Chapter Twenty-Three
~ Throttle ~
Kit
I wake up on the floor, drooling onto the cold metal. Everything’s a blur at first, my head’s pounding, and my face is a throbbing mess of pain. I slowly push myself up with trembling arms until I’m sitting, the room spinning around me.
My eyes drift toward the table. Finn’s body is still there, slumped and grotesque, blood pooled beneath his ruined head.
My stomach lurches. Oh my god… that wasn’t a nightmare.
I actually killed someone. The thought loops in my head, over and over, sharp and nauseating.
No, Kit, you had to do it. He deserved it; the world is a better place without him; he was a psycho. I did the right thing.
But the guilt and shock keep crashing in anyway. I took a life. I pulled the trigger six times. I can still feel the recoil in my hands and hear the screams that tore out of my own throat.
I use the wall to pull myself up until I’m standing, legs wobbly and weak. I don’t feel great at all… dizzy, starving, every part of me aching. I’ve completely forgotten about the video call. I just need to get out of this room.
I push the heavy metal door open with a grunt.
I’ve never been up here before. I crawl up the stairs, using my palms to keep myself steady as the boat rocks gently.
I grab the railing and haul myself upright, laughing weakly as the sea breeze hits my face.
It’s almost dark now, the last sliver of sunset painting the horizon in deep oranges and purples, giving me just enough light to see the boat around me.
I have no goddamn clue how to make this thing move. And on top of that, I don’t want to dock with a boat that has a dead body on it. I don’t know if anyone’s coming for me. I don’t even know if anyone knows where I am.
I move toward the side where the steps lead down to the water and see Finn’s jet ski bobbing there, still tied to a pole. That’s my ticket home. I’ve never ridden one before, but how hard can it be?
I shakily descend the steps, the boat rocking more than I expected. Thankfully, Finn, being the cocky bastard he was, left the key in the ignition. I sigh in relief; at least I don’t have to go back down into that room.
I grab the thick rope and start undoing the knot with clumsy fingers.
Once it’s free, I throw it onto the deck, grip the handle of the jet ski, and with my heart racing, slowly climb onto it, trying not to fall into the ocean.
I get my feet into position, turn the key, and the machine lights up and starts vibrating beneath me.
I look it over. It’s pretty simple… handles, throttle on the right.
I pull the throttle bar gently and the jet ski jerks forward.
I laugh, surprised. “Oh… okay… Jesus Christ…”
I do it again and it jerks harder. I grip tighter. “Come on, Kit… you’ve got to do this…”
I pull the throttle and hold on as tight as I can.
The jet ski surges forward, cutting through the waves.
It’s fast, but not as terrifyingly fast as I expected.
It bounces over the small swells, water spraying up and hitting my face.
I laugh again, a real, breathless laugh, because I’m alive.
I never thought I’d see the back of that boat.
I turn and stick my middle finger up at it, shouting into the wind, “Fuck you, Finn! I hope you rot in hell!”
Then I face forward again, heading toward the distant lights of the city on the horizon. It shouldn’t take too long on this thing.
I see a larger boat moving away from a dock in the distance; that’s my goal…
the dock. I scan the shoreline and it looks like the only one visible, so I head toward it.
The boat is much bigger than Finn’s, its lights cutting across the water.
I steer wide, wanting to go around it and stay out of its glow.
The last thing I need is someone spotting a guy on a jet ski with his face split open by a disgusting cut like this.
How the hell would I even begin to explain that?
I shake my head and take the long way around it. My fingers are trembling with the effort of just holding the throttle. I’m so malnourished I’m surprised I’m even managing to sit upright.
When I eventually round the bigger boat, the dock is only about a mile out now.
I slowly release the throttle a good distance away, trying to see how many people might be there.
Not being able to see anyone from here, I pull the throttle again and guide the jet ski toward a shadowed pier at the far side, away from the main lights.
I don’t want to crash, so I let go of the throttle and hope it bobs the rest of the way in. I sigh when it stops about two metres short. “Really?”
With weak fingers I pull the throttle just a tiny bit, hoping it doesn’t hurl me straight into the pier.
It nudges forward and bumps gently into the wood.
I figure that’s as good as it’s going to get, so I grab the edge of the pier and clumsily climb over the handlebars, not having the strength to try and turn the machine for an easier dismount.
I just flop onto the wooden deck, feeling so much safer even though I have no idea where I am right now.
I don’t recognise any of these buildings; a part of me had been hoping one of them might be from the pictures Finn had shown me.
I push up to a stand and walk down the pier, dragging my feet, until I reach solid ground.
The gravel shifts under my shoes and I nearly lose my balance.
I have no idea where to go, I just stick to the shadows of some shipping containers, holding onto them for support so I don’t fall.
My vision keeps blurring and I’m fighting not to pass out again.
◆◆◆
I’ve been stumbling through the shadows for what feels like forever. My vision keeps blurring at the edges and my legs feel like they’re made of wet paper, but I keep moving. I have to.
Then I hear a voice, and crackling, like someone talking into a radio.
My heart rate spikes instantly. I freeze, pressing myself against the cold metal of a container, and slowly peek around the corner.
Under a pool of harsh dock lighting sits a sleek black car.
A man in a dark suit is standing beside it, speaking quietly into the device clipped to his collar.
The words are too murmured for me to make out.
Who the hell is that? Why is a man in a suit lingering around the docks at night? The second I think it; I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. In a city like this, run by someone like Soren, of course it’s reasonable for people to be lingering in dark places.
I’m about to pull back when my eyes land on the licence plate.
I squint, trying to focus through the haze.
In the top corner, above the registration numbers, I can clearly see the letters “S.S.” Soren marks a lot of his stuff with his initials.
I’ve seen it on staff uniforms and equipment.
I don’t recognise the guy from here, could be anyone in Soren’s employ, but that plate…
My legs move before my brain fully catches up. I stumble forward, voice scraping out raw and used-up. “Excuse… me…”
The man turns sharply. His eyes go wide the moment they land on me, and he rushes over. “Kit? Holy shit, kid… oh my god.”
It’s Ralph. He doesn’t ask questions, he simply scoops me up like I weigh nothing and says, “Let’s get you home, Kit. Everyone’s gonna be so relieved.”
Ralph manages to open the passenger door one-handed and places me gently into the seat. He rounds the car quickly, climbs in, and reaches over to pull the seatbelt across me, clicking it into place with careful hands.
He laughs in disbelief as he starts the engine. “You’ve no idea how good it is to see you, Kit.”
I manage a weak smile. “Can I… window?”
“You want the window open?”
I mumble, “Mhmm.”
“Of course.” He whirs the window down so the cool night breeze hits my face.
The second the car starts moving and he pulls onto a main road; Ralph presses a button on the car’s display screen. “Boss, you there?”
Soren’s voice comes through instantly, rough and exhausted. “What is it, Ralph?”
Ralph indicates smoothly as he accelerates. “I’ve got him, boss. I’ve got Kit.”
There’s a stunned pause on the line. Soren’s voice cracks slightly. “What? How?”
Ralph keeps driving, calm and steady. “He just came out of the dark, boss. His clothes are wet. I don’t know how, but… he found his way to the dock on his own. I’m taking him straight back to the estate. He needs to see Doctor Brown as soon as possible.”
Soren lets out a long, shaky exhale through the comms. “Good work, Ralph. We’ll turn the boat around and be back as quick as we can. Get him set up in the living room nearest to the kitchen.”
“You got it, boss.”
Ralph glances over at me, his expression softening. “You’ll be home soon, Kit.”
I close my eyes as the vibration of the car beneath me soothes me into my first proper sleep in days.