Hiraeth

Chapter Three

“Welcome to Jhonny Bob’s yacht, Madame and Sir!” the sales lady greets us with her false cheerfulness. She smiles ear to ear, but it does not reach her eyes. Her eye bags are dark, and I wonder what’s with the eye bags that I always see at people these past few days. It’s like sleep is not a necessity but just a waste of time.

Wade and I follow the sales lady, passing through the perfectly lined yacht in different kinds. With so many to choose from, we struggle to find one that will suit my wants.

“Is expedition yacht available?” I ask the lady, which she answers with another fake enthusiastic “Yes!”

She leads us to the farthest part. Expedition yacht with different designs now comes into view. These kinds give safety in the roughest of seas which is basically what we need. The only downside is it comes from a massive amount of price.

“Seriously? Eight million in just one night?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yes, Madam!” she answers, trying to conceal her irritation to stay professional. “The deal includes crews.”

What the f*ck! This means other people will join my voyage.

“What if without crews? How much is it?”

“Madam, it isn’t advisable to travel around without crews.”

“But it can be done, right?”

This time she doesn’t try to hide her irritation when her brows furrow.

“Yes, bu—”

“Great!” I flash a smile. “So, how much is it?”

She takes a deep breath before checking on the folder she’s holding for the price of it.

“Eight million five hundred thousand,” she says as she looks up. “Plus, you also need to sign a weaver that whatever happens to your expedition is not the shop’s responsibility.”

“Okay, give us the weaver.”

She pulls two pieces of paper and gives them to each of us. I sign it fast and give the pen to Wade, who also, without thinking twice, signs it.

After the lady in charge gives us on-the-spot instructions, Wade, with the help of other men, pulls out the anchor, making the yacht follow the slow rhythm of waves.

The yacht we have rented is an automatic one. It also has a built-in compass. None of us experience riding a yacht, and then here we are going for an adventure that we can either find a home or will be our end.

I’m afraid,” Wade admits as we both hold on to the railings.

A few hours from now, we’ll know if my claims are true. I never hear him complaining or telling me I’m crazy for doing this or even just for thinking about going to Bermuda. When I introduce him to the idea of going to the other world, he does not hesitate to join my craziness.

So, when he says she’s afraid, I think he realizes now that this is pure madness and wants to back away. I understand him because even I am worried about how this will end. I’m afraid of knowing I’ve wasted my time.

“You can still go back to Florida if you want,” I say. It’s fine with me. In the first place, I didn’t want you to go with me, but I thought we wanted the same thing. To run away.” I sigh and look at his eyes. I’m sorry for bringing you here.”

“I come with you because it’s my decision. You never force me to go with you. Don’t mind what I said.”

“You sure?” I insist. “Because I don’t want you to have regrets.”

“I’ll have regrets if I won’t come with you,” he says and put one arm over my shoulder.

We stay like this for an hour, looking at the ocean. Our clothes and hair are snapping. Sometimes we joke about things, but most of the time, we stay silent. I admit I’m also afraid, but there’s no turning back. I must face whatever comes in my way.

We enter the yacht deck when it’s getting dark. I can tell we’re close to Bermuda. We’ve been sailing for a few hours now, and the current is getting stronger. I’m both thrilled and afraid. It’s my first time sailing this far and to Bermuda.

We’ve entered the triangle,” Wade announces while looking back and forth at the compass, not the one that is built-in on this yacht but his, on his right hand and the map on his left. He glances at me then looks back at the things on his hands.

“Stop right here,” I instruct. Let’s go outside and wait for the lunar eclipse. It’ll appear at six o’clock, right?”

He nods. With the compass and the map in his hands, we went outside. The only thing that lights us is the moon above.

It’s almost six o’clock, and the awaited event is now happening. I have to admit that it’s striking because of the moon’s bloody color.

When I glance over my watch to see if what time it is, the two hands of the watch are rapidly moving in reverse.

“Wade!” I shout. I’m still perplexed about it when ferocious wind and waves snap at us, throwing me at the other side of the railings. The yacht sways when big waves hit our yacht, and I hold on to the bars for my dear life as I regain balance. I can’t see well because my hair and drops of the water block my view, but I can still see amid the waves crashing is a figure, which I’m sure is Wade, hanging limply on the railings and flailing like a rag doll, almost falling to the ocean. It’s a good thing that he can hold at the bars, but I don’t have any idea how long he’ll keep at it.

I want to reach for him, but it’s hard because if I let go from the railings I’m holding, I might fall at sea. Even though I still try, I fall right into the sea just like what I’ve expected. A rigorous current hit and carried me deeper into the ocean.

I try to swim upward, but something’s dragging me down. It’s the current. It’s so strong that even if I make my motion bigger, I can’t just escape this aggressive current. I never give up, though. I push myself up, kick as hard as I can. All of it is in no use. I’ve submerged deeper, and the water has turned darker. The moon still shines above, and hell! It’s so big as if it’s getting nearer when in fact, I’m submerging in the deepest part of the sea. It is like it’s something I can reach with my bare hands.

I can’t breathe. My body is exhausted from swimming against the strong current, so I stop trying in the end and just let myself follow the harsh rhythm of the ocean. I flash a faint smile before I close my eyes and feel the water snapping at me and tossing me to wherever place they’ll want to. It’s not long after that I feel something’s tickling and tugging me. So, I open my eyes and immediately regret it because a horrible, blinding light greets me. It took time to adjust my eyes to the sudden light, but when I did, I realized I got caught with a fishing net. The tickling sensation I feel is because of the fish. They’re alive! As in breathing!

I gasp when the fishing net is lifted above water in one forceful pull, then cough the water that enters my mouth. Some fish is at my face, almost near my mouth. I shake my head, but it just worsens the situation because I have only gotten many fishes, covering almost all of my face.

Another tug and the fishing net sways and slams at the body of a massive ship—pain sheets through my body with a terrible intensity.

I lost count on how many times I hit the hull whenever people above tug the fishing net. This means this ship is a huge one. I think these people work on shipping lines, like father, and they happen to see me. It’s just weird that they rescue me with a fishing net. But who am I to complain anyway? I am now safe. Maybe they also find Wade. It’s not that long after we lost each other. Our distance isn’t that far. I hope.

But all my hopes fall when I’m thrown at the floor and hear my rescuers shouts.

It’s a bloody mermaid!”

It’s a witch!”

“A wench!”

Soon after, I am free from the fishing net. The fishes are wriggling beside me as if it’s still in the water. Finally, it’s left with no choice but to lie there, gently opening and closing its mouth. While I also lie on the floor, three—no—five sharp swords are aimed at my face.

My eyes widen in terror. I can’t even move because I’m so tired, hurt, and the threats of their swords at me. So I stay still.

“Who are you?” someone shouts, bringing his sword closer to my face. I cringe and squeeze my eyes shut.

“Move aside!” shouts another voice. Urgent footsteps backing away from me follow it after. I open my left eye to check if the swords are still aiming at me. It’s gone.

“Stand up!”

My body reacts fast that I am now on my feet. I shove my hair away from my face, thus making me see clearly who the hell are my savior or perhaps people that will kill me right now. Dozens of uniformed men, with their ready swords, are in my front. They are all wearing a navy-blue reefer jacket with four rows of two buttons, a white shirt, white pants, and black tie and leather shoes.

Someone from the crowd steps forward. His piercing amber eyes scan me, and I also do the same. He’s the only one who wears a thick, expensive blue cloak and polished boots. The cloak is pulled down, so his handsome face is on display.

The sight of him and the growing hisses from the crowd makes my legs weaken. I also have this terrible feeling in my stomach, as if I’m about to puke.

And I f*cking did, right in front of the handsome guy. He shouts profanities and spun in a semi-circle so he won’t see the yellowish contents from my stomach. The crowd makes a noise of disgust and even backs away.

The strong sour smell fills my nose. It reminds me of grated parmesan cheese. My throat also becomes dry, badly making me drink water.

“Can I dri—s**t! Careful!” I yelp as swords come their way again on my face. I back away, but a man holds my hand and drags me.

“Wait! Stop!” I say, struggling to loosen his grip on my arm.

The man turns at me with his nose drawn up and wrinkled.

“What?” he barks.

I gulp.

“Wa-Water,” I stammer. “Give me—sh*t!”

“A prisoner cannot request!”

The handsome man, I think their captain is now in front of me again, clenching his sword and pointing it towards my neck. His eyes are bloodshot, and his body is trembling.

My eyes blink fast as I feel the cold edge of the sword that just one push and it’ll surely wound me.

“So-Sorry!” I gasp. “Please—”

“Stand up!”

I flinch.

Why does he always ordering me to stand up! I’m standing up!

With my trembling legs, I stand straight. My eyes focus on the shiny floor. Even this one reminds me of how shiny their swords are. I lift my hand and gently rub my neck to see if the captain has wounded me. Thank God! There isn’t.

With a slight flick of the captain’s hand, two men rush at me and hold my limp body to keep my balance. They usher me to the small stairs that lead to the lower deck.It’s dark down here, but with only a few minutes of the adjustment, I can now see shadows of some things, yet, unrecognizable.

The man opens a door. The scraping sound and rusty door fill my ear. I stumble when he pushes me hard into the room, then closes the door, and I am now left alone. Wade is nowhere. This ship and the people on board are weird and aggressive.

I sit on the cold floor and try to clear my mind so I can think of ways to escape, also the miracles I have experienced right now. If being alive and the sudden change from night today isn’t a miracle, what words can describe this?

Firstly, I’ve fallen into the ocean at maybe past six o’clock? I’m not sure because my watch has acted weirdly.

I instinctively touch my wrist to search for my watch. I exhale in relief when I feelit’s bulging. However, I can’t see if the two hands still act that way because it’s dark.

So,l et’s say it’s really past six o’clock. They save me—not sure if save the right word to say, but because I’m alive, I’ll use it. Going back, they rescue me maybe at noon. So, how the hell am I still alive for that long time? That means I’m at the ocean for hours! Not breathing! If my time calculations are wrong, it still doesn’t change that I stay at the ocean without oxygen for the span of night and day.

Secondly, these people are on board. They have these weird uniforms, and f**k, swords? Who the f**k uses it these days? Them! And what country do they come from? For all I know, people who work at shipping lines don’t use swords. They use guns, explosives, anything except for it. I never heard ships like this and people on board pass through Bermuda. In disappearance stories and movies, no one mentions this. Don’t tell me—

“A woman in my cell,” a man’s husky voice interrupts my thoughts. “How convenient.”

I abruptly spun and searched for the voice. “Who are you?”

I catch a glimpse of a silhouette meters away from me, standing and leaning on the wall.

“Answer me!” I shout with a panicky voice.

He chuckles as he walks closer. I push my body using my feet backward to widen our distance.

“You!” I glare. “Stop!”

I squint at his face. He’s also wearing a hood that covers the top half of his face. I can only see his white teeth as he smiles.

Ignoring my warning, he continues.

“Who are ye?” he asks.

“I ask you first! Dumbass!”

He laughs, closes our distance more.

“Death,” he says.