Chapter 24
“Thought I’d never see the day he would turn down food,” Acker says, throwing the guts of his latest catch into the water.
Blue fluffs his feathers and continues to preen on the bow of the boat.
“Perhaps he’s tired of fish.” I know I am. The thought of eating another bite makes me nauseous, but so does the starvation. “He might go for some barnacles. The hull probably needs to be scraped anyway. If you want to take over the tiller, I’ll dive down.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll go,” he says, rinsing his hands in the water.
It’s just a flicker of pain, but I catch the wince he tries to hide as he stands. He strips off his shirt, and I glimpse the purple, mottled skin on his side before he shucks off his pants. Even with the lack of meat on his bones, his muscles flex with every movement. From the power in his thighs to the smaller muscles along his ribs, his strength is still very much evident in the lean lines of his body. He ties the rope around his waist and steps off the boat into a dive. It’s pure grace.
After the night where the stars and ocean became one, the fish returned in plenty, and a smattering of downpours allowed us to collect a little bit of water in our well. But with the disappearance of the clouds came the sun, high in the sky and blistering for vengeance.
Acker comes up with a handful of barnacles. He wipes the water from his eyes and swims to the side of the boat. He clicks his tongue at Blue and places the crustaceans along the edge of the hull one at a time. The bird flies down, landing a few feet from Acker, curious but cautious. Acker treads water backwards to give Blue some space as he hops to the nearest shell. He
inspects it, head tilting this way and that, picks it up with his beak, and hops a little closer to Acker.
Then he proceeds to throw the barnacle in Acker’s face. It pings off his forehead before splashing back into the water. Blue squawks at him before taking flight, knocking over half of the remaining barnacles in the process.
I’m stunned speechless. I look at Acker, who looks just as astonished as I am.
“That’s the last…” He trails off, eyes caught on something over my shoulder.
I turn just in time to watch Blue, flying swiftly past on the tail of a seagull. He yells a battle cry and opens his mouth, gaping maw looming as he dives for the bird, which is oblivious to its impending doom. Gull captured, Blue lands on the stern … and swallows.
A muffled squelching can be heard from inside the tiny bird’s body, and I blanch at the wet sound. “Sick.”
Acker’s excited gaze meets mine as he treads water. “We’re close to land.”
My lips thin, eyes scanning the horizon. There are a lot of small islands and reefs scattered between Alaha and Kenta. They’re teeming with food, so birds frequent them, but I grasp at the hope anyway. It feels better than the endless barrage of misery I can’t figure out how to escape.
Acker finishes scraping the bottom of the boat. We’re quiet for the rest of the day, but there’s a noticeable energy as we work, our attention constantly returning to the horizon. It’s like we don’t want to curse our luck by voicing our doubts.
I’m in the middle of slicing a fillet of fish for drying when the first wave of nausea hits me. I don’t think much of it. The heat is brutal, so I make a conscious effort to stretch my ration of water into smaller, more frequent sips.
It’s dusk when Acker takes another dip in the ocean. I think it helps soothe the heat radiating from his infection. I haven’t brought it up again out of fear of disturbing the mild truce we’ve cultivated. Plus, he’s right— there’s nothing to be done about it. Not until we’re back on land.
A dizzy spell hits me like a wave, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to stop the world from turning on its side.
Until it happens again. And again.
I have to put down my blade and breathe through the bile threatening to creep up my throat. When I steady myself, I look up and spot the dark smudge of land in our direct path. We’re too far away to tell for sure, but it stretches far enough to possibly be more than an island.
I lean over the side of the boat. When Acker surfaces, I’m able to speak one word and point to the horizon. “Land.”
Then I puke my guts up.
