Page 57 of If They Knew

“I’ll fucking kill you, just like I did that piece of shit Logan, if you ever even look at Kelly again.” With each punch, his face becomes bloodier.

“Get off of him,” I hear a man shout, and I’m suddenly yanked away from Brent. The whole room erupts into chaos with everyone yelling. I look over to see who pulled me back, and it’s Cyrus, another one of the guys who believed Logan didn’t deserve to die. Within seconds, there's a loud bang, almost like a gunshot, and everyone falls silent. I turn to see where the sound came from and it’s Sara—she’s holding two frying pans. Where the hell did those come from?

“Enough! We're not doing this again. We don’t take food. We're not fighting anymore.”

Brent mumbles something from the floor that I can’t understand.

“Brent, so help me. If you try something like that again, I’ll kill you myself,” says Sara through gritted teeth.

“And if she doesn’t, I will,” Theo says. “From now on, we'll keep fishing for food and eat as much as we can. We shouldn’t fight over food like this.” I glance at Brent, who has a swollen eye and a bleeding, busted lip. Our eyes lock, and he doesn’t say anything. I can already tell this isn’t over.

“We should be celebrating having a hot cooked meal. Instead, you want to fight about it and steal off someone else’s plate? Look around. We’re all that’s left. We’re in the middle of the damn ocean. There are plenty of fucking fish in the sea. Don’t let this happen again, or as Sara and I said, we’ll fucking kill you ourselves,” Theo spews with anger that makes his forehead vein bulge. “I’m not Logan. I don’t want to kill just to kill, but put anyone else in danger, and I won’t hesitate to take you out.”

Nobody argues or says anything else.

PART 3

JANUARY 2013

EIGHT MONTHS DRIFTING

32

THEO

Winter has officially arrived. I have no idea of the ship's exact location, but I certainly know it’s far from our starting point because it’s never this cold at home. The water is dotted with floating icebergs, and the entire deck is covered in ice and sometimes snow. The temperature gauge hanging on the pool deck is iced over, and it reads -19, but I'm almost certain it’s Celsius, not Fahrenheit. The cold breeze from the ocean is so fierce at times that I'm sure it could freeze almost anything within minutes. Fishing is no longer possible, even with the fishing pole we lucked out and found in one of the crew’s belongings, but fortunately, enough fish were caught just before the first freeze to feed everyone for a few weeks. The freezing conditions are keeping the fish frozen on the top deck.

During the initial planning three months ago, when we caught our first fish, we had to come up with other ideas for survival as well. The broken water slide on the top deck was dismantled and repurposed as a rainwater catchment system. We gathered empty trash cans and placed them at the base of each broken slide piece to collect rainwater, which was then transferred into used bottles for storage. However, the collected water supply is now nearly exhausted. Since it's winter and there’s no rain, people have begun collecting ice around the deck and bringing it inside in bowls to melt. Unfortunately, that yields much less water than the rainwater we’ve collected previously.

It took some time, but we were able to establish a working community again. Sara is now my co-leader, and we make a good team. Since October, only a few people have died—three who refused to eat or drink. We all urged them repeatedly not to give up but they were too far gone. I guess everyone processes hopelessness differently.

Julie spends a lot of time in the library, even though the entire space is infested with mold and mildew on the books. I’ve told her at least a million times to stop going in there, or she’s going to get sick. She doesn’t listen and does as she pleases. She keeps to herself and only associates with me when necessary or during decision-making. Each night, she falls asleep in the living room area of our suite on the sofa, reading a book. She remains distant from everyone, claiming she is reading and prefers solitude. She has become a shell of herself, and I’m not sure how to help her.

Rations are limited to two small meals each day. Everyone gathers to eat together at sunrise and sunset. Meals are no longer cooked outside on the patio where the fire pit was initially used because it's too cold. Instead, we thaw the fish as best as we can and eat it raw. The doors stay closed as much as possible to keep any heat inside. As temperatures drop, more people are falling ill and struggling to stay warm. We’ve tried countless times to build a fire pit inside but nothing ever works. Each new area we try, we face the same problem—we can't get the smoke out without leaving the doors fully open. It’s too cold for that. The only option is to leave the fire pit outside the medical center.

Fortunately, the ship has stayed quiet and uneventful for the past three months. I try my best to keep everyone's spirits high, but with the fish running out soon and the temperature dropping each day, the idea of rescue is starting to sound more like a fairytale.

33

JULIE

FEBRUARY 2013

The early morning sun filters through the balcony window, warming my face, and it feels good. My eyes flutter open, and I let out a soft yawn before stretching. Even with multiple layers on, I feel the frigid winter air around me. Quietly, I slip out from under the warm blanket, grab one of the sheets we have layered on it, wrap it around my body, and make my way to the glass door to enjoy a little more of the sun's warmth. The balcony is covered in snow, which has risen at least three feet up the door. I let out a breath and watch as it fogs the window. I feel the urge to reach up and draw something, but I don’t. Instead, I turn back, looking toward the mattress, and see the imprint of where I was just lying. Theo is sleeping peacefully, all bundled up under the duvet. My mind races with thoughts of the past, and I can’t help but think about what the future could look like.

I look around the large room, which feels more like a prison cell than a luxury cruise room anymore, and I recall the day I first entered it, seeing the king-size bed perfectly made, with chocolates on the pillows and rose petals scattered across the perfectly white duvet. Oh, what I would do for a piece of chocolate right now. I remember stepping into the oversized bathroom of the suite that Theo specifically selected for us and gasping when I saw the walk-in shower for the first time. The thought of hot water flowing over my skin makes me realize how cold I am right now. I pull the blanket a little tighter around me.

A loud thump pulls my attention, and I realize it’s a piece of ice falling on the patio. I look over to see Theo still sound asleep, and my eyes drift to the nightstand where my book, The Last Song, rests. Instantly, my body stiffens. Cautious not to wake Theo, I tiptoe to my nightstand and grab the book. I pry it open and release a breath of relief as the handwritten letter comes into view. The papers, now fragile from being handled so many times, are nearly torn at the crease. Holding the letter in front of me, I stare at the words, which now seem like they were written a lifetime ago. I peek over the edge and see Theo's silhouette curled up, facing the opposite direction. I realize so much has changed since the day we boarded the ship and I began writing this letter. Initially, I never planned to give it to him. Thinking back on all that’s happened over the past months, I realize that our relationship is no longer what it was. I’m torn on what I should do. Do I give him the letter, or do I forget it all and move on? So much has changed. For the hundredth time, I reread the letter.

Dear Theo,

You've been a part of my life for a long time, and I know you better than I know myself, which is terrifying. You're incredibly brave and always put others first. You see the good in everyone, even when no one else does. You've loved me through all our highs and lows. You were there when the doctors told me I could never have children. I’ve never told you the full truth about why I can’t have children, or that even before that appointment, I already knew it wasn’t possible for me. I'm sharing this through this letter because I am unable to do so in person. There are many things about our past that you don’t know and were never meant to find out. There are things about your father that he never wanted you to know, and he paid a lot of money to keep those secrets hidden. Over the years, I’ve watched you work so hard to impress your father and become the person he always wanted you to be, and that hurts me because you are nothing like that cruel man. His money and power turned him into a wicked man, with more secrets than you can imagine. It’s not my place to reveal everything that I’ve learned about his past, and I know you loved him more than anyone, so I don’t want to ruin that for you. But I promised myself⁠—

The sound of a deep yawn echoes through the room, startling me. I look up and see Theo shuffling and beginning to roll over. Quickly, I fold the letter into the book. Theo turns over, and his eyes are staring directly at me. He squints in the blinding sun. I step in front of the sun to help block out the light, and he smiles at me.

“Good morning. What are you up to?” he asks hoarsely.

“Not much. I couldn't sleep, so I was reading,” I answer softly.