Can't Love You {Sequel to "Not Sherlock Holmes"}

Chapter Five

Benedict's POV

I'm not exactly sure what made me finally decide that something felt terribly wrong. So very, very wrong, so completely wrong.

I just... knew.

The soldiers on board were all gathering up on deck, and there was something about them that gave me the impression that they were preparing for battle. When I tried to join them, a man standing guard curtly informed me that the soldiers were being debriefed, and I wasn't to disturb them.

I paced the hallway, ignoring the irritated looks I was receiving from both passengers and soldiers.

It was when they told us that they were going to allow us shower time that I really began to panic.

"You will go into the showers one at a time, and you will get 2 minutes of water, so be quick about it," we are told. Next to him stood Officer Marsh, a cold gleam evident in his eyes.

I prepare myself emotionally and physically. I relax my muscles and take deep breaths. If this is to come down to a fight, I will fight.

They begin calling people back, one at a time. After 2 minutes were up, another person would enter. But no one ever came out.

"Excuse me? Where are they going when they've finished?" I ask the closest soldier. He doesn't look at me as he answers.

"There is a door on the other side of the showers leading to the common rooms." I nod, but I'm not convinced. Soon, Steven is called.

"Steven," I whisper. "Be careful. Be on your guard. Don't..." but he is rolling his eyes.

"Oh, shut up, I can shower on my own, Benedict," and he leaves with the guard. I am utterly powerless to do anything. I slump against a wall, all confidence leaving me.

I feel Marsh's eyes on me, and I'm not surprised when it's he himself who escorts me to the showers when it's my turn.

"You've been causing quite a bit of problems, sir," he says evenly; calmly. All I can do is shrug. I don't trust myself to respond. The shower is up ahead, and that's when I see it and that's when my heart stops.

Bodies being dragged away.

Bodies.

I think fast. I try to shove my elbow into Marsh's stomach, but he expects it. He blocks it, grabs my arm, and twists it.

"Don't make a sound," he commands as he grips me. I obey. "There's nothing you can do."

Except there is.

Pain shoots up and down my arm, and I scream as I throw all of my weight into a wall, taking Marsh with me; his body hits the steel and cushions my own body against it. His grip on my arm loosens, and I pull free. He's down, groaning and gripping his arm, but I kick him roughly a few times to keep him down.

If I go back the way I came, there will be guards waiting for me. If I go to the showers, there are murderers waiting for me.

I go the way I came, hoping that the element of surprise will benefit me and sway the fight in our favor.

I run out, screaming.

"Everyone get out! They're killing us off!" Panic arises, and I run past the soldiers to the kitchens before they can react.

Weapon. I need a weapon.

The kitchen is empty. I run inside and frantically search cabinets until I find the knives. I pick one; it's not the biggest, but it fits comfortably in my hand. I look up just in time for a few soldiers to run in.

I switch on the gas stoves just as one man comes running carelessly toward me, fists at the ready. I wonder vaguely why he has no weapon, but I swiftly grap him. He hits me hard in the gut, and I groan, but I shove the man into the flames, and his jacket is set ablaze.

The next soldier approaches more cautiously, but I throw a knife at him, and it sticks him in the chest. I clumsily choose another knife from the drawer.

The man who's jacket is on fire is running wildly through the kitchen, and in the process has spread the fire. I realize that this is going to quickly get out of hand, so I make an escape as the rest of the men are sidetracked putting out the flame.

I burst out the door into the stillness outside, and the cool air feels good. I know that I don't have much time, though, so I think quickly.

Before I have time to formulate any plan, though, I hear a loud shot and I cry out as my shoulder burns, it burns, it burns.

I fall to my knees, gripping at my arm, and I hear a chuckle from behind me.

"You should have killed me outside the showers. Because now I'm going to kill you." Marsh strolls casually so that he's now standing in front of me.

"Why are you killing us?" I ask, though my words sound thick, thick like the blood seeping through my clothes and my fingers.

"You wouldn't understand, human." He says the last word like it tastes bitter on his tongue. "I'm not going to waste my time or my breath on you. Stand." I struggle to stand, and my legs wobble. "STAND, YOU FOOL."

I stand, only to then be shot in the leg. I scream in pain, but Marsh just smiles. I fall to the ground, overwhelmed by the pain, the blood, oh the blood, there's so much.

Marsh approaches me slowly, and he picks me up easily.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you drown."

"No!" I scream as he throws me overboard, and water surrounds me. I'm sinking fast, and I try to kick my way back up to the surface, but the pain in my leg and my shoulder is unbearable, and there's no force behind my thrusts.

After a few seconds of panicked thrashing, I realize that I can't swim. Not that I don't know how to swim; I'm physically incapable.

I sink deeper and deeper, and my brain begins to cloud over. Sort of like the fog above. Fog... what is fog?

My chest hurts, oh it burns. Everything burns.

I can't see anything. Am I dead?

I see Veronica's kind smile before me as everything begins to disappear. Everything except her face, but that disappears, too.

Goodbye, Nica.