Matt de la Peña - The Living

Conditions improved slightly as he moved the last of the baby palms back into the supply room. But his stomach was a mess. His legs felt flimsy and unfamiliar. He broke down the first two umbrella poles slowly, feeling so queasy he thought he’d be sick at any second. He dragged them, one in each hand, into the supply room, placed them on the storage racks, then leaned over, hands on knees, and pulled in deep, even breaths.

In the morning it had been wine.

Now it was the relentless motion of the sea.

Shy remembered the wristband Shoeshine had given him and pulled it out of his pocket. He still didn’t think the raggedy-looking thing would do him any good, but he slipped it onto his wrist anyway. Just in case. Forced himself upright again, warm saliva pooling in his mouth.

As he moved out of the supply room this time, he spotted two people standing near the railing. Long pink and black raincoats provided by the ship. One of the women staring out over the ocean through binoculars.

“Excuse me,” he called out to them. “The Honeymoon Deck’s closed.”

The two figures spun around.

Shy couldn’t see much of their faces under their oversized hoods, but he saw the wet blond hair of one. The green eyes. And he knew it was Addison. Which meant the other one was her friend. He moved toward them, wondering why they’d come out into a storm like this when they didn’t have to.

“We’re not hurting anyone,” Cassandra said.

Addison’s eyes looked glassy, like she’d been crying.

Shy motioned toward the binoculars in her hands, told her: “I’m sorry, but nobody’s supposed to be outside right now. Captain’s orders.”

“Just back off,” Cassandra snapped at him.

Addison glared at him, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.

Shy stared back, pissed off now on top of being queasy. Soon as he got off this stupid ship he was done dealing with rich girls.

Cassandra rubbed Addison’s arm as they both turned back to the frenzied ocean, ignoring Shy. What was he supposed to do, drag them away? And why the tears? He looked around, saw that they were only a few feet from where he’d tried to keep his grip on the comb-over man. And what would he do if the wind blew one of them over the side? Would he try and play the hero again? Didn’t work out too well the last time.

Shy swallowed, deciding he had to play it another way. “What are you looking for, anyway?” he asked.

They ignored him.

“Maybe I could help.”

Cassandra turned to him, her face softer now. “Her dad’s out there somewhere,” she said. “He works on one of the Hidden Islands.”

The Hidden Islands?

Other than Hawaii, Shy had never heard of any islands out here, in the middle of the Pacific. And Hawaii was still a couple days away.

The rain picked up again, all three of them pulling their hoods farther over their eyes. Densely packed drops battered their slickers and the deck around their shoes. A sudden gust of wind made the girls hold on to the railing.

“For real,” Shy said. “You guys gotta go inside. It’s dangerous.”

Addison spun around and faced Shy. “Why does my dad have a picture of you?” she shouted over the pounding rain.

“Of me?” Shy said, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Addison lowered her binoculars and cried harder.

“She found your picture in her dad’s cabin,” Cassandra said, holding Addison. “You’re in a cemetery.”

Shy just stared back at them in shock.

It had to be a mistake.

Thunder pounded so violently overhead all three of them flinched.

“Come on, Addie,” Cassandra said, leading her away from the railing.

“Who are you?” Addison barked at Shy as they moved past him. “Tell me who you are!”

“I’m nobody!” he shouted back. He’d probably get in trouble for snapping at a passenger, but he didn’t even care anymore. The girl was talking crazy.

“I’m nobody!” he shouted again. “All right?”

Soon as the girls ducked back inside the ship, out of sight, Shy spun around and leaned over the railing and got sick.

He heaved several times before spitting and wiping his mouth. Then he just stood there, staring out at the frantic ocean, trying to make sense of what the girls were talking about. A picture of him? In a cemetery? How could Addison’s dad have a picture of him?

When Shy finally turned back around, he found a man standing out on the deck in the rain, dressed in a yellow Paradise slicker, watching him.

Shy knew right away he wasn’t part of the crew.

“You can’t be out here!” Shy shouted over the storm.

The man didn’t move or say a word, just kept watching Shy.

Rain flooded the deck as Shy started breaking down the two remaining umbrellas. He pretended to be so occupied with his task he didn’t have time to worry about the man. Secretly, though, his heart was beating in his throat. He wanted to get this over and be done with it, but not now. Not during a storm, after he’d just gotten sick.

A streak of lightning stabbed into the sea not far from the ship. Thunder roared.

Shy hurried the poles across the deck, addressing the man again: “You have to go inside, sir!”

The man nodded.

Inside the supply room, Shy stacked the umbrella poles on the storage racks, then fumbled for his keys and started back toward the door, thinking only about getting inside the ship, everything would be fine once he got inside the ship.

When the man stepped into the doorway of the supply room, Shy stopped cold, said: “Sir, nobody’s supposed to be out here. I need to lock up.”

The man stepped aside, and Shy hurried out of the supply room, pulled the door closed and locked it. The man followed Shy into the vacant Luxury Lounge, where he started unzipping his wet slicker and said: “It’s Shy, am I right?”

Shy tried to hide the fact that he was so nervous he was having trouble catching his breath. “Who are you?”

“I’m Bill,” the man said, pulling off his slicker. Sure enough, he was wearing a black suit.

They both stumbled a little as the ship pitched more dramatically, Shy holding his hand out against the wall for balance.

“I want you to understand right up front,” the man said, “there’s no trouble here. At least there doesn’t have to be. I just need to ask you a few questions.” He had curly black hair. A mole on the right side of his nose. He smiled like this was an everyday kind of conversation for him.

All Shy could think about was how this was the man Kevin had warned him about. The man who’d been watching him. But this wasn’t the time for questions. Didn’t the man understand the ship was getting pummeled by a storm?

Shy watched him calmly pull a small pad of paper and a pen from his pocket. “Now, it’s my understanding that on the previous voyage, you witnessed a man jump overboard. Right out there, in fact.” He pointed through the glass doors, toward the Honeymoon Deck. “Is this correct, Shy?”

“Yeah…,” Shy said, hesitating. He didn’t understand why the man wanted to have this conversation now. Couldn’t he wait until morning? Shy glanced over his shoulder, saw that the hall door was open.

“Tell me about it,” the man said.

“Like I explained to everyone else,” Shy answered, pulling off his wet hood. “I gave him a bottle of water, then I helped these two older ladies. A few minutes later I saw him climbing over the railing and ran over and grabbed his arm, tried to pull him back up. But he was too heavy. That’s it, I swear.”

The man looked up from his pad. “We have no doubt this was a suicide. I’m not here to ask questions that have already been answered.”