Page 37 of Dance Practice, Marooned: Part 2

It’s now or never.

Ace and I vanish into the wet blackness, not a word said, just a press of his hand into my back, his breath at my neck, the only thing keeping my bones from shaking me apart. I follow him through the bush toward the waterline. The trees clear and the sand here is colder, the white grit packed hard by the tide.

The ship is anchored in the cove, just floating there. Quiet, eerie, as if it knows just how much evil it holds.

There are two men on the beach in front of it.

A small lantern is all that lights up the darkness, but it is enough for us to see them. One is standing, cigarette dangling between his fingers, staring out at nothing. He has a bottle of alcohol at his feet. The other is on the ground, I’m assuming sleeping as they take turns. Ace gestures in their direction and then turns to me, whispering, “There are only two, we can take ‘em out.”

I nod, even though my throat has stopped working. I can’t really feel my arms, but I hold the knife like it is the only thing keeping me from death.

Hell, maybe it is.

“That guy is asleep,” he goes on. “If he stays asleep, you don’t need to do anything. If he wakes, I’m going to need you to ensure he doesn’t alert anyone that we are there. That’s a big ask, I know, but I need to know you can do this.”

I hold my breath for a second, then exhale. “I don’t... I don’t know if I can hurt someone, Ace.”

He reaches over, cupping my face. “Listen, I get what you’re sayin’ and I respect it, but right here, right now, this is life or death. It’s them or us. You have to decide which team you’re battin’ for.”

I inhale through my nose, and nod. “I can do it. I will...”

Gosh, please don’t let me have to.

Ace releases me and then bends, picks up a smoothed length of driftwood, then yanks some length of rope he stuffed in his pants. He twists it, checks its strength, then looks at me. There’s a question in his eyes, a haunted, ancient thing... can I do it if I need to? Take a life? I don’t have any idea what kind of person I am anymore, but I nod, because the only thing worse than dying here is dying and knowing I didn’t fight.

I look right at him and say, “Just tell me what to do.”

He presses his forehead to mine, and the touch is so quick, and so desperate, it almost breaks me open. “Things get dangerous, you run. You hear me?”

I want to throw up. I want to run. Instead, I just close my eyes and say, “Okay.”

We move together, slow as the tide coming in. Ace cuts sideways, keeping in the dark, then peels off toward the standing man. I slide around the other side, keeping the men in my eyeline so I can see if they move. It’s less of a mission and more like a nightmare—my legs don’t always work, and I trip and almost drop the knife, but I catch myself before I crash into the sand.

Nobody moves.

Fuck.

I get closer and can smell the man. Yuck. Rum and BO, like he hasn’t fucking showered in a year. Fuck, maybe he hasn’t. Using the ship as a cover, I have to take slow steps through the water to get into the position I need. My back pressed against the damp timber of this rancid ship, peering around, getting myself ready. The second Ace has the man standing, I have to move.

No hesitation.

I peer around, fingers curled around the front of the ship. The man is still on the ground, snoring. His chest rises, falls, then sputters and shudders like a dying engine. He looks dead, I kind of wish he was. I wait, holding my breath in increments, as if that is going to change whatever is going to happen here.

A scuffle has me peering around again, just in time to see Ace launch the makeshift choker over the man’s neck, then he starts twisting so quickly I just know this isn’t the first time he has done this. The man has no hope, the rope around his neck is now so tight that he has zero chance of escape. He is fighting, clawing at Ace’s hands. They crash into the sand, a mess of elbows and knees, and for half a second I lose my nerve.

Snapping out of it, I rush out and over to the man on the ground.

This absolute idiot is still out of it, completely unaware that his friend is being choked to death right beside him. Does that mean I don’t have to hurt him? What will we do with him? I make a quick decision and take out the rope I also have with me, just in case. I tug it from my pants and carefully bind the man’s hands and feet.

He doesn’t move.

By the time I’m done, Ace is kicking the now very dead man over as he slowly turns towards me.

I look up. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’ll deal with it. I need you to gather anything you can, weapons, light, money, whatever they have on them.”

“Deal with it?” I croak, pressing my lips together.