Ironclad

by Daniel Foster

  Twitch made it mostly to a standing position, both his arms wrapped around Sweet Cheeks’ chest. Twitch started dragging him quickly backwards towards the tip of Kearsarge’s rounded rump.

  “Hey, you there!” It was the doctor, some distance away. He’d just risen from the downed man he was tending. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing!”

  “What am I doing?! What are you doing you worthless piece of shit!” Twitch yelled back.

  That gave everyone pause, even the doctor. Twitch had just back-talked an officer. Any other time, Garret would have been horrified. Now he was frightened so badly for Sweet Cheeks that Twitch’s insane remark was only a passing emotional blip.

  Twitch reached the end of the stern and wedged himself and Sweet Cheeks between the rails so he was sitting on the lower rail and leaning out behind the upper rail. Below them lay the empty twenty foot drop to the churning ocean.

  “He’s not gonna—” Pun’kin began.

  “Stop the ship,” Twitch ordered as if he was Captain Maxwell, then he let go. He and Sweet Cheeks both pitched backwards off of the stern.

  “Man overboard!” someone yelled, so apparently for the first time on this cruise, the lookouts were doing their job.

  “Holy shit, the screws,” Velvet breathed, then took off running to the stern. Garret and the others followed him. Kearsarge’s screws, the twin propellers that drove her forward, were twenty feet tall and were driving an eleven thousand ton battleship fast enough to kick up a breeze.

  Amazingly, Twitch and Sweet Cheeks hadn’t been sucked under and diced into little pieces as Garret had been picturing. They were floating astern, Twitch and the floatation device working together to keep Sweet Cheeks’ head above water. They were dropping quickly behind. Day after day they crossed trackless stretches of water, so without a marker in the sea, such as a friend falling back, it was easy to forget how quickly they were moving towards Europe.

  “Oh my God, he can’t die,” Garret whimpered.

  “What did you say?” Velvet asked.

  But Sweet Cheeks could certainly die. Garret knew that all too well. He might be as good as dead already thanks to Garret and his friends’ stupidity. For the first time since that night in the yellow wood, Garret was lost enough to turn to the Hollow Man for help.

  You have to save Sweet Cheeks’ life, Garret begged. But a plea wouldn’t be enough. It never was with the Hollow Man. Garret knew he always wanted something in return, and the price was always high. But there was nowhere else to turn. As his spirits sunk to the bottom of the cold ocean beneath the ship, he opened himself to it and said, Save Sweet Cheeks. I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want.

  His mind is badly damaged, the Hollow Man replied. There may not be any hope for him. If only you had listened to me earlier, none of this would have happened. Then the Hollow Man was gone.

  Garret’s breath caught as if a steel cable had been drawn tight around his chest. No, please…

  But the Hollow Man did not return.

  Pun’kin was saying something. Garret couldn’t understand. He could only see Sweet Cheeks and Twitch, floating further and further astern. In a move of pointless desperation, Garret flung himself over the rail, as if there was any damn thing he could do by being with them. He could barely even swim.

  W

  A long while later, Garret and Twitch sat in the brig cell across from Captain Shearer’s cell. They were still soaked and miserable, but they’d stopped dripping on the floor a while ago.

  “What did you men do?” Shearer asked again. It was the third time he had tried to engage them in the conversation. His captain’s tone would normally have dragged an answer from Garret. Now Garret was sunk so deeply in worry for Sweet Cheeks that he barely noticed.

  “We have all the time in the world,” Shearer said authoritatively. “Despite my position, I have pull with your captain. Tell me what happe—”

  When Twitch roared, it was so angry that it barely sounded human. “Shut the fuck up old man!”

  Garret didn’t know how Twitch had the energy to yell like that. Garret felt physically sick.

  While Twitch’s words were still ringing in the brig, Commander Sharpe came around the corner into view. Garret and Twitch both rushed to the bars. Sharpe wasn’t moving quickly. His steps were leaden. That alone made Garret’s heart sink. Commander Sharpe always moved fast.

  Sharpe’s face was lined. He didn’t even use Sweet Cheeks’ name. He just said, “Your friend is dead.”

  Garret crumbled away on the inside.

  Twitch didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. His face was impassive, but his hands trembled. Quickly it developed to a tremor up his arms. It built to a shudder that wracked Twitch from head to toe. It was gone as quickly as it came.

  “The doctor says his death is your fault,” Commander Sharpe said quietly.

  Garret looked at the floor. He felt totally empty.

  Twitch was fighting for control of himself. He was fighting with everything within him. “What do you think, sir?” Twitch replied. His voice was far from steady.

  “I think I’m still waiting to hear your explanation, gunner’s mate,” Sharpe replied levelly. “You took your friend over the side. You must have had a reason, even if it was a bad one.”

  “How many others?” Twitch asked.

  “Five dead so far,” Sharpe replied. “The doctors thinks we may lose one or two more.”

  Twitch’s voice solidified as rage blossomed through it. “Then count on at least half a dozen more.”

  “You question his medical judgment, Gunner’s Mate?”

  “He killed Charlie! I question a hell of a lot more than that, sir!”

  A silence passed. Garret sat down gingerly. If I’d done what Twitch said and kept Sweet Cheeks wet, he’d still be alive. Garret let his head hang between his knees.

  “The doctor says your choice was the wrong one,” Sharpe rejoined. “He says the sea water wasn’t nearly as cool as the frozen items he had applied to Seaman Weston’s body.”

  “Then he’s as arrogant as he is incompetent,” Twitch yelled. “Water wicks heat twenty-five times faster than air, and it was almost ninety degrees under that awning! He killed Charlie!”

  Commander Sharpe ruminated, then said, “The doctors says you should be court martialed for second degree murder.”

  “Then he can come down here, open this cell, and say it to my face!” Twitch screamed it this time, “He killed Charlie!”

  Commander Sharpe’s tone was cold. “Watch your words, sailor. I know you are grieving, but you just threatened an officer. You’re already hanging by a thread.”

  Twitch was still livid, but he struggled to soften. “I meant no disrespect to you or Captain Maxwell or the Navy, sir.”

  “But you did to the doctor, your superior officer.”

  “I meant him all the respect he has earned, sir,” Twitch replied hotly.

  Sharpe reinforced. “According to the reports of several of your fellow crewmates, your words were, ‘What are you doing, you piece of shit?’”

  “Worthless.” Twitch spat.

  “Come again, gunner’s mate?”

  “I didn’t call him a ‘piece of shit,’ sir. I called him a ‘worthless piece of shit.’”

  Garret was still looking down, head hanging, but he heard Commander Sharpe step closer to the bars. “Are you mocking me, gunner’s mate?”

  “No sir, I’m being honest. Because it’s a hell of a lot more than the doctor will do for you.”

  “You accuse the doctor of lying to his superiors?”

  Twitch’s tone carried at least as much iron as Sharpe’s. “Sir, given the way he’s handled this situation, I imagine you and Captain Maxwell already have reason to question his truthfulness.”

  Garret felt Twitch stand taller at attention, and the Navy pride tried to come back, but his voice cracked when he said, “But nothing’s gonna save Charlie. And I wouldn’t
lie to you, sir.”

  Garret literally covered his ears at that point. A few more words were exchanged, but Garret couldn’t stand to hear them. A moment later, Garret felt Twitch pass him. Twitch sank down against the opposite wall, face blank. Commander Sharpe was gone.

  They sat like that for a full minute, then without warning, Twitch snapped like a twig. Garret watched him cry for a moment, then crawled across the cell, sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulder. Twitch cried with the abandon of a small child.

  “It’s not your fault, buddy,” Garret said hoarsely. “It’s not your fault… it’s mine.”

  W

  Hours later, Twitch was pacing the cell like a caged lion. Anybody else might have been shouting or rattling the bars, but Twitch just paced, glaring out of the brig every time he passed the doorway.

  “Twitch,” Garret said tiredly. “They’re not gonna let us out.”

  “How can you just sit there?” Twitch rounded on him. “Our buddies are still out there fighting that fire, and we’re locked in here and can’t help!”

  Well, I guess there’s enough room for both of us to pace. Garret got wearily to his feet.

  “And stop feeling sorry for yourself!” Twitch barked at him. “You’re making me sick!”

  Garret blinked, nonplussed. “Feeling sorr… what?”

  “Sweet Cheeks is the one who’s dead, remember?”

  Garret hung his head. “But I… it’s my fault.”

  “It’s my fault, it’s your fault, it’s everybody’s fault! Who gives a shit?” Twitch retorted. “How are you bringing him back by moping?”

  “Uh…”

  Twitch put his hands on his hips and glared at the bars as if he was going to fly at them and tear the steel to shreds with his bare hands. “I’m gonna get out of here, and I’m gonna work my ass off, and we’re all gonna make it out alive. You’ve been whining and moping since I met you, and I don’t know about any of the other guys, but I’ve had it. Now straighten up and act like a man! You think you’re the only one who doesn’t want to be here?”

  Garret looked at Twitch narrowly. “How do you know I don’t want to be here?”

  Twitch rolled his eyes as if the question was insulting. “Molly!” he mimicked. “Molly, Molly, Molly!”

  “Don’t you say anything about Molly!”

  “Oh I won’t!” Twitch said. He sat on the edge of the bench at the back of the cell. He put on a theatrical expression of longing. “I’ll just sit here on the edge of the deck and stare across the deep blue sea and think of how it reminds me of her eyes.”

  “Don’t say anything about Molly!” Garret barked.

  Twitch clutched his uniform shirt and issued a long, shuddering sigh. “I’ll just sit here and feel sorry for myself and hold the wedding ring that I always keep close to my heart, because there’s nobody else in the world! Nobody except my dear, sweet Molly!” Twitch closed his eyes, and threw his head back, flinging the back of his wrist to his forehead. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be with her now!”

  “Stop it Twitch!”

  “Oh to feel her precious embrace and be able to forget all the other people in the world!”

  “You don’t know me!”

  Twitch hugged himself and rocked back and forth, shaking his head sorrowfully. “Nevermind all the shipmates who need me. Nevermind Charlie. If only I had my dear, sweet Molly! I think I may pine away with her!”

  “You stop it right now!” Garret roared, his hands balling into fists.

  “Or you’re going to do what? Whine me to death?!”

  Garret was on him. Twitch was more than ready. Twitch was faster and more experienced. Twitch was probably even a little stronger. They’d boxed many a time. There was only one way this fight could go.

  And yet, it didn’t go that way at all.

  Garret made straight for Twitch, who feigned to the left and coiled. But Garret knew that move was coming. He saw it in Twitch’s eye, felt it in his posture. The knowledge of Twitch’s intent came instinctually to Garret, like a predator stalking a rabbit. Garret changed directions even faster than Twitch and threw a punch. It was so unexpectedly quick that Twitch’s eyes widened and he threw himself back and to the right awkwardly, attempting to get around Garret’s guard. Twitch landed a rabbit punch solidly on Garret’s floating ribs. Garret absorbed it without even letting it alter his spin. His haymaker put Twitch against the bulkhead.

  Twitch covered, stunned. Garret was on him, but instead of punching, Garret grabbed him off the bulkhead, lifted him bodily and threw him back across the cell. Twitch hit the far bulkhead with a sickening thud, mercifully between two stanchions. If he’d hit across one of them, he would probably have broken something.

  Garret crouched for the pounce, his vision greying out, his hearing sharpening, his sense of smell redoubling. He leaped even as Twitch fell to the deck.

  “Stop right there!” The authoritative roar filled the brig. It sounded like Captain Maxwell. Garret freaked out in midair and crashed into the bulkhead head-first. Ears ringing, he landed atop Twitch.

  Garret blinked and gasped. Oh God, oh Jesus, Twitch what did I just do? Did I kill him?!

  He grabbed Twitch’s shoulder and rolled him over. “Are you okay?!”

  Twitch was wincing, but he hacked out a laugh and spat some blood on the deck. He flopped over onto his back and exhaled. “Lordy Lover Boy, how come you never did that when we were boxing? Shit, even Curtis wouldn’t mess with you.”

  “You’re okay?” Garret asked again.

  “Fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m fine. Get off.”

  Garret backed away, and with a ragged exhale, slumped to his backside. That was when he got the shakes. My sight… it started turning grey. No it didn’t! Can’t be. The wolf is dead. I killed it! Oh please tell me it’s not still alive.

  Garret stole a glance at his friend, who was wincing and pushing himself up slowly. Twitch’s lip was split from Garret’s haymaker, but that appeared to be the worst of it. The fact that Twitch was alright didn’t calm Garret. The shakes worsened, uncontrollable, like buck fever.

  I picked him up and threw him against the wall. I’m not strong enough to do that. And I’m nowhere near fast enough to beat Twitch.

  Garret swallowed.

  It can’t be. Oh God, it IS still in me…

  “Hey Lover Boy,” Twitch’s tone was cautious. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Garret was gripping the sides of his head tightly, as if trying to drive his fingers into the torrent of thoughts crashing through his mind.

  Jesus, if the Captain hadn’t yelled, I could have killed Twitch. I could have really hurt him. If the captain hadn’t…

  But Maxwell wasn’t there. No one was. It was Shearer again. He was scolding them now, like a disappointed father. “For shame both of you. If you were my sailors I’d have you both tarred and feathered just to embarrass you both enough to—”

  Garret wasn’t listening, he was just shaking. The words came back again. Not words from the Hollow Man, but far worse words. Words from flesh and blood, from a friend who had been like a brother to him. Garret heard them in all their ugly glory, and this time, he could no longer hide from their truth.

  “You did this, Garret. You. It’s your fault. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, you can’t get away from what you are, Garret.”

  Shearer was still going. “Or maybe I’d have you spanked in front of the whole crew. Bend you over the rail and have the master-at-arms tan both your backsides like the children you seem to think you are. I—”

  Garret didn’t hear a word of it. He was growing smaller and smaller and more afraid with each second. His seventeen years were leaving him, along with everything he thought he’d learned and thought he’d become. In a matter of seconds, he was stripped down to a shaking mess and a single thought.

  It’s me. It’s always been me.


  And then it came back, the entire memory of that night, the memory he’d tried to forget since the night he ran away to join the Navy. It was agonizingly complete, the colors brighter than reality, the sounds more personal to him than his own heartbeat.

  The memories washed over him, drowned him, broke him in two, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.

  Two months earlier, the Appalachian Mountains

  Garret lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since the doe had died. It laid there under the tree, the back half of its body crushed, for almost two days until it expired in a miasma of misery and incomprehension. Its eyes had become glassy even while it lived.

  Molly was in bed with him, but she might as well have been a mile away. She had put on a thick flannel night gown, even though it was too warm for that now, and she lay on the opposite side of the bed, as far away from him as she could get. She slept on her side, keeping her back to him, with the baby curled at her chest. She would not allow the baby to sleep in his own room anymore, even though it had taken them months to get him to do it in the first place.

  Garret stared at the ceiling, his stomach in knots. I don’t know what to do. No matter what he’d tried or said or done over the last two days, it seemed to only make things worse. The damn doe hadn’t helped matters. He was afraid to go within a hundred feet of it, and so it had laid there, slowly dying. Molly had watched out the window all the way.

  She looked like she was dead, but still walking. She looked like he’d killed her.

  I shouldn’t have gone out hunting. I should never have turned into a wolf in the first place. He glared at the closet door, from which hung the long, looped pelt. I wish I’d never seen that fucking strap! Why? Why did this happen to me?!

  Garret leaped out of bed, seized the strap off the closet door, and rushed through the darkened house. He didn’t need to light a lamp. He was so fully human that he was holding the strap in his hand, fully detached from himself, and yet his wolf vision opened the dark interior of the house before him as if it was a fair twilight. It infuriated him to the point of craziness.