Whisper in the bottom cabin: Traitor
1216 Words
When they hauled me back onto the ship, I was drenched like a drowned dog. The spotlight hit my face, blinding me.
"Second Brother?!"
I recognized Bao’s voice instantly, my throat tightening.
"Holy s**t, you’re alive!" He lunged forward, wrapping me in a bear hug, snot and tears smearing my shoulder. My stomach twisted with guilt, but I forced a dry laugh.
They dragged me to the lower hold. The iron door slammed shut, cutting off all sound. Under the dim yellow bulb, Du Ming stood with his hands behind his back—a wall of a man.
"Godfather..." I rasped.
He turned. His gaze was colder than the sea. "How’d you get back?"
I opened my mouth, my voice sandpaper-rough. "Drifted... half the night. Your men fished me out."
Du Ming said nothing. Just stared. His eyes hooked into me, pulling the air from my lungs.
Then—crack!
His palm struck my face.
My head rang. Blood filled my mouth.
"First lesson," Du Ming said, low and dangerous. "Black Whale doesn’t keep trash. Or traitors."
I wiped my bleeding lip and grinned. "If I were a traitor, I’d have handed the ledger to Interpol."
Du Ming’s eyes narrowed. "Ledger?"
My heart skipped, but I kept my tone casual. "The fake one Old Knife gave me. Said to bring it back and fool you."
I tossed a waterproof bag to the floor. The ledger spilled out, pages wrinkled from seawater.
Du Ming stepped on it, bent to pick it up, flipped through it—then laughed. "Fake. But convincing."
I exhaled slightly.
"Then who gave you the fake?" he asked, looking up.
I tapped my chest. "Took it. Nearly got my head blown off."
Du Ming studied me for three long seconds. Then he grabbed my chin, forcing my face up.
"Second Son. You’d better not be lying."
They threw me into an empty cabin and locked the door.
No windows. Just a single swaying bulb. I slumped against the wall, the scar on my chest burning like fire.
Two voices warred in my head:
A: Old Knife set me up. Du Ming suspects me. I’m f****d either way.
B: *Hold on. M-28 didn’t die for nothing.*
Time blurred. Then—creak.
The door opened.
Bao slipped in, holding a steaming cup of instant noodles, condensation fogging his face.
"Eat. Fast. Don’t let anyone see."
I took it. My hands shook so badly I nearly spilled it.
Bao crouched in front of me, voice a whisper: "Second Brother. There’s a rat on board."
My pulse spiked, but I feigned confusion. "Who?"
"Don’t know. But the Old Man’s interrogating everyone tonight."
I slurped the noodles, scalding my tongue. "Who first?"
"You."
Fuck. I set the cup down. "What’s there to interrogate me about?"
Bao glanced around, then leaned closer. "The chip under the skinny guy’s nail—it was swapped."
My pupils contracted. "Swapped for what?"
"Don’t know. But the Old Man thinks it was you."
My back went slick with sweat.
After Bao left, I stared at the bulb, mind racing.
The chip was in my shoe insole. If they found it, I was dead.
I stood, dug it out, then—after a pause—pressed it into the bottom of the noodle cup, burying it under broth.
Just as I finished, the door banged open.
Two crewmen entered. One pinned me. The other searched me.
Top to bottom. Every inch. Even my underwear.
I held my breath, eyes locked on the noodle cup.
They found nothing. As they left, one kicked me. "Stay put."
When their footsteps faded, I exhaled, fishing the chip out and drying it on my shirt.
Couldn’t keep it on me. Couldn’t leave it here.
I looked up at the bulb—and got an idea.
Midnight. I pretended to need the bathroom and slipped out.
The lower hold corridor was empty. The bulb stretched my shadow long.
I stood on tiptoe, stuck the chip behind the light fixture, and secured it with black tape.
Just as I finished—footsteps.
I whirled.
Du An’an.
She wore a black trench coat, her hair wet and clinging to her face. A gun hung loosely in her hand.
"Chen Er," she said, voice like shards of ice. "What are you doing?"
My mind raced. "Bathroom. Got lost."
She stepped closer. The gun barrel pressed against my chest—right over the scar.
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
I grinned. "Pull the trigger, and I won’t feel a thing."
She stared. Then—unexpectedly—smiled. "I’m pregnant."
My head spun. I nearly staggered.
"Whose?" My voice was sandpaper.
She reached out, fingertips brushing the scar. "Guess."
My throat closed. I couldn’t speak.
Du An’an leaned in, her whisper barely audible: "This child won’t be born into Black Whale. I’m leaving."
My stomach churned, but I kept my face still. "How?"
"Help me."
Back in the cabin, my thoughts were a storm.
Du An’an pregnant? My child?
If Du Ming found out... I couldn’t finish the thought.
The chip. The baby. The rat. The ledger. All the threads tangled, strangling me.
Near dawn, the door crashed open.
Du Ming strode in. Behind him, two men dragged someone—
Bao.
His face was a bloody mess, a gag stuffed in his mouth. He whimpered, eyes wild.
Du Ming kicked my legs out from under me. I hit the floor hard.
"Second Son," he growled. "Bao says you hid the chip."
I looked up. Bao’s terrified eyes met mine.
He shook his head desperately, snot and tears mixing on his face.
My stomach dropped. Game over.
Du Ming crouched, pressing the gun under my chin. "Last chance. Where’s the chip?"
My throat tightened. Out of the corner of my eye—the bulb.
The chip was right there. If I pointed, Bao died.
I clenched my teeth. Blood filled my mouth.
"I don’t know."
Du Ming’s eyes narrowed. The gun slid down, resting over my scar.
"Then we’ll ask... differently."
The shot never came.
Du An’an burst in, throwing herself between us. "Dad, stop!"
Du Ming’s face darkened. "Get out!"
She raised her own gun—pressed it to her stomach. "Touch him, and I pull the trigger."
The air froze.
My heart stopped.
Du Ming stared at his daughter. Something flickered in his eyes.
Finally, he lowered the gun and sneered. "Fine. Fine."
He turned, kicked a table over, and stormed out.
The door slammed. I collapsed, my back drenched in sweat.
Du An’an knelt, gripping my hand, her voice shaking. "This child won’t be born into Black Whale."
I looked into her eyes—and saw only resolve.
"I’ll help you."
This time, I didn’t hesitate.
Deep in the hold, Du An’an and I sat side by side, the chip between us.
The bulb swayed, stretching our shadows long.
"When we dock," she whispered, "we run."
I nodded. But I knew—before docking, there’d be hell to pay.
Before they dragged Bao away, his eyes told me: The chip’s behind the light.
I closed my eyes, breathing deep.
The rat. The chip. The baby. The ledger.
All the secrets crammed into this ship’s steel belly, ready to explode.
And I—
I had to make sure the explosion meant something.
- Writer
