Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men (20 page)

I looked over to the bunk where Breccan was hiding. She was still lying under the sheet.

"I think we're going to be okay," I said.

She didn't answer.

"Did you hear me, Breccan? Everything is going to be alright."

I walked over to the bunk.

"Come on... it's okay. Come out of there."

I gently pulled back the cover.

Breccan's blood had started to pool on the plastic mattress. She'd slit her wrists, an ornate Haida dagger with the head of a raven laying beside her.

"Oh my god," I mouthed. I'm not sure I said it.

I ran to the galley and grabbed the first aid kit. I was in shock but I knew I'd found her in time.

Breccan would be alive for a few more days, at least.

Darrel and Jon came down and found us not long after I'd bandaged her up. I'd just been about to clean up some if the blood when Darrel gently pushed me aside.

And then he started to lick up the blood.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked.

"We shouldn't waste it," he said. "Her blood can help keep us alive a little longer."

“That’s fucking sick,” Jon said. “You can’t just drink a person’s blood.”

“So we should die of thirst instead? It’s just going to dry up. That won’t do Breccan any good, either.”

“I’m not going to drink it,” I said. “But there’s no real reason for me to try and stop you.”

Darrel went back to licking and Jon turned away.

I watched, not because I wanted to see it, but because I wanted to make sure Breccan was okay. She hadn’t woken up, but she was breathing well. She’d definitely be the weakest now, but that was probably always the way of it. I’ve known for a few days now that Breccan is the least likely to make it home.

I started to feel sick.

I’m not feeling optimistic anymore.

TUESDAY - Eight Days Adrift

I TOOK
Breccan’s dagger away from her and hid it in storage. I spent all night awake beside her, waiting for her to wake up but relieved that she was still sleeping.

Darrel and Jon had taken turns on the handheld, up in the cockpit. Each one of them would join me when they weren’t on shift, but none of us had much to say.

It was hard to talk as it was.

I did ask both of them if they’d known about the dagger, and only Jon admitted that he did, that he’d been with her when she bought it from a guy we’d met at Sandspit.

“I don’t think that’s a cheap copy,” I told him. “That looks authentic.”

“It wasn’t cheap,” Jon said.

“That’s not okay. That dagger isn’t something that’s supposed to be taken off the islands. That’s exactly what Watchmen like Paul are there to prevent.”

“Are you really worried about a stupid knife when we’re a day away from passing out from thirst?”

“It’s a good distraction.”

“Distraction?”

“If I’m pissed off at Breccan I won’t be so angry at myself for letting this happen.”

I knew I was being silly, that it wasn’t really my fault. I guess I was fishing for some kind of reassurance.

“You won’t let it happen again,” Jon said. “That’ll have to be good enough.”

He walked over to the table and sat down, thumbing through the charts.

“Ouch,” I said.

“I’m not your therapist, Steph. So unless you’re about to give me a blow job... just leave me alone. I’m tired of your shit.”

“What?”

“I... just... don’t... care. Get it?”

“Fuck you.”

He stood up from the table and faced me. He undid his pants and pulled them down. He still had his boxer shorts; I prayed he’d keep them on.

“We’re going to die,” he said. “I really don’t care what you think of me.”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

“I don’t care who I touch. Well, not Darrel.”

He started towards me.

I moved away.

He climbed onto Breccan’s bunk.

My first thought was to call for Darrel. But I didn’t. As much as they’d fought, Darrel and Jon were friends. And Breccan and I were just the two girls who’d came along for the trip and shot them both down.

I didn’t think I could trust him to help me.

I grabbed at Jon, trying to pull him off of her. He slapped me hard against my temple and I fell back against the cabin wall.

I pulled at him again.

He struck me harder, right across my face.

I could feel my nose bleeding.

I ran to galley and pulled out the cast iron pan.

I swung it at his head.

He groaned and turned to look at me.

He climbed off the bunk.

I held the pan up beside my head.

“I’ll hit you again,” I said.

He stumbled toward me, waving his arms like an angry bear. “You crazy bitch! You could have killed me.”

He grabbed my arm and the pan, trying to wrestle the weapon away from me.

I sent my knee up at his groin.

He dropped to the floor of the cabin.

I was tempted to hit him with the pan again.

“What the hell?” I heard Darrel say. “What the fuck did you just do, Steph?”

I kept a hold on the pan as I backed away from Jon. “He attacked her,” I said. “He was going to rape her.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Darrel shook his head. “I can’t believe that.”

Jon slowly stood up. “She’s full of shit,” he said.

Darrel reached for the pan.

I let him take it. I didn’t know what else to do.

“What did you do, Jon?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Jon said.

“Well you must have done something here. Steph’s nose is bleeding and I can almost see bits of that tiny lizard brain of yours.”

“She just lost it on me.”

“Come on. Just tell me the truth, man.”

“She blames herself... you know, for Breccan trying to off herself and everything. Steph’s losing her mind. She just flipped out on me.”

“So you were sitting around with no pants on and Steph just decided to try and kill you?”

“I don’t know why... she just went at me.”

“You know that isn’t true,” I said to Darrel. “You know I wouldn’t just attack someone with a cast iron pan.”

“I know,” Darrel said. “And now we have another problem to deal with.”

“Whatever man,” Jon said. “You want to take this bitch’s word over mine, that’s fine. Just both of you stay clear of me, alright?”

“Alright,” Darrel said.

Jon put on his pants and his raincoat and climbed back up to the cockpit.

I stumbled over to my bunk and collapsed. I didn’t bother trying to clean up my face, and to Darrel’s credit, he didn’t try to lick the blood out of my nostrils.

He sat down beside Breccan, still gripping the bloody pan.

“Things are falling apart,” he said.

“They’re long past falling apart,” I replied.

He tried to hide it, but I could tell he was crying.

WEDNESDAY - Nine Days Adrift

NO RAIN
again. There’s no bright side left.

We left one of the rainiest places on earth and now it feels like we're in a desert. It's warmer today, so I dragged a finally-awake Breccan up for some fresh air. She was dressed in a long-sleeve shirt, which covered up her bandages nicely; I didn't want her to think about the scars she'd be left with.

As soon as Jon saw us he looked down at his feet. I couldn't tell if it was regret or disgust.

"You should go down to the salon," Darrel told him.

"It's okay," I said. "We can all sit up here today... make the best of it." It felt unnecessary to hate a dying man when you're on your own deathbed.

Darrel shook his head. “I don’t think so. Jon and I will go down to the salon. You girls enjoy the weather.”

"Yeah... alright," Jon said.

He and Darrel went down into the cabin while Breccan and I sat in the cockpit.

“I don’t know why you stopped me,” Breccan said. “I made my choice.”

“It wasn’t a good choice,” I said.

“You took it away from me. That wasn’t up to you.”

I took her hand. “There’s still hope, Breccan. Until the last minute there’s hope. You just need to hold on.”

She sighed. “I don’t want to hold on. I’m tired.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” I said. “Stick through this with me, okay?”

“I don’t think I can.”

“I’m not going to accept that.”

She turned away and stared out at the sea.

I heard Edgar caw to us. I assume it was to us, just as I assumed the raven was Edgar, because we were all there was out there to hear him.

“That crazy bird,” I said. “I think he followed us from Hotspring Island.”

“That’s stupid. No bird is going to follow a sailboat for a week and a half to the middle of nowhere.”

“I don’t know what else could be happening,” I said. “There’s no land in sight.”

“Then I guess Edgar is just as stupid as we are,” Breccan said. I think she had the slightest smile on her face, and it made me feel a little bit better.

“Are you cold?” I asked her.

“Yeah... it’s not as nice out here as it first seemed.”

“I know.”

We helped each other down the stairs to the salon, both of us leaning on the other; I wasn’t as healthy as I wanted to pretend I was, and Breccan wasn’t the total weakling she wanted to be.

We reached the cabin to find Darrel sitting at the table, flipping through the same charts I’d seen Jon playing with before.

I didn’t see Jon anywhere, though; I'd never thought of him as the type to hide under a blanket.

"Where's Jon?" Breccan asked.

"He's taking a nap," Darrel said, pressing his index finger to his nose. "Don't wake him."

"That's not really a big concern for me," I said.

"I found something," Darrel said. "You girls are going to want to kiss me."

He reached down by his feet and I started to panic. He pulled out a box of crackers.

"You're shitting me," I said, breathing out heavily.

"They fell behind the drawer. They're stale, crushed, and half gone, but they're food."

"We need to count them out and ration them," I said.

Darrel grinned. "Live a little, Steph."

Breccan didn't pause. She rushed over to the table and started eating.

Darrel stood up and gave her room, like he was worried she'd chew his arm off.

He walked over to me like he was expecting a hug.

"She's going to eat all of it," I said.

"That's fine," he said.

He reached behind me, grabbing a roll of duct tape off the counter; I hadn't noticed it there.

He grabbed my neck and pushed me down.

I lost my balance and fell to my knees. I tried to get up and away, but he already had his boot against my left ankle, twisting it in and against the floor.

"Breccan," I called out. "Help me out here."

She didn't answer.

He forced my hands behind my back.

"Breccan!"

Still nothing. I could see her watching, her mouth stuffed full with stale crackers.

She kept chewing.

He had my wrists bound quickly, and he bound my ankles the same way. The pain in my ankle was intense, but felt more like a sprain than a break.

He then taped my wrists and ankles together, making me feel like a pig at a luau. Luckily we were fresh out of apples for my mouth, and Breccan was doing her best to eliminate the crackers.