Jay woke to the sound of Damien mumbling softly in his sleep. He’d heard Damien return to bed earlier, so it was good to see he was getting some sleep for once. He dug under his pillow for his hip flask. It was exactly where he’d left it, beside his false New Zealand passport. The flask was two-thirds empty, which concerned him because they were only halfway through their travel. What day was it? Three, four? He’d lost track already. Whatever it was, he just wanted this to be over. He still hadn’t approached the skipper about a drop-off on the New Zealand’s western coast.
He put his lips to the flask to let the Irish whiskey do the talking and, for the briefest of instants, saw the last six months of his life align like planets in orbit. It looked depressing, unremarkable. He started feel
