‘You do know there is a return voyage?’ Sinigang’s voice comes from the pile of blankets on the bed.
I grumble. ‘Not yet guaranteed.’
Sinigang disentangles himself, head popping up to admonish me. ‘You’re drinking more the closer we get to the Maelstrom.’
‘It helps the nausea,’ I insist as he eyes the bottle in my hand.
‘Returning to old habits?’ he asks.
‘There are worse ways to cope.’
Sinigang grabs a stone from the loose pocket of skin beneath his armpit, and begins to roll it between his paws, like a toy.
‘Eugh, Sini. Not on the bed.’
‘This is my favourite stone. Excellent for cracking open seafood.’
‘When do you ever do that? You’re domesticated.’
Sinigang jumps off the bed and drags something from beneath the bunk. It’s pale, almost translucent, and a dead cloudy eye looks back at me. Some sort of marine creature. Like nothing I’ve seen before. It wasn’t designed for sunlight.
‘Sini, that is foul,’ Ris says, scrunching her nose.
‘I’ve been finding all sorts of strange things floating on the sea. This washed up in Isagani’s net.’
My stomach drops, like when your foot misses a step. A momentary lurching. The dream comes back to me. Cold, wet slithering, the smack of skin against wood. The taste of salt and sand in my throat.
‘What’s wrong?’ Ris asks, reaching out to touch my hand. Her fingers are rough and warm against my cold and clammy skin.
Sinigang stares, and I hate the way the otter-cat seems to gaze into my soul. ‘I’m going to check on the bone boys.’ I excuse myself, grabbing a sealskin jacket and heading up to the deck.
I have to hold on to the railings, slick with rain, as I inspect the sails and ropes. Everything is battened down, in good nick to weather the storm. The undead are nowhere to be seen, likely below deck in the storage hold, which is where we’ve figured out they go when there’s nothing to attend. It’s surreal; they stand there, still and blank in the dark.
Nothing is broken, and I’m half impressed. We’ve been moving in shifts to check on things, and my living crew have been quick learners. They’re not work-shy, and it’s reassuring to have some conscious heft in addition to the undead. Even when the work is frustrating, laborious, and repetitive – at least we’re all mustering, cleaning, and inspectingour rigging and ropes. I lose my footing as the ship crests a wave and get knocked to the floor. The ship moves at an angle, and I scrabble for purchase as the force of a crashing wave pulls me from the deck.
Captain, Maelstrom ahoy!
It had come out of nowhere. The watch, boatswain, and quartermaster were all too focused on the approaching Maelstrom. As was I. At first, we thought it was the storm, a rogue wave, a wall of water. But it was something living. Something from the depths that should never have seen sunlight.
I come back to myself and the current swell. I swing around freely, groping for purchase. My fingers find my sealskin coat, caught on a loose nail. The fabric is slowly ripping under my weight. Below me is the cold surf and one painful drop.
My hands tremble as I claw at the wood, but it’s no use. It’s slick and smooth beneath my fingers. Panic seizes my throat. I can’t breathe. As the sealskin rips, I begin to fall through the coat, choking on the collar as I try to stay inside it.
Then I feel hefty arms around me, cold skin sticking to my own. I’m dragged back on board and bodily hauled onto the deck. We go down with a thud, pain ricocheting across my body. It’s Ris, hair pinned atop her head, in another sealskin coat. I try not to put my full weight on her but my knees buckle.
‘You’re all right, I’ve got you!’ she says, tilting my head to the side. She pounds on my chest, presumably trying to get any seawater out of my lungs.
She fetches a skin of water and sits me up so I can drink. I push it away.
‘We have to save the fresh water,’ I tell her.
‘With a storm like this, rain won’t be a problem.’ She laughs, giving me the skin again.
We get back below deck, practically bringing a deluge of water with us.
‘What happened?’ Biba asks.
‘We almost had a man overboard,’ Ris says stoically.
