Chapter 7
Girl Out of Water
Lillian
THE SHIP THANKFULLY steadies itself by the time we emerge into a new day dawning.
Despite the false sense of security that the bright morning sky provides, the scene is chaotic.
Some are jumping into the sea, others are weeping and fretting.
Three of the portside lifeboats have not been launched and are now useless due to the heavy list of the ship.
The starboard boats are gone. James barges forward, toward the very side that is now rolling upward into the sky.
Our group digs in to follow. My bare feet slip only once as I try to keep up, try to ignore the stinging pain at my wrists and ankles, and try to make the pounding headache not deter me from surviving.
Ben never releases my hand.
Even as we approach the railing of the port side, Ben remains calm.
Those that didn’t brave the sea have elected to take their chances at climbing over the railing onto the ship’s bulkhead.
Diederick and James hoist themselves up and over.
James immediately returns on his hands and knees to help me up.
It’s only now that I pause. Up until this point, I had only wanted to escape my ruthless captors and emerge from within the ship before it could drag me down with it.
Now, the truth of the situation catches me.
It doesn’t set upon me like one of my lazy whispers; no, it completely pulls me down like a tidal wave.
My breath starts to uptick and my legs become shaky.
The ship is sinking. My necklace and journals may be gone, our team is in shambles, Margaret is nowhere to be seen, and the open water is vast all around us.
The ship is sinking.
“Come on, Lillian!” James swears, reaching for me with a waving hand.
A much calmer voice grounds me instantly.
“Everything’s going to be okay.” When I look over at Ben, I notice a flicker of concern hooding his eyes.
When the expression changes immediately upon catching my gaze, I realize that it’s not a concern for the situation, it’s a concern for me.
“I’m here,” he says calmly. “We’re here together.
” That sentence paired with a squeeze of my hand has my bloodied feet moving again.
“Attagirl,” Ben croons as he steadies me. The ship has tilted again with a wild groan. Ben then moves his grip from my hand to my elbow and then to my hips. With an easy lift, he passes me off to James who heaves me up next to him just as easily.
Once on the level surface of the bulkhead, I can take in our surroundings.
The ship rests completely on her side now, her fate sealed.
There is more to see out beyond where the waves lap upon the steel.
Boats, big and small, dot the water, and beyond that, land.
A strip of it juts out in the distance, and for the first time since last night, I’m able to breathe.
“Your trinkets are safe, Lillian. Margaret too.” I look over my shoulder at James, who is sitting with his legs straight out and his palms laid flat behind him, as if he were at the beach for a lovely day of tanning.
I merely nod and look back out to sea. The water should calm me like it always has, but this is not my beloved Amazon, and gnawing questions eat away at my mind like a shark to a bloodied body.
I take a deep breath and banish all voices from my head, and they go with reluctance and hissing whispers of annoyance.
Beside us, a group of men, still in their pajamas, talk amongst themselves.
Someone jokes about a lovely sunrise and then another curses the entire situation by implying foul play.
Others gather around them in agreement, sharing what they had heard and seen the night before.
I’m quick to pull my nightgown down around my ankles to hide the evidence of my capture.
Though it hurts, I place my hands around my wrists and squeeze.
All things hidden, I bury my head between my knees and try not to let the awful nausea take me over.
The pain keeps me from drifting away, but it’s Ben who saves me completely.
He moves behind me and puts a leg on either side of my battered body.
His arms come around me and gently pull me against him.
I instantly collapse, excited to let the tension out of my body.
He kisses the top of my head once and doesn’t let go.
Even in him offering me comfort, the pain keeps me lingering, teetering on the edge of lucidity as we wait for rescue.
No matter what happens next, I am here with him and he is here with me.
They did not take me wherever they had planned.
They did not take me, and I escaped them.
If this is what they had planned on a ship full of innocent people, I fear what they will do when the jungle masks the real world from our dueling expeditions.
My hands release their grip on my wrists and, instead, fish for an anchor.
Ben’s hands quickly find mine, and his reassuring words of calm tickle my ear.
“The boats are almost here, Lillian. You’ll be home soon. ”
I allow myself a breath. Ben’s beside me. That is enough.
It has always been enough.
We slip into the continent as soon as our feet touch land in Macapá.
Oliver, Margaret, and Mr. Bennett are already long gone, surely beating us to our checkpoint by hours.
James leads the way for our small survivor group, effortlessly evading shoreline officials and stealing us away into the city undetected.
Our fake names will be forever lost to the waves. Which is perhaps for the best.
Despite shoes on my feet and a dry jacket across my shoulders to disguise my nightwear, I cannot stop the shaking.
One would think it would be from things endured, but in reality, it is my separation from my necklace.
No matter how many times James assures me of its safety, I won’t be at ease until it’s back around my neck.
“Ms. Bach,” a voice attempts, and fails, to bring me out of the whispers. “Ms. Bach,” the voice tries again, “if you could be so kind as to give us directions.” It’s James’s voice, but I can’t seem to speak.
I feel Ben’s hand at my back and then hear him give instructions. We change direction and the whispers hiss in appreciation.
Soon, I say in answer. We will be reunited soon.
We walk the rest of the way through town, toward the river. With so much commotion at the docks, the streets are all but abandoned.
“How much further?” James asks, still leading the way, “I’d like to be reunited by nightfall.” What he meant to say was “I’d like to be reunited before any of our opponents discover their mission failed.” But I appreciate him trying to spare my nerves.
“It’s not far,” Diederick says, finally giving into the heat by rolling up his sleeves.
Sure enough, we come upon a quiet square, and just across it, the unassuming house sits in a copse of paubrasilia or Brazilwood trees. My mind clears the moment I step into the protection of their shade.
“Thank God, you made it,” Margaret calls from the small front porch.
Beside her, Mr. Bennett has his feet propped on the iron railing with a cigarette in his hand.
The smoke clouds his face, even in the evening light.
“We would have stayed and waited,” she says, coming down the stairs to greet us, “but Mr. Bennett assured us that all was to remain as planned.”
“It’s best that you stayed the course,” Diederick says, blowing past her towards the house. I pray he’s going in for my necklace.
“You weren’t followed?” James asks, meeting Margaret halfway. One of his hands gently comes to rest on her upper arm. Ben straightens beside me, also noticing the affection.
“Of course not, James.” Mr. Bennett has stood up from his seat and is now peering down at all of us, taking over for Margaret’s hawk-like gaze.
“You’re positive?” Ben asks.
There’s another puff of smoke before Mr. Bennett moves to stand. The annoyed silence is enough to confirm his initial claim. He beckons James to follow him inside, and like a moth to a flame, James goes.
“Everyone just lie low,” James says, leaving us on the lawn. “Our contact will be here early tomorrow, if all goes to plan.”
Our contact.
Ademir.
There’s no time to loiter on the warmth the name gives me because Margaret has been left cold and has turned her sights on me. With a painted smile, she gathers me by the arm. “Let’s go get you out of these,” she says, motioning to my saltwater-stiffened gown and stolen accessories.
“My necklace,” I state, feet rooted to the spot. Even with the prying eyes and interest in my demand, my stare does not leave the door that Diederick had disappeared into.
He appears not a moment later. My journals and the amazonite boxes are nowhere to be seen, but for now, all I seek is my necklace.
I can sense Ben’s scrutinizing gaze on me, but I have no care to address it.
We had not spoken about when to show the necklace to the others, but to them now, it should look like a trinket, something old and valuable to salvage from any disaster.
To them, my journals should seem much more important to the cause.
I realize my folly immediately when Margaret glances down at the amazonite that now sits in my hand and flinches. “It’s a beautiful piece, Lillian.” My fingernails curl into my palm, hiding it from the world once again.
Margaret’s flinching gaze quickly disappears; a hearty smile replaces it. “Come, let’s get you clean, and then you must tell me where you received such a lovely necklace.”