Everything That Follows

by Meg Little Reilly

  Kyle took a slug of the whiskey and handed the bottle to her. “So where are you actually from?” he asked her. He had to shout to be heard over the wind and the motor. “Not here, I assume.”

  Coming from someone else, this would have offended Kat. But Kyle was also—obviously—not from here. She knew what he meant. “I’m from upstate New York. But I’ve been here for seven years. You?”

  The wind picked up.

  Kyle scooted closer to Kat. “I’m not from here, either,” he said, and that was all he said.

  She took a long gulp of the harsh liquor.

  Hunter slowed down, then set the boat to idle and joined the other two at the bow, taking the whiskey from Kat.

  She wanted to go back to what Kyle had said and press him on his origins, but she didn’t. This avoidance of talking about the past was a familiar tactic to her. Kyle didn’t seem to want to talk about where he was from and neither did she, which felt something like a secret agreement. Everyone was allowed to do that on the island. You could be whoever you said you were. Kat liked that about living among a mostly transient population. She liked the surrealism that thrives in vacationland. When you live in a place that serves as an escape from reality for so many, you can live forever in a world of make-believe. On vacation, you can take only what you want of yourself with you and leave the rest of it behind. And if you happen to live on the Vineyard all year, you can be forever suspended in a mythology of your making.

  “Great fog,” Hunter said, leaning back into the cushion. He took a gulp from the bottle, and then two more.

  The interior lights by their feet illuminated the thick, wet air around them.

  Kat stood up and reclaimed the bottle, taking a sip for herself. As she sat back down, she could feel Kyle’s arm draped behind her, apparently ready to receive her.

  She sat forward.

  Kyle inched closer.

  This was her fault. That was Kat’s first thought: this is my fault. She had been too interested in engaging him in conversation back at the bar, too solicitous. Of course his arm would be there.

  “Hunter, we should head back before the rain comes,” she said.

  Hunter closed his eyes and drifted toward sleep.

  “Tired already?” Kyle said to her. His voice sounded different.

  “Yeah, I really am. Do you mind if we go back?”

  “We will.” Kyle reached out and tried to pull Kat’s shoulders back toward him.

  She stood up and kicked Hunter’s shoe. “Hey.”

  Nothing.

  “Passed out.” Kyle shrugged, a small grin on his face. “We may as well enjoy this.”

  Kat pulled the whirling hair away from her face and tried to sound casual. “Kyle, I’m unavailable. You know that.”

  He leaned back and spread his long arms out like a raptor. “Then why are you out here with me?”

  “I’m not out here with you...” she started.

  But why was she out there? It suddenly seemed wildly inappropriate. Kat and Sean had an adult relationship and were free to be friends with whomever they chose. But in the black of night, with a man she hardly knew, it suddenly seemed like a gross miscalculation on her part. She should not be there. Sean wouldn’t have done it. She wished he was there with her now.

  “We’re going back in,” Kat said sternly, and she walked around to the cockpit.

  She could hear Kyle stand up and move toward her. She ignored him. It was time to drive back to shore.

  At the controls, Kat leaned in close, trying to make quick sense of what she was working with. She’d driven a few boats before, but never this one. She couldn’t tell if the components were unfamiliar, or if they were just arranged differently. Kyle said something from behind her, which she couldn’t hear over the intensifying wind.

  “Can you check on Hunter?” Kat yelled in an attempt to keep him at a distance.

  They both looked over at Hunter, slumped in the seat by the bow, his mouth hanging open slightly.

  Kyle laughed. “He looks comfortable enough.”

  Kat squeezed the release lock and went to move the lever up to a start position, but it seemed to already be in place. Right, they were idling. She pushed hard on the lever, jiggled it a little, and then harder still. It wouldn’t shift into run mode. Then she remembered something about the choke. Maybe that was the problem. Kat fiddled with the key, hoping to activate an automated choke at the ignition, but there was no give. Could there be a switch? She had the vague idea that chokes on old boats were switches. Kat didn’t want to ask Kyle for help, though she knew he was right there behind her, watching her struggle. There was no choke switch. Or maybe there was, but she couldn’t find it in the shadow of a stranger, under a starless sky, with the wind screaming into her ears and the fog building.

  Kat spun around. “Do you know how to do this?”

  Kyle furrowed his brow. “Not this kind of boat, I don’t.”

  He could have been lying, enjoying the trap he’d ensnared her in, but it didn’t seem like he was lying. Kat detected a hint of embarrassment in Kyle. It was the deepening of his voice and the suggestion that he knew all about other boats, just not this one. Unfortunately, she believed that he couldn’t get them back to shore, either.

  Kat walked to the bow and began shaking Hunter, saying his name over and over with increasing volume while he swayed obliviously in her hands.

  This is when her heartbeat picked up. If she’d been sober, alarm bells would have been sounding in her head too.

  Then Kat remembered the motor. Maybe there was some switch on the motor that would make it go. She could just drive them home directly with the outboard, as she’d seen people do with smaller boats. That could maybe be an option.

  Kat walked to the stern and leaned over the back, trying to discern the edges of the black motor against the black choppy water. She reached out, running her hands along the smooth of its plastic. What she was looking for, Kat had no idea. All she could see were dark propeller blades turning slowly, passively in the waves.

  “What are you doing?” Kyle asked from directly behind her.

  He seemed nervous too. The whiskey bottle in his hand was almost empty.

  Kat stood up straight and turned around, searching reflexively in her pockets for her cell phone as she did. It wasn’t there. She remembered accidentally leaving it at her apartment when she’d started out that evening. Everyone she knew was either with her or going to be at The Undertow that night. Who would she have needed to call? She wished she’d remembered her cell phone.

  “I’m figuring out how to run this.”

  “C’mon,” Kyle said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s sit for a few and get to know each other better. Then we can prop Hunter up and make him drive us in. We’re not far out. There’s no rush.”

  But there was a rush. Kat could feel it inside of her. She needed to get off this boat, away from this man. She tried to step around him to get to Hunter. She would slap him awake if need be. But Kyle moved in front of her and blocked her path.

  “Don’t go.” The expression on his face was serious now. His voice sounded angry.

  “Kyle.”

  “Don’t go.” He dropped the empty bottle with a thud on the floor of the boat.

  She was cold suddenly. Was it beginning to rain?

  Kat tried again to move Kyle aside with her hand, but his sturdy body didn’t budge.

  “Kyle, c’mon.” She shoved him harder and got free for a moment, taking one step forward until she felt the length of his long arm wrap around her waist and yank her back to him.

  With one quick motion, he spun her around, so they were looking directly at each other, just inches apart, as he leaned his back against the wall of the stern.

  It was definitely raining now.

  And that was how they ended up there, with
wet faces so near, Kyle’s hands gripping the sides of her waist, holding her in place against him at the back of the boat.

  She strained her head to look back at Hunter as she considered her strategy. Screaming probably wouldn’t help. So Kat decided to pretend to be accommodating, for now. If she could get Kyle to relax a bit, maybe she’d have a chance to get to Hunter and wake him up.

  “I think you know why you’re out here with me,” Kyle said.

  She shook her head. “No. This isn’t what you think it is.”

  She could feel the rain coming down on the shoulders of her jacket.

  Kyle pulled her closer, so their hips were touching, their bodies supported by the low wall of the boat behind him.

  Kat could smell his whiskey breath, tinged with tobacco. The buckle on his belt pressed into her stomach.

  Kyle looked around, blinked a few times. For a moment it seemed that he was as surprised as she that he was holding her hostage. Kat could see now that he was very drunk and not entirely aware of his surroundings. But then he smiled oddly, and his hesitation was gone, his control regained.

  Kat considered crying, but she couldn’t will the tears through her fear.

  Kyle leaned back against the boat farther, holding her tighter. His long, stupid scarf had nearly unraveled from his neck and it billowed out behind him over the dark surface of the water, whipping against the edge of the motor.

  Kat tried to pull away again, but his left hand clamped harder around her hip as his right hand moved too firmly behind her head, his fingers lacing through her hair.

  It was that feeling, the uncompromising slither of his fingers on her scalp that finally triggered something inside her. This was not going to happen. Whatever Kyle had in mind for that moment, a feral instinct in Kat was not going to let it happen.

  Kat shoved him with a sudden, hard push. He tried to hold on and yank her closer, but she drew her hands up in defense.

  “Nooo!” Kat yelled.

  From behind her she could hear Hunter’s feet on the deck, but Kat’s instincts were already set in motion by then.

  And just as a gust of hard rain blasted them from the south, rocking the boat, Kat reached up again and thrust one forceful hand out in front of her—in a stop signal or a push, she didn’t know which. She could feel her palm press against Kyle’s sternum for the briefest moment as she made contact. Then all at once, his eyes grew wide, his grip on her released and his torso tipped back, back over the edge. There was no pause. He didn’t hover. In a flash, Kyle’s entire body disappeared through a wall of hammering rain, over the stern of the boat and into the ocean.

  Kat fell forward, and it seemed for a moment that she might go over as well, but Hunter caught her with one arm and steadied himself with the steel rail. He’d been a half beat behind her.

  Kat stood there at the back of the boat while all the blood in her head drained to her feet. She stared down into the black water trying to see through the dimpling, rain-battered surface to the spot where Kyle had disappeared so quickly. He’d gone down inexplicably fast. She scanned the chop, expecting to see him surface. But nothing. Not a trace.

  Hunter leaned over the edge too and scanned the water. Then he vomited. They both stared at the water for another full minute, searching.

  Finally, Hunter stood upright, wiped his mouth and said, “Let’s go.”

  “What?” Kat whispered.

  “It’s pouring,” he said. “We’re not that far out. He can make it back on his own. He’s probably already started.”

  Kat shook her head without a word. No, no, no, no, no. She knew that wasn’t right.

  She looked down again through the steady rain at the turbulent water and screamed, “Kyle!”

  Silence.

  She screamed his name again. Then she looked back at Hunter, who was rubbing his face violently with both hands.

  They couldn’t just drive away. That isn’t what you’re supposed to do. A man was overboard, in the water. He was out there alone somewhere. You aren’t supposed to leave people out there. But what exactly could they do?

  Hunter was insistent. He pushed Kat gently aside and went straight to the wheel. With a few quick motions, the boat was humming again and he started to steer them back in the direction of the dock, or where he believed the dock to be. It was so much harder to see now through the driving rain.

  Kat felt a confusion mixed with a terrible dread, but she also thought perhaps Hunter was right. They needed to get to shore. Get help. If Kyle was swimming back at that moment, he’d have a better chance of surviving with a search team and medical help. Yes, they just needed to get back and get help.

  What other options were there? Kat knew that even if one of them dove in, they probably wouldn’t find Kyle, not in this weather. And they would have a solid chance of drowning in those conditions. No one else needed to drown today.

  No, she reminded herself, no one had drowned today. It was still possible that Kyle had surfaced and was swimming back to shore. But if they could drown, couldn’t he? Their fear of jumping in after him seemed in itself confirmation that she didn’t believe it was survivable. And what about how quickly he’d plunged overboard, as if some creature from the deep had reached up and yanked him in. Where had Kyle gone?

  Kat imagined Kyle’s body rocketing headfirst toward the seafloor. How was what she’d seen even possible? The only thing they had any certainty about in that moment was that Kyle had entered the water. They didn’t know that he was dead. But how could he not be?

  The rain was coming down in sheets now and the ocean moving in enormous, terrifying swells. The boat rose up with each wave, and then smacked back down to the surface, another sheet of seawater washing over their already soaked bodies. Water sloshed around their feet and the cold wetness crept farther up their legs. It felt surreal, as if the boat was going slower than it should have been, like the shore wasn’t getting any closer. Something was holding them out there it seemed...with him. But that made no sense, Kat reminded herself. They were headed for shore. They would be back in a matter of minutes.

  Kat didn’t feel the pelting rain or the heaving of the boat. She didn’t feel anything but the palm of her right hand, the palm that had touched Kyle in those last seconds. It was her hand that felt the wet wool of his peacoat, and her hand that blocked—or pushed—him into the ocean. But the strange force that had surged up through her body and exploded into Kyle’s chest had come from someplace else. It came from her past, from the person she used to be. That person wasn’t violent, but had grown up in a violent world that demanded an unflinching self-preservation. That person could sense malice in its most subtle form; had sensed Kyle’s malice toward her on the boat. Kyle was an imminent threat. Although Kat had worked hard to distance herself from her past, apparently that instinct still lived deep inside her, ready to react to threats. It may have killed Kyle.

  “Watch your foot,” Hunter said as he looped the fat rope around the dock post, just as he had unlooped it less than an hour before. He stepped carefully onto the wet dock and offered Kat a hand. She was stunned by how sober and present he suddenly seemed.

  “We can cut through the preserve,” she said. “It’s the fastest route to the station. Or, no, maybe we should just run to your house and call from there. Yeah, let’s do that.”

  A car drove along the road above them, the headlights futile blurs in the dense rain. Hunter pulled Kat toward the stairs, under the shadow of the bluff.

  “Wait,” he said into her ear.

  “What? No. We have to go now!” Shivers were reverberating through Kat’s entire body, fear and frigidity weakening her more with each moment they stood there.

  “Please, Kat,” Hunter pleaded. He was holding on to her shoulders, more desperate than forceful. “Let’s wait until morning. He’s probably swimming in now. He’s almost certainly swimming in. And...if he’
s not...well, there’s nothing anyone can do for him.”

  “No, we can’t wait!” She looked up toward the empty road. “C’mon, we’re wasting time. We have to—”

  “Kat, I’m fucked up right now! If we go to the police, it will be in the papers. Another scandal for Senator Briggs’s drunk son. And my father will lose this election. I’ll be cut off for good. I’ll go to prison for sure this time.”

  Kat was confused. She looked up at him, but could barely find his eyes in the blackness. “But this was an accident. No one’s going to jail.”

  He shook his head. “Not with the amount of alcohol in my system. Kat, I’ve used up all my accidents. It will be the end of my life. Please. I’ll face this, but I’m begging you for just a few hours to sober up. It won’t make any difference to Kyle. He’s either going to swim to safety, or he isn’t.”

  Kat could hear the terror in Hunter’s voice, but she couldn’t make sense of it. This didn’t have to be the end for anyone—even Hunter, who was an idiot, but not a criminal. It was an accident.

  “I promise I’ll face this,” he said again. “I’ll do the right thing. I just need a few hours to get it together.”

  And then she thought she understood: Hunter must think it’s his fault, that he pushed Kyle overboard. Hunter had lunged at them in a stupor and watched Kyle’s body go over the back of the boat. Maybe he thinks Kat witnessed him push Kyle into the ocean. Maybe that is what happened.

  Kat looked out toward the water as her brain held the thought. She’d been assuming it was her fault, but she was drunk too and couldn’t be sure of anything... Maybe it had been Hunter’s fault.

  “C’mon.” Hunter began walking up the steps. He interpreted her hesitation as assent.

  Kat followed him up, unsure of what would come next. The more she played the time on the boat in her mind, the hazier it became. Her hand...Hunter’s clumsy body falling toward them...and the bullet-quick speed with which Kyle plunged into the water and disappeared... Just a series of flashing images. Only the panicked expression on Kyle’s face was still clear in her mind. If they went to the police now, she had no confidence in her ability to describe what she’d seen...or what she’d done to Kyle. And had she been the one to do it or was it Hunter?