Phantom Universe (4 page)

“
I’m new on the Cosmos,” Landon informs. She jerks her hand from his; she has a no touching policy when it comes to the crew. “I’m not a crew member,” he says quickly, “I’m like ye. The captain told me where to find ye—said ye’d find me quarters to sleep in and teach me the ropes.” He holds his hand out again, and she slowly takes it, uncertain. It’s been so long since she’s had any kind of human contact she isn’t quite sure how she feels. But she’s pretty sure it’s a pleasant sensation and that if her stomach wasn’t still fermenting from Jarvis’s oily fingers touching her, she’d be full of fluttering excitement.

“
Let’s get ye cleaned up, Ducky, before ye float away in this storm,” he says charmingly in an accent she’d never heard before.

When she doesn’t say anything, thoroughly frozen in shock, he turns serious. “Aye, I thought it’d be this way. He won’t hurt ye anymore.” To emphasize his words, Jarvis groans loudly and painfully to Summer’s satisfaction. “Shall I lead the way? I must admit we’ll probably get hopelessly lost.”

Summer snaps from her daze and shakes her head.

As they walk to the door leading to the lower levels, she notices the unyielding ruthlessness of the storm; the crashing waves, the bitter sky kissing the water on the horizon, the keening laments of the sharp, cutting wind, and the relentless liquid deliverance of its somber showers. She’ll never forgive the audacity of the storm’s neglect.

They descend into the lower levels of the ship and take several turns in cramped hallways that stink of rust. Some spots on the ceiling leak water from rusted holes. She’s not sure if she should show him where she sleeps, but for some reason she feels like if she can’t trust someone like him, then who can she trust? Honestly? She longs for a human connection—any kind of human connection that doesn’t include a whip or torture—so extremely that she’s willing to take a risk. They stop in front of her door. She pulls from under her rags a long, small chain that wraps around her neck. She lifts it over her head, palms the key that dangles at the end of it, and offers it to Landon who hesitantly takes it. She’s too shaky to try and coordinate actually putting the key in the lock.

After he unlocks her door, they both enter, and she immediately searches for something warm and dry to wear. In the air conditioning Summer’s wet clothes quickly turn so cold her teeth start chattering. She comes across a long, white T-shirt she’s been saving for . . . well, she isn’t sure why. But this seems like an occasion if there ever was one. Landon turns to give her privacy as she quickly tosses her torn and dirty clothing to the floor and replaces it with the nicest thing she owns. She isn’t used to someone being so polite to her, or to someone even caring if she’s uncomfortable or not. But this boy . . . she isn’t certain about him. Saving her, giving her privacy . . . What’s next? Caring? It isn’t feasible.

She sits on the edge of the bed and waits for him to turn back around. But he doesn’t. So she leans back and raps once on the wall her bed is pushed up against. He jumps slightly.

“
Are ye . . . dressed?” he asks tentatively.

She knocks once against the wall again, finding his hesitation endearing.

So, so slowly he turns around until he takes her in and blows out a relieved breath. “Are ye okay?” he asks. He seems cautious as he takes deliberate steps towards her. “He didn’t . . . did he?” His expression is so crestfallen that she can’t look at him. “I mean . . .” he trails off, his voice slightly choked. “That bastard!”

With the weight of years of torture, pain, and misery heavy on her shoulders, Summer beings to cry, shoulder-shaking, hiccup-inducing, choke-on-your-own-tears kind of cry. Landon, no longer cautious, rushes towards her and wraps his arms around her too-tiny frame. For a moment she is stiff in his embrace, but soon discovers the salvation she thought she’d never find. She holds back the tears after a few minutes of letting them go. She’s already shown too much weakness. Landon finally backs off and perches at the end of the bed, a presence about him like the calming waters of a lake in the rough seas of the ocean.

“
What’s yer name?” he asks as he rubs the light, blonde stubble on his chin.

Several minutes tick on by as she stares at him with pleading eyes, hoping he’ll understand. It’s been eight years—she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be ready.

“
Do ye speak at’ll?” He laughs, not being serious.

She shakes her head vigorously and knocks twice on the wall behind her.

His laughter is quickly cut off. “Wait . . . ye really don’t speak?”

She repeats the double knock and head shake.

Landon leans back on her bed so they are both up against the wall. “Well—” he smirks “—that’ll be a change. My sister speaks non-stop.” His smile slowly fades, and a frown replaces it. She knows what he’s thinking—he’ll never see his sister, or the rest of his family, again. She wishes she could reassure him, but that isn’t the case. Still, she gently takes his hand in hers and just holds it. She sucks in a shuttering breath at the feeling. A person, a real, live person is holding her hand and is asking nothing of her. She considers never letting go.

CHAPTER 4: INTRUDERS

15 years old

The storm passes, and the ship quits its lethargic undulations. Dinner is served with cheers tonight as the crew celebrates their newest pirating conquest. Right now the ship is literally swimming in small boating equipment: water skies (which blows her mind), floats, tubes, bumper guards, life jackets, fish finders, among other larger, more expensive things that she doesn’t know the names of. Captain Travis is so thrilled with his crew that he breaks out the good beer. It’s thicker and creamier than what’s normally served. Apparently this stolen load is better than the one full of flat screen TVs from Japan. Though, she must admit, she does like the many TVs around the ship that they kept—even if she doesn’t have time to enjoy them.

As Landon and Summer dump food onto each of their plates, the crew continues to toast to weird and random things. She’s pretty sure they are getting drunk and wonders if beer makes everyone this incredibly cheerful.

Phil holds his beer high in the air. “To Peter’s new medication!”

They all shout and cheer and clink their glasses together as someone shouts, “I can actually light up without fear of blowing the ship up!”

“
Aye, Aye!” they all shout with laughter. Even Peter joins in.

Aaron, her favorite crew member, stops her to tell her how delicious the chicken is. She points at Landon to give him credit while at the same time Dale puts him in a headlock and rubs his fist in Aaron’s flaming red hair.

“
Quit flirting, ya wanker!” Dale teases, his brown eyes shining with mirth.

Aaron’s freckled face turns the color of his hair, and the whole crew bursts into laughter. They begin to make kissing faces, smacking their lips, and moaning with too much creativity. A few of them turn around, wrap their arms around themselves, and pretend to be kissing someone. Peter and Phil act like they are kissing each other with their hands over their mouths. Karl, refusing to join the fun, remains emotionless with his arms folded and green eyes glaring at a spot on the table. He’s still bitter about Jarvis being kicked off the ship and blames it on Summer. He makes sure to tell her this often, and a few times he’s even hit her for no reason. Landon found out when she showed up outside his door with a bruised face and black eye. Landon’s reluctant to leave her side even though she reassures him she’s fine.

Embarrassed by the crew’s reactions, Summer backs away from the table and seeks Landon. He’s grinning from ear-to-ear as he holds the kitchen door open. They can hear Captain Travis trying to calm the rambunctious crew, but his deep laugh slips through and joins in. The flimsy door vacillates behind them until it settles shut. Landon hops up on the prep table and immediately starts making fun of the crew members.

“
All hail, I be Karl, kin’ o’ punishin’ myself,” he jokes and tacks on, “Wish I could help with that.”

Summer giggles—like actual giggles with sound and everything. Even she’s surprised. Landon can’t help but beam proudly at her, his face lighting up. He’s been working diligently to help her learn to read and write . . . and maybe, hopefully, one day speak. He even tells her she’s the fastest learner he’s ever seen. Not that he’s ever taught anyone else how to read and write. She is just so ready to try and decipher the last bit of her destroyed journal, which she keeps hidden, and so she can finally fill out the pages of her new one with actual words.

“
Just stole a boat load o’ goods but still canna manage t’ shave me beard!” Landon continues, making fun of the Captain and his ridiculous beard.

In the background they can hear the men clink their glasses together for another toast. It reminds her that she wants to ask Landon a question. She pulls her small notepad and pen from a drawer in the kitchen and begins to scribble down her question. She’s still kind of slow at writing, but she’s reading huge chapter books now. The most recent is a romance novel that makes her blush.

Does beer make you happy?
the paper reads.

He grins, his dark eyes full of delight. “Aye! Ye bet yer arse ‘t does!”

She lightly punches him and gives him the Be Serious look that he knows so well. He raises his hands in concession.

“
Aye, it can make ye happy. It can also make ye sick or angry or sad. Why?” She shrugs, and he shakes his head at her. “Hey, ye can’t just keep stuff in, Ducky. Ye got away with it before, but now ye know how to write.” He folds his arms and stares down at her; she knows he’ll wait for her answer all night if he has to.

She quickly scribbles on the paper again.
Can I try it?

His dark eyes go wide when he reads her question. “Wait, ye want to try beer?” His expression seems to be stuck between concern and amusement.

Summer nods firmly, but when he doesn’t say anything she raises her eyebrows in question.

“
Ye ain’t gunna like it,” he says, his lips forming a straight line. “But if yer curious, I guess it won’t hurt.”

She gives him a small smile, and there’s no need for her to say “Thank you,” because he already knows she’s thankful for everything he does for her.

He hops off the prep table and wraps his arm around her shoulders in what she calls the Sideways Hug. He’s only about five feet, eight inches, but that’s still four inches taller than Summer. “Ye can tell me anything, but ye know that already, don’t ye Ducky?”

She wraps her arms around his waist and holds him close. She hears him sigh before he wraps his arms around her too. There are so many things she wants to say to him, but she’s never had the courage to do it. He would never punish her for speaking, but it causes her such intense anxiety that words refuse to form.

He gives her one last squeeze before heading to the over-sized fridge.

A few years ago Landon convinced Captain Travis to provide him with books to teach her how to read and write. Apparently, slave owners don’t want their slaves educated, so Landon was surprised when boxes began to show up outside his door weekly with different supplies and books. One day he came across a psychology book and found the disorder associated with Summer’s muteness. He extensively researched it, including techniques to help her speak again. He finally came to her with his findings and has been working with her ever since. But the number one, most important thing about her disorder is that pressure to make her speak will only bring anxiety. She was so impressed by it all she accepted to let him work with her on it. Landon talks with her constantly, even when she’s not receptive at all. Summer knows she’s blessed to have such a wonderful person in her life and wishes she could do more for him in exchange.

“
Al’right! Here it is.”

He slams a mug of beer on the table and foam dribbles over the side. It looks like liquid honey, and her mouth waters at the thought of it. She gingerly picks up the mug with both hands and takes a sip. Her face puckers immediately at the bitter taste. Just in case she got a bad sip, she tries it one more time with the same result. Well, that isn’t what she expects. She carefully places it back on the prep table before chancing a glance at Landon.

His fist is pressed against his mouth in an attempt to not laugh at her. She gives him a big eye roll, and he can’t help but chuckle.

“
Not what ye were expectin’, ay?” he asks through his amusement.

She shakes her head.
Why do they make it look like honey, but have it taste so bitter?
she wonders—just another mystery of many for her. She snatches up the notepad, and he waits patiently. The notepad is still new to her; she’s not use to such freedom with answers. She’s yet to decide if she thinks this is the greatest thing to ever happen to her, or if she should forget how to write.