Matt de la Peña - The Living

She flipped him off, and he turned his attention back to fishing. But all he did was fail about a hundred different ways. He tried double-baiting the hook, tried tossing it as far from the boat as he could, tried dropping in two lines at once. Nothing worked. The closest he got was when a small, round fish nosed the bait, then darted away.

When it grew dark and a small shark started passing back and forth underneath his bait, Shy gave up and pulled his line back in and looked around. The night was brighter than usual under a mostly full moon. But there was still nothing to eat and no rain and no land in sight.

Shy sloshed his way over to Mr. Henry, who’d been silent for a while, no longer even whimpering in pain. His pant leg was torn wide open now. Shy pulled the man’s hand from his leg to see how much worse it looked. Pus and blood oozed out of the gruesome wound. The skin around it had turned a purplish-red, and dark streaks ran up and down his leg. When the smell of it hit Shy, he turned away and went to get the jug of water. He held it out to Mr. Henry and said: “Drink some.”

The man shook his head and closed his eyes.

“I’m serious,” Shy said. “You need water.”

No response.

Shy knew the oilman wouldn’t last much longer, and they had less than a third of a gallon left. If he didn’t force it, he and Addie would be able to stretch it that much further.

He turned and watched Addie working the oar. It had been over an hour, easy, and she still hadn’t even taken a break. He was shocked. There was no way she’d ever done this kind of work before, yet she kept on rowing like it was her job.

He turned back to Mr. Henry and shook him by the shoulder. When the man opened his eyes, Shy told him: “You know I’m gonna keep bugging you till you drink some, right?”

The man reached out and took the jug, poured two small sips into his mouth and cringed as he swallowed. He wiped his chin on his shoulder and handed back the jug.

Shy patted the man on the back, wishing he could do more; then he sloshed his way over to Addie and made her drink some, too. “You’re still not tired?” he asked.

“Of course I’m tired,” she said, handing back the water jug. “I’m exhausted. This sucks.”

Shy took a sip, re-capped the jug and then held it up to see how little was left. It was like sand in an hourglass, telling him: Here’s how much time you have left to live.

“Look,” Addie said, letting out a big breath, “I’ll tell you what I know about the Hidden Islands, okay?”

“Yeah,” Shy said, taken off guard. He was surprised she was offering information without even being asked.

“It isn’t much, but whatever.” She looked out over the ocean. “So, according to my dad, they used to be a cluster of four, but three are now underwater. Only Jones Island is still inhabitable, which is where he works.” She shrugged. “Oh, and it’s a private island, so you can’t just go on vacation there. You have to be invited.”

“You’ve never been there, though?” Shy asked.

“Are you kidding? My dad take me to his secretive, private work island?” She rolled her eyes.

“What’s so secret about it?” Shy asked.

Addie grinned and shook her head. “I’m not sure how it looked back on the ship,” she told him, “but I barely even know my dad. All he cares about is working and amassing his fortune.”

“At least he took you on a cruise.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah. The big father-daughter bonding trip. My dad’s attempt at”—she did air quotes—“being more present in my life. I only agreed to go because he said I could bring Cassie.”

Shy nodded. Even though the real world barely mattered right now, he wanted to know more about her dad, especially knowing he had a picture of Shy. “So, why’d he leave if you guys were supposed to be bonding?”

“You just have all the good questions, don’t you?”

Shy shrugged.

“He told me he needed to check on some new research they were doing. But he was going to meet us in Hawaii.” Addie’s face grew serious, like she was thinking about what might have happened to him when the waves hit. She tapped the oar against the bottom of the boat a few times and added: “I guess his company has some arrangement with you guys. They let him get picked up by a private boat.”

She looked like she was getting upset again, so Shy decided to ease up a little. “Anyways,” he told her, “lemme take over for—”

“They make equipment for hospitals,” Addie interrupted. She handed him the oar and stretched out her arms. “And some pharmaceutical stuff. See? I actually do know what my dad does for a living.”

Shy didn’t understand why a company that made hospital equipment needed to be on a remote island. Seemed kind of sketchy.

“For a while,” Addie continued, “I honestly thought he wanted us to go on a vacation together. I mean, he usually takes a private jet to the island, straight from the Santa Monica Airport, which is close to our house. But that last night on the ship, Cassie and I overheard something we weren’t supposed to.”

“What?” Shy asked, more curious now. He sensed that she was moving toward something important.

“I guess like a week ago,” she said, “someone from his company committed suicide on the ship.”

Shy froze. The comb-over man worked for the same company as her dad?

“I’m pretty sure my dad’s real motivation for being on the ship had nothing to do with me. I think he wanted to find out what happened for himself.” Addie looked Shy right in the eyes. “So, were you working that trip? It was going to Mexico.”

Shy pushed off the side of the boat, said: “Hell yeah, I was working. I’m the one who saw the guy jump.”

“Wait, really?” Addie said, but she didn’t look that surprised. He wondered how much she already knew.

“I grabbed him before he fell,” Shy told her. “He died because I wasn’t strong enough to hang on to him. Your old man tell you that, too?”

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Addie said. “I swear. We only found out about the suicide because we overheard one of my dad’s security people questioning the maitre d’. And me and Cassie started talking after we saw you outside the gym. I mean, it seemed really random for him to just invite you to dinner like that.”

“Yeah, what was that about?”

Addie shrugged. “It’s one of the reasons we decided to do a little snooping.”

Right then everything came together for Shy. “Do you know a guy named Bill?” he asked her out of the blue.

“I know a lot of guys named Bill.”

“On the ship, I mean. Curly black hair. Always wears a black suit.” Earlier Shy was unable to picture his own mom’s face, but the suit guy was burned into his memory. “He had a mole on his nose.”

“Oh yeah,” Addie said. “That’s one of my dad’s security people. I didn’t know his name was Bill, though. Why?”

“He asked me all kinds of questions about the suicide. Right after you and your friend left the Honeymoon Deck.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said.

“You’re not?”

“They seemed really paranoid about what happened. The guy who jumped was named David Williamson—”

“Yeah, exactly,” Shy interrupted. “He told me right before he jumped.”

“He was one of the top guys in the company.”

Shy thought back to his brief conversation with the comb-over man, or David Williamson. At the time he thought it was just some drunk rich guy rambling. Little did he know he’d be analyzing every word a week later while stranded at sea.

“Know what’s strange?” Addie said. “He used to come over for dinner when I was little. He and my dad were friends.” She shook her head. “I remember he seemed so normal. Don’t you have to be a little unbalanced to jump off a ship?”