Surviving Raine 01 (7 page)

“Change the fucking subject,” I warned.  “Otherwise I’m going to start being a dick.”

She smiled without the cocked eyebrow and nodded.

Raine asked me about living on the ship and talked about a lot of trivial shit like people she knew in high school and movies she had seen over the winter.  She talked a lot about her friend Lindsay, the one who had talked her into a cruise.  I just sat and listened and felt my stomach start to churn and my hands start to shake more.  I wished to God I had a fucking coffee with Kahlua right at that moment.

If you can’t change it, don’t fucking think about it.  It’s nothing but a waste of time.  Focus on the things you can do.

Yeah, well, there weren’t a whole lot of things I could do right at the moment.  Sorry, Landon.

It was starting to get dark again, so I demonstrated setting off the flare in actuality instead of just in theory.  I spent a few minutes looking over the horizon again, hoping to see the lights of some ship out there, but there was still nothing visible.

I was really tired and starting to feel a little sick to my stomach.  I was pretty certain it wasn’t from the rocking motion.  I skipped the nighttime “meal” and stretched out on the floor of the raft, leaving the blanket-towels to Raine if she wanted them.  She spread one of them out on the other side of the raft and then tried to give the second one to me.  I shook my head and waved her away.

“I don’t need it,” I said.  “It might get a little cold after a while though.  Keep it.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s what I fucking said, wasn’t it?”  Damnit.  I really needed to stop doing that, but I hadn’t operated with a verbal filter for a long, long time.

Raine glared long swords at me but refrained from doing anything violent.

As the sun set completely and enclosed us in pitch blackness, I closed my eyes and listened to her breathing slow down, but never regulate enough to indicate sleep.  I couldn’t manage to drop off, because of all things, I was feeling fucking guilty about what I had said to her before.  I wasn’t going to apologize because…well…because I just didn’t do that.  Probably because I had to be a dick to keep people from cozying up to me, and I definitely didn’t like to ever admit I’d been wrong.  Regardless, I felt like I ought to say something.

“Raine?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for…um…stitching up my head and shit.”

“You’re welcome, Daniel.”

I guess I really didn’t need to be a complete dick after all.

Chapter 4 – Pain

My gut hurt.

I didn't bother trying to open my eyes - my head hurt bad enough with them closed.  Along with my head and my gut, my chest, back, arms, legs and pretty much everywhere else hurt, too.

Oh – and everything was shaking.  I couldn’t even tell if I was hot or cold because I was shaking so much I couldn’t really feel my skin.  The shaking was in the way.  It didn’t make any sense to me, either.

I was certain if I moved I was going to puke.  I was reasonably sure if I did not move I was also going to puke.  The only real question was whether or not I could make it to the raft entrance and get it opened before whatever was in my stomach decided to come out.

I moved as quickly as my shaking limbs would allow.  Thankfully, even with the shaking, I did get the damn thing open and the flap pulled back.  The heated sea wind hit my face, and the fresh air calmed my stomach for about thirty seconds.

Those thirty seconds were followed by the most violent vomiting I had ever experienced.

I rocked back and forth on my knees, heaving what little had been in my stomach into the sea.  After a dozen retches I was only dry-heaving, which I always thought was worse than actual puking.  It wouldn’t stop, and my stomach muscles were aching even more.

My hands were shaking so bad, I was having a hard time just keeping myself perched on the edge of the raft without just tossing myself overboard.  I could feel my heart beating so hard in my chest, I wouldn’t have been totally shocked to see it come bursting right out of my skin.  Sweat began to pour down the back of my neck, which just had to fucking stop because I was going to get dehydrated enough as it was.  I gripped the hem of my shirt and pulled it off.

“Daniel?”

I felt a soft hand touch the top of my shoulder, and I immediately pulled away from the sensation.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I screamed, not even knowing why.  At the very least, I was already hypersensitive all over.  Even the feeling of my knees against the bottom of the raft was pissing me off.  The last thing I needed was her hands on me, trying to give me some kind of fucking comfort.

I would have yelled a few other choice words at her, but my body starting heaving again instead.  It felt like it went on forever, but eventually it stopped long enough for me to drop down to my side and curl up in a ball for a while.  My head began throbbing again, and my heart was still beating rapidly.

I was using up a lot of energy which I really couldn’t afford.  There was nothing I could do to stop it unless there was a distiller in the survival kit.  I’d have to make sure to add one of those for next time.  I had a brief image of John Paul right after we bought the lifeboats for
The Oblation
.  He packed a bottle of rum in with the rations.  If I had gotten to one of the fucking lifeboats, I’d have some goddamn alcohol.

“Holy fucking shit!” I yelled out, beating my hand against the flexible side of the raft, which was wholly unsatisfying.  I kept cursing and ignoring whatever the fuck Raine was trying to say to me.  I was yelling too loud to actually hear her over myself.  I felt her fingers against my arm again, and I shoved her.

“I told you not to fucking touch me!  How fucking stupid are you that you can’t follow the most basic instructions?”

I heard a sharp intake of breath and didn’t care how fucking shocked she might have been.

“Should have fucking let you drown!”

My hands covered my face, and I tried to rub my fingers into my eyes.  They itched.  Actually, my whole face itched, and I scratched at the thickening beard on my cheeks.  My ears itched, too.  So did my arms.  My hands were all sweaty, and when I tried to scratch at my arms, the sweat clung to my skin and just made me itch more.

“Daniel, stop,” I heard Raine say.  Something was wrong with her voice – she sounded strange.  I felt her hand on top of mine as she tried to pry my fingers off of my skin.  I shoved her away.  “You’re going to make yourself bleed.”

“I’ve bled before,” I barked.  “What fucking difference does it make?”

I looked down at my arms and saw the long red streaks I had made on them with my fingernails.  Shit.  I couldn’t think about it for too long, though, because I was suddenly retching over the side again, bile burning up my throat.

When that session was over, I tried to sit up with my knees close to my chest.  My heart raced, my hands shook, I was sweating all over, and I was fucking cold despite the sun blazing in through the canopy.  I put my head in my hands and just listened to myself breathe for a while.

“Do you want some water?” Raine asked.

“No, I don’t want any fucking water!” I yelled.  Why did she keep talking?  It occurred to me that somehow this was all her fault anyway.  I pulled my hands from my face and glared at her.  “What the fuck did you do, anyway?”

“Do?  I haven’t done anything.”

“What the fuck did you do to make my ship sink, bitch?”

“Daniel, you aren’t making any sense,” Raine said, flinching away from me.

Like there was somewhere for her to go.

“Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?”

“No, Daniel,” she said softly.  “I think you’re sick.”

“Sick?” I laughed and shook my head at her.  “You think I’m sick?  Baby, you have no idea all the sick, twisted shit I’ve done.  The number of people I’ve slaughtered, the number of women I’ve fucked.  Shit – I don’t even remember how many!”

I squeezed my eyes shut and just rocked back and forth, trying to keep pace with the shakes.  At least I felt like I was trying to do something even though it wasn’t actually helping or anything.  The pain in my head and my stomach was a lot like getting shot.  It ached and stabbed and burned all at once, and there was no way I could move my body into a position where it would stop hurting.

I linked my elbows around my knees and put my forehead down against my arms.  I kept rocking and trying to relax my muscles, but they were too tense.  They wouldn’t loosen up no matter what I said to them.  There was something soft on my shoulder, running up and down it.

One fucking shot…that’s all I needed.  Just one fucking shot – vodka, rum, even fucking gin.  It didn’t matter what.  Just one little sip of anything to take the edge off.  I could make it through if I could just take the edge off.  I’d even settle for a fucking American beer.

“One fucking shot!” I screamed out, causing Raine to jump and let out a little squeaking sound.  I narrowed my eyes, realizing she had been touching my shoulder again.  “Are you a fucking mouse?”

“No,” Raine said cautiously.  “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because you fucking squeak,” I snarled.  “Don’t do that again.”

“You startled me.”

“I’ll do a whole hell of a lot more than that if you don’t shut the fuck up and quit touching me.”

I watched her eyes darken for a moment but couldn’t watch her face transform into that nasty little “I’m not taking any more of this shit” look she had yesterday because I was puking over the side again.

When I managed to pull myself back away from the water again, I felt my whole body go limp, and I lowered myself down on my side.  I pulled my arms up and covered my face with my hands while I tried to figure out just how in the hell I managed to end up like this.

Left in a bar as a toddler.  No parents to be found.  No one interested in becoming my parents, either.  No one wants to adopt a kid whose parents didn’t even want him.  Different foster homes every couple of years until I started getting into trouble.  Then it was group homes and eventually juvenile detention.  Nice start to life.  No wonder I was so fucked up.

“Please, talk to me, Daniel.”

I heard her voice again but didn’t want to yell at her any more.  My throat felt like I had been yelling all day, and I probably had been.  I took another deep breath and felt a sob come out of my chest.  I didn’t realize I was crying.  Fucking crying.

“They could have just left me in a fucking dumpster or something,” I heard myself sob.  “Save the state a lot of cash.”

I heard her move a little closer to me, and I resisted the urge to lash out at her, at least for a few seconds.  I didn’t want her anywhere near me.  I didn’t want anyone anywhere near me.  I sure as hell didn’t want anyone watching this happen to me or looking at me while I was crying.

I felt her hand on me again, tentatively stroking from my lower back up to my shoulder blades and then back down again.  It was strangely comforting even though I didn’t want it.  Her touch was so light, I could only barely feel it.

“Are you talking about your parents?”

“I don’t have any fucking parents!” I yelled, the sorrow I had been feeling immediately replaced by the most intense anger.  I needed her to just stop talking and leave me alone.  “How many times do I have to tell you to shut up and quit touching me, you stupid cunt?”

I could feel her stiffen, and she immediately withdrew her hand and backed away from me.  It was about time.

My chest tightened, and I tried to push myself back up so I was sitting, but I slipped back down.  It took three tries to sit up, and by then my chest hurt so bad I was fairly certain I was having a heart attack.  I tried to get my breathing under control, but short panting breaths were all I could manage.  My head got a little foggy as I hyperventilated which shot me into a panic.

I tried to stand up, which is a really bad idea on such a small raft on the ocean.  It pitched wildly to the side, sending me flailing into the fabric wall before I fell on my face.  I felt the stitches in my head rip open.

Fucking awesome.

Note sarcasm.

I pushed the flat of my palm against my head and then brought it away.  Blood was clearly visible on my hand, and I could feel it start to trickle down the side of my face.  I reached up to touch it and cringed as I ended up smearing it into the stubble on my face.

I growled incomprehensibly and slammed my fists into the floor of the raft on either side of me.  The urge to hit something a hell of a lot harder was damn near overwhelming.

Note to self: next life raft gets equipped with a punching bag to go with the bottle of rum and carton of cigs.

Holy shit, I had forgotten about the smokes I had with me.  I felt an immediate sense of relief as I pulled at the pouch containing the two I had left.

Getting the pouch open on my belt with my hands shaking was nearly impossible, but at least once I got the baggie out, I could just dump the smokes onto the floor of the raft.  I grabbed the lighter and put the cigarette between my lips.  The lighter had dried out enough that it sparked, but with my shaking hands, I couldn’t hold the damn thing on long enough to light it.  I kept trying, and the edge of my thumb was getting raw from flicking the wheel over and over again while the lighter got hotter on the metal end.  Eventually, I managed to burn my thumb and still didn’t have the cigarette lit.

I let out a long string of curses before my eyes met up with hers again.

“Get over here and light this fucking thing for me.”

Raine’s eyes narrowed, and she just looked at me for a moment as I held the cigarette and the lighter out to her, my hands making them vibrate in the air between us.

“Are you fucking deaf now, too?”

“No,” she said, her voice sounding relatively calm, all things considered.  “I’ve never lit one before.  I mean, I’m not sure how…”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” I screamed.  “Just fucking light it!”

I threw the lighter at her, which she managed to catch.  I thought better of throwing the smoke because if it got wet or broke, I was going to seriously lose it.  I put my shaking hand out again and held it there until she took it from me.