Free Rakasa by Kyle Warner Page A

Billy’s green and covered with sweat. The boys are
keeping him comfortable, for all the good it does him. We know Billy’s gonna
die next.
    It was the captain’s idea that we should keep the dead
animals on the ship even after they started to stink. The contract with Boucher
claimed that the Frenchman was willing to pay for the animals dead or alive.
    The captain was dead and we would never reach Boucher. So,
why did we continue storing dead animals in the cargo hold? Because the rest of
the crew are cowards, unwilling to accept the fact that we will never reach our
destination, and I cannot lift a dead rhino by myself.
    It was the doc who started the paranoia about the animals
carrying some sort of disease. When Billy started dying after taking a bite,
that was all the proof the others needed.
    We don’t go down into the cargo hold anymore. It’s
off-limits.
    The doc’s got the crew thinking we’re some kind of a plague
ship.
    The boys are checking their scars and freaking out over
every little bump. The men I used to know would recognize sunburn when they saw
it, but they’ve changed on me and grown stupid.
    I think when the captain died their minds kind of snapped,
like it was all over now and they were just waiting on permission to die.
    Feel kind of guilty about that. Only meant to murder the
fool at the helm, not rob the boys of hope. I’d apologize if I thought it would
make any difference. I don’t, so I don’t.
    Our new fearless leader calls all able-bodied men into the
captain’s quarters for a meeting. Only fifteen of us attend, six of which can
barely stand.
    Jarvis Jenks sits where I murdered his predecessor. Some of
the blood on the chair hasn’t dried yet but he pretends not to notice.
    I used to like Jenks. He’s a worthy seaman and good with a
blade. However, if I’m forced to consider the alternative, I’d rather have the
old man back in the chair.
    The captain needed killing, let’s be clear. He’d done us
wrong and so we needed to do wrong unto him. However, he was a leader of men
and had a cruel nature that I admired. I don’t regret what I did, but I do wish
it hadn’t needed doing. We could use his leadership now.
    One man wonders aloud if we will be eating our own dead.
“I’m just so hungry,” he says.
    Everyone backs away from the guy. We know he’s stupid with
hunger but there are some things you just don’t do.
    Cannibals are monsters and we will not become monsters.
    Jarvis Jenks tells us we don’t have enough supplies to go
around. He suggests we put the sick out of their misery so that the food and
water will last that much longer for those who may yet survive.
    I think he’s joking. I laugh, tell him it’s a good joke, but
everybody’s looking at me like I’m a clown at a funeral.
    “Fucking serious?” I ask.
    Jarvis Jenks nods.
    The ship’s doctor says, “I can’t cure them. Even if we were
back at port, I doubt a team of doctors with the best medicine could save them
now. They’re dead men.”
    I consider the idea and ask, “How would you ‘put them out of
their misery’?”
    One-Eyed Jack says, “A knife worked well for you before.”
    I think about ripping out his other eye, just in case he’s
trying to get a rise out of me. Jack lost his left eye in a poker game. He
tells the story like it was a bloody brawl in a saloon that cost the lives of
four lesser pirates. He forgets I was there and that I know the full story.
    Ol’ Jack got caught cheating with an Ace up his sleeve. He
was too drunk to feel shameful, so he boasted about it instead.
    The other men tackled him and took a spoon to his eye. I
think I even helped hold his legs still so that he couldn’t kick ’em off. I
thought the spoon was a bit much, but Jack had cheated me, too, so what the
hell?
    Apparently One-Eyed Jack is still looking for a reaction,
because he says, “Have you got your knife on you? Or did the captain still have
it stuck in his neck when we chucked him