The Ocean Inside

by Janna McMahan

“You go ahead, Mr. Washington. I don’t feel like cake.”

  Sloan took the steps two at a time until she arrived at her room. She locked her door and threw herself onto the bed. Cal’s words swirled in her head. She kept playing their fight over and over looking for a clue to how to get out of her predicament. If she didn’t go, would Verulo actually track her or her family down just because she didn’t show up? Sloan doubted it, but still, how could she know what he was capable of?

  And what about Cal? Cal had gotten them into this awful situation and now he didn’t trust her. He was pissed that for once she wasn’t following along like a little puppy. She didn’t want any part of his big deal, but she also didn’t seem to have an out. She could not show up, not answer her phone and just see what happened. The best-case scenario was that Cal would break up with her for good. The worst-case scenario…well, that was something she didn’t even want to think about.

  She had that feeling again. That empty, sad sensation that called her to the beach when the last light had leaked from the sky. That pull that beckoned her to stand at the edge of the world and feel the earth draw breath. She pushed that feeling down.

  There was a timid knock on her door.

  “Go away,” she said.

  “Sloan? It’s LaShonda. Are you okay?”

  Sloan hesitated. She didn’t want to talk, not to anybody, especially not to LaShonda.

  Reluctantly, Sloan opened her door. “Did they send you up here to check on me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, have I ruined the party for everybody?”

  “No. Not really. What’s up?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You know, somehow I don’t believe you.”

  “I can’t tell you anything so don’t ask.”

  “You know you can’t keep a secret for shit. Besides, I’ve got some idea what’s up.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Why don’t I tell you what I think is going on and you tell me if I’m hot or cold?”

  “That’s a child’s game.”

  “Maybe. But I’m old enough to keep a secret.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Limited Options

  On Sunday, Sloan sat through her mother’s abusive-boy speech, but when her mobile vibrated soundlessly in her pocket she answered Cal’s call. She texted him back and then waited until her mother got into the shower to slip away that night. Before she left, she checked on Ainslie, who was sleeping the sleep of the fevered. She’d exhausted herself and spiked. Sloan ran her hand over her sister’s sweaty forehead and felt guilty that she couldn’t alert her mother, but she had to go.

  Cal’s vehicle sat dark a few houses down. She hesitated with her hand on the door. His windows were open and he said, “What are you waiting for? Get in.”

  She climbed in and he started the vehicle.

  “Turn your phone off,” he said.

  She glared at him, but it was dark and she knew he couldn’t see her reaction.

  “It’s off.”

  He reached over to kiss her and she flinched.

  “Don’t be mad,” he said. “You know this would have been easier if you’d just told your mom we were going to a senior party.”

  “On a Sunday night?”

  “Tell her tomorrow’s senior skip day.”

  “Cal, all I’ve done since I’ve been with you is lie to my parents.”

  Once off the island, he drove toward Georgetown, not toward the school-boat landing as she had thought he would. They passed dark business fronts and mom and pop restaurants where only a few cars sprinkled gravel lots. The South shuts down on Sundays, church being where the energy is placed at week’s end, with fishing and crabbing running a close second.

  “Where are we going? I thought we were going to the school-boat dock.”

  “I don’t want to leave my ride there. Ronald’s picking us up at another landing. Minimum exposure.”

  Sloan snorted. “So none of you white boys with Daddies’ fancy boats know how to get up the Waccamaw to the school-boat landing? It’s like, what? Two miles?”

  “It’s like a damn maze.”

  “Why do we have to do this so fast? Why not plan a little?”

  “You saw how they were in Miami. They’re like, move and do it now. I guess less time for something to go wrong.”

  “But we’re delivering to the school-boat landing?”

  “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Just chill. Don’t ask questions. Don’t do anything. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Trees hung low and crowded the sides of the dirt road. Dust swirled behind them like a funnel cloud in their taillights. When they arrived at the isolated dock, Cal pulled into a gray fishing shed and fastened the door behind them. Sloan was always fascinated by Cal’s attention to detail.

  Ronald was waiting at the dock in his old center console boat. They stepped down into the dilapidated vessel and found seats on the cracked bench. The seat’s fissures pinched her legs and she readjusted her position numerous times before finally sitting on her hands.

  “Drive on, brother,” Cal said.

  “All right, then,” Ronald said. “Let’s do this thang.”

  Cal pulled an impressive GPS system from his pocket and gray light pressed against their faces.

  “Here.” He held it out for Ronald to take. “Take us to those coordinates.”

  “No problem.” Ronald cranked the boat to life and Sloan’s heart rushed her ears.

  Sloan scanned the boat for a life preserver but found only a moldy old orange thing a size too small. She shoved her hands down into her jacket pockets. The moist night air eased its way into her bones.

  They clipped along in twilight, Ronald navigating by a three-quarter moon. He had lowered the sunscreen canopy, but even at rest its ragged edges snapped in the wind. He guided the boat expertly along the river overhung with branches. The watery road eventually became a wide labyrinth of marsh grass that they maneuvered through until it opened to ocean.

  Sloan sat shivering from fear as much as from the cool ocean air. She knew if something should go awry, Cal’s important father would get him out of trouble. If something bad went down, Sloan was sure she and Ronald would be the ones to pay and pay big. Even Ronald had less to lose than she did. She was the one who wouldn’t get to go to college. Her family didn’t even have enough money or time to defend her. She’d end up with one of those substandard public defenders you saw all the time on those crime shows.

  The boat cut cleanly through the ocean’s heartbeat. No rough water.

  Sloan had expected they would go out a ways, but in a matter of minutes they pulled aside a sleek cigarette boat that dwarfed their vessel. While they traded ropes Verulo stepped on deck. The boats docked and Verulo’s man jumped to action.

  “Hello, chica,” Verulo said. “I have a present for you.”

  When he reached down to help her climb aboard, a long pinky nail on his right hand made her pause. Sloan willed Cal to turn and see what was happening, but he was offloading cargo and paid her no mind.

  “Time is swift,” Verulo said.

  Sloan couldn’t say exactly why she reached to take his hand, but she did. In only a second, she was down into the galley of his boat, all shiny wood and brass and pale blue leather seats. He handed her a black pouch.

  “Go ahead. Take a look,” Verulo said. “Then take it to your man.”

  “I don’t want to look. And he’s not my man.”

  He smiled, showing plentiful teeth. “Interesting.”

  “I don’t want to be any part of this. Look, I don’t know you. I’ve never met you. I have no idea about any of this.”

  “A little late for this regret, don’t you think?”

  “Please don’t hurt my family.” It came out in a pleading, breathless stream of words.

  Uncertainty flashed Verulo’s eyes, then was gone. He reached up and snapped the clasp loose fr
om her hair and her curls fell forward. He touched the end of a lock, then raised her hair and inhaled. He walked her back against the small sink and leaned close.

  “Chica,” he said. “You are confused. You need to talk to your man about why you are here.”

  She was a column of fear.

  He kissed her lightly below her ear. Chills oozed down her arm.

  “If you were mine I would take better care with you.”

  “That will never happen.”

  “What if we took a ride?”

  Panic caught her. In a softer voice, she said, “Verulo, you’re scaring me.”

  He backed away, snapped open a shiny lighter, and flamed a cigarette.

  “Your man and I will do business, but you stay away. Never talk. If you talk, we will know. Then, as you Americans say, all bets are off.”

  She stared at him, struck dumb for a second. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.” She started to leave and then hesitated. She had something she needed to ask.

  She walked back to him and stood strong. “Did you ever threaten my family to Cal?”

  “No. If he said so he lies.”

  Verulo smirked as realization came to her. She ascended the galley, the bag clutched to her chest. She climbed down onto Ronald’s boat. The two watercrafts were disengaged and the cigarette boat zoomed away, immediately engulfed by the dark. Things were moving too fast.

  Ronald cranked the engine and started toward land.

  Cal reached for the pouch Sloan clutched.

  “You lied!” Sloan yelled over the engine. “You lied to me!”

  “Give me the money.”

  “No!” She twisted away from him. “You asshole!”

  “Give me the fucking money, Sloan.”

  “What if I throw it over? Huh? How about I throw it overboard, Cal?” She held the pouch over the side.

  He lunged for her.

  She struck at him, only a small blow, easily deflected.

  He grabbed her forearm and she cried out when he forced her down onto the windshield. Ronald cut the engine and they both fell forward onto the bow decking, where they thrashed around. Ronald moved to break them apart. Cal hit him with an errant swing. Ronald tumbled backward out of the boat.

  “Ronald!” Sloan screamed and jumped to help, but she couldn’t reach him. She searched frantically for the life preserver to throw. The boat was still drifting forward at a good clip and Ronald, quickly distant, was beyond Sloan’s ability to throw the light life preserver she’d found. She dropped it and watched as Ronald went under, then clawed his way above the water line again.

  The sound of his choking quickly dissolved in saltwater.

  Cal jumped to the captain’s chair.

  “Get him!” Sloan screamed. Cal fumbled with the starter. She didn’t think before she leaped. She hit hard and submerged. She forced herself to hold her breath even though she felt her chest was going to burst. When she finally came up, she saw Ronald in the distance, barely above the water line. He sank and then clawed his way to air again. Sloan knew if she approached, he would drag her down with him. There was no way she could save him. Cal had to get him back in. He had to. The boat idled up to her, blocking her view of Ronald.

  “Get in,” Cal commanded as he flipped the ladder down.

  “Go get Ronald,” she yelled.

  “Come on. We’re going to miss the drop. Get in,” he yelled. “Then I’ll get him.”

  “No! Get him first!”

  Cal scanned the ocean in Ronald’s direction. “I don’t see him. He’s not there!” he shouted. “We’ll miss the drop. These people won’t wait. Get in the goddamn boat!”

  Sloan calculated the distance to shore and started in. She’d have to conserve energy, but she could make it.

  “You’re crazy!” Cal called. “Don’t do this. Get in the boat.”

  She continued to plow through the water, the tide coming in and pushing her gently forward. She heard Cal calling, but his words were lost to her. The boat sped away. Sloan swam steadily. Her jeans dragged her down and she stopped and shed them as she had learned to do one year in camp. She kept swimming. Was it a mile to shore? Her arms began to ache long before she expected and land seemed to move away from her at times. Sloan flipped onto her back and kicked, Ronald was at the edges of her mind, but in the forefront she was just willing herself to put one aching arm in front of the other. To continue, simply continue was her goal.

  Fatigue grabbed her and she had to rest. She floated on her back and her muscles twitched and screamed inside her. Would she make it? She was cold. Her muscles could refuse her. If she cramped, she’d drown. She had to stay loose. She started again, but the waves picked up and while they carried her inland she found it harder and harder to stay above water. Every stroke hurt. She gulped water. Cough. Pain. Another wave. Water in her lungs. Cough. More water. Stabbing pain. She was drowning. Drowning. And she would never be found. Never.

  She was lifted. There were stars. Her lungs purged onto the scarred hide of a dolphin. She screamed, fell away from the animal and went under again. She came up choking. The animal was there, close, but still. Sloan grabbed at him. He was slick and her cold hands failed. He nudged under her and she grabbed on as best she could.

  “Don’t leave me,” she sputtered. “Please, don’t leave me.”

  The animal, one giant muscle, was easing her toward home. She tried to swim, but quickly failed and he bumped her up as if she weighed nothing.

  They moved toward the beach. Another dolphin appeared in the distance. And then a third.

  They left her in two feet of water. She crawled to sand and rested her head in the sea foam line. She turned to find her rescuers, but they were gone. Apparitions now.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Ocean still roared in her ears. She threw up then; salty bile boiled out of her onto the sand, quickly taken by the surf. When she caught her breath the beach was peaceful, the architecture familiar. She had washed ashore at the far end of her island. She could make it home.

  CHAPTER 35

  A Call for Help

  LaShonda loved the metal taste of the shed, gasoline and oil and smooth silver tools she sensed in the air like a spoon in her mouth. Her father sipped a can of beer and stared out the window over his workbench at nothing LaShonda could see in the dark. Ronald had taken the compass.

  “What you reckon that Ronald’s up to?” he asked LaShonda.

  “I don’t know. He’s always up to something,” she replied as if uninterested.

  “Maybe so, but I get the feeling something’s going on with that white boy. They’re not hanging around with each other because they’re friends. Something’s going on.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “I don’t know, but I’m betting it’s illegal. And what’s illegal mean? That means drugs. Well, there you go.”

  LaShonda was always shocked by his perception. She watched his big hands delicately mending a shrimp net draped from the ceiling of the shed. His gray mustache twitched as he moved his fingers. He wrinkled his brow and the lines on his face grew deeper.

  “What?” her father said. “You don’t think I’m right on this? I know something’s going on.”

  “I didn’t say a thing.”

  “But you’re thinking it. What are you thinking? Do you know something?”

  “No.”

  The phone rang in the house and LaShonda ran to answer it. This late, their phone rang only at times of trouble. LaShonda knew before she scooped it up that things were going to get interesting.

  The voice on the other end surprised her for the second time in as many days. It was Sloan’s mother.

  “Hi. Is this LaShonda?” Mrs. Sullivan asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “LaShonda, do you know where Sloan is?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Would you tell me if you did know?”

  “I don’t exactly know. You want to talk
to my father?”

  “Yes, please.”

  When her father came to the phone, she lingered nearby, pretending to watch an ER rerun with that good-looking black doctor.

  “Mrs. Sullivan, good evening. No, I haven’t seen her. What’s the matter? For how long?

  I see, well, we haven’t seen her but if we do I’ll be sure to give you a call. You take care now. Okay. Goodnight.”

  He carefully placed the receiver back.

  “Sloan Sullivan’s gone missing.”

  It was after midnight.

  “Her curfew’s eleven. Anybody could be an hour late,” LaShonda said offhandedly. “Her mother just freaks when she does the least little thing. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  He scanned her up and down, LaShonda thought looking for a crack in her façade. He considered her silently as if he could force the truth from her mouth by a single stare, but LaShonda wasn’t moved. Her father folded his arms across his chest.

  “What do you know?” he asked. “Is Sloan out with her boyfriend?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You mean to tell me you spent an hour up in that girl’s bedroom last night, all that going on with her boyfriend, and she didn’t tell you nothing? Hard to believe.”

  “She broke up with him. That’s all I know.”

  Sloan had been quite the soap opera the last few months. LaShonda had been more intrigued by her friend’s exploits than she should have been. And she was sure that if asked, her father could come up with a passage from the Bible to address such things. Something about guilt by association or something. So she just never mentioned anything. She was proud of herself for keeping a secret.

  “What’s that boy cooking up with Ronald?”

  “I don’t know. Ronald doesn’t tell me nothing.”

  Heat bugs scratched outside their door and LaShonda knew her father was going to push her to admit what she knew. But what did she know really? Not everything, just bits and pieces. Ronald hadn’t told her much, just insinuated that he was going to be in the money soon, nothing unusual for him. Sloan hadn’t really told her anything exciting or juicy. Sloan was guarded and defensive when it came to that rich boyfriend of hers. But there were clues enough. Enough for LaShonda to figure out what was going on.