"Hungry?" I ask Z.
Stowing his gear he climbs the stairs to join me on the upper deck. "Starving, what we got left?" he questions, stomach audibly churning.
"A little Mahi Mahi and some shellfish," I rattle off without opening the cooler. "Unless you want to try for something better." I smile and tip my head in the direction of the fishing pole in the corner. Zafir hates to fish; he lacks the patience. Grimacing, Z disappears into the small cabin and comes back a second later with a beer.
"I'll pass."
"Suit yourself." Running a hand through my hair I tap my pencil on the map, thinking. We've seen neither hide nor hair of Himyar in three years, but he's out there, plotting something. Zafir and I have made decent progress, considering the ocean is huge, and marching across it has not been easy. Still, I'm impressed with the amount of ground we've been able to cover. I just wish we'd discovered something, anything. Like with all of my hypotheses the last few decades, Adil and the Wanderers thought combing the sea was ludicrous, but no one put up any resistance when Zafir and I set out. No one had a better idea where to begin looking after the botched trap at Essam, and thanks to the invention of video surveillance and satellites, our absence exploring my hunch won't be sorely missed.
"We have a decision to make," I say and stretch, dropping my pencil.
"Which is?" Z asks, towel drying his hair.
"We've explored everywhere west of Hawaii, so do we continue east and finish the rest of the Pacific or move south around the tip of Argentina and head toward the Caribbean?"
Z rubs his chin and stares out at the white waves.
"Fuck, it's worse than looking for a needle in a haystack,” he answers. “If our objective were just to find Sylph, I'd say let's push forward to Japan and finish the Pacific. But I'd rather head south skirting the coastline, so decent food will be easier to find and we would be that much closer to an airport should anything go awry on the mainland. I don't like being so far away from Gwen."
My gut clenches and my whole body goes rigid at the mere mention of her name. As a strict rule, we do not discuss Gwen, but I know Z worries about her. I often overhear her name whispered in hushed conversations between Z and Halim when they think I’m not listening. Of course, that’s only on those rare occasions Hal chooses to grace us with his presence.
"Always thinking with your stomach," I jest, pretending not to hear anything else he’s said. Zafir's logic for turning south is sound and mirrors my own, which settles it.
"I don't expect we'll find Himyar this far from civilization anyway..."
"No, he'll want an audience," Z cuts me off.
"It's decided then. We head south in the morning," I state.
Zafir's stomach rumbles again and the painfully controlled expression on his face melts, transforming into a guise I recognize all too well.
"What is it?" I smirk, already anticipating his reply.
"I need to eat."
"Obviously, your stomach sounds like it's consuming itself," I reply, pouring salt into the wound.
"Shit man, would it be too much to swing by the mainland tonight? Let’s replenish supplies and grab a decent meal!" Z pleads.
A bark of laughter escapes me: Zafir is truly pitiful when he's hungry. "All right I'll set course for the mainland, Oahu here we come."
Z’s stomach makes another strangled sound.
"Don't worry we're close," I tell him.
"Hey, check it out." Zafir taps me on the shoulder, pointing toward the stern. The line on the fishing pole I'd locked in its stand earlier is dancing with excitement. Having given up hope of catching anything good for dinner, I'd completely forgotten about the pole.
“I must not have finished reeling in the line.” Jumping to our feet we run to check what all the commotion is about. Z has the forethought to grab a net along the way. Manning the fishing pole, I slowly reel in the line, fighting against whatever we've hooked.
"I think it's a shark!" Z shouts as he leans over the side for a better view, a task made more difficult by the angle of the setting sun.
"Be quick with the net, before he breaks the line." Working together we manage to wrestle the beast into the boat.
"Whoa!" I exclaim, stepping back from the four and a half foot shark flopping around on the deck.
"Impressive little bugger," Z comments, poking the aggressive animal in the snout with the butt of his net. Turning to snap and thrash at the new threat a dead gull drops to the floor when the shark opens his mouth.
"Looks like you're not the only one who’s hungry," I tease. “What species do you imagine it is?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
"Well, we better get him out of here before he breaks something. Wait..."
"What?" Z asks as my sentence trails off.
I hold up a hand, gesturing for Z to hang on a minute and let me think. Staring at the dead bird I come to a conclusion.
"Cut him open."
"Excuse me?" Zafir exclaims, clearly disgusted by the prospect.
"Just do it."
"Fuck me," he grumbles, pulling a knife from his belt. The shark, tired and suffocating, puts up little resistance when Z flips him over and slits him open, spilling his guts onto the deck. The smell is atrocious and Z steps back, covering his nose. Without hesitation I reach inside and divulge the remainder of the stomach contents.
"What the hell are you looking for?" Z asks while still keeping his distance.
Rummaging through the gastric contents I don't answer right away.
"It's so easy. Well it’s plausible...technically not easy," I finally mumble.
"Hello, still here, what's so easy?"
Glancing up from my crouched position I grin at a totally baffled Zafir.
"Look at all this."
"The pile of bile you're fucking around in, I see it, disgusting."
Chuckling at Zafir's lack of critical thinking skills I expound. "Look at what our friend has eaten."
Coming forward he leans over my shoulder to inspect the pile of garbage I've pulled from the shark.
"See, there's even a can of Spam. This brute was a garbage disposal, which lends credence to my original theory." Brows furrowed Z just stares at me. "How long have we been together? You seriously can't see where I'm headed with this?" I roll my eyes and get socked in the shoulder for the offense. Standing, I stretch and continue. "If Himyar's sphere did end up at the bottom of the sea it's feasible a creature like this may have carried it to the surface in its belly."
"For some unlucky fisherman to find. Huh, nice."
Grabbing a towel I clean off my hands. "Okay, hose off the deck and let's get some food."
"Music to my ears, brother. Wait, why me? This was your science project!"
"I have to drive the boat." I smile wickedly.
* * *
A light breeze caresses my face as I taxi our vessel through the wharf. Maneuvering our craft into an open slip, Zafir jumps out to secure the boat. I cut the engine and drop down to help him, then set off to find the harbor master. Since we haven’t officially rented a slip, a little memory management is in order to assure that our presence goes largely unnoticed. Ducking into a cramped office I peruse the open log books on the front desk while I wait for the only guy in the entire place to get off the phone. Sticking out from under the log books is a map of the facility under a protective plexiglass cover. Pushing a book to one side I locate the slip we’ve unofficially confiscated for the night. If I understand the chicken scratches on the map, we appear to have parked in the slot of a local fishing vessel named The Queen Anne. The guy on the phone, Manny as his name tag reads, drops the receiver into the cradle and looks up.
“Can I help you?”
Pointing my finger to the slip we’re occupying on the harbor map I ask, “Where’s the Queen Anne gone?”
“Out to sea until Thursday. Wait, who’s asking?” he says, suddenly on guard.
“Captain’s an old friend, just wanted to say hi,” I reply, w
ielding some thought control to make sure Manny doesn’t think twice about us or the unregistered ship in slip 47. If all goes as planned we’ll be out of here by sunup, before he or anyone else notices.
“Oh, try back Thursday.”
“That I will, you have a great night Manny,” I say and smile on my way out the door.
A rich floral scent floats on the breeze and bright hibiscus flowers hang everywhere. Zafir and I wander through the throng of tourists for a bit, getting used to the solid ground beneath our feet and perusing the many restaurants lining the busy street. With the prospect of a hot meal in his future Z has abandoned the arrogant scowl he usually adopts in public. Grinning like the fool he is, he draws the attention of several pretty faces. Grabbing him by the shoulder I drag him inside a local dive before he can do more than wink at his latest admirer.
“Come on, you’re the one who’s hungry, remember?”
“That I am,” he admits, slapping himself on the stomach. Much to my chagrin the pretty woman Z was flirting with outside and her friend follow us into the restaurant. Uninterested in the game of cat and mouse that’s being played, I implant the idea into the hostess’s head that we need to be seated as far away from the girls as possible. Moments later Z and I are led to a table sunken into the sand with an exquisite view of the ocean. My mood lightens and I begin to relax when our admirers are seated across the room by the bar. Good, I think to myself, knowing there’s bound to be some stud near the bar that’ll be more than happy to claim their attention.
“So what looks good?” I ask Z. “Fish?”
“Fuck no,” he tells me, struggling to keep his voice down.
I laugh, knowing we are both sick of seafood.
“Beef it is.” Leaving his menu on the tabletop, Z stalks off toward the restrooms while I place our order with the waitress.
Running my thumb across the label on my beer bottle I stare aimlessly out at the surf. The breathtaking sunset and the warm soothing breeze temporarily lull me into forgetting Himyar, the dire mission we are on, and the unseen danger that could surface at any moment. Content just to be, I appreciate the beauty around me for the first time in months. A feminine laugh, light and carefree, draws my attention. Grinning I turn, half expecting to find Gwen engaged in playful banter with Z. When the fog clears from my brain the illusion fades instantaneously, and I see it’s nothing more than the woman interested in Z. The clever minx must have snagged him on his way to or from the bathroom. Running a hand through my hair I resume picking at the label on my beer, uninterested in watching the flirtatious exchange. Zafir returns when the food arrives and we eat in silence.
“Hal’s on his way,” Z mumbles between shoveling pieces of prime rib into the gaping hole he calls a mouth.
“Does he have news?” I ask, muscles tensing at the prospect of trouble.
“Not that he said.”
Snagging the waitress, I ask for another beer and place an order for Hal. We don’t have to wait long: Hal comes waltzing in within ten minutes.
“What are we having?” he asks as he rubs his hands together in anticipation.
“What does it look like?” Z manages while chewing.
“Is there news?” I inquire, all business.
“No, I’m afraid not. The only place left to look would be the Arctic and nobody feels Himyar would stray that far from civilization.”
“He wouldn’t,” Z interjects, bringing a fist down on the table.
“We could use help,” I say.
Sensing my souring mood Hal leans back in his chair, choosing his words with care. “Adil still feels your hunch to be a long shot, so he’s not willing to allocate additional resources at the moment.”
“Spoken like a true diplomat.” I laugh. We pause our conversation when the waitress returns with Hal’s plate. “Thank you.”
“How’s Gwen doing?” Zafir asks suddenly, breaking our unspoken agreement not to talk about Gwen.
“Her powers are coming along nicely. She’s very gifted and we’ve barely scratched the surface of her capabilities. But she’s struggling, this year has been particularly difficult for her,” Hal answers while focusing on me.
She’s got nothing to complain about, I think angrily. She made her choice. “Well at least she has a shoulder to cry on,” I retort. I drop my fork and walk out. From the corner of my eye I watch Hal pull Zafir back down into his seat and shake his head.
Storming down to the beach, I stalk the sands purposelessly as vicious thoughts swarm through my head. Ben. I fume and wish for the millionth time the guy had never been born. Growling, I punch a small palm tree to release some of my pent up aggression, felling the thing instantly. A strangled shriek snaps me back to reality. I’m not alone I realize, a young woman stands frozen with fear having just witnessed my unnatural feat of strength.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I tell her, holding up my hands to try and look as unimposing as possible.
Attempting to flee, she steps backwards, trips, and almost falls. With super human speed I lunge forward and catch her. Misinterpreting my motives, she sucks in air and is set to scream. I’m forced to clamp a hand down over her mouth which sends her into another panic. Mustering my powers, I will her to believe I mean her no harm and that I caught her because she was falling. In the next breath she relaxes and I release her, stepping back out of reach. “Are you okay, miss?”
“Yes, thank you. I must have tripped.”
“I’ll just be on my way then,” I say, practically running away from her. I beat feet to the nearest resort and reserve two rooms for the night. On the way to my room I text Z and let him know he can pick up his key at the main desk whenever the hell he wants. Heart pounding out of my chest, I stand in the dark and rest against the hotel room door. Man, I want to hit something, someone, but I won’t. That part of my life is over, I’d promised Z. Eyes glowing, I move through the shadows and open the minibar, staring at the shelves of hard liquor. I contemplate how much it would take for me to just numb out. Too much, I know, and I sigh. It wouldn’t last long anyway thanks to my Wanderer DNA.
I grab a couple beers and open the door to the balcony. In the light of the pale moon I drink and allow myself to dream about Gwen and what it would be like to share a paradise like this with her. When my desires become too intoxicating I cut them off, reminding myself that all I’m allowed to be, all she’ll let me be, is her guardian. The only thing I can do for her is keep her safe, and that means finding Himyar and destroying him. Setting another empty bottle on the table I then slink back inside, removing clothing as I go. Leaving my shirt and pants on the back of the couch, I slide into bed, grateful to be on solid ground and in a bed that isn’t rocking.
* * *
In the predawn silence I navigate the hotel’s dark hallways and stop at room 342. I knock then step back and wait. A fully dressed Zafir opens the door a minute later with a finger raised to his lips, indicating a request for silence. A fragrant perfume wafts out of the room and my superior hearing picks up an almost inaudible sigh as he pulls the door closed behind him. More than ready to put this place behind us, I march to the elevator saying nothing. Zafir's sleeping arrangements are his own business.
I check out of the hotel while Z pilfers some pastries from the staff members who are beginning preparations for breakfast. Munching on his haul, we walk to the harbor unnoticed. By the time the first of the sun’s rays spill over the horizon, dancing on the glasslike surface of the waves, we have just made open waters. I spin the wheel and turn us southwest, making for the Argentinean coast.
"Here's to better fortunes," I whisper, hoping we're on the right trail.
"Yo ho yo ho." Z sings the pirate’s mantra as he beams from the doorway over my shoulder.
Chapter 8
Gwen
Summer Resealing year 4
I hit the ground running after flying through the office’s front doors and into the parking lot. Thank goodness I wore my tennis shoes, I think. Desperate fo
r endorphins, I clutch my small purse in my hand and just keep running. Guilt and jubilation chase me while I fly down the sidewalk. I barely remember to check for cars along the busy road. I have no plan, no direction, just a brain full of discord that I need to sort out in order to deal with the news I’d gotten today. So I do what I always do in situations when I feel like my head is about to explode: I run.
Iced is only about six or seven miles away so I orient myself in that direction and settle into a comfortable pace, knowing I won’t get lost. The rhythmic monotony is soothing and usually after three or four miles whatever’s bothering me just falls into place or ceases to be as overwhelming as I’d previously thought.
Life sucks I think, punching the button for the crosswalk. It seems to find new ways to beat me down all the time. Living two lives doesn’t help. It isn’t easy-not that I’d expected it to be-but I feel far from up to the challenge at the moment. I jog across the intersection when it’s finally my turn and mull over the nine months leading up to today.
Ben had caught me in the kitchen one morning nibbling on a piece of toast and reading the paper. Wrapping his arms around me he rested his head on my back and whispered playfully, “Gwennie let’s have a baby.” I’d choked and spit crumbs all over the counter. It had taken me months of therapy to semi come to terms with the crippling guilt I felt every time Ben and I were intimate, and now he wanted to have a baby! To my tattered heart it felt like I was betraying everyone: Ben, Kade, and myself most of all. Our marriage had suffered a lot, especially that first year after the resealing. Now when we were finally in a decent place and I didn’t feel like a robot just going through the motions, he dropped a bomb. I felt either life truly hated me or Ben was just out to sabotage the hard won balance I had managed to achieve.
“What? No!” I’d screamed.
“Come on, we talked about this. You said yourself you wanted a family, and we aren’t getting any younger.”
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