in each other’s presence. There was something that felt strange about it, but he couldn’t explain it.

“Tak for at redde mig i går.”

Thanks for saving me yesterday.

“It’s okay.”

It seemed they didn’t need words to understand each other. The situation spoke for itself. What else would be here for anyway?

But then why couldn’t he leave? It seemed his body wouldn’t listen to his brain anymore; the shock of almost being murdered, he guessed.

“It’s okay. I won’t ask anything in return. I did what I had to do, I mean I couldn’t let you die. You can leave now.”

Was it because he was intrigued that his legs wouldn’t move? He couldn’t answer this question.

Perhaps he was just afraid of staying alone. After saving him once, he could only feel safe with him and give him his trust, right?

“Må jeg bo hos dig?”

May I stay with you?

Something seemed to change afterwards. The English youth approached him until their faces could almost touch.

“I don’t understand a single thing, but it sounds nice coming from your mouth.”

They were too close. He wanted to step backwards, but his legs still wouldn’t move. And before he knew it, their lips brushed against each other timidly. It ignited in him a feeling he had never known before. Yet it felt so familiar, like some distant memory of a dream he couldn’t remember dreaming of. It became more languorous as they kept going. Next thing he knew, they were half-naked and embracing each other, their skin hot and in need of comfort. That night was the best of his life despite the eerie circumstances. He had never done that before. It was scandalous. It felt so wrong yet so right at the same time. He could only yearn for more. He became intoxicated with the scent of his skin and the taste of his mouth, the way their lips melted together as their salivas mixed up to make them one. Nothing sweet yet so inviting. He felt safe in his arms and he was certain the feeling was mutual. It was funny how surprising life could be.

During that night, there was another victim. They could only infer it was the Portuguese woman. Her naked body was lying on her bed, but hardly recognisable with the mutilation it had undergone.

“This is quite similar to the crimes perpetrated by Jack the Ripper… and the message written in blood on the wall. It was written in English…”

“Which means it can only be you, the Scot, the Captain or the London youth. One of you is Jack the Ripper! He fled England after perpetrating his monstrous crimes in Whitechapel, he has come here to start again,” the religious Polish woman said, accusation obvious in her tone.

“It can’t be me! I saved the Dane, should I remind you?”

‘Why should the killer be one of us?”

Everyone stared at him, the Dane.

“We would have found him by now if he wasn’t one of us,” the Frenchman objected.

“Unless these crimes are perpetrated by the Devil himself…What if this ship was…” the Spanish priest was seized by fear as he squeezed his rosary. “….inhabited by some supernatural evil spirit? No human being could possibly perpetrate such horrendous crimes…Am I wrong?”

His words were followed by a long moment of reflection.

“Maybe the killer just doesn’t want us on board the ship.”

“We have got to set up trials. One of the English folks is potentially guilty,” the pious woman demanded sternly.

“And then what? You’ll burn people you think are guilty alive? You can’t make your own laws on this ship,” the English youth interfered.

The woman’s glare was threatening but he wasn’t scared.

“Why should the killer be English or Scottish anyway? Another one of us can pretend not to know how to speak other languages just so as not to be suspected. Or even better. Why couldn't the killer be a woman? Why should it necessarily be a man?”

“How do you dare?” One of the Spanish twin sisters said outraged. “A woman could never be capable of perpetrating such horrendous crimes unlike a man!”

“Why not? Why a man could and not a woman? They are not that different as you seem to think. Evil is part of human nature. Of course, women could never be suspected as they have always been underrated and belittled by men, only praised for their capacities as housewives. But because they can’t be deemed capable of such atrocities doesn’t mean they are not capable of doing it.”

“I have a much better opinion. I say you are only trying to make us rise up against one another so as to divert the suspicion about yourself.”

“And I say that’s not true. I don’t think he’s trying to do such a thing, let alone that he is the killer. That’s indeed what the killer wants, making us rise up against one another, but the killer is silent. He’s observing happily while we’re starting to accuse one another.”

Everyone was staring at the Dane once again. At that, he could only add one thing.

“Maybe in the end, he or she will take pleasure in watching us kill each other, who knows.”

Their eyes met again. And at that moment he felt that deep connection which he couldn’t explain. His mouth and body craved for softness on this crazy ship. He was too afraid of death to be filled with doubts, hesitation and stick to the norm. Compared to these horrendous crimes, there was nothing wrong with it. This was the sweetest sin he had ever indulged in.

The more time passed, the worse things became. People fell into madness, at such a point that they couldn’t be considered human beings any longer. They became paranoid and hysteric. Trials were set up as demanded as more murders took place, but their only use was to create scapegoats. The man and woman of faith even went so far as to accuse the English youth as guilty of all the murders, and the sentence for it was the worst that could ever exist : death penalty. But he couldn’t let them kill him. It was barbaric. He knew he was innocent. Not just because he had saved him. That strong connection between them told him he couldn’t lie. Then, he had no other choice than deciding to do the last thing he wanted to do. He had to kill those who wanted to kill him. He had resolved to protect him no matter the price to pay. Although they hadn’t known each other for that long. It may have seemed like a crazy thing to do for anyone else who was sane.

Could he remember who he was after that?

The last thing he remembered was the English youth screaming in pain and horror, and blood filling his mouth.

Karl woke up with a start.

It took him some time to make sense of his surroundings and remember what had happened. As soon as he did, he started shaking violently as he curled himself up into a ball. He wasn't on the boat any longer. But no matter where he was, he wasn’t ready to do anything right now.

He had already witnessed four deaths without being able to do anything to prevent them. This was enough to make his blood run cold.

This would haunt him for whatever time he had left living.

Hello my dear readers!
Here you go with another chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! Karl's dream is really intriguing... 🧐🤔 Can't wait to read your thoughts about it 😊
Have a good day/evening/night and take care ❤️