The raft bucked beneath them as a large surface wave rolled by. Freya grabbed the rope that ran along the upper edge of the raft. That rope had been useful when they had to use the ocean as their toilet. All day, people had hung off the sides when they needed to go, or held the children in the water. Sadly, there was nothing they could do for the animals except clean up after them.
Another fierce waved bucked the life rafts. A short scream came from another raft nearby as someone was knocked over from the force. Soon, everyone was holding onto the ropes along the upper edges of their rafts. In the case of the boy, Adam, his parents held onto the rope with one hand each, and held his lifejacket with the other.
“Ow, Splatter! Claws!” Robin chastised her frightened cat who was clinging to her lap.
“Wrap him up in a sweater or something,” Quin suggested.
Robin let go of the rope quickly to remove her thin shirt, revealing the camisole she wore beneath. She wrapped up Splatter tightly in the shirt, his claws away from her, then tied it around her own neck using a bandage from her bag so that he hung in a kind of pouch with his head poking out the top. The cat’s eyes were massive black orbs in the lightning flashes. The only constant source of light was the solar lantern they had in Danny’s raft. Some other rafts had them as well, but they were few and far between. During another flash, Freya saw the cat try to hide its face in the pouch.
On the rough seas, there wasn’t anything they could do besides hold on.
Freya felt a drop of wet strike her cheek. She hoped it was just a splash of seawater and not rain. If it started raining, she had no idea what they would do. They had no buckets to bail out the rafts if they started taking on water. Earlier, someone had gathered up the orange emergency pails to add to their supply pile so that the food could be evenly distributed. The pails hadn’t been returned and the rough waves made it too dangerous to do so now. Their only option was to get away from here as fast as they could, but they were already going as fast as was reasonably safe. Freya wondered if the submarine would cut them free and dive if the storm changed course and got too bad. Based on her experience under Sher’s control, she thought they might, but prayed they wouldn’t. Several lifeboats were tied up at the front of the flotilla, taking most of the strain of the tug, while at the back, all the rest were tied like rows of hotdogs, their rudders able to keep the line from fishtailing. If the submarine dove, they could start up the lifeboats’ engines, but they would barely be able to move them, if at all. Maybe if the lifeboats were repositioned along the sides of the flotilla they could move them, but how long would the gas last?
A shriek as a particularly rough wave bucked under them drew Freya away from her emergency planning.
“Man overboard! Man overboard!” someone farther up the line was shouting.
Freya looked over the edge of her raft into the water, and saw a young man spluttering in the ocean, trying to grab one of the rafts as they slid past. Without thinking, she whipped out her arm and grabbed the young man’s hand, her grip like iron.
“Thank you,” he wheezed as Freya continued to hold him while Doyle positioned himself to help her pull him aboard. Together, the two of them got the young man out of the ocean. He quickly scrambled to an open space along the side opposite the sea, and grabbed the rope with soaking, yet strong, hands. He was coughing and shaken, but otherwise seemed fine.
Freya had surprised herself by reacting so quickly, especially after she had been thinking about survival plans. Reaching out to grab the young man had put her at risk, something she would never have done while living in Jamaica. Apparently, these Diana residents were already affecting her, or maybe it was knowing that Sher was dead. Either way, she wasn’t entirely sure if it was a good thing or not, not with them returning to the mainland like they were.
The waves gradually grew in size until they were no longer bucking the flotilla. They had become true swells, which the rafts first rode up, and then slid down the backside. Freya noticed they were in line with the swells, whereas before they had been hitting the waves broadside. Either the submarine had turned them, knowing it was easier on the boats and rafts this way, or the storm had shifted. Whatever the reason, Freya had no control over it.
“I think I might be sick,” Quin groaned as they headed up another wave.
“Trade places with me,” Doyle told him in an odd, wincing voice. The wound on his face clearly made it painful to speak. “If you puke, you can puke in the sea.”
“No,” Cynthia shook her head. “No one should move right now if it involves letting go of the rope.”
“She’s right,” Harry agreed. “If he’s going to blow chunks, we’ll just have to deal with it later.”
The little boy with them looked very frightened. Wedged between his parents with both of them gripping his lifejacket, he stared out at nothing, his arms wrapped hard around Harry’s waist.
Wondering what he might be staring at, Freya looked out over the ocean. As far as she could tell, from his lower position and the angle of his head and eyes, he truly wasn’t seeing anything, just the thick, black cloud cover. Freya saw the lightning, however. It was hard to say for sure, but she thought it was farther away than when she last checked.
It seemed that they were riding the swells for hours, and maybe they were. Quin was managing to keep everything down, but he looked as green as leaves and was drooling on himself. Based on what Freya had heard, and at one point smelled, not everyone was so lucky.
Eventually, things began to calm down. The sea was still rough, but it wasn’t necessary to maintain a death grip on the rope anymore. The young man whom Freya had saved thanked her again, and then began making a slow journey back to his own raft, making sure to stay away from the water’s edge. Freya released the rope and stretched her arms, but then held it again with a looser grip using only one hand. Once Quin saw that it was okay to move, he dragged himself next to Freya and hung limply over the side. He didn’t puke, at least not yet, but he was ready if he had to. Not wanting to be next to him if he did, Freya decided to stretch her legs a little as well.
Sticking to the sides of the raft, Freya made her way around to an inner side, checking out the rafts next to hers in the process. Most of them were similar to her own: anxious people relieved that the worst seemed to be over, and sick people either making their way to the edges on their own, or being assisted there. What clean-up had to be done had started. On their own raft, Robin had a ragged piece of cloth for taking care of Splatter’s messes. Similar cloths and towels were being used by other rafts, then carried to the ocean to be rinsed.
Sitting down near the children’s raft, Freya noticed it was occupied. The man who had pulled her from the water when she had first reached the Diana was sitting in it. Three dogs were clustered around him, and he was stroking them all, one hand alternating between two of them. Freya could just hear the sound of his whispers over all of the other noises. It sounded like he was talking to the dogs in Russian.
Freya settled herself next to Elizabeth. The mother was trying to convince her child that everything was all right now, and that he should try to get some sleep. Freya thought it was sound advice. Still sitting upright, and with her right hand resting on the rope, she closed her eyes. Although she didn’t go very deeply into sleep, she slept.
***
Several times throughout the night, Freya awoke. Each time, she opened her eyes and assessed her surroundings. Most of the time, everyone remained asleep around her. Quin had even curled up on the bottom of the raft, although Freya suspected he wasn’t asleep; he was still having a rough time with these waves.
One of the times Freya awoke, she saw one of the women in the next raft over get up as if to leave. Freya heard her mummer to her twin something about making rounds to check on all the animals. Her twin, the one with the little girl, asked if she could inquire about a certain patient who was aboard the submarine while she was over at that end: someone named Rose. The one leaving said she would, then
slipped silently into Freya’s raft, starting her rounds with Splatter. Robin took him out of his pouch to be examined, and then put him back in when the woman was done. Freya suspected she was a veterinarian, as the woman then climbed into the raft with the three dogs.
At another time, the man with the dogs—Misha was his name—passed through the raft next to Freya’s to rinse a towel that smelled like dog pee. Freya’s nose wasn’t looking forward to the time when one of those dogs took a shit, especially since they weren’t being fed regular dog food.
When it looked like the sun was going to rise soon, Freya decided to stay awake. Hoisting herself up to sit on the raft’s edge, she stretched her body as best she could. Looking across the dog raft, she saw that Jon was awake, and sitting on the edge of his own raft like she was. Freya raised a hand in good morning, and he raised one back. She liked Jon, even when he got angry at the airport in Cancun. He had gotten pissed for the right reasons, which was a lot better than Sher and his men. As long as he didn’t start getting angry for the wrong reasons, Freya could get along with him.
It was going to be another long day. Freya had heard they were going to Texas, but she didn’t expect them to reach it any time soon. She sat and waited for the rising sun to wake everyone else. Most of the cloud cover from the previous night was gone, but a few puffy white blobs remained. Freya always preferred the heavy cloud cover to the scorching sun, but she could deal with the sun, just the same as she always had on the beach.
The same young girl who had delivered their food yesterday, came back around today to give them their morning meal. This time it was a nutritious paste in a silver package. Freya suspected it had come from one of the emergency kits.
When breakfast was over, and Misha confirmed that the raft was clean, the kids were moved back into it. Danny then unfolded the blanket covering to set it back up. Freya helped by tying a section to the paddle she was closest to. The kids were subdued this morning, most of them curling up to go back to sleep.
“Want to continue your sign language lessons?” Robin asked Freya before cracking her jaw with a large yawn.
Freya took out her notebook and replied with it, I’d like to take a walk first.
“All right. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
If Freya was going to spend another day with these people on the raft, she wanted some time without them first. She wrapped the same scarf she had used yesterday into a kind of hood that would shade her face and shoulders from the sun. Getting up on top of the raft’s edge, she found she could balance and walk along it if she was careful. It reminded her of her gymnastics days as a little girl. She had loved gymnastics, and was good at them. Her instructor thought she might be able to go pro if she dedicated herself, maybe even become an Olympian. Then her dad got sick, and they had to spend her gymnastics money on his health care. He had always been Freya’s biggest supporter, and when he died, she lost interest.
As she walked from raft to raft, Freya looked around, getting to know the faces of the Diana residents. A few of them said hi as she made her way past, and she was always sure to smile and wave at those people. The smile felt extremely false, and she thought they’d be able to tell, but it was a start.
She headed forward first, toward the submarine. On the way, she passed by the young man she had pulled from the water. He stopped her to thank her yet again, and Freya told him it was nothing, writing in her notebook to do so. When asked about the notebook, she wrote down a quick explanation of why she couldn’t speak.
“Oh. You should talk to the off-shippers then. They know some sign language that could be useful to you,” the young man told her.
Robin is teaching me, Freya wrote, unsure if the young man even knew who Robin was.
“That’s great!” he smiled, probably not knowing.
After he thanked her again, Freya moved on.
The next time she stopped, it was because she spotted someone she knew. One of Sher’s men was sitting in a raft. He spotted Freya as well, and quickly turned his head away, hoping he hadn’t been seen. From what Freya could tell, he was playing cards with the Diana residents who were in the raft with him. They had no idea who he was. Freya was sorely tempted to rat him out. If the man—boy actually—had been older or if he had been one of Sher’s favourites, Freya probably would have. As it stood, he seemed small and afraid, presumably just as grateful to be with the Diana residents as Freya was. She said—or rather wrote—nothing.
As she neared the forward lifeboats, she saw that very few people were on them. The boats were occupied mostly by animals. A few sheep stood in a boat at one end, while a few pigs occupied the boat at the other end. Next to the pig boat were two young cows, calves really, and between them and the sheep was a single horse. The vet who had left in the night was standing next to the horse, brushing its coat and mane and talking to it. Freya didn’t know much about horses, but she knew the ocean was no place for one, especially in such a small lifeboat. The thing looked terrified and its coat had an unhealthy sheen that Freya suspected was sweat. At the top of its rear, right leg, a muscle kept twitching and jittering. If they didn’t get to land soon, that poor horse probably wasn’t going to make it.
Past the lifeboats, Freya could see the submarine. A few men wandered about on deck. One of them looked like a doctor, with a stethoscope hanging around his neck. Some of the doctors were on the rafts, like Robin and Cynthia, however more of them were on the submarine taking care of those patients who were badly wounded and needed a lot of attention. Freya suspected that the night wasn’t very kind to them, and that they were like the horse: no land, no life.
Having checked out the front of the flotilla, Freya turned around and headed for the back. As she travelled, she didn’t just study the faces she passed, but also the emotions on them. There was a lot of grieving for everything they had lost, but she saw a lot of love too. People were together, talking, laughing, and sharing stories. They played cards if they had a deck, or found other things to play if they didn’t. A few men had some fishing line and hooks, and were fishing over the side. They weren’t likely to catch anything, Freya couldn’t see any bait, but they didn’t seem to care. Some people were singing. Yesterday, Freya couldn’t join in when the entire flotilla had begun to sing, but she had revelled in the music. It had been so long since she had heard people singing just because they wanted to. That’s probably why she had saved that young man last night. Hearing all the Diana residents singing really struck her heart. She thought she might die for them now.
“Freya, wait.”
Freya turned around, and nearly fell from her perch. The boy from Sher’s army was standing in the raft next to her, looking up at her. By thinking of the singing, she managed to restrain the urge to kick his face in.
“I wanted to say thank you,” he spoke quietly so that only Freya could hear him. “I know you could have told them who I am and you didn’t. At least I assume you didn’t, or else I’d be in the ocean by now. I don’t think we ever personally interacted. If we did, I’m so sorry that I don’t remember. Either way, I wanted to apologize on behalf of my friends. You… were the initiation for some of them. I think most of them are dead now. I don’t know. They left me behind. But still, I’m sorry for what was done to you.”
Freya was glad she hadn’t ratted out this boy. She saw why Sher hadn’t picked him as a favourite, as he had with most of the other young men and boys. This one still felt emotions. He was weaker than the others were.
Taking out her notebook, Freya responded.
I will never forgive your friends.
The boy hung his head. Freya gave his lowered face a hard flick to get his attention again because she wasn’t finished.
With time, I may be able to forgive you for doing nothing.
The boy nodded, not exactly relieved by her words, but it was a start. Freya could easily forgive the boy for doing nothing. If he had tried something, he would have been killed. Freya herself did nothing to help anyone e
lse. She knew, however, that the boy was angry with himself for his lack of action. He wasn’t ready for forgiveness. Freya would give it to him when the time was right.
Continuing on, she eventually made it to the back of the flotilla where the majority of the lifeboats were tied. Most of the lifeboats in the forward section of this group were occupied by people who were injured. They weren’t badly wounded enough to need constant care, but unlike Doyle and Jon, they couldn’t function at one hundred percent either. Brunt was there, his arm still hanging in a sling. Freya wondered what was wrong with it. It seemed likely that there was nerve or muscle damage, but she didn’t know enough about medicine even to hazard a guess. Since she knew Brunt, she decided to climb into the lifeboat and sit with him awhile. On the next bench over from him, sat a woman with cat-like features, who had some sort of hip injury. The two seemed to know each other.
“Ah, Freya, good morning,” Brunt smiled up at her as she slid down onto the bench seat beside him. The lifeboats were a lot more comfortable and stable than the rafts were. “I was just telling Shaidi here about our adventures in Cancun.”
Freya smiled and nodded politely at the woman named Shaidi to acknowledge her. She felt Brunt was probably lying about what they had been talking about, as those stories had probably been relayed yesterday, but she said nothing about it.
“What brings you to the lifeboats?” Shaidi asked her.
Needed to stretch my legs.
“Ugh, I wish I could do that,” she gestured to her legs, which were lying lengthways along her bench. “I was told I have to keep my weight off. Getting shot in the hip sucks.”
“At least you can move your legs,” Brunt commented. His voice sounded light-hearted, but his eyes told Freya that he was worried about his own injury.
Is your name really Brunt? Freya wrote.
Brunt chuckled. “No, but everyone calls me that. My real name is Andrew Pike.”
“Don’t let him lie to you, his name is Brunt, nothing else,” Shaidi laughed.
Survival Instinct (Book 3): Fighting Instinct Page 38