The final lifeboat was loading when the reapers reached the upper deck. Without much trouble, they all climbed aboard, their collective anonymity forcing them into the center of the boat to sit shoulder to shoulder. Oz squeezed between Cora and a reaper he knew as “Smalls.” Cora didn’t look at him.
His plan of inaction sucked. He couldn’t go back to The Department, and he couldn’t be on Earth without killing people, so it’d seemed simple. Do nothing. He knew a shitty plan when he made one, but it was all he had. If he forced the hand of judgment, so be it. At least it’d be because he chose it.
The moon shone brightly over the open ocean. No sound could be heard over the sloshing of water against the lifeboats and the groan of the ship’s hull as it was dragged under water. It sank slowly, but without putting up a fight. Oz wondered if nowadays a ship’s captain was obligated to go down with the ship. Then he looked to the lifeboat drifting closer to his and saw the captain seated at the front with a vacant expression, clutching a megaphone to his chest.
Oz dipped his hands over the side to wash the blood from them, but thought better of it and pulled out again. He didn’t want to add a brush with sharks to the night’s events.
Most of the ship’s hull was pulled under by the time their rescue came. It was a smaller, considerably less lavish ship from the same cruise line. It looked more like a fishing boat than a cruise ship. A woman at the back of Oz’s lifeboat scoffed as she clutched her handbag to her chest.
As it drew closer, the waves rocked and swayed the lifeboat. Oz kept his eyes fixed on a smudge on the bottom of the boat.
“Seasick?” Cora asked.
“I thought you said it wasn’t happening tonight.”
“There was no point in worrying you.”
Oz snorted. “Right.”
“So what happened back there?”
He swallowed hard. Oz had hoped he wouldn’t have to explain himself. “I... don’t know.”
“I couldn’t see anything with all that smoke. Did you find anyone?”
“Oh. Um, no. I mean, I saw the bodies, but...”
“I couldn’t believe the wolves were there already. It doesn’t make sense. They only show up if they’re certain they will succeed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ever notice how they don’t show up when it’s just one-on-one?”
“Maybe they knew something we didn’t.” Smalls said.
Oz looked up to see Smalls staring at him.
* * *
Cora wrinkled her nose. The rescue boat smelled like piss and fish. A string of triangular flags flitted from the rails almost as an afterthought. Without the ship’s flag boasting the name of the cruise line, she wouldn’t have guessed this boat was meant to house passengers. Then again, maybe it wasn’t.
There was limited space for passengers below the upper deck, so most were stuck huddled around makeshift tables out in the open. The crew passed out bottles of water and sleeves of club crackers. Cora stayed on the upper deck with Oz. Bard and Smalls disappeared below.
Cora snagged two bottles of water from a cooler and approached Oz.
“Water?”
Oz shook his head.
He turned away from her and gazed out toward the sinking cruise ship. Cora wondered about something she thought she saw during the chaos. It’d been smoky and nearly impossible to see anything clearly, but it almost looked like he’d allowed a Ba to be taken by the wolves. Cora knew it was crazy to think it, but still.
She left one of the bottles next to Oz’s feet and set off to look for Bard.
She found him outside the men’s room, picking at a piece of the door frame with his Swiss army knife.
“Smalls is washing up,” Bard said. “Waste of time if you ask me. He’s got a pick as soon as we get off this pathetic excuse for a boat.”
“Does Oz seem a little off to you?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“I mean more so than before we got on the ship.”
Bard tucked his knife into his back pocket. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
Smalls emerged from the bathroom, hair soaked, and clapped Bard on the back.
“Forget it,” Bard said to Cora and followed Smalls down the narrow hallway.
“What are you talking about?”
Bard turned the corner without acknowledging her.
There was something to worry about with Oz. Cora ran after Bard. She’d beat it out of him if she had to.
* * *
A news crew waited at the port along with a pair of ambulances and a slew of police cars. It was the kind of déjà vu Oz could do without.
The surviving passengers and crew couldn’t get off the rescue boat fast enough. Parents carried children long past the age of needing to be carried, partly out of impatience and partly out of an intense gratitude that they were still alive.
Oz needed to see Jamie. To talk to him. He was the only thing in this new fucked up existence that made any sense and he needed to know that Jamie was okay.
Cora trotted up to him as he started in the direction of Mark’s house. Bard trudged behind her.
“Going home?” she asked.
“Home?” He hardly thought of his apartment as home.
“Well, I just figured you might want to go for a walk or something. Sometimes it helps to talk a little afterward.”
He did want to talk, just not to her or Bard.
“No thanks,” Oz said.
“C’mon, Princess, you can’t—”
“Can’t what? Have time alone? Look, I get it now, okay? I’m stuck. It’s my job to watch people die and not do a damn thing about it. I don’t need you two following me around anymore. I can handle it.”
Bard’s lip twitched. He looked amused.
“Oz...”
“No, Cora,” Bard said, “The baby’s all grown up now. Doesn’t need Mommy and Daddy looking over his shoulder. Isn’t that right, sport?”
Bard nudged Cora in the opposite direction Oz was walking.
“Don’t fuck up,” he said. This time, it was a threat.
* * *
Oz walked the long way around the perimeter of the port to avoid the paramedics. Several people had been wheeled from the ship, bloody and half-conscious. It took three men to hoist them onto gurneys and into the ambulances. He slipped his own bloody shirt over his head, leaving a damp undershirt on, and tossed it into a dumpster. Behind him, the sun barely broke the horizon. New days were supposed to bring new beginnings, but Oz felt trapped in a never-ending nightmare.
It was quiet on the walk from the port to Jamie’s neighborhood. The world was awake but had yet to get through that first cup of coffee.
The windows in the house were dark, but that wasn’t necessarily a reason to worry. Jamie could’ve been on his way to school. Oz didn’t even know what day of the week it was. He considered waiting on the sidewalk until Jamie came home but there was no way of knowing if he would come home at all. From his experiences with Jen, Oz knew she was always one delicate string away from splitting open. Always stressed. Always anxious. Mark’s death had no doubt thrown her over the edge. Jamie could be staying with a relative. Or she’d packed up and moved somewhere that didn’t remind her of Mark. If she’d done that, Oz had no way of knowing where to find him. He should’ve come to see Jamie sooner, but he’d been too wrapped in his own self-pity. Great godfather he was turning out to be.
There was only one other place Oz could think to look.