Wanted (16 page)

“What’s this confessional you’re talking about?” I tried again

He smacked his hands together and laughed. “It’s almost the coolest thing ever! It’s this old thing from a church that we use like a brig. Charlie rigged the locks real good.”

I shivered. “Um…how about you just show me your projects, Polo?”

And then we were running again. “Yeah!” he shouted back to me. “Because these are the coolest things ever!”

We walked into an endless area that was incredibly noisy and covered with the filth of a thousand trips. The heat was instantly stifling and I had to remove the denim jacket to keep from suffocating. There were large electrical outlet boxes and exhaust fans fitted into the walls, but if they were for ventilation, it didn’t feel like they were doing much good.

Polo was pointing excitedly to some of the larger machinery, but I could barely understand him over the all of the noise. “Fuel pump…boiler…diesel…turbine…” I was fascinated that the few men who were working with tools and various other things somehow refused to acknowledge my presence. It all seemed so strange.

“Back here!”

I followed Polo to the back end of the engine room where there was a separate set of doors leading to a different room. Inside, there were large slates of fold out tables covered from end to end in what looked like the remains of a science fair. Beneath them, some large wooden crates were covered by tarps.

Everything from bundles of wires to beakers, cylinders, funnels, and plastic cords were scattered all over the place. The room was exceptionally bright with fluorescent lighting in the ceiling, so I could see everything well enough. I picked up a rack of sulfuric powder and immediately recognized the smell. Next to it was a large container filled to the brim with fertilizer. Almost everything was harmless by itself, but when combined I knew it could cause some damage.

“What do you do down here, Polo?”

He looked at me like I was a fool. “I make the knockers.”

“The knockers?”

His eyes rolled at me. “Explosives to get into stuff.”

He reached for a crate under the table and pulled out a plastic capsule. It was completely plain and ordinary looking with no markings and no bigger than my fist. He shook it fiercely, making something rattle inside. Terrified of what might go off, I covered my head with my arms and dived under the table.

Polo began laughing as though he might never stop. “It’s not active yet!”

I stood up and wiped the sweat from my face. My hands were shaking, but I couldn’t make them stop.

“Can we go back up, Polo? I think I’m getting seasick.”

Amongst other things, I learned that the large, metal fixtures that protruded from the front of the ship were part of the cranes that were dismantled before leaving port. I understood they were important, essential. But to me they looked like obscure pieces of art, disfigured sculptures too rusted for even the most eccentric to love. The occasional bird would land at their tops, fly away, and disappear.

As I watched the clouds pass over, I kept trying to picture the most innocent uses a group of thieves could use bombs for. But my imagination betrayed me, and I continuously only came up with images I had seen from the news and action movies, seeing in my head only suffering and physical pain.

The sun felt good on my arms and I willed myself to soak up as much of it as possible. There wasn’t anyone around, and with my head inflated with this new knowledge, I had every intention of going back down to Charlie’s cabin and only emerging if it was absolutely necessary. It had become clear that exploring the ship would only cause me grief and future headaches that I could easily avoid by just staying where Charlie instructed. I felt myself smile at the thought of him and examined the denim of his jacket with my fingertip. If I was even remotely normal, I would have been frowning instead. But I couldn’t, and something growing inside wouldn’t let me.

And just like that, I heard his voice on the wind.

It was soft at first, but then the low echoes of his baritone floated back to me once more, this time the sound was heftier, so I knew I hadn’t just been hearing things.

“Charlie?”

I turned and watched him jog up the same corridor Polo and I had just come from. Charlie looked frayed as he rushed to get to the deck, his eyes eagerly searching for something he couldn’t see. He ruffled a hand through his hair and swore, kicked a lifeboat, and placed his hands on his knees for leverage. All the while I watched him from behind a large pillar on the side of the…main part of the ship? I told myself I would truly have to learn some terminology before I left.

He walked toward the edge of the deck and took hold of the rail. I had to carefully scoot around to the other side of the pillar to prevent him from seeing me. And while I very much wanted to see him up close, it was more fun to see him this way, and without question more interesting. He was like some rare and wonderful creature, and I was privileged to have the opportunity to observe him.

Staring at the sea, he closed his eyes and mumbled something under his breath, though what it was I never knew. He was wearing the same fuel-stained jeans from the day before but had on a fresh navy blue t-shirt with a cut that showed not only the lean muscles in his arms, but also the serpent tattooed on his neck. For a moment I stared at it and it almost seemed to stare back at me. I made myself wave the notion away—everything about Charlie had a life of its own.

He took out a cigarette from his pocket and put it to his mouth but then stopped to reconsider. He looked at it for a minute, frowned, and threw it into the sea. I bit my lip to keep from smiling and thought that I might jump out and try to sneak up on him. Suddenly, however, he became possessed with the frenzy of a madman as he began hitting the railing with a pounding fist. Simultaneously, he kicked the side panels, and a growl emitted from the depths of his chest, though these were difficult to hear through the slur of profanities that erupted from his mouth.

Finally he let loose a scream into the ocean.

I was unable to stand it any longer. Seeing him so unmistakably miserable brought tears to my eyes and I knew whatever was disturbing him so incessantly had to end before my heart collapsed on itself.

“Charlie?”

He stopped instantly. It was actually so abrupt that I thought he might have hurt himself. He remained so completely motionless that it only increased my fear. I ran up behind him and placed my hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

When he turned to me his face was red and his eyes bugging. He looked me up and down. He seemed confused, almost disorientated; it did nothing to alleviate my worry.

“Addie.” His mouth moved to say something else, but the words didn’t come.

I smiled, although it was more from nerves than anything else. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out?”

His expression became detached with a thin outline of anger he was trying very hard to suppress. “What happened to you?”

I tried to decipher his frenzy, but nothing came to me. I knew I needed to tread around any potential answer carefully. If I said the wrong thing, would he have another tantrum? Would he hurt someone, or himself?

“I, um…went for some air and ran into Polo. I helped him in the galley and he gave me a tour of the engine room.”

He looked back to the sea, his jaw stiffened. “I told you to stay in the cabin.”

Was this the reason he was so upset, because I hadn’t followed an instruction? I felt my own glimmer of anger rise within me. He had no right to dictate my movements even if he had saved my life.

“Hey! I’m not your property. If I want to go out and explore, that’s my prerogative. Curiosity is one of the most natural human instincts…”

“You got any idea what coulda happened out here? How a lotta the guys out here think?” He shouted it more at the ocean than me, but it scared me enough that I kept my mouth shut. Once more I could hear his accent coming through—revealing he was genuinely upset. It seemed like such a silly thing to get so worked up over. But I understood he was worried, anxious that something bad might happen to me.

I moved from where I was so that I could stand beside him. I could see clearly enough that his knuckles were white from clenching the railing. Feeling courageous, I slowly ventured my hand on top of his. Using every caution imaginable in case he had a fit, or perhaps worse, in case he didn’t want me to touch him, I was very careful not to touch any other part. I felt his grip on the railing relax almost instantly when my fingers slid over his. The fire-hot feel of his skin made my pulse increase and made me dizzy.

After awhile, our forearms met as well, moving just enough so that they might be touching, too. I felt the anxiety in me go slack and a new sort of calm take over my body. Maybe he was activating some kind of pressure point…but even I knew I was stretching for explanations on that one. Other things were getting through the filter now, and I liked the way it made me feel.

“Did anybody bother you?” he asked eventually

I considered the question carefully before answering. “Polo’s whistling got to me after awhile.”

At last he smiled. “That ain’t what I meant.”

“I know,” I confessed. “No, no one bothered me. It was like I was invisible.”

He nodded, pleased with my response. The remainder of his tension evaporated into a sigh.

“Polo said you um—paid off some people to leave me alone?”

“He wasn’t supposed to do that.” He shook his head.

I gnawed my lip. I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful or appalled. “So it’s true?”

Charlie stared out into the nothing of the ocean, but I knew the answer.

I tried to laugh. “And here I thought I was blending in so well.”

He looked back at me and grinned until my heart flipped. “Not with those legs.”

I pulled my hand away and tried to seem indifferent, but I’m still certain he saw my blush.

Mistaking my awkwardness for displeasure, I could feel him tense up beside me. I looked back and saw him shuffling his feet again. He had taken a step away from me and was now staring with a certain intensity at his boots.

I hesitated to touch him again lest it cause him further distress, but the urge for this simple affection and the feel of his skin unhinged me. I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. Instantly his body became rigid, though I could feel his neck craning down to look on me. I felt like a fool—a complete imbecile. I should have just been grateful I was alive. Bothering him with my petty attempts might only irritate him further.

But just as the thought came through, he began tousling my hair. To my complete amazement he even leaned forward and buried his face in the remains of my ponytail, slowly removing the hair-tie and letting loose my hair. I curled my toes and inhaled deeply as I reminded myself of my name, street address, place of birth…

He took the tie and placed it around my wrist for safekeeping. I thought he would have surely felt the pulse there, threatening to explode at any second. What was scary wasn’t the physical reaction of my rapidly inflating and deflating lungs, the heartbeat in my ears, or even the pleasant dizziness that his closeness gave me. It was the awareness that at this very moment I would have done anything for this man—ignored all logic and common sense, and moral decency if he had asked me to. I wasn’t aware people were capable of feeling that way.

“It’s going to be okay, you know.” I don’t know who I said that for.

He sighed into my hair. I felt him smile there. “That’s real easy for somebody like you to say.”

I only pulled away enough so that he could see my face. I didn’t quite know what he meant by that, but I had a general idea and I didn’t like it. “No, it isn’t.”

His confusion was transparent through his furrowed brow. “I may not understand the stress of the criminal life or anything, but I worry about my brother every day, and I know what it’s like to watch someone you love get eaten away by disease.”

“I—”

I sighed and leaned back into his shoulder. I hadn’t meant to preach. “Just because life sucks sometimes doesn’t mean you have to be so angry all the time. Life isn’t easy for anyone, Charlie. You just have to look at things logically, that’s all. Stay sensible.”

He was eager to redeem himself. “If I was mad, and I ain’t saying I was, then maybe I couldn’t help it.”

“At least you’re admitting it, kind of, anyway.” I laughed.

I pulled away and looked into his eyes. The shirt he wore brought out the blue.

“Why are you so mad, Charlie Hays?”

He hesitated. “Sometimes my head gets all mixed up. I start thinkin’ ‘bout old stuff, jail, and the bad things I’ve done.” He sighed again and I felt his breath on my neck. I shivered against him.

He reached for a cigarette; this time he smoked it without any delay. I let the wind blow my hair wherever it wanted to. I was busy trying to contemplate what Charlie had just told me. Knowing that he had a reliable conscience was reassuring, but it disturbed me that he was so clearly agitated by his past. I wouldn’t have wished that for him, not for anything in the world. At the same time, it also made him seem more human, more mortal, to have a past. While it may have been selfish, I wanted to know everything about him, every detail that had led him to kidnap me.