In Bits and Pieces by ReeseisLAVAhot, SavhCaro

Chapter 4

After several months spent tracking down the people who were responsible for Jessica and Stanton’s deaths, now that he had achieved his revenge, John Reese found he no longer had a purpose. For the first time in his life, he had no direction. It was as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. John wandered through the city of Quindao with no purpose other than to put as much distance between the scene of his “death”, the CIA and himself. He knew he should get out of the clothes he was in, they were covered in blood and would draw attention to him but he just couldn’t bring himself to care enough to go in search of new clothes. His face was bloody from several cuts as a result of the flying debris in the explosion. He didn’t even bother to wipe off the blood.
John moved first west through the city but as he got closer to the commercial district, the streets become more crowded. John couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious about being seen. He had been used to the paranoia for so many years, it was not something he even thought about anymore. He moved further south towards the residential areas of the city. He shuffled along, head down and shoulders hunched. His mind was surprisingly blank except for the compunction to keep moving. He came across a clothesline someone had recently put clothes out on. He took whatever was there with no thought to its condition. Once he had disposed of his clothes in several different garbage cans as he walked, he found himself down by the waterfront.
John didn’t give it much thought, but walked onto the first ship he came to. There was so much bustle aboard that he was lost in the melee. He grabbed a box and hefted it up on his shoulders and walked down into the hold. There he found a secluded section that was already stacked with boxes and sat down to rest. The cargo hold rang with the shouts of various workers loading and stacking the cargo but no one came near John’s hiding place. Gradually the voices died down and the hold became quiet. Then and only then did John allow himself to relax. The ship shuddered and began to move very slowly. He might not have even noticed it if it weren’t for the increased noise as the engine turbines sprang to life. An hour later, they cleared the harbor and the seas became rougher but John didn’t feel it due to the fact that he had dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
He awoke with a start and for a second reached down to his hip for his gun. Then the whole situation came crashing back on to him like a wave hitting a break-wall. He looked around him and saw a glint of light reflecting off a smooth surface across from him. He moved closer to investigate and found a bottle of cheap, high proof vodka and a carton of cigarettes stuffed between two crates. It must have been left there by a member of the crew and concealed for his own personal stash when off duty. John left the cigarettes but took a long swig from the bottle. He welcomed the burn of the cheap alcohol as it slid down his throat. If it wasn’t for the feeling, he would have sworn he was dead. He certainly felt as though he was a member of the walking dead. He felt nothing; his heart might as well not have been beating in his chest. He looked at his hands and saw nothing but blood and death. His eyes looked around but he SAW nothing. He took another pull on the bottle just to try and keep the numbness at bay. Before he knew it, the bottle was empty. He lay there, not moving or caring until the alcohol took effect on his system. It didn’t take long since he hadn’t eaten in two days. But as the numbness went away, it was replaced by the living nightmares. He saw in front of him the faces of all the people whose life he had taken, both the guilty and the innocent. Their eyes stared right at him, reflecting back at him, the lifelessness he knew was in his own eyes. He threw up his hands and yelled.
The sound of footsteps running towards him echoed across the hold and a crew member suddenly appeared from around a pile of crates. The man took one look at him and the empty bottle and started swearing at him in Croatian. He yelled for help and two more crew members appeared at his side. They roughly pulled John to his feet and he didn’t care enough to put up a fight. They marched him up and down several corridors until they came to the bridge.
A large, heavy set man stood in front of the windows that faced out over the prow of the ship. He turned and frowned when he saw the crew members pushing John ahead of them. “What is this?” he demanded. “Why are you not at your posts and what is this man doing here?” he asked, also in Croatian. The crew member who had found him originally spoke up and explained how he had found this strange man hiding in the hold. He made no mention of the empty alcohol bottle. The heavy man, obviously the captain, spoke to John directly in heavily accented English.
“Well what do you have to say for yourself?”
John shrugged and answered him back in Croatian. “I needed a place to stay. This seemed as good as any.”
“Well, we’ll see if you say the same thing after you have paid for your passage in hard work. Unless you have money to pay for your passage?” the captain raised an eyebrow. When John shook his head, the captain snorted. “I thought not. Very well, you will have a berth with the crew and will follow my orders as passed through Sev here.” And he pointed to the crew member who had found him in the hold. The man sneered at John but John didn’t care and just returned the look with a blank one of his own.
“You have yet to ask where we are headed my friend” the captain said.
“It doesn’t matter to me where we are going so long as it’s not where we were.” John replied.
“We are headed to New York.” The captain said. “Now, go with Sev. He will tell you what to do.”
John turned and followed Sev out. “Where is this bunk I’m supposed to have?”
“You won’t see your bunk until your work is done! Now move!” Sev shoved John ahead of him and down a ladder to the deck. He showed John how to tie down several of the loose ropes around the sides of the deck and once he was sure that John could do the job, left him to it. John went about the task mindlessly. It was the same when he was told to sweep out the crews’ quarters and clean up the galley.
The next day and the next several after were much the same. John stayed to himself and none of the other crew seemed interested in coming anywhere near the brooding man. The monotony of the trip was broken only a few times during the next several weeks. Once when Sev tried to bait John into a fight over the stashed alcohol John had drunk. John had simply broken the man’s nose with an elbow to the face. The other time, when a storm had suddenly and unexpectedly blown up. By this point in the trip, everyone on the ship knew that John could be given the dirtiest and most dangerous jobs and that he’d perform them without a complaint. It was no surprise then that John was assigned to go out on the pitching deck and make sure that everything was securely tied down. He staggered out on the deck and started on the starboard side. Just then a huge wave crashed over side and John ended up soaked to the skin. The sting of the cold, salty spray woke John from his apathy. He looked up as the wind whipped more water into his eyes and left his face feeling swollen and stinging. The captain and a crew member up on the bridge watched as John threw his hands out and yelled into the wind. They just looked at each other with a puzzled expression at the craziness of the man who had stowed away on their ship.
Out on deck, John yelled to the heavens “Do your worst!” The ship rolled again as it dipped into another trough and John was pitched forward. He was slammed against the side and almost upended over the rail. He straightened up and laughed like a loon, for the first time a feeling of happiness came over him. He stood at the prow of the ship for the rest of the storm. Each time he was thrown to his feet, he got back up and felt once more a little stirring of happiness. The pain reminded him that he WAS still able to feel, even if it was only to feel the bruises and cuts on his body.
The next day, all of the crew gave him a wide berth and cast strange looks at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. His bizarre behavior made him even more on an outcast but as the apathy returned to him throughout the day, he found he didn’t care.
One of the jobs he was assigned was to check the cargo manifest against the various boxes of cargo in the hold. It had been done when the ship was loaded but John suspected that he was given the task simply to keep him away from the rest of the crew. Either way, he was fine with that. Especially as he discovered on his second day, that one of the crates contained a large amount of whiskey. At first, John drank small amounts meaning to try and drown out the terrible memories that haunted his dreams and often woke him screaming for either Jessica or Stanton. Gradually though he began drinking through the day and finally gave up all pretense of working. No one came to check on his progress and he went through his days completely inebriated.
Finally the morning they were to make port, the captain sent Sev down to find him in the hold. When he did finally locate John, the man was amazed at how badly John had let himself go. From the smell of him, he hadn’t showered in several days and his beard was shaggy and unkempt. As Sev approached closer, he could see that John’s blue eyes were bloodshot and a wave of alcohol rolled off of him.
“Damn it man! Where did you find any booze on this ship?” Sev asked incredulously and then when he realized that John had broken into one of the boxes of cargo, he swung his leg back and kicked out at John. He never connected and ended up flat on his back for his trouble. John was on top of him in a second with an arm pushing against his windpipe.
“The captain wants you.” Sev managed to gasp out. As suddenly as the arm was pushed into him, it was removed. Sev quickly jumped to his feet and made sure to stay several feet from John as he staggered through the ship in the direction of the bridge.
“What have you done man?” the captain yelled when he was told about John breaking into the cargo. “You’ve been more trouble this voyage than you’ve been worth! Once we put into port, I never want to see your fucking face again!” and he spat in John’s direction. John once again went reeling off to the side of the ship and watched as the port of New York came closer and closer. If there was any place he could disappear in plain sight, it was in New York City. An hour later the ship was tied up at the dock and John was unceremoniously “helped” off the ship by several of the crew. He avoided their fists and kicks when possible and when he couldn’t he took the punishment as form of payment for the loss of the cargo and because deep down, he felt as though he deserved whatever harm came his way after all the harm he had inflicted on others.
Once on the waterfront, he wandered aimlessly until that evening he found himself in an abandoned warehouse with several other indigents.