Page 82 of Ship Happens
As we dressed in our matching outfits—purple crop tops, black fingerless gloves, skin-tight black shorts—I explained Maverick’s reluctance to join us. I didn’t include the details about why, though. Specifically, the facts surrounding my employment and that Maverick doesn’t want me to lose myself. Friendships haven’t come easy in my life, and I really like these girls. If they find out I’m a fed, I’ll lose their trust. I’ll have to tell them eventually, just not right now.
“So, what are we doing today?” I look down the beach, but I don’t see any event stations. The Cattle aren’t even present.
“Enjoying being on solid ground.” Cat flops down in the sand. “I couldn’t care less what the rest of the day entails. Just leave me on the beach.”
Kindra smiles and rolls her eyes. “It’s a relay race. That’s all we know. If it’s like the Olympics on the island, we’ll take turns killing Cattle. Just be forewarned that things aren’t always what they seem.”
“What do you mean?”
“You might see a chainsaw, only to grab it and discover it doesn’t have any gas,” Cat says.
“Have a backup plan in place, honey,” Eve says with a wink. “Jim sneaks in little tricks to make it more interesting, and we have to roll with it. I think you’ll be just fine, though.”
The tiny boat speeds toward the island and drops off another round of passengers. Looking around, I realize we’re the only group who dressed up, and I’m feeling a smidge foolish. Especially when I glance down the beach and spot Maverick staring at me.
Bennett stands to his left, Aven to his right, but it’s as if he’s standing all alone. His face is all I see. The wind whips over his hair—it can’t very well whip through it with all that product keeping it in place—and he squints at me. He’s being a stubborn dick about this murder BS, but I still want to rip off his light button-up and wrap my legs around his waist.
But there’s no time to think about it as Jim appears from the wooded area further inland. He motions us closer, and we all gather around. Maverick makes sure to stand beside me, and the heat of skin makes me shiver.
“Last chance to back out,” he mutters. “We aren’t on the same team, so I can’t save you if you choke. But I can stop this before it even begins. Just say the word.”
Unless he has a time machine that can take me back to the moment I accepted this assignment, that seems unlikely. That’s when this began, and there’s no stopping it now.
I shake my head. “You asked me to trust you. I want the same. Canyoujust trustme?” I turn and meet his gaze. “Please?”
He sighs but doesn’t answer.
Jim begins explaining how the game will work, which silences any further conversation between us. For now. I’m sure Maverick will want to talk more about this when we’re back on the ship. What will it take for him to accept that I’ve chosen a new path?
When Jim finishes explaining the rules, we follow him through the thick brush to the other side of the small island—to “keep us out of view,” as he explained. I think he just did this for extra suspense on our part, because I’m frothing at the mouth to see the killing field by the time the trees break apart.
We step onto a stretch of sand that looks much like the one we just left. The main difference is the buzz of activity. Different stations have been positioned along the shore, with a few Cattle secured at every post. Most have their lips sewn shut, but a few have been left to scream. And scream they do.
“I want the talker,” Cat says, and we nod in agreement, understanding that she needs the Cattle’s crime if she wants to make the kill.
That part was important to me at first too. Now...I just want to shed some blood.
We take a moment to study the course. The talker for our lane is situated at the start, at station one. It’s just the Cattle, a plastic sand pail, and a tiny plastic shovel. The next station is a bat sticking out of the sand, with Cattle sitting in a line a little further down. They’re spread a fair distance apart, though, which makes me think the bat will be the murder weapon.
“Did any of you play softball in school?” I ask. “I wasn’t athletically inclined.”
“The only balls I caught were with my mouth,” Eve says. “Before I was comfortable with my sexuality, I tried to mask by being promiscuous with boys. My best friend was gay, and I sawthe way everyone said it was just a phase. I wasn’t about to get that lecture.” She shudders.
Kindra stares down the beach and understands what I’m getting at. “I was on the golf team. It’s not a bat, but I’m pretty good at hitting a small target at high speed.”
“Golf?” Cat and I say in unison, and that earns a laugh from all of us.
“Yes,golf,” Kindra says with a giggle. “I wasn’t good enough for the PGA, but I think I can whack a seated man’s head just fine.”
I look back at Eve. “I can’t see further down the beach. Are you okay with you and I taking the last two stations, even though we don’t know what they’ll be?”
“I don’t know that we have much of an option.” Eve blows out a breath and holds her hair away from her neck. “If we want to beat the boys, we need to match ourselves to the tasks. That’s easy with the first two.”
“You’ll have to run all the way down the beach,” Cat points out. “This isn’t a traditional relay. We won’t be tagging you in further along.”
Eve’s eyes light up. “I ran track all four years of high school, so that goes in our favor.”
“Don’t look at me,” Kindra says with a jiggle of her apron stomach. “My man likes my girlish figure, and I don’t exactly participate in activities that would alter it. I’m best at station two.”
