Page 37 of Ship Happens
“What if we kill innocents, though?” I pick up a filet knife and pretend I’m testing its heft. Feeling like a fool, I put it down. “Does that ever bother you?”
Maverick is staring at me with that look again. Like he’s over my bullshit. When he opens his mouth, I prepare for some sort of admonishment, but then his eyes soften. “Come with me.”
He grips the filet knife and tosses it once before jerking his head toward the Cattle. When he starts walking, my feet stupidly follow him. I blame how cool he looks while doing literally anything. We stop in front of the Cattle, who’ve been so quiet because their lips are glued shut.
“They can’t even plead their case if they have a case to plead,” I whisper, motioning to the four men. “Do you really see no problem with this?”
Maverick steps forward, toward the first man on the end. “Mind if I cut your lips loose, pal? It won’t hurt as long as you don’t move.”
The man shakes his head, then raises his face, offering his lips to Maverick, who steps forward and gently slices through the layer of glue. And part of the man’s lips, but we’ll pretend it was as painless as he promised.
“Oh, thank you,” the man whimpers.
Maverick holds up his hand. “Don’t thank me just yet. I’m going to give you an opportunity right now. What you do with it is up to you.” He looks down the line. “In fact, I’ll give all of you the same opportunity. One of you will get to live today. The others will die.”
He pushes me forward, and I peer at him over my shoulder. What the fuck is he doing?
“This is your judge and jury. Her name is Frankie, and she’s very fair. She values honesty above all else, however, so your best chance is to tell the truth, no matter how horrible that truth may be. So, if any of you would like the chance to live, step forward and plead your case.”
The first man needs no more convincing. “I did it. I said I didn’t, but I did. I’m guilty. Please let me live, and I won’t do it again. I won’t, I won’t, I?—”
“That’s a good start, but it’s not enough.” Maverick places his hand on the man’s shoulder. “What are you guilty of?”
“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Is she the Confessor?” The man squirms in his pink undies. “Oh man, yeah. It was bad. I’m sorry. I’m sick.”
My insides twist into knots until I fear I’ll vomit. “No, I’m not the Confessor. That’s enough.”
But it isn’t enough for Maverick. He goes to the next man, then the next. Both men cry guilty, and because they wear red or pink bottoms, that’s enough for me; I don’t want the details. Then the fourth man gets a turn.
“I didn’t do it,” he says. His voice is flat, emotionless, and unlike his peers, he doesn’t squirm and beg for his life. “They said I raped my friend’s cousin, and then they put me away for twenty years. I didn’t fucking rape her. She came into my room in the middle of the night and started sucking my dick. The bitch started it.”
“She told the story a little differently, but it doesn’t really matter.” Maverick turns away from him and faces me, as if he’s proved his point, but that doesn’t prove anything. He is prepared to end a man’s life over a belief, not a fact.
“Was she intoxicated?” I ask. “Drugs, alcohol? Anything that could damage her ability to make decisions? A drunk yes isn’t the same as a sober yes.”
“No shit, lady.” The man rolls his eyes. “No, she didn’t drink or nothing.”
“Probably because she was so involved with her school’s D.A.R.E. program.” Maverick turns to me. “Thebitch, as he called her, was a seven-year-old girl, and no, she did notstartanything. This man stumbled into her room in a drunken state and?—”
I hold up my hand. “I don’t need to hear any more. I’ve made my decision, and I want that one.” I point to the man who claimed his innocence.
“This is the one who gets to live? Seriously?” Maverick throws his hands in the air and shakes his head. “I give up.”
“There seems to be a misunderstanding,” I say. “This isn’t the man I want to save. This is the man I want to kill.”
As Maverick unhooks my chosen Cattle, I wage a war inside myself. Instead of talking myself into the kill, however, I’m talking myself out of enjoying it. Because I want this a little too much. The sickness is catching. The bloodlust fills every cell until I’m shaking with rage.
I’ll never admit it to Maverick, but I get it now. The anger. The need to end someone. In this situation, when presented with the option to feed that feeling or deny its meal in favor of righteousness, I’m going to go against everything I am and feed the beast.
“She wanted it, you bitch.” The Cattle turns his head and spits in my face.
Maverick tenses, and the Cattle stumbles forward and goes over the side of the boat. It happens so quickly that neither of us has time to react. The Cattle doesn’t even scream before a loud splash breaks the quiet.
I rush forward and peer over the railing. Seconds later, the man’s head pierces the white foam, and he sucks in a gulp of air as he floats on his back and gloats up at us. His arms are still fastened behind him, but his legs are free to kick and keep him above the waves.
He smiles and screams something up at us, but I can’t hear him over the spray.
“What?” I shout down at him as I cup my ear.
