“Your skin’s getting worse, isn’t it?” said Lucy.
“I’m fine,” said Fliss, sniffing.
“We’ll find help – when we get to DC,” said Lucy.
“Assuming we get that far,” said Fliss, pointing to the thin wooden tile they’d fixed over the smashed window opposite. The remains of the cabin drawer they’d butchered for the repair poked out of a plastic bag beneath. Fliss shifted in her seat and drew her heels closer to her back, trying surreptitiously to wipe a tear from her eye.
“You guys did great earlier,” said Lucy, placing an arm around her.
Fliss nodded, leaning into Lucy and squeezing her hand briefly. She sobbed twice then abruptly shook Lucy off and turned away, exhaling deeply and slapping her cheeks several times.
“I can’t sleep like this. I… I’m gonna get some air,” said Fliss, scratching her arm again as she slid out from the couch. She clambered up the steps, leaving Lucy alone in the saloon.
Lucy’s abdomen panged, painfully. She rose to her feet with a grunt and edged into the gloomy fore cabin. Jack was asleep on the left side of the v-shaped couch. There was just enough room for Lucy to take the other side, if she curled up. She flopped down onto the berth, her skin tingling, and her mind swirling from the escape.
***
Shona fastened the crimson medallion around Lucy’s neck, then swept her long hair back into place. She spun Lucy around so she could see herself in the dressing mirror, which was studded with sparkling white LEDs. The gown fitted perfectly; a soft white robe embroidered with touches of silver which formed an oval with a line through the center.
“You ready, sis?” said Shona, beaming at her.
“I’m kinda nervous,” said Lucy, with a grin.
“Stop it, they love you!” said Shona, sweeping Lucy up in a bear hug.
Shona released her with a giggle and stepped back, holding onto Lucy’s shoulders as she admired her half-sister for a moment longer. With an excited squeak, she took Lucy by the arm and led her to the end of the dressing room.
“There’s no looking back now,” said Shona, with a smile, as the double doors opened before them.
They stepped forward into the hotel conference room. It was filled with lilies, and packed with rows of well-wishers sitting on decorated chairs. The congregation’s necks were craned, watching with eager anticipation as Lucy shuffled to the edge of the crimson aisle. At the far end, on the stage, stood the Preacher, resplendent in his own gown of white.
“I’m right behind you,” said Shona, whispering into Lucy’s ear and giving her arm a squeeze.
Lucy stepped down the aisle, her heart light with excitement. Members of the congregation whispered their congratulations as she passed by, urging her on with earnest smiles and wide eyes. As Lucy reached the front, she knelt before the Preacher. He placed a warming hand over her head and addressed the crowd.
“Today, my brothers and sisters, is a joyous day. That which was lost has been found. That which was loved shall be loved again. Today, we welcome our newest member into our family forever. Here and now we vow to protect, to nurture, and to cherish our new sister Lucy as our own flesh and blood. In the name of our Lady. Do you witness?” declared the Preacher.
“We do!” chimed the crowd, emphatically.
“Then it is so. Rise, Sister Lucy. Welcome home,” boomed the Preacher, extending a hand and helping Lucy to her feet with a smile. He pulled her into a warm embrace, which Shona piled into gleefully as the congregation cheered and applauded in delight.
Lucy stepped back from the embrace, beaming.
“Lucy, are you ready for your first act of devotion to your family?” said the Preacher.
“I am,” declared Lucy, proudly.
The Preacher clapped his hands and the doors at the side of the room opened. Two ushers in black robes dragged a struggling hooded figure to the stage. The person’s jeans were torn, their body thin and their skin pitted with scabs. Their t-shirt was ill-fitting and damp with sweat marks. The ushers thrust the struggling captive onto their knees, and held them in place as the figure riled against the zip ties binding their wrists.
Lucy felt something cold and jagged press into the palm of her hand.
“You’ll need this,” whispered Shona, with a wink.
Lucy unfurled her fingers and examined the sharp grey rock. She looked back at the struggling wretch. Damp patches were spreading across the person’s shirt.
“Behold, the sinner!” declared the Preacher.
An usher ripped the figure’s t-shirt apart from the waist up to their ribcage, revealing a squirming bulge of wet, shiny flesh covered in purple and red streaks.
The crowd rose to their feet in disgust, hurling abuse at the hooded figure, who struggled against their cords. Lucy gripped the stone tightly as the figure’s abdomen writhed further, with the dark purple patch kicking frantically against its dripping fleshy prison.
The congregation’s cries rose to fever pitch. Lucy’s new family stood all around her, stones in hand, waiting for her to act, begging her to do her duty. A wave of nausea swept over her as she stared at the mutated captive in disgust. Her eyes locked on the thrashing purple bulge and the hate within her grew. She felt hot blood seep between her fingers as she clenched the sharp rock with rage. She raised the stone above her head and drew her arm back, and with a scream, cried out, “Sinner!”
***
Lucy awoke with a jolt, gasping for breath. A red overhead light shone through the cabin. Someone called her name.
“Come on!” cried Jack, blinding her with his headlight. Lucy flinched as he tossed a life jacket and flashlight at her, before rushing out of the fore cabin.
Lucy sat up sharply and banged her head on the low ceiling, then fell backwards as the boat heeled.
“Lucy!” repeated Jack, yelling from the companionway.
Rain lashed the cabin skylight, as the wind dumped gallons of water on top of them in clusters. The sky swirled with every hue of grey while the boat rocked heavily in the opposite direction, throwing Lucy from her bed.
She pulled the buoyancy aid on and hurried forward, tightening it as she bounced between the sides of the narrow corridor. Her sea boots squeaked on the wooden floor as she rushed after Jack, fumbling her headlamp into place. More sheets of rain landed on the boat like sacks of gravel, soaking the steps as Lucy struggled to climb. She tripped over the lip of the deck and landed by Ruth’s feet.
“Get up and grab hold!” yelled Ruth, who was dressed head-to-toe in an orange storm suit, and also wearing a headlight. Thick, tumbling clouds enclosed them in every direction. Lightening streaked horizontally through the storm like a boomerang. Lucy let out an involuntary cry as the boat began to climb, causing the rear to dip down, revealing a twenty foot drop to the thrashing ocean behind. In a flash, the watery abyss disappeared as they plunged over the crest of the wave. Lucy slid fast across the deck, straight towards the gaping cabin hatch. With a yelp she kicked out, bracing her legs against the frame, narrowly dodging the fall.
“I said get up!” yelled Ruth, battling the helm.
Lucy dragged herself to her feet and clung to the railing, trembling.
“Get the storm drogue and throw it overboard,” yelled Ruth, her face obscured by sheets of rain.
“What?” cried Lucy, wiping icy sea spray from her face.
“The storm drogue – big yellow bag – find it,” yelled the sailor.
“I don’t know what that is,” cried Lucy.
“Damn it to hell! Take this. Look ahead. Aim for the waves. Do not let us turn side on,” shouted Ruth, grabbing Lucy and shoving her hands onto the helm.
“Wait, I can’t-” began Lucy.
“Keep us pointed at the waves, don’t fuck it up!” yelled Ruth, slapping Lucy in the jaw before leaping into the cabin below.
Lucy stared ahead at the convulsing ocean, her terrified brain trying to make sense of the unrelenting folding and colliding seascape. Strips of white st
retched and contracted across the black waves like the sinews of meat being tenderized. The ever-darkening clouds became one with the water, as Lucy’s horizon tumbled uncontrollably.
At the front of the boat, an orange storm sail pressed outwards, straining under the force of the gale. Before it, through the sheets of rain, Lucy could see the flashlights of two yellow-tipped figures trying to hoist a second, larger sail. Jack slipped, only for Fliss to catch him as he skidded across the deck. He scrambled back to the mast and clung on in terror. His sister heaved on the rope, using the weight of her whole body to edge the orange trysail upward as it clung to the boom, clamped down by the wind.
A wave struck the portside bow like a hammer. Water swept across the deck, knocking Lucy clean off her feet and into the taffrail. She clung on desperately as a torrent of water drained from the surface, dragging through her as it raced to the sea behind. The boat heeled again as the next wave rose, and Lucy scrambled back to the helm. She grabbed the wheel and heaved, turning them to face the oncoming wave.
Up ahead the two teens had abandoned their attempts to raise the trysail, leaving it compromised at half-mast while they clung to the boat in desperation.
Ruth reappeared on deck, clutching a large yellow sack. She clipped it onto the railing behind Lucy and tossed it into the swirling sea. Lucy felt something clip around her waist. Ruth pulled the safety harness tight around Lucy, then seized the helm from her.
“Christ, I said keep it pointed!” she yelled, leaning hard into the wheel. “Get that damned sail up, and get them below!”
Lucy clung to the railing with both hands and stared at her.
“Go!” bellowed the sailor, shoving her forwards.
As Lucy took a terrified step, the boat lurched sideways. Gravity pressed her against the starboard railing, which she seized with both hands as her tether strained against the jackstays. A wall of water reached out to her as the boat fell towards the waves below. At the last second the boat heeled again, flinging Lucy in the opposite direction and yanking the rope taught around her bony waist.
She swiped at the lashing rain in a futile bid to clear it from her dripping brow. With her face pressed to the deck, clinging to the central grab rails, she heaved herself forwards until she reached the teens. Jack was clinging to the mast with one hand, while his other arm was tucked into his chest.
“Grab my hand!” she yelled to the petrified boy, trying to make her voice heard over the storm.
Jack shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw slack with fear.
“Come on!” yelled Lucy, edging closer.
“His arm’s broken,” shouted Fliss, gesturing emphatically as the wind swallowed her words.
Lucy gripped the central rail again as water crashed over the side. “You gotta get the sail up! I’ll get your brother,” she cried.
She signaled to Fliss and the pair prepared to maneuver.
“Jack, let go of the mast and I’ll catch you – on three!” called Lucy.
The boy redoubled his grip and began to wail with terror, his cries mingling with those of the wind.
“Tell him,” Lucy urged Fliss, as another crack of lightening shot by, followed immediately by a cacophonous boom of thunder.
“On three,” cried Fliss, grabbing her brother by his sodden hair and pulling his chin up to meet her eyes. She took hold of his working arm and counted down, before wrestling him away from the mast.
He slid with a yell as the boat tilted toward Lucy. She caught him clumsily around the torso, taking the impact of his fall hard against her chest. He cried out in pain as she gripped him, knocking his broken arm.
“The sail!” yelled Lucy, as Fliss watched her brother anxiously. Fliss rose up and attacked the rope once again.
Lucy dragged the quivering boy to the stern. Their movements were barely controlled as the deck slid out from beneath them and waves crashed in from all directions. With immense effort, she heaved Jack to the steps. She swiveled his legs around to face the cabin hatch and planted his working hand firmly on the railing, then left him and hurried back for Fliss.
Lucy stumbled and crawled back towards the mast, as the swirling seas threw her across deck. Reaching Fliss, she grabbed hold of the rope and heaved in sync with the girl, hauling the orange sail off the boom and raising it toward the furious sky.
“That’s enough!” cried Lucy, tying the rope off. Fliss clung to the mast, her face drained of all color.
Without warning, the boat dropped a dozen feet, throwing Lucy and Fliss onto their sides like bowling pins. Lucy caught the girl in a koala grip as the boat landed hard on another coursing wave, which yanked Lucy’s harness taut.
“Use your legs!” yelled Lucy, as she pushed the pair of them along the deck with her heels, clinging to whatever ropes and grip rails she could find.
“Hurry up, get below!” cried Ruth, as they neared the helm. For the first time, the sailor looked truly afraid.
Fliss stumbled down into the cabin. Lucy unclipped herself and leaped after her, landing clumsily on the galley floor. Ruth followed after them and pulled the cabin doors closed, shutting out the torrential rain. “Save your lights,” she wheezed, as waves battered the boat, causing the red light above to flicker.
The four clung to the floor, gasping and dripping. Each straggler desperately pressed themselves into a corner, seizing upon any crevice that could brace them against the rolling waves. The hull creaked and groaned as waves pummeled the vessel, tossing the terrified group from side to side. Jack cried out in pain as the swinging cooker struck his arm. Mugs, cutlery, cushions, all tumbled out of their holdings and through the cabin as the boat rocked. Lightening flashed by the windows, followed closely by more body-shaking thunder. The boat began to climb once again. Lucy felt water pooling around her feet, sweeping with it more floating debris from the cabin.
The red light cut out, plunging them into darkness. Lucy drew her heels in tightly as more water rushed through the black cabin. Cries of fear and pain punctuated the onslaught, feeding Lucy’s panic as the battering waves overwhelmed her senses. As the vessel tumbled and plummeted through the writhing ocean, she closed her eyes in terror and surrendered to the seas.
THREE
Lifeline
_______________________________
“Hold still,” said Ruth, tucking the splint under Jack’s forearm.
The boy yelped as she bound the fracture.
“I said still,” hissed the sailor.
“Can’t you be gentler?” said Fliss.
“I’m fixing it,” said Ruth, securing the splint with bandages.
“You don’t have to be mean about it,” said Fliss, defensively.
“Mean? By fixing him?” said Ruth, trimming the fabric.
Jack winced as his arm shifted.
“Get a grip, kid,” scolded Ruth.
“You’ve been hard on us since we left,” said Fliss.
“You mean since you three lepers forced your way onboard, brought a cult to my door, and nearly got me killed? Go to hell,” said Ruth.
“You shouldn’t talk to people like that,” said Fliss.
“If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to return those dry clothes and swim the rest of the way. No? Didn’t think so,” said Ruth.
Fliss looked to Lucy for support, but Lucy was too tired to arbitrate. She had expended what little energy she’d had left after the storm by pumping floodwater out of the galley for several hours. Her muscles ached from working the lever. The others were exhausted too. Fliss had been tasked with restoring the galley’s contents, while Ruth had inspected the rest of the boat and begun repairs on the electrics. Jack had remained incapacitated by shock, the effects of which were still enduring.
Lucy scratched at the lesions beneath her top. She could feel her symptoms worsening as she weakened. Her skin deterioration had overtaken Jack’s, and she was feeling the effects of mounting fatigue and hunger.
“I should’ve let them take you,” grumbled
Ruth, taking a swig of water.
“Can I get some of that?” said Fliss, tentatively.
The sailor necked the remainder and slammed the enamel mug down with a thwack. She grabbed a different colored one from the cabinet and filled it, eyeballing Fliss resentfully as she did so.
“Don’t touch my mug, you use this one. Understood? That goes for all of you. I don’t want whatever damned disease you all picked up,” said Ruth.
Fliss drank gratefully.
“Months of waiting, all for nothing – all for this,” said Ruth, bitterly gesturing to the motley crew.
“Who were you waiting for?” said Lucy.
“Like it matters. You’ve put paid to it all, haven’t you? You didn’t care when you came on board, so don’t pretend to care now,” said Ruth.
“If you waited that long, and no-one showed up, maybe whoever you were waiting for wasn’t coming?” said Fliss, nervously.
Ruth stopped and glared at the girl, with daggers in her eyes. Her stocky muscles were tense, her nostrils flared. She slammed the drawer shut with a clatter.
“Don’t talk about what you don’t know, kid,” snapped the sailor, before storming upstairs above deck, and slamming the hatch behind her.
“I didn’t mean that badly – I meant ‘cause of our dad,” said Fliss, welling up.
Lucy took Fliss in an embrace, and soothed the exhausted girl.
“Are we gonna die?” said Jack, staring at the lesions on his forearm.
Lucy looked at the siblings and tried not to think about the infected people she’d met in Boston; the ones she knew had died waiting for Doctor Charlie to bring their meds.
“When we get to DC, they’re gonna help us. They’ve got the best doctors in the country there, all gathered together. Right now you need to rest up,” said Lucy, hoping the teens believed her words more than she did.
Jack shuffled away to the fore cabin to sleep, while Fliss lingered.
“When you first came to us, you were soaked through. We had to change your clothes,” began Fliss, letting her voice trail off and her eyes fall on Lucy’s abdomen.
Convulsive Box Set Page 50