But that’s not in the cards, not for me.
To remind myself of that, to hammer it in, I slap my own cheeks a few times, hard enough to sting. It works.
The pain snaps me back, reinforcing that whatever I had with Eliano was just a pause along the way. Nothing more.
Shut the fuck up, you stupid heart.
I am not one of those people who grew up on romance movies and love stories, believing in fairytale endings. The world is too ugly for that. Those things belong in fiction, not in real life.
What I cannot understand is why, the farther I get from Sector C, the tighter something grips my stomach, a strange urge arises. But I do not allow myself even a second of weakness. I don’t slow down. I finally reach the beach.
The ferry is not there yet, so I hide on a small rocky rise nearby.
Gloomy, angry, frustrated, I sit there, watching the water, still dark.
A quiet hope creeps in that maybe the ferry will not come, that maybe I will be forced to turn back and somehow everything will solve itself.
It does not happen. I figure it is around 5:15 when I spot the lights of the approaching ferry on the horizon.
At the same time, I hear a quad coming.
In the still gray light, barely touched by the first pale peach rays of morning, I cannot tell who is on it. There are several people riding it.
The ferry docks. I know this is the moment when I have to make my move.
I see a few people disembark, but I do not recognize anyone. I get a strange feeling that some of them might be cops, but there is no time to study them.
Keeping low along the line of concrete bollards, I move toward the beach, quickly strip off my clothes there, stuff them into the bag, tie it tight, and step into the water, which feels surprisingly cold.
I start swimming away from the shore so I can arc toward the ferry.
Mostly staying underwater, I swim very slowly and carefully, surfacing only slightly to grab a breath. Because of this, it takes me a long time to get there. At one point, when I emerge, I see that the people who had been talking on the beach are now heading toward the gangway leading onto the ferry.
I recognize Sidorov and… the tall figure of Drax.
Fuck! So they are leaving the island? That gives me pause. Things could have gotten a lot more interesting here, but whatever, it is no longer my problem. Eliano handled that job. He did the participants a real service, that much is clear. I respect him for it, because he showed a kind of moral backbone I myself lacked.
I was focused only on my own tragedy, my own mission. I did not really care what was happening here. I felt for them, sure, but my goal was always revenge. I had blinders on, and he did not.
Poor Eliano. He wanted to escape a life in the criminal world, and he ended up with me. Maybe we really were a terrible match?
The thought is sharp and unpleasant, so I quickly push it away.
I finally manage to reach the side of the ferry, and I do it at the very last moment. I hear footsteps on deck. If anyone leaned out and looked over the side now, they could easily spot me. The last stretch, the final dozen or so feet, is critical.
With huge relief, I see thick ropes running along the hull, encrusted with shells and seaweed. I grab one and cling to it, pressing myself hard against the side of the ferry.
In this position, plastered to the hull, no one would notice me unless they leaned way out to look down.
For about ten minutes, nothing happens. I hear some rattling sounds, like someone wheeling something up the gangway, maybe a delivery.
Then suddenly I feel vibrations. The ferry’s engine starts, and the vessel begins to pull away toward the open sea.
My heart starts racing. I hope there are no sharks in these waters. Clinging to the rope, I am dragged along the side of the ferry, which turns out to be a real challenge. The water keepsslamming into my body, splashing up around the bow. The ferry is not moving very fast, but the constant stream, forced along the hull, keeps pounding me.
I know that if I let go now, I could get sucked under the vessel and shredded by the propeller, so I hold on for dear life.
I remember the whole crossing is supposed to take an hour, so I grit my teeth and just endure it. My mind goes blank. In situations like this, you focus on staying alive. I lock my attention on my hands gripping the hard, slick ropes, and I do not loosen my hold.
