He wondered why Alana hadn’t been on the news yet, but he couldn’t spare the time to care about it too much. He had to move fast. This one and then, he hoped, he could leave it for a while. Buy himself enough favor to save his life.
And if the water started to get restless again in a few years, well, then he would know what to do.
He rubbed the back of his neck, too nervous for a moment, too anxious that the water would get him now at the last moment before he was out of its reach, and then he stepped forward. The ship was waiting. The time was now, before the FBI agents became too problematic and he had to stop. Or he was stopped by them. He had to do this.
He climbed up the plank walkway left leading onto the deck, and then crouched as soon as he could, ducking behind some barrels left on one side for ‘authenticity’. The whole ship was a fake, of course. If there was one thing his father had taught him well, it was how to spot that.
The ship was a fake, and the man who captained it was too.
He crouched in the dark, waiting, hearing the long minutes pass by as audible ticks from the watch he wore on his wrist, each one playing on his battered nerves.
It was a long wait by necessity. He’d had to creep on here as dark fell, knowing he would be alone. He’d watched them take him away. But he would be back.
He had to be. He was innocent, after all. They would realize it—maybe an alibi, maybe some detail that didn’t add up—and they would let him go.
And he would be here, waiting, for the so-called captain to come back to his ship.
The water sloshed against the hull of the ship, and he shuddered. He remembered all too well what had happened the last time he got too close. The last time he had let the water get close enough to take him.
He was never going to do that again.
All he hoped for was that this final offering would be enough to keep them on his side, at least for a while. That he wouldn’t have to be afraid. He had never seen them, and he doubted that he ever would; that wasn’t their way. But he knew that he would feel something. Each time he had felt lighter, like things were getting easier, like the water wasn’t coming for him with quite the same pace. Each time, he knew that he was getting closer to being safe.
This time, he imagined he would feel the whole burden lift.
It wouldn’t be like last time. The time when he slipped overboard and fell and—
He closed off his mind to the memory, not wanting it to overtake him now, not when he was so close to being done.
But the memory was strong. Stronger than him. He turned slightly and caught sight of the water glinting darkly through the railing, and his stomach churned. He couldn’t fight it off. That sensation. The water around him, cold, holding him tight, filling his lungs, his legs and arms thrashing—
“Come on,” Dad said, giving him that no-nonsense look he always did. “No son of mine is going to get through his life without learning to swim. You have to learn.”
“But Dad,” he started, but it was no use.
“Your brother learned when he was younger than your age,” Dad said. “You’re just being a baby. In you go!”
There was a moment of air, of space, of uncertainty. He didn’t even know what was happening. But all too soon his mind connected with reality: Dad had pushed him.
Pushed him down.
And now the water was embracing him, a splash that burst the air out of his lungs, a sound that filled his ears, his eyes closing automatically. He opened them, and they stung, and he tried to shout, but water rushed into his mouth—and he needed to breathe, but it was filling him, and there was no air, and he couldn’t see, and he didn’t know which way was up—
Time slowed, seemed to compress, and he spent hours there, trying to fight his way up, not knowing where to go, not knowing how to get back to the top—
And a strong pair of hands lifted him out onto a wooden deck where he shivered, hacking up lungful after lungful of sea water, unable to process anything but the sound of laughter and the fact that he was alive.
And below him the sea waited, wanting to claim him again, waiting for the next time…
He wrenched his eyes away, focusing on the wood and not the water, trying to breathe again now.
“Alright, lad? What are you doing back there?”
The voice made him jump, and he looked around into the captain’s eyes, utter shock taking his voice for a moment.
The captain chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You weren’t messing with anything, were you?”
He shook his head slowly.