Tidal Rage

just being there, and not by God, but by ice-cold Sebastian.
Sebastian was not one to strip off and get in the water. He did not want everyone to know his hair-pulling habit, and had he stripped, the scarring over his body would have been a clear indicator that something was not right with the pianist. The scar tissue was still there after many years of abuse, tender to the touch, and Sebastian would be in agony in the water.
Sebastian watched Melissa from the comfort of the air-conditioned balcony of a bistro while sipping on a lime and soda and chewing on the cashews the hotel provided for free.
He shielded his eyes from the intense glare of the sun behind his mirrored Ray-Ban sunglasses, watching Melissa intently as his excitement began to grow.
Melissa would be an important kill, Sebastian realized as he sat on the balcony. It was the stalking of his prey; the hunting and planning were becoming an important and exciting part of the experience. Plus, her hair spread over her body from her head to her waist in the saline sea, the strands magnificent even coated in the salt.
Sebastian was patient; he followed Melissa and her husband back on to the Bonny Prince Charlie. He saw the security officer insert her cabin card key into the computer, to check her identity and allow her back on-board the ship. The database was updated as soon as a card was swiped, and this would show who was on board, who had returned, and who had not.
“Welcome back, Mrs Rodrigues,” Sebastian heard the security guard say. He now had a name, and thanks to his access to all areas on the ship, in an hour he had the cabin number.
Sebastian waited five more days before he attacked her in her cabin. Mr Rodrigues was a man of habit; each morning after breakfast, at 8 am, he would swim ten lengths of the short pool, and then sit in the warmth of the Jacuzzi. He was several decks above her when she died.
As with all his kills, Sebastian had planned it down to the last detail. First, he gained entry purporting to be room service; borrowing the black pants and white top room service wore.
Melissa did wonder why room service would bring a laundry trolley into her cabin. Before she could raise the question, he immobilized her by forcing the heel of his hand quickly and violently to her forehead. Melissa dropped like a rock He pulled her to the shower and within fifteen minutes she was plucked clean. The pain had awoken her from the concussion only for Sebastian to kill her with a fist to the throat. It was quick; too fast for him to reach the elated state he yearned for, but he could not afford to take longer.
The inside cabin was on a lower deck and to the rear of the passageway. He placed her inside the laundry trolley, placing the sheet from their bed on top of her. Sebastian exited the cabin with the trolley across the passageway and into the service area. This area was restricted to staff. Sebastian knew at this time of the morning they would all be in the lower deck canteen, enjoying breakfast before the start of another long day.
Once inside the restricted area, he placed the trolley into the service elevator. Sebastian was on his way to the waste disposal area on the bottom deck of the ship. He had discovered that all ships have garbage dumping zones, and they were nearly always in the lowermost deck of the vessel. This was his favourite, and well-used means of disposal for cadavers.
Problems began to emerge for Sebastian as the elevator slammed to a halt between decks. Sebastian was aware of the dangers this created and wondered at the lack of fear he felt.
Did this mean he wanted to be caught? Or was he just fearless? He thought he would soon find out. It was a half-hour before the elevator began to move to the lower deck. When the door opened, Sebastian was met by a young Romanian engineer, Alexandros Blaga.
“Fuse had blown; hope you weren’t too worried in there,” the engineer said.
Sebastian moved away with the trolley, shaking his head no.
“Hang on, you’re the pianist! I watched you play last night. They let us grease monkeys up there now and again. Are you doubling up as a cabin boy now, or have you got a little smuggling project on the go?” the engineer said as he walked toward Sebastian.
“You got me,” Sebastian replied.
“Well, let’s see what you have in the laundry trolley; that will decide the levy,” said the now eager engineer.
The engineer was of medium height but was solid, obviously through either training or steroid abuse. He would be capable of putting up a good fight if required. But slogging it out fist to fist, body to body, was not Sebastian’s way. As the engineer’s eyes opened in shock when Sebastian pulled back the covering, he turned automatically towards Sebastian. That was the final act of his life; not that he died there immediately. It took time for his brain to bleed out.
Sebastian used a ‘phoenix eye punch’, or feng an choi, as it is known in its country of origin. Sebastian had instantly and sequentially closed his fingers into a fist, with the little finger on up to the middle finger, and then folding his forefinger back upon the support of the thumb. This pushed the knuckle of the forefinger outwards, and Sebastian thrust this not once but twice in a rapid movement into the left temple of the engineer. The engineer’s eyes widened in shock and pain; he felt his vision going and began to fade away into unconsciousness. Just before his legs gave way, Sebastian steered his body into the laundry basket atop the dead girl’s body.
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