Free Dreams in the Tower Part 3 by Andrew Vrana Page A

her limited styling skills, she set the rusty scissors on the bathroom counter, ran one hand through what was left of her hair and judged her amateur effort. It felt strange and looked stranger. She almost wanted to cry a little: she hadn’t seen her hair this short since her first year in college. But it didn’t look terrible—or at least it wouldn’t make her too conspicuous. It would give her a little more of a disguise, in any case, and that was really all that mattered.
    With a sigh, she squatted and used her hand and a towel to scoop up the dark clumps that had missed the trashcan. She didn’t bother getting every little hair; the bathroom had not been that clean to begin with. When she was done, she squeezed the little trashcan back into its nook beside the toilet and stood up to give one last halfhearted appraisal of her new hair. It still looked weird, like her head itself had changed shape. She sighed again and reached for her tablet sitting on the bathroom counter, swiping it on to see the time: it was nearing midnight. No wonder I’m so hungry. She dusted a few stray strands of off her bare shoulders and chest and put her shirt back on. She should have no trouble getting food in the cafeteria this late; this was about the time the members of the crew who weren’t on the late shift hung out in there and used up their alcohol rations. She might even find the captain there, since he was going to have to be awake to start taking them into port in a couple of hours.
    She went through the bathroom door and found the cabin empty. That was strange; Jason had seemed to have been settled in for the night when she went to take a shower and cut her hair, and he almost never left the cabin in the evening aside from dinner. She knew he had already eaten because he had gone on alone earlier to the cafeteria while she had used the moment of privacy to pack everything she intended to take with her off the ship into her old backpack. She looked at his bed and saw his own pack zipped up and ready to go, and she felt a lump of guilt form in her throat. Next to the pack, Jason’s tablet was lying there on the ruffled blanket, so wherever he was he wouldn’t be gone long: he never went far without his tablet. Maybe she would find him in the cafeteria getting food…or in the liquor closet. She slipped her shoes on before going through the door.
    The walk down the long hallway that ran nearly the length of the ship was calm and eerie. At night the lights in the ship were dimmed to conserve power, and all of the sailors were either asleep, on duty, or in the cafeteria. The only sound was the distant hum of the engines. She quickened her pace just to get away from the emptiness, the unnerving silence.
    There was plenty of noise coming from the cafeteria, though. As she entered, she heard conversations in English, Mandarin and something that was probably spoken in one of the Central African countries. All around the room there were shouts and laughs and glasses clunking on tables. The air was heavy, littered with a few different kinds of smoke. Dellia didn’t have to scan the tables to know Jason wasn’t here; she knew him well enough by now to know he wouldn’t hang around a place like this or these types of people.
    As she walked to the other side of the room, she caught the eye of Avery, the cook, who quickly got up from the table he was sitting at to follow her to the kitchen.
    “You’re up late, Miss,” he said, when they were in the much quieter kitchen area. “I barely recognized you without the hair. I guess it had to be done though, right? So you need something to help you sleep or something? I got a bottle of some decent merlot in the bar.”
    “No thank you,” she said. “Some food would be great, though.”
    “Cod stew tonight.” He nodded at a huge silver pot on the stove. “Kept some warm cause some of the guys like to eat again after they’ve had a few. Want some?” He lifted the lid off the pot,