Section 12 of what I have been calling wave's


Well-Known Member
Sep 23, 2021
Before we start here I tried to focus more on the scene itself other on the dialog for this. Alora the main has spent 90% of this book hammered one way or another and being faced with death will not be changing that. Before I got sober 2 years ago not one problem I had could not be solved with drugs or alcohol and drugs. I literally did every available substance on the street for 13 years straight. So my character is basically doing as I would have done plus a couple little reference's I now enjoy leaving in my work for people to find. (there are 3 in there I plan to leave a little sheet in the back with clues to them all Names and short hidden quotes and stuff) Byron is Captain Rita is a robot and the navigator.


That night a storm hit. No ordinary storm this one threatened every ship in its path. Alora sat on the bridge With Byron, Rita, and Naomi. Rita had taken over an hour ago. She sat at the helm pushing the throttle forward at the bottom of each wave and pulling it back as they crested the top. Lightning lit the sea up like daylight every few seconds. Byron himself was drinking he knew all to well this old tub may not last the night. Everything electronic other than Rita herself had been blown in the 3 lightning strike to have already hit the ship. They had no idea what direction they were heading or where they where. The compass changed every few seconds and Rita had dropped to the floor twice as the electromagnetic storm blasted energy through her steel and carbon fiber bones. Every so often a wave would hit from the side sending all of them to the floor as it smashed the side of the ship.

Alora pulled out the strange herbal cigarette Daniel had given her, he had called it Yaba. She didn’t give a f*ck what it was he was not going to die sober, her bottle of rum had smashed earlier and glass now slid back and forth along the floor with every wave threatening to cut the sh*t out of whoever hit the deck next. Fred had gone for another and a plastic jug to put it in 20 minutes ago, but even staying on a bolted down chair was a challenge. Alora lit the joint.

Naomi carefully moved over to her.
“Where you find that sh*t. I could use some about now”.
Alora took a couple huge puffs and passed it over. She felt her senses heighten and a pleasant euphoria took over her brain.
“Got it from Daniel a week ago, been saving it for a special occasion. I think my last day alive would qualify”.
“Ya, that it would”.
“This ship ever make it out of anything like this before?”
“No this is something else. The life boats and landing craft are gone already. One of those rogue waves ripped them off”.
Rita yelled. “Hold the hell on”.
As another smashed into the side. Byron ripped two of the bolts holding his seat down out of the floor and Alora hit the floor saving the joint over herself. She stood back up and pulled a small piece of glass out of her left palm, then took another long haul off it before passing it to Naomi.
“Nice save there”.
Fred and jack burst through the hatch Jacks head had been cut and bandaged and some of his hair was matted with blood. They each held a plastic water jug Alora prayed contained alcohol.
“f*ck you could have waited for us”. Jack said as he reached for the joint.
“Didn’t know if I’d see you guys again. Is that rum?” Alora said.
Jack took a few puffs.
“No it’s the ****ing shine half the rums gone glass everywhere. That’s what happened to my head”.
“Well at least you wont die of infection”. She stated before taking a long hard drink from the jug.
Fred tossed her her backpack.
“You mentioned you wanted this earlier. Thought whatever it was in there you needed would be nice to have”.
“****ing perfect”. Alora said as she grabbed it and started to dig in. She pulled out a bag with ten purple capsules out.
“What the hell is that?” asked Naomi.
“I really don’t know got them from my friend Dave, he called it MDMA. he brought it from his world”.
Alora popped one and opened the other to snort it. It burnt the hell out of her nose, but she had been told it was worth it. She handed off the rest and everyone but Byron and Rita did the same with theirs.

Twenty minutes later the drugs began to take hold. Gone was the fear and worries of death, they were riding the worlds biggest roller coaster like drug addled teens in a amusement park. The deadly streaks of light in the sky were pure entertainment, and the booze was flowing like water. Byron had to stop Jack from opening the front door, he wanted to hang on the bow railing and ride the ship like a giant surf board. Rita badly wanted some too, but any drug not known to her programmer would do nothing to her, she could watch the chaos play out, but she would never know.
Naomi had strapped herself to her seat and was holding onto Alora so she didn’t get tossed around among other things. Alora didn’t mind the wandering hands. She finally understood all the poetic bullsh** people said about the sea, Beyond the floor to ceiling windows of the bridge the ocean danced to the light in a beautiful display of force unlike she had seen before. She pulled out her MP3 player and speaker from her backpack and cranked it the first song was Iron Butterfly IN A GADDA DA VIDA. Soon after Jack made a break for the door and was now firing flares into the waves. Tom came though the hatch.

He looked around took the scene in and turned to Alora. “What the hell have you guys got into?”
She tossed him the bag.
“Eat one break the other open and snort it”.

He did as he was told and a half hour later pulled Rita from the helm and took her below deck, by then the storm had calmed from your going to die, to your probably f***ed levels. Byron was at the controls half pissed and singing to the music. Alora watched the flares each colour bringing some new feeling. Naomi had one hand under Alora’s shirt and the other down her pants ‘holding on for safety’. They took off below deck as the MDMA peaked. They held each other in a sensual embrace unlike anything they had ever felt before. They then got into Naomi’s secret suitcase and spent the night making sure they would be going out with a bang.

Alora woke the next night not to a pounding head, but a strange refreshed feeling. She was laying with her head on Naomi’s chest, she turned looked over her breast and smiled, Naomi smiled back.
“We didn't die?”
“No I don't think so”.
Alora stood up and found her underwear. The rest was gone and the door was half open. That was ok she had made a few journeys in search of booze and mind altering substances the night and morning before. She walked down the hall to her room. Daniel walked by in silence with a smile on his face. She made it to her room and got dressed before leaving and climbing up to the bridge. Rita and Tom had the navigation equipment ripped apart, Rita was desoldering components from a computer and whatever other electronics they had found. Byron was passed out on the floor. Alora walked over to Rita.
“We have any idea where we are?”
“Not a clue. Even if we fix this there’s to much electricity still in the air. The wind and waves are gone, but it’s not over yet. I got GPS built in and I can only reach one satellite so at least I know we are within 2000 km of our previous location”.
Alora walked up to the window and looked up the sky was a ever changing spiderweb of light.
“If we spot a island or the storm ends I’ll be able to find out where we are, but until then we keep pumping water over the core and drift”. Rita said.
I’m having a hard time reconciling a seemingly life-or-death situation on a heavily pitching and rolling ship, with characters on board that are behaving like they’re at some kind of frat party. How could somebody get a joint lit—let alone keep it burning—on the deck of an ocean bound vessel in the wind and rain and spray and constant need to hold on for dear life? It’s just not jiving for me.
They are inside the bridge. not on the deck, but I see your point.

I'm just going to put this out there. I was in a truck with a guy who believed cops were chasing us (Lights in the distance probably Christmas lights) doing 120 to 140 KMPH on anarchist mountain. The ****ing guy was smoking a meth pipe as if god was going to pop out and save us. I swear we almost rolled the damn truck off a bank at one point.
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I think I get what you are saying, but for me there just seems to be too much incongruity between the setting and what the characters are doing. For example, the drug addicts I’ve been around in my life (myself included, for a time) aren’t traipsing about on worldly adventures aboard ocean bound ships in storms with their stashes. It feels like too big a stretch for me.

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