37. Bailey and barricades.

Neither Bailey nor his friends were at the ‘gathering’ yesterday, but they were obviously at the one before, with Velma, and for all I know, they were the ones—

Well, The Murder on the Links, anyone?

The ‘game’ has obviously been started off in different groups and cycles. But all that means, is that while the rest of us wrestle with the morality of the situation – and are trying to find peaceful ways out of it, because I know we are comrades of conscience – thugs like Bailey are already calculating how they will win. I can see it in their eyes, the way they move with a newfound swagger – a certain turn to brutishness that marks them ready for action, and a demeanour that says, ‘don’t look at me wrong, or I’ll stab you…’

They’re going to spoil it for the rest of us.

It appears they have done nothing, yet, to our ‘come lately’ group – what was it? Ah, yes, ‘there are rules’ – but I bet they are getting the measure of the new blood, while it’s still rattling around in the sheep run, looking confused.

While we’re in denial, they’re grinding the knives…

But it hasn’t all been going their way. Given that the headcount of Bailey’s group has decreased somewhat, I can only assume that they have already turned on each other, or that some other passenger – worse than them – has been picking them off. But who could be worse than that lot? Poor teamwork, or natural selection – that’s what’s trimming the weak fat.

I hope Velma didn’t have to kill anyone, but if she did, I’m sure it could only have been in self-defence. I have to believe that, even if things didn’t work out for her in the end

My cabin door is still locked and barricaded with what furniture I could move. Is this to be my new existence? Terrified that someone will stab me? Sleeping so badly, it feels like my eyes are down round my ankles?

The ship isn’t moving – I think we dropped anchor yesterday, after X’s midnight, movie show.  We’re not going anywhere soon. Possibly not for a long time, until all of this is over.

I don’t have any food or drink in my cabin – my water has been cut, and the toilet was emptied on the last flush (I’m so annoyed with myself, but I didn’t know, so there went a cistern of water). I’ll have to venture out soon. Although is dehydration and starvation a better fate than what awaits me out on the decks, or in the corridors and public rooms of the ship?

The Cotopaxi has become a secret battleground, as I’m sure there are still passengers who don’t know. And if they spot anything, the perpetrator will be arrested – so long may their ignorance last.

Someone passed another card under my door.

It had the same name on it.

I laughed, slightly hysterically, as I tore that one up, too.

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