The Stranger in the Lifeboat(44)

I slowly raised my eyes.

“Wait … What do you mean?”

“The mine did not explode.”

“I don’t understand. Then what destroyed the ship?”

She turned her gaze out toward the deep. Suddenly, three massive whales burst through the surface, enormous charcoal monolithic bodies with flippers spread out like wings of a plane, easily the largest creatures I have ever witnessed on this Earth. When they hit the water, the spray from their impact flew through the air and covered us in seawater.

“They did,” she said.



Moments later, the sky began to glow. The air went flat. I somehow sensed our time was over.

“Alice.” I hesitated. “What do I do now?”

“Forgive yourself,” she said. “Then use this grace to spread my spirit.”

“How do I do that?”

“Survive this voyage. And once you do, find another soul in despair. And help them.”

She spun on the raft edge, never lifting her small feet. Then she crossed her arms in front of her.

“Wait,” I choked. “Don’t leave me.”

She smiled as if I’d said something funny. “I can never leave you.”

With that, I collapsed, and my hands hit the wet raft floor. I was, at that moment, in complete submission. Alice looked at me one last time and recited the words that you, Annabelle, had spoken so often.

“We all need to hold on to something, Benji,” she said. “Hold on to me.”

She fell from the raft without a splash. I scrambled to the edge. I saw nothing but blue water.



News

ANCHOR: We begin tonight with some startling findings in the strange saga of the Galaxy yacht, which sank more than a year ago. Here is Tyler Brewer from the island nation of Cape Verde.

REPORTER: Thank you, Jim. Last week, the robot probe from the Iliad returned to the Galaxy wreckage, this time releasing an even smaller robot camera about the size of a toaster. That device was able to enter the sunken yacht through its shattered hull and send back sharp images from the inside.

ANCHOR: And those findings were released today?

REPORTER: Yes. Preliminary reports claim that “repeated impacts to the yacht’s exterior” created three sizable holes, and one of those impacted the engine room, which likely led to flooding and caused an explosion that quickened the sinking of the vessel. It was not believed to be a missile, as the holes in the hull do not conform to that sort of strike. One scientist postulated that whales, perhaps agitated by the loud music being played on board, could have been at fault, as whales are known to occasionally attack ships for such reasons. The bottom of the yacht was also painted red, a color that can attract those massive creatures.

ANCHOR: What about the passengers—or, to use the nautical language, the “souls” on the ship? What can you tell us?

REPORTER: Well, as you may recall, Jim, our own footage from that night showed that, due to a rainstorm, most of the guests were inside a small ballroom on the second level, listening to the band Fashion X, when the explosion occurred. Apparently, based on images from the probe, many of them died in that ballroom, and their remains can be seen and counted. Of course the Galaxy’s actual manifests were all lost, and helicopters taking passengers back and forth make a definitive calculation impossible. But a Sextant spokesperson did tell us, “The number of identified remains is close to all the people we believe were on board.”

ANCHOR: So it’s unlikely anyone escaped or survived?

REPORTER: It appears that way.





Epilogue





Land





LeFleur and Dobby sat inside the jeep, which was parked outside the small terminal of Montserrat’s airport. A blue-and-white prop jet was landing on the single runway.

“I guess that’s it,” Dobby said, reaching for the door handle.

“Wait,” LeFleur said. “I think you should have this.”

He popped open the glove compartment and took out the plastic bag. It contained the original notebook, with the added pages folded inside it. He handed it to Dobby.

“You’re sure?” Dobby said.

“He was your family.”

Dobby examined the bag. He narrowed his gaze. “This can’t get me in trouble, can it?”

“It doesn’t exist,” LeFleur said. “Anyhow, you were never on the ship. And it wasn’t a mine that sank it. Really, it was nobody’s fault.”

“An act of God, huh?”

“I guess.”

Dobby scratched his head. “Benji was really messed up. But he was still like my brother. I miss him badly.” He paused. “How do you think he died?”

“Hard to say,” LeFleur replied. “A storm? Another shark attack? Maybe, in the end, he just gave up. It’s hard to survive that long on your own.”

Dobby opened the door. “You know, you never did take me to where you found that raft.”

“It’s just a beach,” LeFleur said. “Not far from here. Marguerita Bay.”

“Maybe next visit,” Dobby joked.

“Yeah,” LeFleur said. He studied Dobby’s face, the crow’s-feet by his eyes, the stringy hair, the pale complexion. He was dressed once again in his black jeans and boots, ready to return to his life.