On the bridge, Chris's head snapped to face the human. "Who the hell told you that I know where everyone in this ship is at any time?" Chris asked Cecilia, making her, Toby, and the bridge crew flinch from the captain's raised voice, like startled kittens. Cecilia and the boy pointed at the first officer.
Chris looked in the direction where Cecilia and the child pointed, but the chief seemingly vanished into thin air. "Who are you pointing at?" Chris asked the two with a puzzled expression on his face. He shook his head and, after an exasperated sigh, he glanced at the two. "Hey, kid, what is the name of the person you're looking for?" Chris asked the boy
"Suzane Ramirez, sir," Toby answered, a hint of intimidation, maybe fear, in his voice
"His mother, you said?" He glanced at Cecilia, who nodded enthusiastically. Chris took out his phone and called Chief Murillo, "Suzane Ramirez, what deck?" he quickly asked. "Not in gold? Are you sure?" The captain paused as he listened to the chief cook and HR head. "Got you, meet me at the deck entrance in five minutes."
Chris got up from the captain's chair and faced Cecilia. "You'll never find her in the gold deck," the captain explained, his voice ominous in tone. "She's on the gray deck." He then turned to the Helmsman, "Martinez, when first officer Bustamante arrives, set sail once all preparations are completed and verified. Till then, the bridge is yours."
"Aye, Captain," Martinez replied while he stood in attention.
Chris nodded and left the bridge, and Cecilia, with the boy in tow, quickly followed. "Captain, you said she's not on the gold deck. Why is she on the gray deck then?"
"The decisions she made during her last days resulted in her death and the child's." Chris's explanation sent shivers down her spine. What sort of decision could lead to the death of two people, she pondered.
At the entrance to the Gray Deck, "Chief Murillo!" Cecilia greeted the Chief; she practically ran the moment she came into view. "What did Toby's mom do that landed her here?"
The Chief did not reply; she waited for the captain to arrive before she explained the situation. "Captain, I downloaded her files from the gray room." She handed Chris a tablet. The captain read through her files and sighed.
"Why? What did it say?" Cecilia curiously asked, and she was about to look at the tablet's contents, but Chris gave it back to Chief Murillo.
"There is nothing we can do for her now; she is a passenger on the gray deck. If she does not repent, if she does not show remorse for that one decision…then she will go to the engine room." Chris explained, with a cold voice.
"The engine room? What did she do?" Cecilia asked nervously, her tone betraying the urgency in her mind.
"Let's go back to our stations; the ship is about to set sail." Chris ignored her and turned around to leave.
"CAPTAIN!" Cecilia's voice shattered the silence, sharp and urgent. "WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME?"
Chie Murillo's breath caught. Her eyes darted between Cecilia and the looming figure of Chris. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on the child's arm, pulling him closer as if her presence alone could shield him from the storm that was about to break. She could feel it in her essence: this confrontation could end in blood.
Chris stopped dead, the world narrowing to a pinprick of fury. Slowly, deliberately, he turned. Cecilia caught the glint in his eyes—burning embers, smoldering beneath a thin veneer of control. It was a fire that promised devastation if ever unleashed.
The hallway dimmed, the lights flickering like a warning. Shadows stretched and writhed, as if alive, creeping along the walls and floor, drawn to Chris's tempestuous energy. Electricity hummed and sparked at his fingertips, a silent storm threatening to erupt. Cecilia's breath hitched, a cold wave of dread washing over her. Her legs trembled, but she forced herself to take a step back, then another—until the cold steel wall pressed unforgivingly against her spine, trapping her.
Her mind screamed to run, but an inexplicable calm nestled deep within her chest. It was a fragile ember of certainty, a whisper telling her she was meant to stand here, that somehow, she was safe. But the fear was real, clawing at her throat.
Chris leaned in, his presence overwhelming, his voice low and heavy with rage. "She neglected herself and her son after her husband died. They starved to death." The words echoed, soaked in accusation and pain, reverberating from some dark, shattered place inside him.
Cecilia's heart pounded so loudly she feared it would betray her. She saw the shadows twist closer, felt the crackling energy surge. But beneath that storm, she glimpsed a flicker of restraint—a desperate grip on sanity, a battle raging within Chris to hold back the fury that threatened to consume him.
In that moment, Cecilia understood: this was not just anger. It was grief, guilt, and torment locked in a deadly dance. And Chris was fighting to keep himself tethered to the world.
The electricity faded, the fire in his eyes dimmed, and the shadows retreated as suddenly as they had come. The hallway brightened, but the tension remained thick, like a heavy fog lingering in the air.
Chris turned sharply and strode away, his steps heavy. Cecilia's throat unclenched only when his figure vanished from sight. She exhaled slowly, her trembling fingers brushing the cold wall. The ember of calm inside her glowed faintly, a quiet assurance that she was safe—if only for now.
Behind her, Chief Murillo's gaze was dark and haunted. Her jaw clenched as she nudged Toby forward, voice low and edged with dread. "You're lucky to be alive." She cast one last, lingering look at the hallway, her mind racing with grim possibilities. "He barely held it back. If he loses it... Cecilia wouldn't have survived."
Without another word, Murillo turned and hurried away, the weight of what she had witnessed pressing heavily on her shoulders.
After steadying herself, Cecilia grasped the child's small hand and stepped into the gray deck — a realm where despair clung to the air like a suffocating fog. The walls wept with cold dampness, and the ground beneath them seemed to pulse with a slow, mournful heartbeat. Shadows shifted in the corners of her vision, whispering in voices both distant and intimately close, their tones laced with regret and endless sorrow. The very atmosphere pressed down on her chest, heavy and unyielding, as if the weight of countless lost souls sought to pull her into the abyss.
The boy's voice trembled, breaking the oppressive silence. "Why is everyone so sad here? I'm scared."
Cecilia pulled him close, her own heart hammering in response to the palpable grief swirling around them. Their eyes scanned the wandering souls — some wept with silent anguish, tears tracing endless paths down translucent cheeks; others laughed with hollow, broken mirth that chilled the air; many murmured the same haunting phrase over and over, a litany of regret that seemed to echo from the walls themselves.
"They made mistakes when they were alive," Cecilia whispered, her voice barely steady, "and that's why they can't move on."
Suddenly, the boy slipped free from her grasp and darted forward, his small form disappearing into the shifting gray mists.
"Toby! Toby, come back!" Cecilia's voice cracked with panic as she surged after him. The ghosts' hollow eyes tracked her frantic movements, their mournful whispers rising into a cacophony that threatened to drown her senses.
She weaved through the spectral figures, their forms flickering like dying embers, some reaching out with cold, grasping hands. Every instinct screamed to freeze, to retreat, but the fierce urgency to protect the child overpowered her terror. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she navigated the labyrinth of sorrow, careful not to collide with the restless dead yet desperate to close the distance.