They Cling to the Hull

Riley boards the cruise ship Aria with plans to steal her inheritance back from her wealthy uncle.

But this isn’t the Aria from the brochure. It’s been replaced. The hallways bend in on themselves in impossible ways. Monstrous threats creep out of the off-limits Deck Two. And a stranger claims this has all happened before, in a skyscraper that appeared overnight.

Riley must survive the haunted ship and solve its mysteries, or the Aria will claim her soul forever.

Chapter 1

Chris presented his ticket for the cruise ship he intended to sink.
The chipper young woman behind the counter scanned the ticket’s barcode. She inspected his ID and passport. “Mr. Haberman, so happy to have you.”
He wished he had fake documents, but he’d never even had a fake ID as a teenager. He wouldn’t know the first thing about forging a passport.
“Before you drop your bags off, strap these tags on. They’ve got your cabin number so the porters know where to bring them. Then you’re welcome to explore the ship until dinner at 7:30.” The attendant’s gummy smile looked genuine.
Chris didn’t blame her. Only about a hundred cruise-goers lined up this morning, and they were mostly relaxed-looking retirees. The Aria of the Seas was on a transpacific season relocation, sailing six weeks from Long Beach across the Pacific to Hong Kong.
The public story was that the ship was transferring from its West Coast Mexico route to an Indonesian route. Chris doubted that story.
But that meant it was a different type of cruise from the common, drink-all-night, party-all-day trips. The entertainment staff would be bare bones, and only the primary restaurant would be open. No port-of-calls to disembark and tour foreign cities and pay for supposedly locally-made trinkets that had “Made-in-China” stickers on the bottom.
And for the crew and staff, that meant no dealing with demanding vacationers who only had two weeks off from their soul-sucking jobs, so they demanded perfection.
No, Chris thought as he surveyed the crowd, these were leisure class. You didn’t buy a ticket to a transpacific, ship-transfer cruise expecting perfect service. You intended to sit on a lounge chair, drink tequila, and be entertained by the three acts who were on board.
According to the website, this voyage featured: a lounge singer who could sound like anyone from Elvis Pressly to Michael Buble to ABBA, a stand-up comedian who did acts both with and without props, and a French couple who performed ballroom dance routines, and who doubled as dance instructors.
Chris carried his two suitcases to the drop-off point outside. He squinted at the blinding sunlight. Salt flavored the air. A team of porters were lugging suitcases onto carts. Chris said a silent prayer that he’d hid the suitcase’s hidden pockets well enough. If not, this whole endeavor would be over before it started.
The lead porter took his suitcase. “Enjoy your cruise, sir.” He looked like a gym-addicted meathead. He had gelled hair, muscles bulging out of his shirt sleeves, and a chip on his shoulder. He eyed Chris suspiciously. “Everything okay?”
Chris flashed a smile. Don’t look too closely in the bag, he thought. He said, “Just excited, I guess.”
The porter’s name tag read, “Bobby.”
“It should be a relaxing cruise, don’t you think?” Bobby peered into Chris’s eyes, obviously trying to read his expression. “I hope you brought a few paperbacks.”
“I sure did.” Chris tried to hide his nervousness. He gave an awkward wave and headed up the gangway.
It was out of his hands now. Nothing to do but wait to see if they caught him.
He got stuck on the gangway behind a white-haired couple, the husband using a walker.
Heavy guilt settled in Chris’s gut.
He didn’t want to drown a hundred retirees and three times as many crew and staff.
But if the Aria of the Seas stayed afloat, everyone on board would suffer a fate worse than death.
He hoped the evacuation procedures were as seamless as the check-in. These old folks would need it.