Cut Off [Part 1]

by Perrin Briar

  Whatever was holding the bench in place broke with the pop of a handgun. The bench plunged downward, seemingly in slow motion free fall. The bench passed between the two below it, not so much as grazing the varnish on them, and then smashed into the glass with a hollow thunk. The bench stood erect, pointing up like Excalibur. Then the water began to filter in around where it had punctured the glass. The bench slipped through the hole, the sea swallowing it whole, disappearing into the darkness. The water spilled in.

  “Sorry,” Joel said in a feeble voice.

  Jordan heaved himself up onto the bench. He put his back to it and extended his legs to the bench in front. He edged his way up. His legs and arms burnt before he even got half way, but he pushed through. He could hear Joel puffing and panting. He was struggling every bit as much as Jordan was.

  Finally Jordan made it to the top and pulled himself up. Joel appeared a little behind, having scaled his own bench. Jordan’s limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. He crouched down and made fists, pumping the blood back into them.

  “Let’s go,” Jordan said.

  The spider webs in the glass broke away, making the opening larger. The sea squeezed itself through the widening hole at an alarming rate.

  Jordan hopped from one bench to another. One false move and he would fall forty feet into the maw of glass shards jutting up like a monster’s teeth. Jordan held his breath at every step he took, but the benches proved sturdy. After what felt like an eternity he got to the final platform.

  About five feet of open space from the platform Jordan stood on, the door hung open from the roof like a flimsy milk tooth ready to be pulled. A square of natural light that led to the bridge, to freedom. Jordan focused on the round unadorned blob of a doorknob, the only part that could be latched onto with any certainty. It seemed impossibly small. Jordan took off his gloves and let them fall into the rising sea, now kissing the first row of benches, soaking the foam cushion.

  Jordan wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. He coiled his legs, studied the distance and…

  “You cannot be serious,” Joel said.

  …almost fell forward. Jordan steadied himself. He glared at Joel. “You’ve got impeccable timing, you know that?”

  “You’re seriously going to attempt that jump?”

  “Yes. And so are you.”

  Joel made a fart noise with his mouth. “Not in this life, I’m not. My hands will never fit round that piddly doorknob.”

  Joel was right. His giant ham-sized fists would never wrap around something so small. “I’ll find something to pull you up with on the other side.”

  Jordan coiled his legs for the second time, studied the distance, shut his eyes and said a prayer.

  He jumped.

  Time seemed to slow. The air resistance blew coolly against the sweat on his forehead and temples. The weightlessness felt invigorating. But the instant his feet left the bench he knew with certainty he had got the jump wrong.

  But he’d figured it was better to overshoot than undershoot, and so when he smacked into the door headfirst, he was ready for it. He kept his eyes firmly on the doorknob. It was his world, his reason d'être. Nothing mattered at that moment but that drab little battered doorknob. He reached out with both hands cupped like a wicket keeper poised to receive the ball.

  The door was knocked forward by his head butt. He adjusted his hands, extending his arms out further. He began to descend. His hands wrapped around the doorknob. He tightened his grip. His body continued falling. He anticipated the shock his body would have, and tucked his arms in to accommodate. As the door swung out wide, his body lengthened with it. He felt the jerk, and his hands slipped from the doorknob, but he forced his hands closed tight. His left hand lost its grip, left to clutch air. His right hand maintained it. Fearful of somehow losing his grip if his eyes were open, he swung with his eyes closed, the door squealing on its hinges.

  He opened his eyes. His right fist held tight. Below, the sea erupted with white foam as if in anger. He pulled himself up with a bellow of exertion. He reached up with his left hand and pulled himself onto the stairwell.

  It was like entering a new world. The air seemed fresher and full of hope. He allowed himself to lay for a few precious seconds, letting the relative silence wash over him. Then he snapped back to reality. He looked up at the stairs that led to the bridge, and then down through the door at the water rising rapidly. He ducked his head through the hatch.

  “You made it,” Joel said, the slightest hint of trepidation edging his voice.

  “Now it’s your turn.” Jordan extended his arm out through the doorway and braced his legs on either side of the door.

  “You can't catch me with your arm, you bloody fool! I'm too heavy. It’ll snap off! Go get something else.”

  “Just jump! We haven't got time!”

  The sea had risen to midway up the second set of benches. Light juddered. “I’ll wait for the water to rise, then come up through the door,” Joel said.

  “The boat will sink by then. Hurry up!”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Jump!”

  Without preamble, Joel did. Catching Jordan's arm was evidently a lot easier than catching a doorknob. Jordan grunted at Joel's weight, and though his arm did not snap or dislocate, it wasn't altogether pleasant either. Jordan, red-faced and dripping with sweat, pulled with his whole body. Joel gripped the doorframe and pulled himself up the rest of the way. Joel laid on the floor just as Jordan had.

  After a moment Jordan said, “I hate ferries.”

  Joel laughed. Jordan joined in.

  There was a beeping sound muffled by distance. Joel sat up and smiled. “I'd recognize that tired old horn anywhere.”

  23.

  Joel and Jordan hit Haven’s deck, drenched head to foot by their swim. The cold water felt incredible on their skin. Stan put down the horn he’d been using to notify them of their location.

  Looking at Light now, Jordan and Joel realized just how lucky they had been. The ferry’s stern was completely immersed, the bow standing up from the waterline, only the first three letters of its name now visible.

  “Did you get it?” Mary asked as she wrapped bandages around Anne's head. Anne grimaced in pain.

  “Get what?” Joel said. He grinned.

  Jordan unfastened the alternator from his chest pocket.

  “What happened to you?” Joel said to Anne.

  “Ask Stan.”

  Stan blossomed red. “A little cookery accident.”

  Mary pinned the bandage. Anne got up and hugged Joel. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  “Don’t thank Him,” Joel said. “He was as useful as a chocolate teapot. Jordan’s the one you should be thanking. He was the one who got us out of there.”

  Anne smiled, and then wrapped her arms around Jordan, a tangible feeling of awkwardness. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Jordan said.

  “It was a lot of trouble,” Anne said, “but worth it.”

  “Worth it if it works,” Joel said. “I’m going to go install this alternator.” He headed below deck.

  The deck was silent a moment.

  “How was it in there?” Anne asked Jordan.

  “Like a theme park without the safety.”

  “I wanted to come in and help you.”

  “It’s good you didn’t. It got a bit hairy in there.”

  “There she goes!” Stan said.

  They watched as Light sank below the surface. The bridge was the last thing to go under, amidst a blanket of bubbles and gurgles. A space of suction pulled Haven over to one side, rocking her gently. A single ripple stretched out across the space, touching Haven, and then on to the farthest edges of the ocean. Nothing was left save stained squares of paper floating on the surface. There was a quiet moment of reflection for the dead.

  The silence was broken by Joel’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. He was carrying the old alternator.

  “It works?”
Stan said.

  Joel nodded. “As well as a whore during shore leave.”

  Stan frowned with disapproval. “Joel, please.”

  Joel ignored Stan’s protest. He raised the old alternator into the air. “How about we give her a good send-off?”

  They eyed one another, thinking Joel had lost it.

  “No? Okay then. Get out of here you piece of junk!” Joel pulled his arm back and hurled it into the sea.

  Stan took a deep cleansing breath. “We’re safe.”

  “For now,” Anne said. “A stop-gap until our next crisis.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll overcome it. Nothing can stop us.”

  24.

  Thirty yards from Haven’s hull a baked bean tin can bobbed in a reflected field of pastel blue and fluffy white clouds. The ocean was unusually calm, with not so much as a ripple to disturb the smooth surface.

  A bullet whistled through the air and smacked the water beside the can, not more than a few inches away, dousing it. Ripples emanated outwards in concentric circles. A second bullet came even closer.

  Jordan shaved off another curl of wood from the block he was whittling. He held it up and blew the detritus away. He had carved out two front and back legs, the tail and the mane.

  “Breathe,” Jordan said, not taking his eyes off his sculpture.

  Jessie took her time and aimed down the sight with great care. She exhaled and squeezed the trigger. A small column of water rose up beside the can.

  “Shit!” she said.

  “Language,” Jordan said. “You don’t want Mary catching you saying things like that.” Jordan put his wooden whittling block in his pocket and took up the string. “Let’s see how you did.”

  Jessie crowded round. “I swear that last one hit.”

  Jordan checked the can. The smiley face he’d drawn on was without blemish. “Nope. No holes.”

  “Let me have a look,” Jessie said, taking it from him. She ran her slender fingers over it. “Here,” she said. “Here’s a dent.”

  “It’s an imperfection,” Jordan said, reloading the gun. “Not caused by you.”

  “Are you sure? It looks very bullet-like to me.” She fell onto the hard plastic bench that wrapped around Haven’s interior and slammed the tin down. “I can’t do it! Twenty-five yards is okay, but thirty…”

  “Sure you can do it. You just need to quiet your mind and focus.”

  “But how? How do you focus?”

  “I’ve told you how. Empty your mind. Think of nothing and find the void.”

  Jessie shook her head. “Think of nothing? Is that even possible?”

  “Then try focusing on something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “The rules. Do you remember them?”

  Jessie rolled her eyes. “You mean the rules I had to memorize for three months before you’d even let me pick the gun up? Yeah, I think I’ve got them down.”

  “Good. Take position.”

  Jessie stood with her body turned sideways, feet shouldered-width apart, gun pointing out to sea.

  “Let’s wipe the smile off the can’s face, shall we?” He hurled the can out to sea.

  “I wish you wouldn’t litter,” a voice said behind them. Anne wore a cheeky smile and had her arms crossed.

  “You’re right,” Jordan said. “We might end up ruining the planet.”

  Anne snorted. “How’s Jessie coming along?”

  “Not bad.”

  “I’m standing right here,” Jessie said. “I think I’m doing a little better than ‘not bad’.”

  “Prove it.” With a grin toward Anne, Jordan said, “Rule one.”

  “Always have a bullet in your gun.” She squeezed the trigger and missed by a yard.

  “Stay calm and relaxed,” Jordan said. “Try again.”

  “Rule two. Always have someone watch your back.”

  Blam! Only a few inches away this time.

  “Better,” Jordan said. “Take a deep breath.” She did.

  “Rule three. Never give up fighting.”

  Ting! The bullet smacked into the side of the can. It dipped beneath the surface and popped back up.

  Jessie stared at the can wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Oh my God… I did it! I did it, Jordy! I did it!”

  Jessie dropped the gun and reached up to hug Jordan, who put his hands in the crook of her arms. The air pressed against her head as she rose high into the air. He put her feet back down on the deck.

  “Did you see me, Anne?” Jessie asked, voice squealing like a child. “Did you? Did you see?”

  “I saw. You were great! Soon you’ll be as good as Jordan.”

  “Better than me,” Jordan said.

  “You should learn, Anne,” Jessie said. “Jordan says it could be really useful.”

  “I don’t need to learn,” Anne said. “You can shoot for me.”

  “It might save your life one day,” Jordan said.

  “Go on, Anne,” Jessie said. “Jordan’s a brilliant teacher.”

  Jordan stepped forward and took Anne by the hand. Her skin was hard and worn from her daily tasks, but there was a warmth that shone through.

  “All right,” Anne conceded. “But quickly.”

  Jordan picked up the gun and held it in the correct stance. “Keep the butt firmly in your shoulder like this. Breathe out when you fire. Squeeze the trigger, don’t snap it. The gun can kick-back, so you have to be careful.”

  “That’s a lot to remember,” Anne said, taking the gun and holding it as Jordan instructed.

  Jordan raised her right elbow a little and gently pressed her head toward the rifle. “You need to look down the barrel. We’re going to use the sight to aim.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hips,” Jordan said. “They should be shoulder-width apart. Like this.” He turned to Jessie. “Do you think she’s ready to shoot?”

  Jessie frowned. “Doesn’t she have to study the rules for three months too?”

  Anne chuckled. “She’s right. You can’t have favoritism amongst your students.”

  “I don’t,” Jordan said. He winked at Jessie, and mouthed to her, “You’re my favorite.”

  Jessie tried not to giggle.

  “What was that?” Anne asked in a mock angry voice. “Picking on the new girl?”

  Jordan tossed a fresh can out to sea. “Are you ready?”

  “She has to sing a song,” Jessie said, “to help with concentration.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I can’t sing,” Anne said.

  “A nursery rhyme is fine,” Jordan said, enjoying this. He held up his hands defensively. “I can’t have favorites.”

  “Okay.” Anne cleared her throat and tentatively sang, “The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout.”

  Blam! Two yards wide.

  Jessie laughed.

  “Down came the rain and washed the spider out.” Anne couldn’t stop herself from giggling. A yard wide this time. “Out came the sun and dried up all the rain.”

  Ting! The bullet hit the can.

  Jordan and Jessie exchanged expressions of amazement.

  Anne shrugged as if it had been part of her plan all along and not the pot luck that it was. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

  “Great shot!” Jessie said as she held up her hand for a high-five. “We can be like cowgirls!”

  “We only have one gun so I don’t know how that’ll work.” Anne handed the gun back to Jordan. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  On the small deck, Anne was close. A breeze brought her scent to him: lilac and lavender. It took him back seven years – to the very fringes of what remained of his memory. The barracks’ canteen. He reached for the memory as he had so many times before. He saw his friend, Flaherty, wave him over. Flaherty was a short unshakeable fellow with a straw-like mop of fringe that hung limply over his eyes. Jordan carried his tray over to him. Flaherty gestured to someone beside him, as if introdu
cing someone. As the person stood, the memory turned to mist in his hands, slipping through his fingers.

  “What’s going on here?” Joel said, leaning against the doorframe. “You were supposed to tell them dinner was ready, not playing Calamity Jane.”

  “I got distracted,” Anne said, cheeks glowing.

  “I can see that.” Joel had an amused look on his face.

  Anne looked at Jordan through her big brown eyes. “Dinner’s ready.”

  25.

  “Surprise!” they all cheered as Jordan descended the stairs into the main cabin. They wore hand-made hats and blew party horns made out of telephone directory pages. The table was full to bursting with every type of food they could rustle up. Amongst the obligatory fish, seaweed and jellyfish were sausage rolls, chicken, pies and cakes. There was also an assortment of drinks; half a bottle of Glenfiddich single malt whisky, four bottles of Bud, an unopened bottle of red wine and some lemonade for the kids.

  Jordan couldn’t hide his amazement. “Where did you get all this stuff?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Joel said. “Tesco opened a new branch in the North Sea.”

  “From the yacht we boarded last month,” Stan said, ignoring Joel’s remark.

  “I thought there was nothing on board?” Jordan said.

  Stan grinned. “Maybe it wasn’t quite so empty as we said it was.”

  “Are you telling me we could have been eating sausage rolls instead of haddock all this time?”

  Joel slipped a purple paper hat on Jordan’s head. “Happy first birthday. I have to say, you don’t look at all well for your age.”

  “See how you look after waking up to your face every day,” Jordan retorted.

  “Let’s put some music on, shall we?” Stan said, moving to the iPod they’d found in a floater’s pocket. It was connected to a battery Stan had made out of plastic cups, seawater, and strips of aluminum and copper. A poppy tune played.

  Stacey ran to Jordan and held up a card she’d made. On the front was a hand-painted picture of them all.

  “Wow, this is amazing,” Jordan said. He pointed to the smallest figure. “Is this you?”

  Stacey nodded.