Phantom Universe
Page 5
CHAPTER 4: INTRUDERS
15 years old
The storm passes, and the ship quits its lethargic undulations. Dinner is served with cheers tonight as the crew celebrates their newest pirating conquest. Right now the ship is literally swimming in small boating equipment: water skies (which blows her mind), floats, tubes, bumper guards, life jackets, fish finders, among other larger, more expensive things that she doesn’t know the names of. Captain Travis is so thrilled with his crew that he breaks out the good beer. It’s thicker and creamier than what’s normally served. Apparently this stolen load is better than the one full of flat screen TVs from Japan. Though, she must admit, she does like the many TVs around the ship that they kept—even if she doesn’t have time to enjoy them.
As Landon and Summer dump food onto each of their plates, the crew continues to toast to weird and random things. She’s pretty sure they are getting drunk and wonders if beer makes everyone this incredibly cheerful.
Phil holds his beer high in the air. “To Peter’s new medication!”
They all shout and cheer and clink their glasses together as someone shouts, “I can actually light up without fear of blowing the ship up!”
“Aye, Aye!” they all shout with laughter. Even Peter joins in.
Aaron, her favorite crew member, stops her to tell her how delicious the chicken is. She points at Landon to give him credit while at the same time Dale puts him in a headlock and rubs his fist in Aaron’s flaming red hair.
“Quit flirting, ya wanker!” Dale teases, his brown eyes shining with mirth.
Aaron’s freckled face turns the color of his hair, and the whole crew bursts into laughter. They begin to make kissing faces, smacking their lips, and moaning with too much creativity. A few of them turn around, wrap their arms around themselves, and pretend to be kissing someone. Peter and Phil act like they are kissing each other with their hands over their mouths. Karl, refusing to join the fun, remains emotionless with his arms folded and green eyes glaring at a spot on the table. He’s still bitter about Jarvis being kicked off the ship and blames it on Summer. He makes sure to tell her this often, and a few times he’s even hit her for no reason. Landon found out when she showed up outside his door with a bruised face and black eye. Landon’s reluctant to leave her side even though she reassures him she’s fine.
Embarrassed by the crew’s reactions, Summer backs away from the table and seeks Landon. He’s grinning from ear-to-ear as he holds the kitchen door open. They can hear Captain Travis trying to calm the rambunctious crew, but his deep laugh slips through and joins in. The flimsy door vacillates behind them until it settles shut. Landon hops up on the prep table and immediately starts making fun of the crew members.
“All hail, I be Karl, kin’ o’ punishin’ myself,” he jokes and tacks on, “Wish I could help with that.”
Summer giggles—like actual giggles with sound and everything. Even she’s surprised. Landon can’t help but beam proudly at her, his face lighting up. He’s been working diligently to help her learn to read and write . . . and maybe, hopefully, one day speak. He even tells her she’s the fastest learner he’s ever seen. Not that he’s ever taught anyone else how to read and write. She is just so ready to try and decipher the last bit of her destroyed journal, which she keeps hidden, and so she can finally fill out the pages of her new one with actual words.
“Just stole a boat load o’ goods but still canna manage t’ shave me beard!” Landon continues, making fun of the Captain and his ridiculous beard.
In the background they can hear the men clink their glasses together for another toast. It reminds her that she wants to ask Landon a question. She pulls her small notepad and pen from a drawer in the kitchen and begins to scribble down her question. She’s still kind of slow at writing, but she’s reading huge chapter books now. The most recent is a romance novel that makes her blush.
Does beer make you happy? the paper reads.
He grins, his dark eyes full of delight. “Aye! Ye bet yer arse ‘t does!”
She lightly punches him and gives him the Be Serious look that he knows so well. He raises his hands in concession.
“Aye, it can make ye happy. It can also make ye sick or angry or sad. Why?” She shrugs, and he shakes his head at her. “Hey, ye can’t just keep stuff in, Ducky. Ye got away with it before, but now ye know how to write.” He folds his arms and stares down at her; she knows he’ll wait for her answer all night if he has to.
She quickly scribbles on the paper again. Can I try it?
His dark eyes go wide when he reads her question. “Wait, ye want to try beer?” His expression seems to be stuck between concern and amusement.
Summer nods firmly, but when he doesn’t say anything she raises her eyebrows in question.
“Ye ain’t gunna like it,” he says, his lips forming a straight line. “But if yer curious, I guess it won’t hurt.”
She gives him a small smile, and there’s no need for her to say “Thank you,” because he already knows she’s thankful for everything he does for her.
He hops off the prep table and wraps his arm around her shoulders in what she calls the Sideways Hug. He’s only about five feet, eight inches, but that’s still four inches taller than Summer. “Ye can tell me anything, but ye know that already, don’t ye Ducky?”
She wraps her arms around his waist and holds him close. She hears him sigh before he wraps his arms around her too. There are so many things she wants to say to him, but she’s never had the courage to do it. He would never punish her for speaking, but it causes her such intense anxiety that words refuse to form.
He gives her one last squeeze before heading to the over-sized fridge.
A few years ago Landon convinced Captain Travis to provide him with books to teach her how to read and write. Apparently, slave owners don’t want their slaves educated, so Landon was surprised when boxes began to show up outside his door weekly with different supplies and books. One day he came across a psychology book and found the disorder associated with Summer’s muteness. He extensively researched it, including techniques to help her speak again. He finally came to her with his findings and has been working with her ever since. But the number one, most important thing about her disorder is that pressure to make her speak will only bring anxiety. She was so impressed by it all she accepted to let him work with her on it. Landon talks with her constantly, even when she’s not receptive at all. Summer knows she’s blessed to have such a wonderful person in her life and wishes she could do more for him in exchange.
“Al’right! Here it is.”
He slams a mug of beer on the table and foam dribbles over the side. It looks like liquid honey, and her mouth waters at the thought of it. She gingerly picks up the mug with both hands and takes a sip. Her face puckers immediately at the bitter taste. Just in case she got a bad sip, she tries it one more time with the same result. Well, that isn’t what she expects. She carefully places it back on the prep table before chancing a glance at Landon.
His fist is pressed against his mouth in an attempt to not laugh at her. She gives him a big eye roll, and he can’t help but chuckle.
“Not what ye were expectin’, ay?” he asks through his amusement.
She shakes her head. Why do they make it look like honey, but have it taste so bitter? she wonders—just another mystery of many for her. She snatches up the notepad, and he waits patiently. The notepad is still new to her; she’s not use to such freedom with answers. She’s yet to decide if she thinks this is the greatest thing to ever happen to her, or if she should forget how to write.
How do you know about beer? And how do you know there aren’t really aliens, vampires, faeries, and pixies? She rereads her two questions, hoping she formed them right. Then she adds, I’m pretty sure you can’t see them because of their magic glamour. She slides the notepad across the prep table, and Landon picks it up.
He snorts loudly then has a coughing fit. “Ducky, not this again!”
“They’re fictional characters, Ducky. They aren’t real.” He pauses, looks her over carefully, and sighs. “Ye win. But one of these days ye’ll realize I’m right.” She stabs the word “glamour” with her finger.
“I don’t even know where ye got that word.”
She grins widely and writes, A book.
“Of course!” His hands fly into the air. “What have I done?”
They both laugh.
“Actually,” he says suddenly, perking up. “I always thought ye looked like a little faerie.”
She puts a hand on her hip and rolls her eyes. Don’t be silly, her body language conveys.
“I’m pretty sure ye are a faerie now that I think about it! First, there was that one time I found a bunch of glitter under yer bunk.”
Her lips are between a scowl and grin, twitching like she’s trying not to do both, and her sapphire eyes glare at him humorously. He can’t help but laugh, though she really is trying to put on a Serious Face. She flippantly punches him in the arm again.
“I swear it wasn’t me!” He raises his hands in the air in a Don’t Shoot Me gesture.
She reaches for the notepad and writes, You had glitter on your face the next morning.
His face goes slack, surprised he’s been caught—not red handed, but sparkle-faced. “Fine, Ducky. Ye caught me. But then there are these pointy ears!” He gently clamps his fingers at the tips of her ears. She shakes him off as he beams down at her. “And don’t forget the tiny nose. What the hell is up with that? It’s unnaturally button-sized. Definite fae material.”
She bites her bottom lip, thoroughly embarrassed because he’s making fun of her. Her face even flushes into a soft rose color. Only he could fluster her so meticulously. Landon’s not like anyone she’s ever met; he makes her have all these emotions she never knew existed. Or she forgot about them. She’s certain she loves him, but when she reads romance books she can’t relate to the romance part. He’s not romance . . . he’s salvation. Her protector and best friend. After four years, she’d be honored to call him her brother.
Cheers come from the dining room, and she knows they’ll all be piss drunk tonight. They’ll probably have to help a few of them to their rooms, though she’s versed in Landon Reasoning—he’ll want to play the part of the knight and not let her help. It’s because of what Jarvis did, so she can’t hold it against him. She doesn’t want a repeat of that horrific day either.
Ignoring the crew, Summer points at the first question on the notepad.
“Aye, how do I know about beer? My father liked to drink a pint or two sometimes. He let me try it when I was just a wee tyke.” He rubs his neck in discomfort, and she hopes she didn’t overstep her bounds.
There is one thing he doesn’t talk about, and that is his family. She wonders why but doesn’t feel like she has a right to ask. Just like with her speech—or lack thereof—it’s one of those things they just don’t talk about.
His brown eyes are fixed on the ground so she lightly touches his face to gain his attention. His eyes meet hers, and she tries to read what secrets are in the depths. Since the beginning she’s wanted to just dive right in, but he’s always kept up a wall even she can’t penetrate. He frowns, which is the last thing she wants. The day, besides the arrogant storm, has been a good one.
Then she does something that she hasn’t done since she was four. She mouths, “I’m sorry.” No sound comes out, but the gesture is so huge he just stares at her intensely for a few seconds, like he’s trying to convince himself of what he witnessed. Though honestly? She tries to persuade herself that she just mouthed two whole words. Three syllables. Where’s the trumpets? The heavenly chorus singing Hallelujah? The massive amount of chocolate cake? The party hats and presents?
“Did ye just . . . ?” His eyebrows scrunch together.
She nods and covers her mouth, disbelieving. It’s a mile stone; a new feat!
“Listen, Ducky. My family—” He’s abruptly cut off.
There’s a loud bang, and the whole ship shudders like they’ve hopped onto land. They both go flying across the kitchen and land against a metal shelf. The contents crash over them, and Landon’s secrets are hidden beneath.
“Summer? Summer? Are ye okay?” Landon asks frantically from below the rubble.
She taps once on a pan over her head, and he sighs in relief. They both struggle and eventually crawl out of the debris, unscathed besides a few bruises. The kitchen, on the other hand, looks as if it got sick and vomited its contents.
The crew members in the other room sound like they are still cheering and carrying on like nothing happened. What did just happen? she wonders while getting to her feet with Landon’s help. They exchange questioning glances then make their way across the destroyed kitchen. She mentally curses because she knows exactly who’ll have to clean up this mess.
This is going to take all night, she laments as she steps over a broken mug.
Landon arrives at the kitchen window first. Right before she stands on tiptoe to catch a glance too, he ducks and pulls her down with him. His finger goes to his lips to tell her to be quiet. A smile over takes her at the gesture. I don’t speak, she thinks and covers her mouth, trying not to laugh.
He shakes his head and closes his eyes briefly, realizing his mistake. “Sorry,” he mouths. He points at the door and whispers, “Intruders with guns.”
Her sapphire eyes go wide. Guns, unlike whips, kill instantly. As she backs away in a waddling position, the nickname Ducky suddenly fits the situation perfectly.
“She’s like a ticking time bomb!” a woman barks with venom.
“There’re no women on this ship besides you, lady!” Captain Travis argues. This surprises Summer.
“Sit your drunk ass down,” a man commands. Something clicks.
The intruder’s voices grow louder as they come closer to the door. Landon takes Summer’s hand, pulls her up when they aren’t in the window’s view anymore, and sprints down the hallway. She continually glances over her shoulder, wondering if they are behind them. Her heart is pumping rapidly, and her palms grow sweaty. Landon doesn’t let go, only picks up pace. Her blonde hair flies behind her like a waving curtain. She’s running out of breath quickly—living on a ship doesn’t exactly provide much exercise. As they round the corner, they both come to a skidding halt. He swiftly pulls her behind his back and tries to keep her out of view. She looks under his arm at the girl standing in the middle of the hallway—the reason they stopped.