Free The Boat by Christine Dougherty Page A

not dead. Not yet.
    Abruptly, Sujon’s tears stopped. “Yes. It is someone’s fault. Someone was responsible for Mohammed.” Her eyes were alight with some terrible inner fire. She stepped back three quick paces until her back was to the rail. “ I was responsible for Mohammed,” she said and turned the gun to her own face. She pulled the trigger.
    The top half of her head disintegrated, blowing blood and gobbets of brain and bone into the air. Steve and everyone nearest her were peppered in gore.
    Steve had stepped forward when he’d realized her intent. But his hand closed on nothing as her body toppled over the rail and caught in the lines criss-crossing the side of Big Daddy . She dangled, half headless and twitching, one bare foot kicking.
    Steve stared at Sujon’s sandals on the deck. They were light green with sparkling faux gems on the straps. Very pretty. She’d been blown right out of them. He cocked his head at a strange patter, like rain, and realized it was her blood, raining into the ocean below.
    He felt his gorge rise and he stepped forward, drawing a knife from his pocket and flinging it open. He cut Sujon’s bonds in two furious swipes, nearly cutting off his own thumb in the process. Her body tumbled into the ocean below.
    He turned away and stared at his men. Each set of eyes that met his were round with shock. All faces had drained of color. A few men had bent over themselves, crying or trying not to vomit, Steve couldn’t tell which.
    In his despair, his eyes went to the deck of ThreeBees, which was facing the side where Sujon had shot herself. Maggie stood at the rail, utterly still. Steve raised a shaking hand to her and she raised hers back.
    What a fucking mess , he thought. Is this our world, now? Is this our only option?
    He wiped a tickling drip from his cheek and stared at the smear of gelatinous gray matter shivering delicately on his fingers.
    Yes, most likely.
     
    ~ ~ ~
     
    “That was Sujon, wasn’t it? Was that Sujon? Mohammed’s aunt? She just shot herself. Didn’t she? Didn’t she shoot herself?” Denny’s eyes were feverish. Maggie put a hand on his arm, trying to calm him. She nodded.
    “Yes, I’m pretty sure she did.”
    “Well, but why? Why would she? Why did she…I mean, it doesn’t make sense. For her to…to kill herself.” He dropped his head, thinking, considering.
    “I think it was just too much for her,” Maggie said, patting Denny’s back. Brian turned away, embarrassed but also near tears. It’s strange, Maggie reflected to herself, these people who had seen so much horror in that first wave of panic are still not immune. None of us are immune. We’ve had two months of relative calm and we’re ready to pat it on its ass, call it good, and assume it’s here to stay.
    How complacent.
    How stupid.
    “She just couldn’t take it, Denny. She was…” Maggie trailed off, realizing she couldn’t put herself in Sujon’s shoes. She didn’t know what it was like. She’d had no children of her own, no nieces or nephews, no one she was solely responsible for. Babygirl flitted into her mind but Maggie pushed her aside. Maggie was not responsible for Babygirl, they were all responsible for Babygirl.
    Not just me , Maggie thought, and the thought was touched by a tinge of resentment. Then she pushed that aside, too.
    “I think we should probably plan on having our visitor stay the night,” she said and turned away from the railing, away from her view of Big Daddy . “I think they’re going to be distracted over there for a while.”
    Denny stayed at the rail, his head down. Maggie thought about going back to talk to him, comfort him some more. But this was life now, she decided, and he’d have to just face up to it. He was old enough. He was an adult.
    There had been a furious burst of chatter over the walkie-talkies as the people on Flyboy wanted to know what happened. Maggie had ascertained that the shot fired had mostly just grazed Carl’s leg so