What If It Were Real?(Part 29)

“Just, do this.” Mykhayla told me.

“But I can-”

“No!” She snapped, “I will not have you cutting your finger off by mistake.”

I huffed, but knowing she was right turned back to the bowls of seasoned flour and eggs next to a giant tray of cut up chicken.

I was back in the kitchen at least. But with my left eye out of commission for the next little bit my hand eye co-ordination and depth perception was even worse than it had been before.

I heard a different cut from the pattern I was used to hearing and a small gasp.

“And you said you didn’t want me cutting off my finger.” I challenge.

“Go back to breading your chicken.” She grumbled.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” I asked for, maybe the hundredth time.

Killer looked like he had just rolled his eyes to the highest heavens, before turning and squaring up to me.

“Yes.” He told me, “I have an injured arm, it’s not the end of the world. You need your practice.”

He gestured to a tree he set up a target against.

We had docked on this island while everyone was recovering. I don’t really know who did it, or why this island of them all, but it was without dangers and we needed this break badly.

“Alright.” I sighed.

I fumbled for a moment trying to find two knives in their scabbards. After that I focused on the targets before me. Composing myself and allowing myself to breathe normally as I assessed the distance and everything else.

Holding the blade firmly I  sent it going straight. Or, at least, I thought I did.

My knife wound up going about six or so feet to the left of the target, embedding itself into the dirt.

I blinked at it. How the…?

I heard Killer sigh from behind me.

“You’re trying to compensate for your loss of sight in the one eye by throwing it more to the left than you normally would. Don’t do that.” Killer scolded, “Throw it straight like you normally would for right now, see how off you are. Then, when you understand your handicap, compensate for it then.”

I folded in on myself slightly at his words, he was right.

I nodded my head and went to grab the knife that missed before starting again.

This was going to be a longer and more arduous process to relearn how to throw these knives without an eye, than it was to have learned it in the first place.

I layed down my five cards only to have them spill off of the crate we were playing on.

“That’s the third time, Torri. Are you sure you aren’t trying to cheat us?” Wire teased.

I glared at him harshly as I cleaned up my cards and layed them back on the crate.

“Do you not think if I could see properly I would?” I snarled, “I don’t like being handicapped anymore than anyone else.”

“Girl still has her spark.” Heat smirked at me.

“It takes a lot more than this to keep me down.” I spat.

“Are you sure, cause you were knocked out for 10 days!” Mykhayla grinned as she walked by, mopping as she went.

I glared at her in turn, “I got back up, didn’t I?”

“Eh.” She shrugged, “You’re still working on it.”

I rose to my feet, “I’ll show you, ‘working on it’.” I growled and lunged at her.

“Catch me if you can!” She laughed, turning into a cat and jumping away.

I noticed I wasn’t that far off from where she had been standing before. I was starting to get better.

I started after her. The sandy cat running, trying to pull away from me.

The golden sun was sinking on the horizon staining the glimmering ocean various shades of orange. The sky was beginning to turn from yellow, to a dark blue, with a lovely pink streak intersecting them. Silver stars were already visible on the dark blue patch giving a lovely contrast to the giant, golden sun.

“Special delivery.” I heard from behind me.

Mykhayla and I were sitting on the railing of the ship enjoying that view. We turned around and saw Killer standing there holding a tray with three mugs of piping hot chocolate on it.

I smiled at him. He was always so sweet.

“Thank you.” I said softly as I accepted a mug from the tray he offered to me.

“Aw, thanks doll!” Mykhayla beamed as she accepted a drink from him too.

“You mind if I join you?” He asked.

“You’re always welcome.” I told him, motioning to sit beside me on the railing.

He took his mug and slid in next to me.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

I shrugged and blew on the hot substance, “Healing. I’m more frustrated than anything else. But I know everything will be okay in time.”

He nodded, “Just don’t push yourself until you feel 100. Okay?”

I nodded.

“Keeping this one in the books.” I heard Mykhayla mutter to herself.

I turned to look at her, seeing her writing something down in a little note book.

“What are you doing?” I asked her.

“Umm.” She hesitated, “I’m gathering inspiration!”

“And why are you gathering inspiration from our conversation?” Killer probed.

“I wanna try my hand at romance no-vels.” She grinned.

“How about. No, vel?” I grinned back at her.

“I guess I’m not good at grammar.” She sighed.

“That has nothing to do with grammar.” I told her.

“But grammar’s important.” She challenged.

“Yes, yes it is.” I told her, “It stops you from looking like a complete idiot.”

“Hey, Mykhayla!”

I turned and saw a lower crew man approach us, I had seen him around before but I never really talked to him outside of meals.

“Jones! My man!” She exclaimed.

They then started a very serious and complicated hand shake that lasted about a minute.

“Some party.” He grinned at her.

“Only the best.” She ginned back.

And then he walked away, leaving the three of us alone.

I was so confused.

“When did you two get so close?” Killer asked before I had a chance to.

“You know, I get around.”

I half glared at her, and was about to tell her not to talk about herself like that, when I was cut off.

A blood curdling scream erupted from below deck.



What If It Were Real?(Part 28)

What’s obscuring me? I asked myself as I blinked hard again. It’s still there.

I sat up and reached a hand to try to remove whatever it was that was covering my left eye, blocking part of the room for me. My fingers brushed over the light, cotton linen wrapped tightly over my face.

Adrenaline and fear flooded my veins as I came to a realization.

I willed myself to calm down, to take deep breaths and assess the situation. Where am I?

I looked around the familiar blue and fuchsia walls. Mykhayla and I painted them a while ago to make the room actually homey feeling. Scattered across the desk and top of the dresser were books, pens, hair ties, our brushes, and various nick knacks from all over the place, plus Mykhayla’s ever growing letter pile. Where didn’t she have pen pals?

I looked down at myself. I had three blankets piled on top of me, and was changed out of the black t-shirt and baggy jeans I was in before to a black t-shirt and black sweat pants.

I was safe. In my room. But why was I injured? How?

I racked my brain and forced myself to remember the battle. The violent lurching of the ship, throwing me off balance. The deck in absolute chaos. No one was in their right minds because of the poor state of health we were all in.

My chest ached at the thought. They were all probably dead or heavily injured because of my negligence.

I remember fighting off lots of riff rafts. Everyone was either dressed as a chess piece or looked like something out ‘Alice in Wonderland’. And then there was that giant cookie warrior thing.

A jolt of electricity shot through me as I jumped up.

He did this to me! It was his sword that grazed my flesh!

I staggered and all but fell right back into my bed. I gripped the fuchsia wall behind the bed for support. My head was whirling and my knees shaky.

I took quite a few deep breaths before I allowed myself to stand upright, putting all my weight on them. I took my hand off the wall and took a step towards the bathroom door.

I was slow and uncertain, but I made it there. My shoulder hitting against the door frame as I stepped in. I ignored it.

Turning on the light and assessing myself in the mirror I saw the extent of the bandages. They wrapped around my head several times going from my right temple almost down to the left side of my chin. The damage had to be immense for this much bandaging. I figured if I did have a horrible scar over my eye, maybe I could cover it up. I had been growing my bangs out for the longest time and they were about at my chin now.

I sighed to myself. But what if I lose my eye? What if there isn’t even an eye in my socket? Cracker might have taken it. Or Doc might have needed to remove it.

I carefully reached for the tap and turned on the cold water, I bent down and splashed some on my face and around to the back of my neck, careful not to soak the bandages in the process.

You are alive. I reminded myself. You might have lost an eye, you might not have. But at the very least you have your life. You can get revenge. You can get stronger. You can make sure that this never happens again.

I took another deep breath and shambled out of the bathroom towards the door to the hall.

Now that I knew I was alive and well, I had to make sure that everyone else I cared about was too. And I wanted to start with my favourite blondes.

What If It Were Real?(Part 27)

No one’s pov.

Dave, Bill, Jones, Mykhayla, and Doc all walked out of the doctor’s office, having finally overcome their stomach flues.

They headed up to the top deck only to see the entirety of their crew sprawled out on the deck unconscious and covered in blood. Some where missing limbs and others had their insides strewn about, obviously dead.

“Wow!” Mykhayla exclaimed, “We missed a party!”

“Some party.” Jones muttered.

The five stood there for several moments taking in the view and letting everything sink in.

“I’m pretty sure they’re all dying.” Dave finally said.

“You’re probably right.” Doc acknowledged before he sighed, “Alright, well I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m pretty sure this had been done by the Big Mama pirates. So we should probably get out here as soon as we can.”

“Alright,” Bill sighed, “How do we go about that?”

“Well, the mechanisms in the back of the ship will take care of most of it.” Mykhayla told them, “We just need to steer it in the right direction.”

“Alright,” Dave said with a fair amount of authority in his voice, “Mykhayla you know how it works, so you go up to the helm and take over there. There should be a log post up there for you to use to navigate. Jones you and Bill help Doc take those who are still alive down stairs and tend to them, they are our nakama and we need to take care of them. I’ll start cleaning up the deck and getting rid of the dead and body parts. Either of you need an extra hand just let me know.”

Everyone nodded.

“When we’re done everyone meet down in the kitchen and we’ll work on a soup or something together.” Mykhayla offered.

The boys all nodded and group all set off to do their own tasks.

The five uninjured crew mates all sat together at the dinning table to talk about what to do next over bowls of  chicken noodle soup.

“How long do you think they’ll be out?” Bill asked the Doctor.

Doc shrugged, “For some of them maybe only a couple of days, for others it’s hard to say. We just need to keep our wits about us and be careful.”

“Anyone want to volunteer for night watch tonight?” Dave asked the table, “I’d prefer if it wasn’t you Doc, you’ve been working like a dog over all the injured today.”

“I have a few repairs I should make in the engine room before I can go to bed, I’d feel better if it was someone else up top.” Mykhayla sighed.

Dave nodded.

“I’ll take it.” Jones offered, “But I got a question, who’ll take over cooking? Torri’s out and we don’t even have Heat to cook meat anymore.”

“Whoever isn’t on night watch should take on cooking for the next day, we’ll take turns. I think that’s fair.” Mykhayla told them.

The boys all nodded.

“I’m gonna need at least one extra set of hands helping me every day. Should we have a set person or take turns again?” Doc asked the table.

Dave shook his head, “We’ll take turns. The deck is basically cleaned up aside from some light mopping. I figure whoever is steering the ship, or maybe Jones when he’s on watch can finish that all up.”

“Fair to me.” Bill said, “But fair warning here, I’m not a good cook.”

“Neither am I.” Mykhayla added.

“Me either.” Jones laughed, “That’s why I asked.”

“I don’t think any of us are.” Dave said lightly.

“The entire reason I became a doctor was so I could avoid cooking. But we’ll make the most of it.” Doc smiled, “Anyway, if we’re done we better get to our tasks and to bed. We have literally everyone counting on us, and a lot to do tomorrow. So sleep well.”

“Except for you, Jones,” Mykhayla barked, “You’re on night watch.”

The entire table blinked at her.

“What?” She defended, “I can be catty.”