“It’s not madness.” Marisol put it as bluntly as she could, lest anyone not fathom the severity of their situation. “This is fast becoming a decision we’re all going to have to live with if we want to survive.”
“I don’t know if I can do this.” Nisha covered her mouth.
“I ain’t doing it. No goddamn way,” said Bernie.
“First time I’m up on deck walking around since we set sail, and this is what you guys are talking about? Wake me when it’s over.” Casandra ambled her way back through the crowd. Bernie rushed to her side to help guide her below deck.
“Enough! Stop! Stop it! Quiet, all of you!” The ordinarily composed Jeremiah yelled, nearly irate, bringing everyone to attention. “We cannot eat this,” Jeremiah said with an ire unbecoming of the man.
“Oh, here we go again. Jerry, of all people, you know we have to do this.” Radzinski was nearly pleading.
“See, I told you this is wrong,” Samantha whimpered.
“Oh, shut up, crybaby.” Damon shook his head.
“I said quiet! All of you!” Jeremiah raised his voice for the second time, eyes fixed on Damon, who quickly looked away.
“He’s right, people. Let the man speak,” Miller said, finally joining the discussion. Soraya stood at his side, fingering her kukri, her eyes transfixed on Radzinski.
“If you’ll allow me to explain, please.” Jeremiah sighed, exhausted from the outburst. “We know next to nothing about the incubation period of this disease. We all know that in a few hours Ayn will turn into one of those things. What we don’t know is how exactly the infection works. If we eat of her flesh now, there’s a strong possibility we could become infected as well.”
“But she wasn’t bitten,” said Vanessa.
“I don’t think that matters. Too little is known about this disease to make assumptions of that magnitude. Not with so many lives on the line,” Jeremiah insisted.
“You don’t know that for sure, Jerry,” Radzinski said.
“That’s exactly my point, John. I don’t know that at all,” Jeremiah replied, his voice rising again with each word.
“I say we tie her up then. If she hasn’t changed by morning, she’s not going to change,” Radzinski suggested.
“In this heat, the meat would be rotten by then. Inedible,” Jeremiah responded.
“So we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t!” Radzinski shouted, hands in the air. “What do you suggest we do then? Just sit here and die?”
“For Christ’s sake, just throw her overboard already,” Ryan pleaded.
“How about I throw you overboard, runt? Shut up. Tell you what, Jerry, I’ll watch her all night. Come morning, I’ll get rid of her either way. At least we’ll know,” Radzinski offered.
“We’ll know what?” Lillian asked.
“That the next one of you motherfuckers who dies out here is going to keep me alive,” Radzinski replied, close enough to the girl she could feel his breath on her face.
Vanessa immediately stepped between the two and pushed Radzinski back a few paces.
“Get the fuck away from her!” she demanded, fists clenched.
The group continued to argue. Most of the survivors came down on one side or the other. The shouting voices abruptly went silent as a loud splash interrupted their argument. A bloody trail led to the edge of the deck.
“It’s over. We ain’t eating nobody. Not today.” Markus wiped his bloodied hands on his pants as he reentered the group.
“Who the fuck are you to decide that for the rest of us?” Damon yelled.
“I made a call. Deal with it.” Markus pushed past him.
“You made a call? You stupid motherfucker. You made a call?” Radzinski charged Markus.
“Come on. You want some, soldier boy?” Markus raised his fists, prepared for a fight.
Trained soldier or not, Markus had a few moves of his own and was about to show the enraged Radzinski just how they settled problems back home when three gunshots stopped everyone in their tracks.
“That’s enough!” Miller shouted. “I’ve had it with all of you! Radzinski, stand the fuck down! Jeremiah said we can’t eat it, and we are going to listen to him. What’s done is done. This ends now. Everyone involved in this bullshit, fall out to separate parts of the boat, now!” he commanded, directly in Radzinski’s face.
Slowly, the crowd dispersed, breaking off into familiar groups—as much as they could, anyway, on the not exactly spacious fishing boat.
Hours later, after the sun had long since gone down and anger brought about by slow starvation gave way to cooler heads, the survivors of Pepperbush again spread out. Each small faction claimed its own spot on the boat. Some remained below deck while others tried their best to remain calm out under the stars.
Exhausted from the day’s drama, Samantha leaned her head in Markus’s lap, hardly awake. “We forgot to shoot her.”
“Come again?” Markus asked gently.
“We were all so tired and hungry and fighting, no one shot Ayn before we threw her in the water. She’s at the bottom of the ocean, one of those things now,” Samantha said calmly, not screaming, not crying, merely spent.
“Don’t think about that. That’s not going to do anybody any good. Besides, we don’t even know if that’s true. Just try to get some sleep, okay?” Markus peered off into the dark water. The moonlight cast eerie shadows along the boat’s wake, and he couldn’t help but wonder if what Samantha said was true.
Elsewhere on deck, Vanessa and Lillian sat alone, away from the prying eyes of so many desperate people.
“She hasn’t said one fucking word to me since Dad and Tommy died, and the first thing she does is cut off Ayn’s leg and try to give me a piece. What the hell is going on with her, Vanessa?” Lillian asked, racked with frustration.
“Your mother’s having a rough time with what happened, Lily.” Vanessa had no idea what to say. The truth of the matter was that she was just as shocked over Isabelle’s actions as Lillian was.
“That was my family too, you know,” Lillian responded.
“I know.” Vanessa attempted to change the subject. “You want to know a secret?” she whispered.
“What’s that?” Lillian asked suspiciously.
“You are way tougher than your mom. Seriously, you’ve got a better head on your shoulders than half of these people.”
“Please don’t be condescending, Nessa.”
“I’m not. I swear. Look.” Vanessa gestured for Lillian to look around at the various groups, some still debating the day’s events, others already sleeping. Vanessa kissed Lillian on the cheek. “Let’s get some sleep.”
The two curled up under a blanket in their corner of the boat.
“Thank you,” Lillian whispered, still unsure of what point Vanessa was trying to get across. She knew good intent was there, and that was enough.
Isabelle sat alone under the moonlight, peering off into the darkness. Her feet dangled over the edge of the boat. Following this afternoon’s episode, no one seemed interested in speaking with her. Unaffected by her companions’ lack of understanding, Isabelle stared blankly at the bright full moon. She fiddled with the inside of her dress for a moment before gently pulling a fist-sized piece of meat from one of the folds. Dried blood held it fast to the fabric as she tore it away. Tiny pieces of flesh ripped away from the larger chunk like a scab, leaving small pieces of meat behind on the material. Isabelle raised the flesh to her face, staring at it intently before biting down and chewing furiously into the hours’ old drying meat. A large strip tore away from the flank, making it a more manageable piece, which was easily chewed and swallowed. She continued eating, savoring each mouthful. The center of the meat, still moist and almost warm, gently glided down her throat. It was much easier to swallow than the dry outer portion. Alone beneath the stars, Isabelle consumed all that remained of Ayn.
Day Eight
Throughout the day and long into the night, the Emerald Star rocked vi
olently, listing from side to side and nearly capsizing with every wave. A relentless barrage of enormous walls of water assaulted the boat. What started as their first glimpse of hope in more than a week with lifesaving rains quickly escalated into a full-fledged hurricane. The group huddled below deck, holding onto anything that might help them withstand the storm. Yet another wave flooded the cabin, threatening to drown the nearly unconscious occupants. The tempest’s fury battered the small boat relentlessly.
A wall of water smashed into the bow, up over the deck and into the living quarters of the boat, where the survivors were trying to weather the storm. Those nearest to the entrance were flung into the back of the boat. Unable to fight the strength of the waves, they were knocked into each other as they smashed into the walls of the cabin.
Another wave hit from the port side, sending the boat over on its edge. Everyone in the cabin was thrown violently into the ceiling. The entirety of the group, along with the contents of the cabin, washed back and forth from one wall to another as the boat listed from side to side. The survivors were helpless in the pitch-black darkness. Every few minutes, a flash of lightning would illuminate their surroundings just enough to prepare for incoming bodies and debris.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Marooned
Waves gently lapped at the side of the boat. A rhythmic, repeating thud followed by the strain of a water-logged rope moving with the ebb and flow of the tide revealed the unmistakable sound of floating debris still tied to the ship. Unable to drift away in the current, the detritus pulled away as far as it was able, only to be yanked back again to bang against the side of the vessel. Constant squawking among the seagulls helped stir Vanessa from her slumber. Hot sun beat down on her face as she began to stir. She licked her dry, cracked lips and squinted hard against the sun’s rays as she awoke. Lillian lay on top of her in a tight embrace as if holding on for dear life. The girl was breathing. Somehow, they survived the night, even if by all appearances they had been washed out onto the deck, narrowly spared being carried overboard, it seemed. Vanessa managed to sit upright but was careful not to wake her companion. Though she was grateful to be alive, they still had the reality of no food and water to deal with. She slowly twisted from side to side until her back was straightened and more comfortable against the side of the boat. The sun was blinding; she blinked a few times, finally adjusting to the light before peering around, confused. She and Lillian, it appeared, were alone in the boat and with her wits quickly returning, it appeared the boat wasn’t moving.
“Here, have some water.” Rachel sprang up over the side of the vessel.
“Oh fuck, Rachel!” Vanessa jumped, rousing Lillian from slumber. “You scared the shit out of me.” Vanessa snatched the water bottle from Rachel, who, oddly enough, seemed to be standing outside of the boat, resting her arms on its side at eye level with her.
“Careful, not so fast. You’ll make yourself sick,” Rachel suggested.
“Wait a minute. We’re not moving. We’re on land?” Vanessa asked, handing the bottle to Lillian, who proceeded to gulp the nourishing fluid just as fast as her friend.
“Where are we?” Lillian asked. Water dripped from her lips as she greedily took in the fluid.
“We, sleepyhead, are on a deserted island. Paradise, if you will.” Rachel, arms extended, spun around as if to show off property to a potential buyer. “Okay, not really paradise, but we are on an island.” She picked up a handful of sand and threw it in the air. The granules dispersed in the breeze, spraying the boat with a million tiny projectiles.
“Is it just us? Are we all that made it? Where?” Vanessa coughed. “Where is everybody else?”
Rachel smiled wide. “Amazingly, alive and all accounted for.”
“How the hell?” Vanessa stood on the deck. Finally on her feet, she realized the boat was resting on quite an angle. She could walk easily enough, but a slick board and an ill-timed step would certainly put her on her ass.
“I don’t have the faintest idea how we survived, if that’s what you’re asking,” replied Rachel. “And honestly, I couldn’t care less. I’ll take it.”
“So then where is everyone?” Lillian asked.
“Well, we found an abandoned campsite just up the beach that had some buckets spread out collecting rainwater. They’re overflowing. Whoever set them up never came back. There’s some food, too, a handful of canned goods, and some not-so-ripe fruit. It’s not much, but it’s something.” Rachel couldn’t hold back her childlike grin if she tried. “Most everyone is up there licking their wounds. A few are out scouting the island.”
“Thank God. I never thought I’d be so excited for water. Rainwater at that,” Vanessa commented.
“Oh, it gets better, ladies. They’re cooking up a horse. An honest-to-goodness horse. We are going to eat so good today.”
“A horse?” Vanessa was bewildered. “Where the hell did you guys find a horse?”
“The island is full of them. Bernie took it down. One shot, too. Very impressive.” Rachel extended her arms as if she were holding an invisible rifle.
“Well, that is good news. What do you think about that, Lily?” she asked with a smile. Vanessa offered the girl a hand up. Lillian accepted but didn’t rise. She remained on the deck, holding Vanessa’s hand against her shoulder.
“That’s awesome, guys,” Lillian responded. “Where’s my mom, Rachel? Have you seen her?”
“She’s up near the tents with everyone else, sweetie.” Rachel’s demeanor faded.
“Is she still acting like a lunatic?” Lillian tried to force a smile.
“Well, honey, she’s back to the thousand-yard stare. Sorry,” Rachel said. “Hasn’t said a word all morning.”
“Thanks, Rachel. Just knowing she made it helps a little, I guess.”
“Hey, it’s something, right, kiddo? Look, everyone’s still getting their bearings. That’s why we let you sleep. So take your time. We’re not going anywhere anytime soon. Come on up whenever you’re ready.” Rachel returned up the beach and headed toward the tents.
Lillian strained against the blinding light, trying to pick out the camp on the horizon. All she could make out were black shapes against a white background. Sparse trees and dune grasses dotted the landscape for miles, it seemed. If a camp was up there somewhere, she would just have to take Rachel’s word for it. “She just left me here sleeping, Vanessa. What if it wasn’t safe yet? If those things showed up while we were asleep, would she have left me then, too?” Lillian finally stood from her partially shadowed spot, stretching the whole way up. She shook her head back and forth and blinked her eyes furiously.
“Hey, don’t think about things like that. You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. Besides, look over there.” Vanessa pointed out the top of a nearby sand dune. The silhouette of Sam’s worn-out cowboy hat and a rifle was unmistakable, even beneath the blinding sun.
“You’ve got people here that care about you, Lillian, and not just me.” Vanessa waved to Sam in the distance, who tipped his hat in response.
“Oh, I know, and I appreciate it. Really. I’m just pissed. What the hell is she thinking lately?” Lillian kicked a discarded life vest into the waves.
“When you’re ready, if you want, I’ll help you talk to her,” Vanessa added as she wiped a tear from Lillian’s eye. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”
Inland, about sixty yards from the shipwreck of the Emerald Star, the group gathered about an abandoned campground. Three tents remained mostly intact. Their owners had apparently left them behind in a hasty retreat from the small island. Two more tents lay farther up the beach, tangled and twisted into the bushes. The camp had been left in disarray. Old cooking utensils and a few pots and pans were scattered about. A few articles of clothing not blown away from the hurricane still hung on their lines. Whoever abandoned this camp did so in a hurry and most likely left with only the shirts on their backs. A small firepit centered t
he camp. Bernie wasted no time putting it to use in preparation for a long-awaited meal.
A massive horse leg roasted on a makeshift spit. Flames danced around the meat, and juices sizzled as they dripped into the fire. Weeks ago, eating a horse would have been considered taboo for most. Now, though, on this deserted island after days without food, the horse flank cooking was the most delicious aroma any of them could remember for quite some time. Bernie tended to the meat, carefully stoking the flames as not to burn their hard-earned catch. In the distance, a small herd of wild horses looked on this group of trespassers to their island home.
Away from the fire, at the other end of camp, Jeremiah and Aiko tended to the wounded in a makeshift triage center. Rough seas from the previous night’s storm left most battered and bruised, though a few were worse off than others. Elliot was being treated for a dislocated shoulder while Aiko cleaned up a deep gash across Soraya’s cheek. The medic had just finished applying more than a dozen stitches from just under Soraya’s right eye, down to the center of her ear.
During the storm, Soraya was flung face-first into the corner of a table, splitting her face open and knocking her unconscious. Miller kept her head above water for the duration of the ordeal, though the constant struggle left no opportunity to address the wound. Nearly twelve hours later, Aiko tried her best to clean up and close the laceration.
“Almost finished, Soraya. One more stitch to go.” Aiko tied off the final suture and held up a small shaving mirror someone had found half-buried at the campsite.
Soraya gently touched the skin around the wound. “This does not look so bad.”
“I’ll say. If you had hit that table any harder, you could have lost the eye.”
“Is painful, though.”
“The pain will recede with the swelling. Nothing is broken, thankfully. Give it a day or two. Besides, Miller will think it’s cute. It’ll give him more reason to look after you.”
“What?” Soraya feigned ignorance.
The Roaming (Book 2): The Toll Page 19