This chapter is dedicated to jennkyle. A voracious reader of Castle fanfic, she always has a comment and is always quite cheerful and supportive. Not just on things I write, but for many authors on the site. I really appreciate that she's stuck by me for this fic; she is a constant voice of encouragement. Thank you for always taking the time to read my updates and for being such a great reviewer!
December 1999
Kate clutched the plane's armrest with white knuckles. They'd entered a steep dive, one that might be their doom. Turbulence was throwing everyone around and she cried out as objects flew past, pelting the terrified passengers. Suddenly, they reversed course—pulled into an ascent as ghastly as the descent had been. Her stomach rebelled, unhappy with the abrupt change in direction when they dove again. The pilot was fighting the plan, but it continued to buck all attempts at control. Kate was praying for deliverance when a loud grinding noise and reverberating thud sounded and she was flung from her seat. Waking up, she found that she'd been thrown from her bunk.
The horrific grating hadn't been a dream, as the sound tore through the ship again. It shook her to her marrow, and made her mouth go dry. They weren't being flung about, but this noise…this noise meant something worse had happened. Pushing the linens from her bed off her, she tried—and failed—to stand. Twisting around from the prone position she was lying in, she discovered her legs were snarled in what had been the open space beneath the wardrobe opposite her bunk. The wood was now contorted; no longer recognizable as drawers and doors. Legs stuck fast, she couldn't move.
Grinding metal interrupted her thoughts; they had to have struck something. The boat listed heavily to one side, and each wave that pounded into the hull elicited a loud screech. It was time to abandon ship before they all went down. Struggling, she tried to free herself; it was very awkward, given her positioning. Unable to properly see what was wrong, and unable to sit up and use her hands to tear a hole in the pile. Nothing felt broken, though her right ankle hurt like the devil. She was just…stuck.
The violent collision had popped her door open; she yelled for help, but nothing moved in the part of the hallway she could see. They wouldn't abandon her; she might now always like Rick, but he was reliable and diligent. He wouldn't willingly abandon ship without searching for everyone.
Minutes ticked past, feeling like a lifetime. Despair set in as she saw and heard no signs anyone else was alive. She was going to drown, alone. Her only comfort was that she'd be joining her mother soon.
She waited for water to flood her room. Periodically she'd violently struggle against her captor and then she'd lie still. What would it feel like to drown? Would it hurt? She'd accept death when it came for her. Not fight the very thing that would reunite her with her mother. Though, given a choice, she now knew she would've preferred to reunite with Johanna many years later. She wanted to live. But fate had another plan for her.
Wriggling again, she at last felt a give in one of the bigger pieces holding her down. Encouraged, she redoubled her efforts at shifting the wood when she finally heard a voice calling.
"Hello! Katherine? Where are you?"
It was Grollet.
"Henri!" she screamed, "I'm here! I'm here! In my room." She pounded on the floor, trying to get his attention by any means possible.
"Katherine! What are you doing? We must abandon ship." His voice had moved closer, and his head soon popped into view by the frame of her cabin door. He moved his gaze slowly over her body, taking in her predicament. His eyes had a flat expression that she didn't understand. "Ah, you are having some problems, no?"
"Yes. Henri, help me, please! I'm stuck under this cabinet. I think I've almost got it though. Can you just help me move this piece," she said, twisting to point at the largest piece trapping her, "I'm sure I can wriggle out."
He stood; unmoving and watching her like a cat watches a mouse. A shiver ran down her back at her vulnerable position. She saw him lick his lips before he spoke, tasting the air like a snake does with its forked tongue.
"You know, the other day I was hoping we'd be alone in this very room. But you disappeared and I was left by myself. Now I find you as I'd hoped, on your hands and knees, prostrate before me. It is a delicious image; one that I'll entertain many times whenever I think of you in the future."
She stared, lightheaded and mouth agape. Her throat convulsed, every molecule of saliva vaporized by a pulse of dread. Surely she'd misheard him. "That was a different situation, Henri. Right now we need to evacuate. We must hurry. Please, help me. I'm sure I can get out. Just the one piece of wood is all."
He relaxed his stance, leaning nonchalantly against the frame of the door. His tone was just as disaffected. "You know, it's truly a shame we didn't have more time together. I think I would have come to like you. Might have cared about you. If you'd given me a chance. And, speaking of chances, I have a mathematical question to pose to you. There are two boats, let's say. In both, there are rations for five people. One boat has five survivors. The other has three. Which boat will have a better chance for its occupants to survive, hmm?"
Kate made no answer; in truth she didn't understand what he was asking of her. He wasn't helping her. She was stuck and he was playing with her. Her life rested in the hands of a madman.
"No answer, my sweet Katherine? So beautiful, but perhaps not so intelligent. After all, you failed to recognize my importance until it was too late. Well, it comes to my mind that the survival of three people on rations meant for five is the much better odds, don't you think?" He smiled; a smile that did not reach the flat, black eyes. Eyes that looked like the flat, black eyes of a shark.
"What are you talking about? There are five of us."
"Ah, but this is where you are mistaken, my beautiful Katherine. I found Rodgers already; he was unconscious, and I made sure he would stay that way with a quick blow to the head. Then, I indulged in a few sharp kicks to his body. It was very satisfying, marred only by the fact that he was already insensible and won't ever wake up to know that I was the one responsible for his death. As disappointing as that is, it did leave us with four for the little lifeboat."
"We can't leave him. That's…inhuman," Kate said, her voice a near whisper. The entire situation must be a dream, like when she'd thought she was on a plane. "I'm just dreaming," she murmured. "Just dreaming."
"Then, imagine my surprise at finding you here, and in such a state. It's as though a higher power has interceded on my behalf. You are nothing to me—you spurned me, after all. I have no investment in you, quite the contrary. If I tell them I couldn't find you…hmm, no. I'll tell them you're dead. We can't have them searching for you. Yes, you are dead. It's like the book, no? 'And then there are three.' A much more manageable number, do you not agree?" He smiled at her, as if he'd just explained his choice on a dinner menu.
"I'll tell everyone how much it pained me to leave your body behind when they rescue me. Au revoir, mon ami. May your death be quick. Though it will likely be painful."
Kate couldn't breathe, frozen in the second when he'd started speaking and she'd stopped understanding the world. As he turned, he grasped the door, pulling it shut. She couldn't let it close; it'd be a life sentence. A violent lurch finally released her from the maw of the former wardrobe. Crawling to the door, she grabbed the handle just as she heard the key turning in the lock. The knob was frozen, secured for what remained of her life. She collapsed, pounding on the thick wood.
"Henri. No, please. Let me out. Please."
Something scraped the floor outside.
"Henri! PLEASE! Don't let me drown. HENRI?"
Voice muffled, footsteps fading, she could hear him walking to the stairs.
"I'll tell them all of my sorrow; you'll be remembered."
The last of his words were faded and he was gone.
"Wait! Henri! Come back here. HENRI. PLEASE! PLEASE!" she screamed, drawing out the last word for several seconds as loud as she could.
Nothing; no one answered but the grinding of the ship on its deathbed.
"Henri! HENRI! DON'T LEAVE ME TO DROWN." She pounded on the door until her fists were raw. "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, HENRI. YOU'RE A DEAD MAN, YOU HEAR ME? A DEAD MAN!" He didn't; no one did. She continued to scream; a series of meaningless shouts, not words. Screamed until her voice was raw and cracked, her fists swollen and bloody.
Sinking to the floor, she sobbed hysterically. She'd accepted her death earlier, when she thought she was alone and without hope. She'd found a measure of peace; reflected on her life and—mostly—calmly awaited its end. Now, that fragile acceptance had been destroyed. Her death was infinitely crueler in the hands of such a man rather than a random act of nature.
Rick wished the jackhammer drilling so near would stop. Why couldn't they work when he wasn't trying to sleep? Hell, he'd pay them to pause for half an hour. But the noise was unrelenting. Drifting closer to consciousness, he discovered the jackhammer was in his head. He opened his eyes with trepidation; he couldn't remember what had happened.
A loud grinding noise that was not in his head set his heart racing. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He was encased in darkness, and once awake other parts of his body began to clamor for attention besides the pulsing headache. Nausea promised to erupt into full-fledged vomiting if he turned his head. He couldn't move his legs far, his trunk was twisted awkwardly around something cold and metallic, and one arm was trapped underneath his body. His sides felt like Muhammad Ali had been using him for a sparring partner.
Slow and deliberate he explored with his free hand. He found the cold metallic object had a lip and a wide hole; when his hand encountered water he pieced it all together: he was on the floor of the head.
Had he been drunk? Or come down with the GI bug Ari'i had succumbed to? Unfolding his legs, he was attempting to stand when the ship gave a giant lurch and shriek of metal vibrated through his bones. Thrown against the toilet, he added a few newly bruised ribs to his list of woes. A vague memory of another loud shriek and then flying through the air came back to him. They'd struck something. Not. Good.
Reaching for the door handle, he shoved it open and was grateful for the dim light. His legs appeared fine, nothing broken or twisted. A quick inventory of the rest of his body revealed no blood or wayward bone. However, he found a large bump on the back of his head, near his ear, and another near his forehead. He must have struck his head on something several times.
Stumbling out into the bunkroom, he saw nothing but mattresses and clothing spilled out of drawers and across the room. It was a mess, but devoid of other people. He limped to the door of the saloon and found it equally messy, and equally empty.
"Hello? Tamahere? Tane?" His voice echoed back. He was alone, or the only survivor. Wobbling to the kitchen, he saw evidence that someone had survived: the shelf with water was missing half of its bottles, and the area of boxed foods had been pilfered.
Why would they have left him behind if they were gathering supplies for the lifeboat? He couldn't fathom abandoning someone and would never have guessed that Tamahere would—could—do so either. He had to get to the bow, figure out what was happening. Maybe they were waiting for him there. Just as he stepped into the saloon another lurch threw him into the largest table. All thoughts of his precarious position on a sinking ship were lost as blackness rushed up and took him down into its embrace once again.
March 2010
Tamahere sat back in his chair, having finished the last page Hopo had given to Afaitu. The fear that Hopo carried with him; the desperation to find Kate was now his fear and his desperation. They walked with danger, for if this story fell into the wrong hands…well, it was better not to think such thoughts.
He let out a heavy sigh. He could write the next part. The piece of the story that Hopo didn't know. Checking the clock, he saw that there was plenty of time before he was due to meet Afaitu. Creaking upright, joints groaning from their stiff positions, he shuffled to the kitchen to fix a light lunch while he considered what to do. He was no best-selling author, but it would be important to add his perspective on what had transpired. The truth; not the heavily edited version that had already been told.
Munching on his sandwich, he set himself to the painful task of remembering details from that horrible day. He'd pushed it down so far, for so long, that it was hard to remember much of anything. However, closing his eyes and recalling the sound of the Iriata dying on that rock helped him remember the rest.
After cleaning up the kitchen, he approached the laptop once again; a man walking to his execution. Now that he'd decided his course, he hoped to have the words to make it a worthy addition. Sitting down once again, he started typing out the events from ten years ago.
December 1999
Tamahere wasn't sure they could launch the lifeboat. The ship was listed so far portside that the lifeboat was angled away from the sea. It would be very hard to do, but what choice did they have?
He'd been on the bridge with Tane when the collision occurred. The violent crash had thrown him into a wall, but all injuries were forgotten as he and Tane recognized catastrophe had just struck. Literally.
Luck had smiled on them at that point; though how much good fortune could you invoke when you find your crewmate dead, your ship in the middle of a cyclone and then you rip open the hull on a rock? Whatever you called it, the ship hadn't sunk immediately. He had no idea why, but he wasn't going to question it.
He and Tane had tried to grab what they could from the bridge. It was a mess; the large front window had broken, and part of the structure had twisted around itself. The torque of the superstructure moving compared to the sudden stop the ship had experienced had served to destroy the entire far side of the bridge. The side that'd housed the navigational maps and instruments. And the radio. Not that that apparatus had been much use to them recently.
Without maps or sextant, they took what they could salvage: the two flashlights that were always kept on the bridge. Limping down to the first level, they opened the emergency locker. They took the essentials: the flare gun, a few ropes, and a hand cranked radio that had very limited range, but was better than nothing. There were some spare batteries for the flashlights, as well.
Next, they headed to the saloon, hoping to meet with the others. Unfortunately, the only other human they found was Grollet, busy piling food and water in a sack to haul to the life boat. No sign of Hopo anywhere. Tamahere started to move to the bunkroom to check it, when Grollet's voice rang out.
"No one's in there. I checked it already."
Tamahere turned, looking at their passenger. "Have you seen Hopo or Kate anywhere?"
"No, mon Dieu, no. No one besides you two."
Ignoring the man, Tamahere opened the door anyway, but didn't see any signs of life. The room was a mess but there was no sign of his friend. He'd probably made his way to the lifeboat. Returning to the saloon to grab what he could carry, he forgot in the fear and panic of the moment that Hopo had already gone over the evacuation protocol with them. And that he'd planned to be the last to leave, not the first.
"We have to get to the lifeboat before we sink. I'll go first, and help Hopo prepare to launch. Tane, get more food in a bag and all the water you can carry. Bring bottles, as we can fill them with rain. Grollet, go to the second floor and look for Kate."
Grollet gave a mutinous look but a glare from both Tane and Tamahere settled it. Tamahere turned back to Tane. "Give me about fifteen minutes then send Grollet and Kate. You come last."
Getting to the bow was a struggle. The boat listed so far to one side that without a jack line Tamahere twice would have slipped down the slope and into the water. He crumpled to his knees when he climbed up to the bow deck and found it empty. Where was Hopo? Perhaps he'd gone to the second level to rescue Kate? Tamahere couldn't waste time going back to look. It was his responsibility to get the lifeboat into the water. It was the only chance they had.
Fifteen minutes of difficult and dangerous work and it was ready. Just as he finished, Tamahere and Grollet could be seen crawling up the bow deck ladder. Peering into the gloom, he couldn't see anyone else with them. A ball of ice took shape in his gut.
"Where are the others?"
"Gone," was Grollet's reply.
"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" he was looking to the stern, at the twisted superstructure, waiting for Hopo to loom out of the fog with a grin at the stupid joke.
"Gone as in dead," Grollet shouted. He was staring at the lifeboat, wouldn't meet Tamahere's eyes.
"Dead!? They can't be dead. You're wrong." Tamahere unclipped his jack line, rehooking it so he could go back to the stern unfouled from the other two. Just as he stepped forward, Grollet's hand caught his bicep.
"I'm sure. I saw them both. Rodger's neck was snapped and Kate had a piece of wood driven into her head. They're gone. Dead. And so we will be unless we get off this boat."
"Where was he? He wasn't in the bunkroom. That's where I'd left him when I woke up early."
"What? Why does it matter?" Grollet jerked him around, spittle from his mouth landing on Tamahere in counterpoint to the rain.
"It matters to me. He's my friend, and I'm in charge."
"Fine! He was on the second floor."
"Where on the second floor?"
"Mon dieu, he was…he was in Hina's workshop. Maybe he was stealing medicine, I don't know. But he was dead."
It made no sense at all, but Tamahere hadn't had time to check the second floor. He jerked out of Grollet's grasp and began to pick his way back to the stern. He'd only taken a few steps when another violent lurch of the ship sent them all tumbling to the deck.
"We have to go. Now," Tane screamed as he pulled himself back up, "they're dead. I saw them too."
Tamahere closed his eyes, throat thick with emotion. Grollet's words he'd never believe. But Tane was part of the crew. They'd not known him long, but he'd pitched in without complaint through all of the harrowing days and nights. Reopening his eyes, he looked to the sky, dark and gloomy. He had no choice. He couldn't risk the lives of the two living people, not when they didn't know how long until the boat would sink. The others couldn't launch the boat without him. There was nothing else he could do.
"Get in the boat," he barked, fists clenched and heart aching.
Grollet scrambled in first. The last lurch of the ship had worked in their favor for a change, giving them just enough room to clear the dying ship. Tane jumped in and Tamahere followed after checking the lines again.
"Hang on!" He'd threw them life jackets and cut the jack lines. It was now or never. He cut the last line and they fell into the ocean with a giant splash.
"Row!" he screamed at Tane; even Grollet had taken up an oar. They had to get away from the ship; if it sank now it would pull them down with it.
They made little progress until establishing a rhythm and working together. The soft shadow of the ship faded into the rain. There were no other landmarks visible. It was as if the ship had been grabbed by a giant hand in the middle of an otherwise empty ocean. A hand that would soon sink back beneath the sea, its prize clutched in its grip forever.
Tamahere looked back just once, allowing himself a moment to mourn all he'd lost on that ship. Two of his best friends were there; he prayed they'd find comfort in resting with the ship that had brought them all together. He ignored the chill of doubt that took root in his heart, the one that murmured Grollet was a liar. He couldn't afford to listen to that voice—it meant he'd sentenced Hopo and Kate to a watery grave. But the voice wouldn't leave him. He'd try drowning it out with drink and drugs, but it continued to whisper of distrust and suspicion. Later, he'd try to flee—running to Huahine Iti where he only listened to its poisonous accusations when he was sleeping.
That voice manifested as the nightmares that haunted him—haunted him until the day ten years after the wreck when he saw Hopo's picture in a newspaper.
Thoughts? Thank you for reading.