~~ ~~ ~~
Homer had curled himself into a ball, never changing position or shape. Some mentioned that they thought he had died or was dying, but an occasional deep breath and shivering of his body proved them wrong. His jacket was wrapped securely over his head, giving him some protection in the beginning but was now soaked with seawater. He must have felt safe there—so safe he was afraid to change his posture. It was his safe space of life for now.
In his cocoon, Homer’s mind was filled with anger, an anger that eclipsed the usual anger he had in his heart. His considered his life working in a fast food restaurant as useless. When growing up, he had been told he had such great potential. His parents had divorced; his mother left him to be raised by his dad who often told him that if he worked hard, success was right around the corner. His dad supported him in everything he did, encouraged him in every way, and tried to give him confidence in himself. His father’s injury from a fall from a building on which he was laying bricks left him disabled and eventually destitute. His compensation payments were usually just enough to keep them going until they ran out. The compensation lawyer gave up on his case since there were questions about Homer’s father’s negligence being the cause of the fall, but his dad had always told Homer that wasn’t so.
Somehow, everything that had happened was just too much for his father, and he started drinking and became mean and detestable to his dying day. All of this was going on while Homer was growing up into his teens, and there was no family to support him. He was essentially on his own. Where was his potential, he asked himself? He had worked hard, and no success came. He knew his dad had to be right, but life never proved it to him. He just wanted to find his niche, something he could say he was good at. Flipping burgers for a living and going nowhere fueled the anger within him. He didn’t care who he offended. He had been offended by his life, so why not make others as miserable as he?
~~ ~~ ~~
Helen and Kimberly had joined forces against the weather, covering themselves with parts of a tarp and hugging each other to keep comfortable. A short conversation could be heard from them every once in a while, but the contents were inaudible. They shifted positions many times an hour, assuming a spoon arrangement, then facing one another. They were following the directions that Frank had told everyone: to move often, using their large muscles to create some heat while clinging to one another.
The mental and physical beating was becoming especially tough on Kimberly. She’d never had great stamina. She was brought up a spoiled child in a rich family but started to rebel against the forced authority of her parents. She’d flunked out of college and, just for spite, made a big deal about becoming a flight attendant. Surprisingly to her and those who knew her, Kimberly did very well and passed with flying colors. She really did find a job she actually enjoyed, and it kept her away from her family, so their constant bickering was no longer a bother in her life. She was never athletic, and her job, overall, did not require it, so she enjoyed life, and her social calendar was extensive when she wasn’t working. She never had a beau or any guy interested in her because she could be a ‘flake’ at times and uninterested in any meaningful relationship. Her constant flighty demeanor away from her job had been a real turn off to many of her acquaintances, so they’d said, so she did not really have anyone she could call a friend.
Her only ‘friend’ was a roommate she had while sharing an apartment just before she’d gotten into the flight attendant program. Alice was an up-and-coming dancer/actress who Kimberly really liked. Their lifestyles were complimentary, and their work never caused them to compromise with each other. Then Alice had met Dave. Dave stole Alice’s heart almost immediately. Kimberly has just gotten the gist of being a flight attendant, so Alice’s love life wasn’t any big deal to her; however, Kimberly’s nuttiness and flirtatiousness infatuated Dave so much, he made advances toward Kimberly without Alice knowing. Kimberly told Dave, in no uncertain terms, that he was not her type. Actually, Kimberly didn’t know what her type was. Dave continued his quest, and it soon became evident to Alice that Kimberly and Dave were ‘a thing.’ Instead of berating Dave, Alice verbally and once physically assaulted Kimberly for being a ‘home-wrecker and a bitch.’ Since that time, Kimberly had been turned off by anyone who got too close to her.
~~ ~~ ~~
The day was shortened by the dark overcast clouds, giving a sense of early nightfall. The relentless spinning of the raft had subsided, but the rocking carried on as the obstinate waves continued their onslaught to the sides of the raft. Night arrived, dampening the thoughts of rescue among the nine survivors once again.
Chapter Eleven
Hours led to more days of surviving. No one was counting the days anymore. Their world now was the raft, and the unknown was everywhere around them. Food was becoming the major problem for everyone. Each of them had tried their hand at using the fishing kit from the raft’s supplies, but it had been unsuccessful with every attempt. Their frustration was almost palpable. Frank knew enough days had passed to make their situation desperate. The crew could barely move their arms and legs, and all were in a constant state of twilight sleep, unable to think clearly about almost anything. Delirium was just around the corner for some. It was obvious that the time for extreme measures was at hand if any of them were to live.
A heavy rain the night before had helped fill the bottles and containers with fresh water, but it was the meager amount of food left that none of the passengers wished to discuss for fear hunger would increase with just the mention of it. Floating in the ocean for days without any signs of land or aircraft was taking its toll slowly but surely. The incessant rocking of the raft had become accepted by all, each person moving in rhythm against the raft’s motions. In contrast to their initial reactions of looking for hope in everyone’s eyes, none of them now dared to gaze at the others, possibly afraid of seeing a deepening anguish in their faces.
“Well, Frank, what’s the plan now, man? We ain’t seen nothing, the food is good as gone. We just gonna fry in this pan?” Homer asked in a weak but angry voice. His facial expression was one of wide-eyed frustration.
“Food is the answer, folks,” Frank finally said.
“You have a fishing line, Frank?” Homer asked as he appeared wide-eyed from his fetal position, pushing his coat from over his head.
“You okay, Homer?” Frank asked, surprised to see life in his companion.
Damn, how could he forget we all have failed at fishing?
“Yeah, I’m just alive. Just like all of us. Just alive. What food are you talking about?”
“Us,” Frank said sternly.
“Jesus, you mean us, don’t you? That’s your fucking plan? You mean eating human flesh. Christ, you are some kind of sick dude,” Otto blustered. “If I could, I would beat you to a pulp. That’s my way of dealing with guys like you.”
“As unpleasant and barbaric as it may seem, it may be our only choice in the weeks to come,” Irving spoke in a matter-of-fact voice.
Frank thought that eating another human being was now filtering through the minds of each passenger. He had done it. He had awakened them to a grim excruciating reality. The mechanics of placing a piece of a person’s muscle, uncooked, into one’s mouth produced a repulsive response on each person’s face as they clearly contemplated this physical action. It was even more sickening knowing that flesh was from someone they knew. They all then stared at Frank with disdain for thinking the unthinkable. He knew they had not thought past the taste of such a meal or how they would obtain it in the first place. He would just wait for someone to either question it or think of it on their own.
Living in the time of abundance and instant pleasure, Frank knew these people would never accept the idea of devouring one another’s bodies, but he had succeeded in instilling the idea in their resistant minds. He would not harp on this vile action anymore until it was obvious that it was the only choice they had to live.
Is there a time period that m
ust pass before we succumb to being animals, devouring whatever to stay alive? Our food is gone except for a few morsels, certainly not enough to feed us all. Am I too premature on this decision? This is just too much to think about.
The quiet stillness that ensued was surely commanding, each person obviously thinking more than ever about their lives, family, and loved ones. Soft crying from Soo Mi, Helen, and Kimberly broke the silence. The men stared at each other, now fully realizing the possibility of an inevitable confrontation with death. As if on cue, the flaps of the canopy were pushed back while they all searched the horizon and sky for any sign of help, an overt, last-ditch effort to cling to the hope of rescue and rid their minds of cannibalism. Nightfall was the only thing that pulled them from their search. All laid on their self-appointed sections of the raft with no visible expressions. Water bottles were being passed around, split lips sipping and mouthing the liquid as if solid food oozed from their containers.
Frank was trying his best to get comfortable by slowly wiggling around into a position appropriate for sleep. As he concentrated on his turn, he felt an odd lump underneath him. He lifted his body up so his elbows were on the side of the raft and his feet were on the bottom, but he saw nothing unusual underneath him. He relaxed again and turned in the same position with the side of his left leg on the raft. There, again, he felt a pressure on his leg. He searched under it and found nothing. As he brought his hand up his pants, he felt an object in one of the lower pockets of his cargo pants.
Oh my God, I never looked into Kate’s surprise sac.
He reached into his pocket and retrieved the purple sac she had given him every time he traveled. Turning so no one could see what he was doing, Frank gently opened the sac and emptied out five Hershey Kisses wrapped in silver with a white paper stuck to the side. He had forgotten the sac ever since the TSA guy had opened it. He smiled within himself and then devoured them quickly so the others would not beg for them. As he attempted to put the sac back, he felt something else in it. He then remembered, shook the sac upside down, and out flipped his nail clippers. Frank just had to chuckle a bit, wondering if Kate knew he had laughed during the most adverse time of his life because of her thoughtfulness. He slowly rubbed his fingers over the clippers, opened them up, and clipped a few nails, gently replaced them in the purple sac, and stuffed it back into his pocket.
Frank’s mind wandered.
Kate, my love, please be by my side. Tell me what to do. I miss you so. Will these people understand the dire situation we will soon be in? The sun is so hot. The night is so cold. Oh, Kate, please come to me. I love you so. Will I ever see you again?
Frank’s dream that night was a strange one for him. He dreamt he and Kate were on vacation on some beach, staring out into an ocean, pointing out dolphins and surfers in the waves. They laughed and hugged one another and then repeated the same actions over and over. It was almost comical as, in the dream, the laughing got louder and louder, often drowning out any of their conversations. Suddenly, Kate was gone, and Frank turned to search for her, spotting a young child walking away from the beach umbrella that he and Kate had erected. Kate was nowhere to be found, and yet he could hear her laughing as he called out her name. He found himself in the surf searching for her when a voice behind him yelled something inaudible, causing him to swivel and be swamped by a large wave knocking him under the water so hard he could not right himself. The voice became more audible, and he fought to get to the surface.
His eyes finally popped open, and he took a deep breath, trying to focus on what was staring him in the face.
“Hey, Mr. Cannibal, what’s your plan now?” Homer asked, leaning over Frank face to face.
Jesus. Where’s Kate? Oh, God, a bad dream, and now this jerk! It hasn’t dawned on him yet.
Frank could only gaze into Homer’s despondent eyes, shrug, and spread his hands. The answer was in his physical response.
“How and when?” Irving asked.
“Draw straws, I guess?” Frank said. “We all will decide when.”
Then Frank withdrew from the rest, pulling his makeshift covers over his head, trying desperately to find Kate in his dream.
Chapter Twelve
A soft breeze blew all night. Intermittent rain helped the thirst once again. The cadenced rocking of the vessel continued. So far as Frank could tell, everyone but him was asleep. As the sun began to light up the eastern sky, Frank sat up by pushing on the bottom of the raft. His hands slid in a gooey slime of fluid, and he fell back. There wasn’t enough light to see what the substance was. He squinted against the sun’s reflective rays. His heartbeat quickened as he saw the color of the fluid. It was a reddish maroon and very sticky.
Almost like fresh clotted blood.
“Jesus, it is blood,” he said softly.
He looked around the raft, starting at the other end. No source could be found. As he turned to his left, Maxine was lying still, supine, and with a gray, pasty appearance. A hooked knife and its loose sheath was on her belly, and both wrists had been sliced open. Beside her laid a placard listing an inventory of the raft equipment.
“Shit, Maxine committed suicide,” he yelled.
Only a few people reacted with moans.
“Goddamn it, people, Maxine committed suicide,” Frank spoke louder to wake everyone.
The women gasped at the sight of Maxine’s lifeless body, and Helen screamed at the pool of blood she laid in. The men could only stare in disbelief.
“Why? Why did she do it?” Helen’s voice cracked.
“She couldn’t handle it anymore,” Otto said. “I know how she feels, uh, I mean, felt.”
“Do you think she did it for us knowing she would be the first to go?” Soo Mi asked.
“Possibly, but we’ll never know,” Frank answered.
Helen’s voice broke in. “She told me she had cancer. Her pills were lost in the crash. I guess she knew she was going to die from the cancer or possibly felt all was lost, so why not? She seemed to be the kind of person who thought of others before herself. I think she did it for us,” said Helen.
“Cancer? Jesus.” Homer growled.
“Where did knife come?” Yuto asked in broken English. He reached over her body and turned her to reveal a red case with a large white ‘plus’ sign on it.
Kimberly gasped, “Oh, my God, it’s the kit for emergencies. Damn! That’s the knife I told you about. And there, there, the list of stuff on the raft. I’m forgetting a lot. I can’t remember anything they taught me. This is not supposed to be happening to me,” she said and broke out crying.
“For God’s sake, how we bury?” Yuto asked.
“Yeah, Mr. Cannibal, how do we?” Homer barked at Frank.
“I think we pray for her first,” Frank answered, specifically gazing at each passenger before he stared intently at Homer. He bowed his head in silent prayer as the others slowly closed their eyes and bent their heads. No one spoke a word, even after lifting their heads.
Now they know what is next. None of them want to say it.
An indeterminable period of time passed while they pondered their destiny. Their thoughts were probably all the same, but no one could look at anyone else but Frank. He had been the creator of the plan. He should do something. Frank felt their visual contact without raising his head.
Jesus, what would Kate do? What should I do? Do I become a barbarian right in front of these people?
The answer became apparent with Irving sliding to his right, looking around at everyone, grasping the knife off Maxine’s stomach, and beginning to cut her clothes off. None of the other survivors moved. No one offered to help or tried to stop him. Her left leg was now naked from her panties down. Irving’s hands shook as the tip of the blade was lowered through her wrinkled skin. Dark, semi-coagulated blood slowly oozed around the chrome blade. The motion was almost surgical, not too deep and carried straight to the lower thigh just above the knee without cutting the muscular tissue. He then cut the top portion of
skin in a ‘T’ and the lower part of the incision into an inverted ‘T’, splaying the skin first to his right and finally to his left to expose the muscles of her thigh. Using his fingers, he separated the rest of the skin and the small layer of fat from the muscle.
Hands were placed over mouths, and some forced their fingers over their eyes. Gasps of disbelief were uttered with each motion of the knife. As they did, they also slid as far away from Irving as they could, as if trying to escape the inevitable. Homer vomited bile over the side of the boat. Then Otto belched as if to do the same but didn’t.
As Irving skillfully separated the muscle groups by their fascial linings, he must have felt the group’s overwhelming sickening response behind him.
Irving looked over his shoulder and turned to the rest. “Hey, I used to hunt deer when I was a kid.”
Each passenger mumbled that they felt Maxine had offered herself as her last gift of joy to eight people she never really knew, and now, she was to be consumed by them for nourishment.
And so it had come to pass. They all finally understood their fates.
Chapter Thirteen
Quietude hovered over the eight remaining souls on board their life raft. Clotted blood about their mouths was evident, even after saline washes were used to clean away the evidence of savagery. Frank felt that each of the passengers had become more distant from one another, even though they were physically close. It could be seen even in the eyes and gestures of Yuto and Soo Mi. What had they done? They had actually devoured a fellow survivor, a human like themselves. What would people think? This was undoubtedly on the minds of the lost crew. Hunger had been temporarily remedied, but their actions leading to this would never be justified in their minds. And the most pressing question of all? Am I next—and when?
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