Knockdown

by Brenda Beem

  Takumi leapt up. “Go back. We can’t leave Jervis.”

  My brother’s eyes met mine across the stern. I saw fear and doubt in his face.

  “Dylan.” I signaled for Takumi to get down. “Jervis is family.”

  Dylan took a deep breath and glared at me. “Fine, but if someone on Whistler gets hurt, don’t blame me.” He spun the wheel and angled back toward the dinghy.

  Takumi returned to our hiding place and covered me with his body. His muscles were tense and his heart beat fast. With bullets flying around us, I was surprised how safe he made me feel.

  The motorcyclists scampered down the rocks. The gunman aimed his gun at the girl in the water and shot.

  Angelina fired back. Her bullet hit the rocks just above the gunman’s head. He took cover behind a large boulder.

  The girl was no longer swimming. Her body was sinking. All we could see was her head. Then it started to disappear under the surf.

  Jervis crawled to the side of the boat, reached down, and grabbed hold her just as she went under.

  Another shot rang out.

  “Angelina!” Nick cradled her in his arms. “Angelina’s hit.” He screamed and dragged Angelina behind the mast. “Angelina’s been shot.”

  Jervis twisted around to see Whistler. “Angelina,” he wailed.

  Angelina pushed Nick aside, raised the gun, and fired. “I’m okay, Jervis. Help the girl.” She fired twice more.

  Another shot rang out from the man on the breakwater. Angelina returned fire.

  “That’s six bullets.” The gunman stood. “We got ‘em.” He took aim with both hands, shooting the dinghy and the sailboat. A piece of the dinghy flew into the water. Another shot hit Whistler’s decking. Dylan ducked and covered his head.

  Jervis pulled the girl out of the water, draping her body over the side of the little boat. Jervis froze, staring at the limp form.

  Angelina reached into her pocket for the box of bullets, loaded the gun, steadied her arm against the mast, and fired.

  The gunman shrieked and grabbed his shoulder. His gun fell into the cracks between two boulders.

  Angelina slumped in Nick’s arms.

  “Angelina.” Nick checked her wound. Blood soaked her jacket. “I need some help here!”

  I grabbed a towel, crawled up and over the cabin, and pressed it inside the shoulder of Angelina’s jacket.

  “Jervis.” Dylan motored as close to the rocks as he dared. “The girl’s gone. You did what you could. Let her go. Get back here.”

  Zoë told Nick to bring Angelina below. Nick carried Angelina to the cabin. I helped steady him as he climbed over the lines and hatches. He and Angelina disappeared below. I scurried back to Takumi and my hiding place.

  Jervis checked the girl’s pulse, shook his head, and gently lowered her into the water. She slid back into the dark water. The dinghy was about to crash on the rocks, but Jervis didn’t seem to notice.

  The motorcyclists climbed off the rocks and headed for their bikes, the injured guy leaning on his buddy.

  “Jervis, start rowing!” I yelled. “You’ll get caught on the rocks.”

  Jervis sat, unmoving.

  “Damn it, Jervis. You’re going to crash our new dinghy,” Dylan yelled. “We need it.”

  Jervis shook his head and glanced around. In one smooth motion, he pushed off the rocks with the oars, and paddled like mad.

  Dylan drove the boat as close to Jervis as he could. Takumi threw a long line. On the third try, Jervis grabbed it.

  “Tie it onto the front of the dinghy,” Takumi cried as he tied his end to a cleat on the back of Whistler.

  We towed the dinghy away from the rocks and out of the harbor. When we were well clear, Dylan cut the engine, and we pulled the dinghy in.

  “Angelina?” Jervis grabbed Takumi’s shoulder as he climbed aboard. “Is she going to be…?”

  “I don’t know,” Takumi said.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Wounded

  I sailed Whistler toward the open ocean, then handed the helm to Takumi, and hurried below. The seas were calm.

  Angelina laid on top of a bare mattress that took up most of the floor space in the main salon. Zoë knelt beside her, pressing a towel on the side of her shoulder. Jervis cradled a whimpering Makala in his arms and paced the room. Dylan watched Zoë.

  Zoë raised the towel off Angelina’s shoulder. Blood oozed out of the wound.

  Boots barked from the bottom of the closet.

  Zoë pushed the bloody towel back down against Angelina’s shoulder and wept. Her tears dripped on Angelina.

  I thought the worst. “Is she…?” I fell to my knees beside them.

  Zoë shook her head. “She’s alive. But I can’t get the bleeding to stop.” She wiped her eyes, smearing blood across her face. “I’ve been putting pressure on the wound, but it keeps bleeding. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Let me take over.” I placed my hand on top of the towel and Zoë pulled her bloody hand out. I pressed down hard. Angelina was unconscious.

  We needed a plan. “Okay, who here watches hospital shows?” I folded over the towel and pressed harder.

  Nick, Jervis, and Dylan stared at me like I was a crazy person.

  “Come on. They actually research how to do real medical stuff for those shows.” I shuddered as a pool of blood began to spread out from under Angelina’s shoulder. “What would a TV doctor do for a gunshot wound?”

  “In Westerns, they place a burning knife in the wound to stop the bleeding,” Jervis said.

  I grimaced. “Cowboy medicine? How about something more modern.”

  Zoë stood at the galley sink, washing her hands. “I watch Grey’s Anatomy.”

  “That’s good. I’ve seen it too. Do you remember anyone being treated with a gunshot wound? What was the first thing they did?” The pool of blood under Angelina was getting deeper.

  Zoë sniffed. “There was one time. This police officer got shot. His partner was a woman. She had long dark hair and…”

  “Zoë! What did the doctors do?” My arms were shaking. Angelina’s breathing seemed shallow. That couldn’t be good.

  “They checked to see if the bullet was still in the guy, or had gone through.” Zoë leaned down and checked Angelina’s pulse. She bit her lip, but didn’t say anything.

  “That’s a start. Do we know if the bullet is still in her?”

  Zoë shook her head.

  “Jervis, help me roll her. We need to check to see if the bullet went all the way through.”

  Jervis rolled Angelina onto her side while I kept pressure on the wound. Zoë checked her back. A ragged hole about the size of a credit card oozed thick red blood. The bullet had passed through. We laid her back down.

  “Okay. The good news is we don’t have to dig out a bullet. But we still have to stop the bleeding. We need to sew the wound closed. Anyone find a sewing kit on shore?”

  Jervis and Nick shook their heads.

  Boots yipped again. Makala clung to Jervis’ leg.

  Dylan stared at the blood under Angelina, grew pale, and left to go up top. “Take Makala and Boots with you.” I scooped up the dog. Makala protested, but Dylan was in no mood. With Boots under one arm, and Makala the other, they left.

  The blood was now a large puddle under Angelina. We were running out of time. “Come on, guys. We need to move,” I yelled.

  Zoë ran to the pile of pillow cases that sat on the corner of the couch. “There might be one of those little hotel sewing kits in the stuff I found on the yacht.” She rummaged through a couple of cosmetic bags and then a smaller travel bag. “Found one!” She held up a tiny kit, not much bigger than a match box.

  “Jervis, grab one of the bottles of alcohol and pour it into a bowl. We need to clean her up and disinfect the wound. Someone find the clean white towels I found on the yacht and the first aid kit.”

  “What’s better, vodka or whiskey?” Jervis asked.

  I looked at Zoë.r />
  “Just pick one,” she said.

  Jervis made a bed of thick white towels and laid Angelina on top of them. I poured vodka into the wound in her shoulder. Her eyes opened. She screamed, thrashed, and passed out again.

  Zoë had a needle, threaded with pink thread, soaking in the bowl of vodka.

  I grabbed her hand. “Do you know how to do stitches?”

  She pulled free, raised both hands in the air, and backed away.

  “Damn! Anyone else?” No one offered.

  I’d sewn a button on once. It would have to do. I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. “Nick and Jervis, hold her down.”

  It took twelve stitches to close the gap in the back of her shoulder and four in the front. Zoe helped hold the skin together while I pushed the needle through. Luckily Angelina didn’t wake up.

  Zoë spread Neosporin over the sewn skin and taped gauze over the top. A faint bit of blood still soaked through, but the heavy bleeding had finally stopped.

  “Hope it’s enough.” I collapsed on the mattress. “Zoë, anything else we should do?”

  Zoë shook her head, grabbed two of the pillow cases she found on the yacht, and fled her cabin.

  I soaked up the blood beneath Angelina with one of the towels and put a layer of clean towels around her. Makala came back down and snuggled in beside her sister. Her thumb went into her mouth and she sucked it noisily.

  Nick and Jervis hovered over the mattress, watching Angelina’s every breath.

  “Will she be okay?” Jervis whispered.

  I couldn’t stop shaking. For all I knew, I might have just killed her. “She lost a lot of blood, but we got it stopped,” I whispered.

  Nick shoved Jervis. “She’d be fine if you hadn’t gone all superhero on us. You had to take off after that damn girl.”

  Jervis looked stricken.

  “Knock it off, Nick. Angelina would have tried to rescue the girl if Jervis hadn’t. You heard her.” I closed my eyes.

  I felt beyond exhausted. This must be how Zoë felt every time she had to be medicine girl. I didn’t know anything more than any of them did. I was just acting. Pretending.

  I went back to imaging what a TV doctor might say. “She should rest. You guys go up top and let her sleep.”

  When the guys left, I sprawled on the couch, stared up at the skylight, and listened to Makala’s thumb-sucking. Tears silently rolled down my cheeks. Where was Takumi? I missed his quiet strength.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Snow, Five Days To Go

  I bolted awake.

  “Sissy! Look, I caught a snowflake.” Makala stood at the foot of the bed and stuck out her tongue.

  Angelina struggled to raise her head and groaned.

  “Sissy?” Makala crawled across the mattress.

  Jervis came down the steps. “How is she?”

  Nick followed close behind, holding Boots.

  “It’s snowing?” I whispered.

  “Started right after we cleared the harbor. Coming down pretty hard.” Nick leaned closer to Angelina. “Can I get you anything?”

  Angelina’s eyes stayed closed, but she whispered. “Water?”

  Her voice triggered Makala’s chatting. “Sissy! It’s snowing outside. The guys are building me a fire in the barbecue. I get to have a campfire and play in the snow. You have to come see.” Makala started bouncing on the mattress. “Do we have any more marshmallows and…”

  Angelina moaned.

  Jervis snatched Makala up off the mattress. “Angelina’s sick and it hurts her when you jump on the bed.”

  Makala was watching her sister. Nick gently raised Angelina’s head and helped her drink a glass of water. She took a few sips and lay back with a shudder.

  “She’s miserable.” Nick’s eyebrows were pinched.

  I knocked on Zoë’s door. “Angelina’s hurting. Do you have anything that will help her?”

  Zoë opened the door and showed me three containers that said ‘for pain.’ Each had only a few pills left. The dates were expired, but they were better than nothing.

  “Make sure she eats a little something before she takes these,” Zoe said. Her eyes were red and swollen, her hair a total mess, for once.

  I found some stale crackers in the cupboard.

  Nick knelt beside the mattress. “Angelina, Toni has some pain pills for you. They’ll make you feel better. But you need to eat something first. I’m going to raise you up. Ready?”

  Angelina gasped. I placed a bite of cracker in her mouth and then the pill. Nick gave her another sip of water and gently lowered her back down.

  I covered her up and felt her forehead. No fever. That was good, although it had only been a few hours.

  Boots ran back and forth on Takumi’s bed. I grabbed him before he barked and leapt onto Angelina. “Okay, everyone! She needs quiet. Her body is working hard to repair itself.”

  Boots licked my face.

  Makala’s lip stuck out in a pout.

  Nick and Jervis glared at each other.

  I took Makala by the hand. “Don’t you want to catch more snowflakes and see how the fire is going?”

  Makala stared down at her sister.

  “Love you, Makala,” Angelina said in a weak voice.

  “Love you, too.” Makala slowly climbed the steps, turning to stare back at her sister every few seconds.

  “I’m staying with Angelina.” Jervis knelt down beside her.

  “No, you’re not.” Nick stood with his hand on his hips. “You’ve already done enough damage. You’re not touching her.”

  Jervis rose to his feet. The ceiling was too short for him. “I wasn’t the one who stood by and did nothing while she got shot.”

  Nick gritted his teeth. His face was inches from Jervis. “She wouldn’t have gotten shot if she hadn’t been trying to save your sorry ass.”

  “Guys. Knock it off.” I slammed the pill containers on the desk. “You’re both worried about her. We all are. But this doesn’t help.”

  Angelina’s eyes opened again. “Jervis?”

  Nick tried to block Jervis’ path, but Jervis pushed him aside.

  “I’m right here, Angelina.” He kneeled down.

  She raised her uninjured arm. He took her hand in his.

  “Did you save the girl?” she asked.

  His voice choked. “No! They shot—”

  Angelina sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

  He squeezed her fingers.

  “Promise me something?”

  “Anything,” Jervis said.

  “If something happens to me…”

  “Angelina. No!” Nick knelt on the other side of the mattress.

  I stood, hugging Boots. “You guys need to leave. Enough of this drama … come on, let her rest.”

  Angelina coughed and yelped with the pain. “No, I need Jervis to promise...”

  I moved to the foot of the mattress where I hoped she could see me. “Angelina, the bullet went clean through your shoulder. You lost a lot of blood, but I stitched you up. You’re going to be fine. You just need rest. This can wait until later.”

  “No. He has to promise.” Angelina began to thrash back and forth.

  “Be still. I’m here. What do you need me to do?” Jervis leaned closer in.

  “Promise you’ll take care of Makala if…if… anything happens to me.”

  “I promise,” Jervis shook his head. “But you’re going to get better.”

  Angelina tried to smile, but it came out a grimace. “Thank you, Jervis. She loves you.” She coughed and grimaced. “I’m… I’d like to rest now. Nick?”

  “I’m here.” He knelt down on the other side of her.

  “Would you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

  Nick glowered at Jervis and spread out on the mattress next to Angelina. “I’ll be right here.” He draped his arm across her waist to keep her from rolling with the boat.

  Jervis and I headed up top. I didn’t know what to say. He was so
sad.

  I fastened the leash we’d made for Boots onto Boots’ collar. The nylon line was tied so it slid along one section of lifeline, allowing the little dog to run back and forth on the port side of the stern.

  Jervis sat on the roof of the cabin with his chin on his chest. I stood at the rail. Fluffy white flakes flew around the boat. They stuck to the sails, the rails, and disappeared into the rolling sea. The sails were full, but we were hardly moving. We weren’t making great time. I wondered if I would have been able to stitch Angelina’s wound if we’d been in stronger winds. I had to be thankful for small things.

  “He’s right. It’s all my fault,” Jervis muttered. “I shouldn’t have gone after the girl.”

  I leaned on the rail. “You did the right thing. The girl died knowing someone cared enough to help her.”

  He sighed. “But she died and now Angelina might die too.”

  “You risked your life to save another. How can that ever be a mistake?” I said.

  “We should just take care of ourselves. Forget saving the world.”

  I sat beside Jervis and reached to put my arm around his shoulders. He was too wide, so I grabbed his arm instead. “I think what you did was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m so proud of you. I don’t want to live in a world where we ignore others’ pain.”

  “But if Angelina dies…”

  “She wanted to save the girl too. And she isn’t going to die. We won’t let her.”

  “I’ll never forgive myself if she...”

  “Look at me.” I waited for his eyes to meet mine. “You didn’t ask Angelina to get her gun. That was a choice she made. She shot at the guys who shot her back. It is their fault she is hurt.”

  He shrugged and gazed out at the sea. I sat with him for a while, then kissed his cheek and left.

  I stepped over to Makala and Takumi’s project. They’d taken the heavy cast iron barbecue, built a brick and sand base, and wedged it all between the cockpit seats. A bike chain we used to lock up the dinghy went through the air holes in the storage locker and held the barbecue in place. It took up most of the floor space in the cockpit.

  “How’s Angelina?” Takumi asked.