Borealis(17)

“Who was he? This Calvert Tackler?”

“Just a man.”

“How did you know him?”

“We came to meet. He thought he loved me, or was in the process of falling in love with me, but that was not why he brought me out here. He brought me out here because he couldn’t bring himself to kill me. Maybe it was because he loved me or maybe it because he simply did not have it in him to kill a person—”

“But why would he want to kill you?”

“Not just him.”

“What do you mean?”

“There have been others,” she said. “My whole life, there have been people who’ve tried to kill me. I can remember their names, all these people, and what each one looked like. I can remember the first one, a man named Frank Bodine, who nearly managed to kill me in a motel room outside Las Vegas. But in the end, I eventually got to him. I eventually got to them all, even the strongest ones. Strong ones like you, Charlie Mears. Ones who put up a mental wall, put up a fight. Strong ones like you.”

Charlie stood. “I get it. You’re out of your mind. Either that or you just like to play games. Well, I don’t like games. I don’t have time for them. You’ve got three seconds to start talking sense—”

“Don’t yell, Charlie.”

“—or you’re gonna spend the rest of the trip back to Alaska locked in this room. Do you understand?”

“Don’t be angry with me.” She smiled.

“One,” he said.

“Poor, poor Charlie. Misses his boy.”

“Two.” Grinding his teeth.

“You’ll never see him again. You know it’s true.”

“Three,” he said, simultaneously swiping the bowl of cereal and glass of milk from the top of the dresser and onto the floor.

“Look at the mess you’ve made.” She cast her eyes to the cornflakes and broken shards of bowl in the puddle of milk. “Very messy, Charlie.”

“You can talk to the cops when we reach land.” He stormed out into the corridor, slamming the cabin door. In the darkness of the corridor, he nearly ran right into Joe, who was leaning against one wall, shrouded in darkness.

“She tell you anything?” Joe asked. Charlie couldn’t see his face in the dark but it sounded as if he had something in his mouth.

“She’ll tell Lapatu when we get back to Saint Paul,” he promised Joe. “You should be in bed.”

“You need to push her more, Charlie. You need to get her to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“What she’s doing to me.”

“You’re just seasick.”

“Ain’t never been seasick in my life, Charlie.”

He pressed a hand to Joe’s forehead then quickly withdrew it, disgusted by the moist clamminess of Dynamo Joe’s flesh. A skein of perspiration came away with his hand, cool like menthol.

“Fuck, Joe. You’re burning up, man.”

Joe took a lumbering step forward, his face suddenly illuminated by the red emergency lights recessed in the overhead. A living skeleton, his skin looked like latex stretched taut over a large stone. Charlie could smell him too, and it was a sick-sweet, organic smell that reminded him of the breweries down in Anchorage. Though he didn’t want to touch Joe again, he placed a hand on one of the man’s shoulders and directed him back toward their cabin. Inside the room, Joe winced and recoiled from the lamplight. Joe growled for him to turn it off. Charlie flipped the switch and assisted Joe as he climbed back onto his cot.

“Fucking fuh-freezing,” Joe stuttered.

“I know.” Charlie grabbed the blanket off his own coat and draped it over Joe’s quaking body. Even as he left the room, he could hear Joe’s teeth chattering in his skull—could hear them as he walked all the way down the corridor.

In the galley, Bryan was looking down forlornly at the petrol stove. Billy McEwan was at the table, getting drunk. Charlie paused in the doorway and McEwan’s eyelids fluttered. He waved a hand at Charlie. “C’mon, Mears. Drink with me.”

“Damn thing,” Bryan muttered, seemingly oblivious to Charlie’s arrival.

“Is Mike still topside?” Charlie asked. When no one responded, he reached out and touched Bryan’s elbow. As if shocked, Bryan jerked his arm away and practically threw himself back against the bulkhead. He stared at Charlie with wide eyes.

“Mike,” expounded McEwan, drawing Charlie’s attention to him, “is a damn fool. He got lucky yesterday with the catch, Mears, but there ain’t no luck left out here. Not for us.” Again that sloppy wave of the hand. “So come on over and let’s you and me kill this bottle, eh?”

Charlie stepped down into the galley and, with two hands, ripped one of the cupboard doors off its hinges. Bryan’s jaw dropped, still pressed against the wall as far away from Charlie as the cramped little room would permit. McEwan, even in his stupor, watched with speechless detachment.

Tucking the cupboard door under one arm, Charlie plucked the flashlight off the countertop. “I’m going down to the engine room for some tools. You two keep an eye on Mike’s cabin, make sure that girl doesn’t come out.”

“What’re you doing?” boomed McEwan, but Charlie was already gone.