Cruise Girl

By Gregg Miller

On a cruise with my wife, I routinely wake up earlier and get to the buffet before breakfast, when they first open for coffee. This is my quiet study and writing time. One morning, a strange girl unexpectedly joins me, yet while I endeavor to understand her situation, an officer escorts her away.
Whenever I encounter the strange girl I call Bonney again at other events, we discover that she had not stowed away as one would naturally assume, rather was being used, endangered by as yet unknown players. Each chapter, a bit more of the mystery unfolds, sometimes on ship excursions.
Our same table mates at every supper become involved - all but one older couple more interested in profiting financially, remaining aboard in beautiful ports of call while the rest of us go out touring. Another mystery crops up involving purchase of our cruise ship Serendipity.
My wife likes to shop for unusual foreign gifts, which I tease her about, she in turn making fun of my interest in Atlantis, which we just may come across at some point. We discuss our spiritual groups to some extent and our different ways of looking at things, also becoming involved in hypnosis sessions and regression to past lives. Related to these shipboard Hypnoshows, we learn Bonney’s real name and the cause of her predicament.
Ancient Maya ruins and artifacts also play a role in our adventures. Santa Mira islanders threaten our lives and even take over the ship, accusing us of piracy. We plot to regain our freedom. Our stand-up Captain Prince and Third Officer ‘Pam’ use their powers along with us. Of course we win in the end. Was there ever any doubt?
So throughout many situations and gorgeous sights, fate saves the best for last – yes, what we have been learning more about throughout the voyage! The lost continent makes an appearance, cinching the greatest view of history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Feb 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662909443

Book preview

IX

Chapter I

Lido pool deck, announced the female elevator, opening her door onto a breezy wet world after the night’s tropical storm. Blue-boys squeegeed off the illuminated weather deck as with push-brooms. Not yet light out past the rail, deep water made its presence known by gently rocking our great ship Serendipity as we plowed through the Caribbean Sea off Yucatan at just over ten knots, half its possible speed for this pleasure cruise.

I carried a book to read with a spiral notebook and pen in a bag, walking aft past the sloshing swimming and hot pools, then sidetracked to glance over the rail, barely sensing dark traces of foam rushing past a dozen floors below. Dawn would come in an hour, along with food service inside the buffet court. Meanwhile, I’d enjoy my usual early coffee.

After serving myself at the large drink urns, I remained close by for easy refills, plopping luxuriously into a half moon booth for eight, since I had the entire dining room to myself. I peacefully contemplated a whole day at sea. Our shore excursions have been long, rushed and sometimes trying. Today my wife Luck and I, Arty, plan to relax. We can lay back on deck chairs, stroll the Promenade to the bow looking for flying fish or dolphins, hopefully playful porpoises riding our bow wave.

On board, there are always more activities than anyone can partake of – shows, ship tours, more than you can eat at various restaurants, cafes and food counters, all costs covered in our price of passage, except alcoholic beverages.

On my third cup of coffee, the black windows had lightened enough to reveal vast oceanic surroundings. Floor-to-ceiling picture windows ran three sides of the large dining room for an uninterrupted view out both sides of the buffet, plus where we came from, or as they say, aft. Rarely can you see another ship in open waters, as they keep a healthy distance from each other. I watched a freighter on the horizon, then scanned the empty dining room.

A young couple stood inside the sliding doors at the drink urns. Then the girl alone approached my table, coffee mug in hand. Can I join you?

This only mildly surprised me. Passengers become compatriots exploring the world, casually sharing their experiences.

She may have had on a hoodie; I had not yet paid close attention. Probably about thirty, half my age, of average Caucasian appearance, medium length brown hair and the only thing that stood out was her being up wandering at five in the morning like me.

Of course, I gestured with both hands to all of the other seats. But she sat next to me in the booth as if we traveled together. That surprised me, but I did not flatter myself as to my charm; no, she concealed some mystery. And what of her partner? I glanced back toward the entrance. No man in black. Had he had on a vest? – perhaps one of those snappy-dressed crew members who had come in to check on something at the same time she arrived, or perhaps he had simply shown her the way here.

I began the normal first-name exordium, I’m Arty. My wife and I are from Denver…

She did not give a name – perfectly understandable since we run into so many new people all day. With thousands of passengers and crew aboard, one rarely sees any acquaintance twice.

I switched to, "So, what’s up with you?

She seemed preoccupied, adrift yet on edge about something. Holding her cup in both hands, looking into its depths, she drug out the silence, then finally relented, I’m from Boise.

Oh, Boise, Idaho? We took a motorhome trip to the Northwest…up through the Sawtooth Range…In, uh, Puget Sound, went over the bridge to the San Juan Islands…saw killer whales…We might’ve gone through Boise. Is that near the Columbia River?

No, that’s up between Washington and Oregon.

Guess I have to look at a map. So what tours have you been on?

Again, silence. Maybe she was still waking up and didn’t want to talk yet. Okay, I could deal with that. I’m not exactly a chatterbox…So just wait and see what she comes up with. But I was certainly not ready for her eventual response after more staring into her cup.

She slightly moved her lips, then mumbled, I don’t remember.

Was she deranged? She did not look wild or unkempt in any way, but all too reticent to communicate her situation. Yes, she seemed as though keeping mum about some situation, so her declaration about amnesia had caught me off guard. I finally spouted, Don’t remember what? Were we in different worlds? How did she get around by herself not remembering? You don’t remember?

I can’t remember,

Maybe she had no cruise excursion memories because she had not gone off the boat anywhere. You haven’t left the boat? No tours?

I don’t remember.

Seriously?! We sat silently again. Apparently she knew where she came from originally; she knew that geography better than I do. Then a gap.

Having no clue how to go about this, I nonetheless offered, Maybe I can help…What do you remember?

I don’t remember how I got here.

Complete amnesia about the voyage! I hesitatingly fumbled out some questions such as had she been partying – drinking and drugging – or on medication, all to no avail, then apologetically reassured her that I was not the authorities, only curious and meaning to help.

Almost an answer…lip movement. Then she unexpectedly looked straight into my eyes, not like a mental case at all, but soberly. I’m in trouble.

A white-uniformed ship’s officer had come in, and at this point stood over the troubled girl asking for her stateroom number.

She respectfully looked up to him. I don’t remember.

He inquired, Do you have an I. D.?

Then another surprise: she instantly held her arm straight out to him with her driver’s license of all things! We never get asked for a driver’s license – only our ship’s I. D., the plastic room-key card. Other than that, an officer might ask for your passport, but never a driver’s license – maybe only in some port if you wanted to rent a car?

But she held her license out so fast she must have expected the request and even had it in her hand in her hoodie pocket. Highly irregular, as the Brits say.

The officer said he would find out her room number and left. A dark vest remained near, along with a couple tropical-frocked male buffet staff, not gawking, but must have been asked by the officers to stand by as a show of force.

No one had spoken to me, apparently suspecting me of nothing, but had focused completely on this secretive girl. I felt out of place