“What do we do with her?” Lopez-Larou asked.
“I can’t leave her here,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Hold on.” She slipped back into the main room, then after some rustling, returned with Song’s shirt. She tied the sleeves together and held out the material.
Kavika gulped as he reached over and grasped the sides of Leilani’s head. Her skin felt strange, more like a piece of overripe fruit than a person. But touching it helped, because he knew now that there was nothing left of her inside. This was not Leilani. This was just a reminder of her, of the life she’d once had.
The refrigerator unit hummed low in the background.
He lifted the head from the shelf and placed it in the fabric, and watched in silence as Lopez-Larou buttoned the shirt and tied the arms together. When she was done, she tied the bundle to her belt underneath her leper’s robe. “Now what?” she asked.
“What’d you do with Song? Is he...”
“No. But I should.” She glanced at the shelf. “For what he did.” She nodded at the heads. “For them.”
“Then do it,” Kavika murmured.
She looked at him sharply.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Do it. Kill him.”
“I...” she began to say something, then seemed to change her mind. “Fine.” As she turned, she slid a knife from the sheath at her belt.
Kavika followed her and watched as she knelt and placed the point of the blade at the top of Song’s spine. He began to scream, but didn’t move under the point of the knife, as if he was afraid to get cut. Pressing her other hand against the hilt to steady the blade, she pressed quickly, sinking into the skin and parted the spine. Song screamed once more. There wasn’t a twitch. His mouth was locked open.
Kavika felt nothing, standing in the cold container, holding his best friend’s head as he watched the deliberate murder, although the lump that had formed in his chest slowly collapsed.
She wiped her blade on the gray hairs of his bare chest, then sheathed it as she stood. “Too good for him, if you ask me.”
“Perhaps. But just like taking out the trash or squashing a bug, it had to be done.” Then he drew his own knife. “Better keep yours handy,” he said holding up blade. “By the way Song was looking, he was expecting company.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“My guess is that this was supposed to be a trap.”
“But the robes?”
“I doubt they’d do us any good now, except get in our way.” He removed his and tossed it on the floor.
She did the same. “Do we make a run for it?”
“I’m too damn angry to run, but if you feel you should, I’ll make sure they don’t come after you.”
“But there might not be anyone there.”
“There is,” he said firmly. The lump in his chest threatened to return. He swallowed hard.
“I don’t know how you can be so sure. Anyway, I’m not going. If you’re going to stay and fight, then so am I.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Leilani was my friend, too.”
Kavika stared at her, remembering the night he’d found them laughing after they’d fought in the morgue ship. He’d just been beaten down and their combined good humor had saved him from doing something stupid. It was a good memory, one that he used now to fuel his anger.
He nodded. “Let me go first.” He slipped by her and gripped the inside handle of the door. He was as angry as he had ever been, but there was something else, a detachment that was new. He was above himself, outside of himself. Not the detachment he’d known while monkey-backed, no; more of a combining to become something new. This was a recognition of his anger and his desire to do murder, while embracing a cold, calculating tactical understanding of the situation.
He held his knife in his left hand, low and loose. He jerked the door open, shot his head out, saw what he wanted to see, then pulled the door open all the way.
“There are five of them,” he growled, then stepped outside.
Lopez-Larou followed close behind.
In the cul-de-sac, they placed their backs against the wall where Spike had been tortured. Five Boxers awaited them, dressed in their usual mufti, weapons ready. Neither a grin nor a scowl from any of them, just grim faces used to the business of death.
But Kavika wasn’t about to let them think this was business as usual. Lopez-Larou was on his left; he feinted to the right to gauge their movements.
They held steady. He dodged left, causing the center Boxer to separate from the others, and ran at the wall to his right. Just before he hit it, he jumped and ran along the wall and swung at the surprised Boxer nearest him, carving a line from his left eye to his right ear. The Boxer fell, blood gushing from his face, smothering a scream.
All four of the Boxers turned toward Kavika, as he alighted on the deck, standing over the body of the fifth.
Lopez-Larou made her move, duplicating Kavika’s tactics. She ran right at her target. He expected her to swerve back to the left, as did the Boxers opposite her, who held their ground. It wasn’t going to work; he wanted to shout out for her to stop, but he had no time. Her eyes widened as she came to the point where she should change direction. Instead, she launched herself into the air, catching the middle boxer in the jaw. His eyes went blank as he fell to the deck. She turned as she landed, the knife in her hand impaling the forehead of the Boxer standing between her and Kavika.
In no time, they’d changed the odds from five to two to even.
Lopez-Larou staggered, and Kavika caught her. They armed themselves with the fallen Boxers’ machetes and advanced together.
The last two Boxers fought desperately, but it was nothing compared to Kavika’s and Lopez-Larou’s pure outrage exhibited. It was only moments before the five Boxers lay dead or dying on the deck.
They wordlessly dispatched the living, stepped over the bodies, and wound their way back through the maze of false walls and cargo containers. When the maze opened onto the main deck area, they found more Boxers waiting for them.
Fifteen of them, this time.
These had heard the battle and were more reckless. Anger flashed from their eyes. They held their machetes tightly, white-knuckled grips eager to rend and hew.
“Fuck,” Lopez-Larou whispered.
Kavika nodded. His thoughts exactly. “Well I guess we’re going to have to—”
He never finished his sentence. Kaja appeared on the deck before him, gripping a bungee with one hand and a deck rivet with the other.
“Grab on, brother.”
Another two Pali Boys appeared, grabbing onto Kavika and Lopez-Larou. Kaja grabbed Kavika as well, and all five of them sprung into the sky.
The Boxers screamed their frustration in Chinese.
They soared into the rigging, and Kavika reached out with the others and grabbed at the empty bird nets above the ships of the People of the Sun. He held on, then glanced over at Lopez-Larou to make sure she was okay. She was grinning, her anger gone, as was he. They were happy to be alive.
But they weren’t done with their revenge just yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A
N HOUR LATER,
they were at the morgue ship. Kaja and Ivanov stood by as Kavika presented the head of their dear friend to her brother. The head was still wrapped in Song’s shirt. Respecting the somberness of the moment, everyone except for Chito had their heads lowered. Chito stood, straight-shouldered, angry tears trickling over his cheeks.
“Was this all you found?” he asked.
Kavika nodded. He swallowed, trying to find just the right words.
“What happened to her killer?” Chito asked.
“Dead,” Lopez-Larou said.
Chito nodded. “Thank you for that.”
He took Spike’s head and held it to his chest, hands lovingly embracing it. Anguish clouded his eyes. Everyone gave him respectful quiet, each person experiencing the same loss in different degrees. Finally he spoke, his voice low and thick.
“We knew about them.”
“What do you mean?” Kavika asked.
“He means that they knew about the cannibals,” Ivanov said flatly. “They’re Water Dogs. They had to have known.”
Chito shook his head. “We don’t stop people from doing things. There is so much evidence we find in the water of what other people do to each other. Too much. We... we don’t judge people. We let them live.”
His voice quavered with barely contained emotion. Kavika blinked away his own tears.
“I could tell you about the murderers and the molesters. We know about evil. Everything ends up in the ocean. Everything.”
“Yet you don’t do anything,” Ivanov said.
“We don’t. We never have. It’s our contract with the city. Give us everything you have to give us and we’ll ask no questions. We take it, remake it, and recycle it.”
“And so people like them exist,” Lopez-Larou said.
“It’s not your fault,” Kavika said, feeling the hollowness of the words even as they left his lips. Lopez-Larou gave him a look that told him that she felt the same way. Still, he let the words hang there, if only to comfort Chito.
“No. But it is our fault that they are allowed to continue doing what they are doing.” He held the wrapped head to his chin and kissed the fabric. “And now I’m paying for it. Correction—
Spike
paid for it.”
“Leilani,” corrected Lopez-Larou.
Chito paused; then, as if it had cost him whatever self-control he had, he added, “Leilani.” He broke into tears.
Kavika turned to the others. “We have the power to do something, you know?”
“The power to do what, exactly?” Ivanov asked.
“Everything. Anything we want. The Pali Boys own the air and the Water Dogs own the ocean. All that’s in dispute is in-between, aboard the decks.”
“That’s a whole lotta space,” Lopez-Larou said.
“Sure, but that’s not where the battle needs be fought.”
“What battle?” Ivanov seemed vexed. “What are you talking about, boy?”
“What’s the greatest fear someone has aboard a ship?”
“Fire,” Ivanov said immediately.
Kavika shook his head. “Fire is bad, but you can survive a fire. No—sinking. Sinking is everyone’s greatest fear. And who has control of the water? Who is capable of bringing down any ship they desire?”
Lopez-Larou grinned and pointed at Chito. “The Water Dogs.”
“You’re crazy, boy.” Ivanov shook his head.
“Am I? What about all those movies you like to watch? You told me all about
Kelly’s Heroes
and how a bunch of misfits no one wanted were able to kill so many Nazis. What about
A Bridge Too Far?
Isn’t that one of your favorite movies?”
“Those are just movies,” scoffed Ivanov.
“That’s not what you said before.”
“There was some kind of rational thought behind the plan to save Kavika. Hell, had I known that he’d come back and want to destroy everything we’ve worked so hard to build, I might have had second thoughts.”
“What are we destroying that doesn’t deserve to be destroyed?” Kavika turned to address them all. “There’s a conspiracy of blood rape and monkey-backing occurring on this ship, that are an affront to humanity. There are cannibals who’ve been eating our friends and loved ones for Pele knows how long. There are the Real People who have held us hostage in this city just so we can be their private farm animals. Which one of these is something you worked so hard to build? Which one of these things is something you don’t want to see destroyed, Ivanov?”
All eyes turned to the Russian and pinned him to the spot. He stood uncomfortably, trying to gauge what support he might have among the others, but none was forthcoming. “I still think you all are trying to bite off more than you can chew. You mentioned
A Bridge Too Far
. Well, this just might be that bridge.”
Kavika shrugged. “Then I suppose it is. I suppose we should lie down and take it, right? We should just give up right now. I mean, it isn’t so bad, right?”
“What’s a little blood rape between friends?” Lopez-Larou said, dryly.
“Yeah,” Kavika continued. “What’s a dozen people farmed to give blood to the old white folks, except for a way for us to show our appreciation for all they’ve done for us?”
“Hey Kavika, want to know what I’m looking forward to?” Lopez-Larou asked.
“What?”
“Being eaten, buffet style, by a bunch of nutritionally-challenged Koreans.”
Ivanov held up his hands, shaking his head and frowning. “Enough, already. Jesus, but you kids have a black sense of humor.”
Kavika gave the Russian a deathly stare. “Who says we’re joking? Isn’t this what you’ve worked so hard for? Isn’t this what you’re unwilling to fight against just because you might not succeed?”
Kaja laid a hand on Kavika’s arm. “I think Ivanov agrees, Kavika. He’s just cautious. It’s probably something they taught him in Russian submarine school.”
“Da.” Ivanov nodded.
Kavika felt his heart hammering, and his face tingling. He knew his cheeks were red, but there was nothing he could do about it. He’d come a long way from the scared kid he’d been a few weeks ago. Being afraid of failure was no longer an option. There was work to be done, and they needed his energy to keep going.
“What’s the plan?”
Kavika looked blankly at Lopez-Larou. He had no idea, but given time, he was sure they’d come up with a doozy.
F
OUR HOURS LATER
Victor Ivanov returned to his submarine. He was in such a hurry, he cracked both of his knees and an elbow into the piping as he slid into the ship and hurried to his quarters. He needed two things.
First, he needed a bottle. He found it beside the others, freshly distilled and placed in the bottom drawer of his desk. He spun the cap free with two fingers and upended it into his mouth. His throat burned, but it was a good burn. One that reminded him of the Siberian winds twisting on the Kamchatka Peninsula, back when Vladivostok used to be a city. He’d had to pull guard duty for so long in such bad weather that at times it was as if his voice had frozen.
Then he thought of the second thing. It was a wish, rather than a reality. Hell, it really wasn’t even a wish. At this point there was nothing to be done about it. Kavika’s idea had taken hold with the others. If it had only been the boy, maybe Victor would have done something about it. By now, too many people had been brought into the plan.