After a few hours, they switched places. Addie took the oar without a word, and Shy moved to the back of the boat, and when he bent down to rebait the hook, he felt something scratch his upper thigh. He glanced down, expecting to find some kind of ocean bug biting him. Instead he found a small bulge in the pocket of his jeans and reached his fingers in for it. He was shocked at what he pulled out.
The oilman’s seven-carat diamond ring.
He stared down at the massive diamond, then glanced at Addie, who was already busy working the oar.
The guy must’ve slipped the ring into Shy’s pocket during that weird hug. It was probably the reason he hugged Shy in the first place. Shy dropped the fishing line and moved toward the edge of the boat. He held the ring over the side, thinking he should drop it in, let it float down after Mr. Henry. He didn’t want someone else’s ring. Didn’t matter how big the diamond was. That kind of shit didn’t matter out here. Plus, what if someone discovered them in the boat, long after he and Addie died. They’d probably think he was a thief.
But he couldn’t drop it.
Couldn’t let go.
“It’s been two days,” Addie called out, startling Shy so bad he almost dropped the ring by accident. “And we still haven’t seen anything.”
He slipped the ring back in his pocket and turned around, saying: “We will.”
“No, we won’t,” she said, throwing the oar at the floor of the boat. “This is a waste of time. We’re probably going the exact opposite way.”
Shy scooped up the baited hook and sloshed his way to the front of the boat. “What do you wanna do, Addie? Give up?”
“I want to go home!” she shouted.
“So do I,” Shy told her. “What do you think we’re trying to do?”
Addie sat down in the boat and covered her face with her hands, but she didn’t cry. She just stared at the water inside the boat.
Shy reached down for the jug of water, uncapped it, held it out to her. “Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t gonna help you survive.”
“You think I don’t know that?” she said, snatching the jug out of his hands. “God, you’re like the worst person to be stuck with.” She took two baby sips of water and handed it to Shy, who did the same. After re-capping it, he held the jug up to see how much was left. About an inch high at the bottom.
Addie was looking at the same thing.
Their eyes met for a second, but she quickly cut away and reached down for the oar, then she stood up and turned away from him and dug back into the ocean.
Shy moved to the opposite end. He cast his line back into the ocean, wondering why he didn’t want to tell Addie about the ring.
He’d only been standing there ten minutes, max, when he felt a sudden tug on the line. He grabbed it with both hands and stood up straight to look over the edge of the boat. There it was, deep below the surface, a thin yellow fish caught on his hook, jerking to get away. He got a rush of energy and started pulling in the line, fast as he could.
Shy heard Addie splashing down the boat, toward him. “What is it?” she said.
“Told you I’d catch a fish,” he said.
Addie leaned over the side of the boat, said: “Oh my God.”
When it was close to the surface, he reached down, pinched the line between his thumb and forefinger, only inches from the fighting fish, yanked it out of the water and flung it into the boat.
He and Addie watched the thing thrash around in the ankle-high water at their feet, still connected to his line.
“You actually did it!” Addie shouted.
“You doubted me, didn’t you?” he said.
“Never again,” she said, on the verge of laughter. “You’re the fish master.”
He wanted to tell her it was because of the oilman’s ring. It was their new good-luck charm. But on the other hand, maybe it was only good luck if he kept it a secret.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
He looked down at the flopping fish, shaking his head. He hadn’t thought it through this far. They couldn’t eat the thing when it was still alive. He looked around, then went and got the oar, raised it up over his head, and brought it down on the fish.
It went still.
“Jesus,” Shy said, staring at the gash he’d opened up on the thing.
“Here,” Addie said, picking up the dry pack Mr. Henry had carried with him from the raft. “Put it on this.”
Shy lifted the wet, scaly fish and tossed it on the pack. Wiped his hands on his jeans. They both stared at it.
The fish was a dull yellow and thin, but sort of long. Its eyes were seemingly fixed on Shy.
Addie surprised him when she reached down suddenly, removed the fish from the hook and then used the hook and her bare hands to split it down the middle, blood dripping through her fingers. She held out the bigger half to Shy, who looked at her like she was crazy. “What?” she said.
“I didn’t know I was out here with a damn cannibal,” he said, looking down at his mangled portion.
“I knew you weren’t going to do it.”
“I was getting around to it,” he said.
“Yeah, right.” She looked at the half a fish in her hand and said: “We just have to imagine we’re eating sushi.”
When Shy didn’t answer right away, she looked up at him and said: “Oh, my bad. You’ve probably never had sushi in your life, have you?”
“I’ve had sushi,” Shy lied.
They both cringed as they ate, sometimes pulling bones out of their mouths, chucking them into the ocean. It didn’t taste like anything more than warm, fleshy iron, but the thought of it made Shy nauseous. He had to force himself not to throw it right back up. What felt good, though, was having something in his stomach, and soon he was skipping the chewing part and just swallowing his bites whole.
Half the fish worked out to be very little meat, but his stomach had shrunk up so small it was still satisfying.
Addie tossed the scaly skin overboard and rinsed her hands in the water by their feet. Then she looked up at him with a full-on smile—the first he’d seen from her since the ship went down.
He smiled back and picked up the oar. As he started toward the front of the boat to get them going again, he fingered the ring in his pocket, wanting to believe it was good luck for more than just catching fish. Maybe it could keep them alive, too.
36
Face of Corruption
As soon as the sun started dropping below the horizon, Shy and Addie staggered to Addie’s section of the boat, completely exhausted, and sat beside each other against the side. It wasn’t cold enough to need each other’s body heat yet, so Shy didn’t put his arm around her.
“Sorry about earlier,” Addie said.
Shy frowned like he didn’t know what she was talking about.
“My tantrum,” she said. “I just—I don’t want this to be it. And when I think about it too much I start freaking myself out.”
“I’m the same way,” Shy said. “I just keep it inside.”
She shook her head and stared at the setting sun like she was thinking about something.
They were both quiet for a few minutes, and Addie leaned her head back against the side and closed her eyes. Shy thought they were done talking for the night, but then she bumped his knee with hers and opened her eyes again. “I’ve been thinking about you and LasoTech, by the way,” she said. “It honestly doesn’t make sense that they were so concerned about you, not if all you did was see David going overboard.”
Now it was Shy’s turn to lean the back of his head against the side. “They had to think I did something to him, right? But that Bill guy told me they knew it was a suicide.”
“Yeah, that can’t be it,” Addie said. “I think they wanted to find out how David was acting before he jumped. Or maybe they thought he said something to you. Something that could get them in trouble.”
Shy thought about that. He fingered the ring in his pocket, trying to remember the exact conve
rsation he’d had with the comb-over man. Again. The vacation homes. The cofounding of his own business—with Addie’s dad, he now knew. Tell me I’m fat.
“Can you think of anything important he might’ve said?” Addie asked.
“You think I haven’t been trying?” Shy asked.
It was bad enough to think about all this stuff on the ship, when he believed he’d be home in eight days and he’d never have to think about it again. But then something occurred to him and he turned to Addie. “This was kind of weird,” he said. “At one point he said I was looking at the face of corruption. You think he was talking about the whole company?”
Addie sat up. “Wait, he said that?”
“Yeah,” Shy said. “At the time I just figured he was drunk—”
“Of course they were asking what he told you, then,” she interrupted. “I bet the company’s doing something illegal, and they thought David explained the whole thing to you. Like he was trying to clear his conscience before he jumped.”
“I see what you’re saying,” Shy said. “Too bad he didn’t explain anything to me.”
Addie shook her head. “I wonder what they did. What my dad did?”
Shy watched the sun as it slowly dropped behind the water to the west of their boat, taking a good amount of light with it. “He also said he was my betrayer,” Shy said, turning back to Addie. “Or something like that. Like he’d messed me over personally. Which obviously doesn’t make sense because I’d never seen the guy in my life.”
Addie stared at Shy for a few long seconds. “Maybe it has something to do with poor people, then.”
Shy frowned at her.
“No offense,” she told him.
“Yeah, right,” he said.
“What if they charge poor people way more than they’re supposed to?”
“But if they make hospital supplies,” Shy said, “they wouldn’t sell shit directly to people—”
“Or, wait,” Addie said, “maybe it’s some kind of insurance fraud. You can get in really big trouble for that.”
Shy didn’t know much about insurance fraud, but he was pretty sure Addie thought he was from some homeless family who picked through the trash for their dinner. Whatever. It didn’t even matter anymore. “Or maybe your dad’s company was just being paranoid,” he said.
“God,” Addie said, staring at the palms of her hands. “What if my entire life was stolen? My house, my car, my school. Imagine if all of it was paid for with fraud money?”
Shy realized how hard this conversation must be for Addie. She had no idea if her dad was dead or alive, and now they were talking about him possibly being a criminal. He was about to make a comment about that when Addie climbed to her knees suddenly and squinted, like she was looking at something in the distance.
“What is it?” Shy said, pushing up from the side, too.
She pointed directly in front of their boat. “I think I see something.”
Shy’s whole body started tingling as he scanned the darkening horizon, hoping to find land. What he saw was far away, but it definitely wasn’t land. The longer he stared, the clearer it became, the dusky sky maintaining just enough light to see. “Is that a boat?” he said, turning to Addie. “That looks like a boat.”
“I think it’s a boat,” she said, her face now lit up with excitement.
Shy stood and sloshed across the boat to the supply cabinet, where he flung open the door and grabbed the flare gun.
37
The Boat
There were four flares left. Shy loaded the gun and stood up. He knew from training to fire the first one straight into the air, then follow with another, five seconds later, so that any potential rescuers would see where the first flare had come from.
He aimed the gun at the sky and fired.
The flame shot up above them, and Shy turned his attention to the distant boat.
“Over here!” Addie shouted, waving her arms.
Come on, Shy thought as he hurried to load the gun with a second flare. In the distance, however, the boat just floated there.
He aimed the gun above his head and fired a second time. Watched the glowing ball of fire arc across the dim sky, then fall toward the water, where it landed in a soundless splash, maybe twenty yards from them. It fizzled into a tiny puff of smoke that lifted off the water and drifted apart.
Still nothing from the boat.
“Should we go to them?” Addie asked.
Shy stared ahead. There was no way they hadn’t heard or seen the flares. What were they waiting for? Or was it someone who didn’t want to help? He glanced down at the small amount of water they had left. There was no choice. They had to go.
“Hand me the oar,” he told Addie.
She reached down next to her feet, held it out to Shy, and he hurried to the front of the boat.
The closer they got, the more it became clear. They were definitely approaching a boat. But it was just sitting there. He ignored the bad feeling in his stomach and kept digging through the water with his oar. Every now and then Addie would call out to the boat, to try and get some kind of response; otherwise they kept quiet as Shy moved them through the calm ocean.
Soon they were right in front of it.
It was a brown motorboat, about twice the size of their lifeboat. The engine turned off. A cabin underneath the surface with tinted windows and “Number 220” written on the side. There was no sign of anyone on board.
“Looks like it’s abandoned,” Addie said.
Shy called out toward the boat: “Hello? Anyone in there?”
Nothing.
Addie pushed her hair out of her face. “Why would an abandoned boat be way out here?”
“The tsunamis might’ve torn it away from its dock.” Shy pulled the oar from the water and let their momentum carry them toward the motorboat. “Maybe we’re closer to land than we realize.”
“God,” Addie said. “The tsunamis. What if the entire island’s underwater?”
“We’re not gonna think about that,” Shy told her as he reached out for the front end of the motorboat to lessen the impact. Still, the lifeboat crashed into the bow of the thing. Shy grabbed the metal bar extending off the motorboat and called out “Hello?”
Still no answer.
“You coming with me?” Shy asked Addie.
She shook her head. “I’m waiting here.”
Shy reached down for the length of rope he’d grabbed out of the supply cabinet and tied the two boats together. Then he stepped onto the jagged side of the lifeboat, balancing carefully, and pulled himself up onto the bigger boat. He walked around the perfectly dry deck, having no idea what to expect. He saw two empty life jackets. A folding chair on its side. He opened the tackle box near the stairs. Instead of fishing gear, a few shattered vials lay in the top tray, which seemed strange. It also smelled a little like smoke.
There was nothing else up there so he climbed down the three steep stairs, his heart pounding now, and peeked his head inside the open door of the cabin where the smoke smell was stronger. “Hello?” he said, but no one answered. It was so dark inside he could hardly see.
He stepped deeper into the cabin, using his hands against the wall to guide him, until the familiar smell of death hit him and he stopped cold. He saw a large shape on the ground and quickly backed out of the cabin.
Shy was ready to head right back up the stairs when he came across a flashlight in a holster on the wall. He grabbed it, powered it on and moved back into the cabin, shining the light on two men in lab coats. The one with red hair was lying on the ground, facedown. The bald one was slumped against the far wall.
Shy covered his nose and mouth with his left hand, seeing the pools of blood coming out from underneath the two men. He stood frozen for several seconds before forcing himself forward to nudge the body on the floor with his bare foot—he didn’t know why, it was clear both men were dead.
He shined his light all around the bodies and spotted a gun half covered by a
n open duffel bag. He kicked it free and stared at it, feeling incredibly on edge. He’d grown accustomed to death on the ship, but this was different. This looked like murder.
He used his foot to turn over the first corpse and saw bullet wounds. The redheaded man had been shot in the chest and the leg and the right arm. There was blood crusted all over his white lab coat. The other man was thinner and older and he had a large gash on the side of his face, like he’d been struck by something. He also appeared to have been shot in the stomach. It was an awful sight of blood and gore, and Shy moved the light away, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.
He kneeled down, shined his light into the bag. A few packs of syringes, like the kind they use for flu shots, and none of them broken. Some kind of code written on each label. Dozens of pill bottles, too. They weren’t anything like the illegal drugs he’d seen back home. These were from an actual hospital or a pharmacy—and he recalled Addie saying her dad’s company was in the medical field. Which meant they had to be close to the island. Underneath the packs of syringes was a beat-up blank envelope with a few folded papers inside.
He shined the light on the bodies again. The men were dressed like doctors or scientists. But why had they been shot? And who did the shooting? Shy stood up and shined the flashlight around the rest of the cabin. Bullet holes in the walls. Some of the cabin looked charred, like someone had tried to set the boat on fire. But there was no water anywhere. The boat was somehow unaffected by the tsunamis.
Eventually the smell overwhelmed Shy, and he hurried above deck, back to where Addie was waiting for him.
“Anyone in there?” she asked him right away.
The Living Page 16
