Another wave slammed us, causing us both to lay flat against the wall of the deck. It was smaller than the last two, but still powerful enough to increase the water filling the vessel.
“Go for the orange ones on each side,” Anders shouted. “Forty footers. They’re the heaviest!”
With a touch of my collar, I stepped into the storm. The noise sounded like something out of a war movie. The ship metal groaned and thunder rolled high in the clouds. Rain and seawater mixed to temporarily blind me, but I held on, making my way around the twenty-foot green and brown boxes to the forty-foot orange ones.
Starting portside, I made it to the first just as another wave hit, sending us splashing down, white foam shooting out like a rocket. My feet went out from under me, but I held onto the lashings with all my strength until the deck righted again, and I could find my footing. By the time I slashed the first straps, we were heading up again.
Two more cuts and it shot out from me so fast, I thought I’d go with it into the black depths. A quick grab, and I caught the rigging to my right. Pulling the weight of my body, my triceps burned with the exertion, and I yelled back at the blast.
White-hot lightening crackled across the sky like a spider web. It arched over my head, and I knew this was it. Pulling myself through the stacks, I made it to starboard, exactly parallel to the box I’d just cut. My strength was gone. I had to do this to restore balance to the ship, and I had to do it fast.
Another thirty-footer rose up before us. I didn’t see it because that was how it was—the waves were felt before they were seen.
One lash. I followed hand over hand, shouting as the bottom dropped out and we fell, canting dangerously to starboard. She was going to roll if I didn’t finish this lash. A dark-brown container shifted, pinning my boot against the rail. I couldn’t reach my target.
The black waters stared me in the face as we leaned hard toward the depths. Frantically untying my laces, I loosened the boot enough to pull my foot out, and just as the water was headed straight at us, I swung the knife, cutting the final lash. The orange cargo shot out into the wave, and the boat shot up like a cork, throwing me back against the remaining boxes.
The same brown container slid forward, meeting the back of my head in a SMACK! that caused me to see stars.
Or perhaps it was a flash of lightening above my head. For a moment, I thought it was the light of the sun shining in Kenny’s bright blue eyes. Komorebi.
My fingers fumbled and another rush of foam swept around my feet. I smiled as I reached for a lock of her hair—my hands felt warmth, just as I took the final plunge into darkness.
~ ~ ~
To sleep, to dream, to go to heaven, and pluck a strange and beautiful flower.
To awake, and hold that flower in your hand...
Chapter 34: “With brave wings she flies.”
Kenny
All of my family was in Bayville for our annual Thanksgiving gathering. Lane was in heaven playing with his cousins. They were out in the yard throwing the football and running back and forth. I watched them for a little while, a sad smile on my lips.
My hand had only swollen a tiny bit, and no one had even noticed. The pain had receded by the day after, and tomorrow I wouldn’t even be able to tell anything had happened to me physically. Emotionally, I was struggling. I’d used everything Slayde had taught me to save someone—just like he’d saved me. I’d fought that burning anger to finish my attacker—the way he’d fought it for me. I felt how strong it was. The thought twisted that old pain in my stomach.
Laughter met me from the family room, and I wanted to be alone. I wanted to walk down to the pier and look out across the ocean in the direction he might be. A few words with my mom, and I sneaked away to my car to make the short drive to the water.
Being the end of November, the air was much cooler. I only wore a light sweater over my orange tunic and leggings, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay long or I’d catch a chill. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see Patrick’s reply to my earlier text. I’d sent him a picture of Lane sneaking pieces of turkey when my mom wasn’t watching.
That’s my boy. Born troublemaker. He texted back.
More like that’s your boy charming the pants off all his female relatives.
You can’t fight genetics.
I giggled at the memory of Lane burying his little head in my aunt Patty’s bosom and telling her she was “good to eat.” Watch how you talk to Elaine when he’s in the room. He repeats everything.
The noise of a wave caused me to glance up at the horizon. We’d had a series of bad storms the last few days, and everything was still grey and swirling as a result. The shoreline was brown and trashy with seaweed.
Patrick replied, He’s a freakin little ninja. I look up and he’s there listening.
He called my mom ‘heaven on heels.’
It’s better than ‘hell on wheels.’
That made me laugh. True. Will call later. Lane misses you, and I want to hear about Stuart.