Ship Breaker

11

NAILER WOKE TO SUN pouring over him, and the luxury of knowing that he still had another couple of hours before the tide would be far enough out for them to make their way back to shore. By this time on any regular day, he would have been on light crew, deep in a duct with LED glowpaint smeared on his forehead like a luck mark, sucking dust and mouse droppings and sweating in the darkness.

The sun shone down through the rustling of ferns and stunted cypress of the island in dapples of light and shadow. Voices interrupted his thoughts.

“No, don’t put all the damn wood on at once. Do it slow.”

Pima’s voice. Lucky Girl said something in return that Nailer couldn’t make out but sounded like she wasn’t much interested in Pima telling her what to do.

He sat up and gasped with pain. His whole shoulder was on fire, a brutal pain that dug deep and burned like acid. He’d worked it too much yesterday for sure. Too much effort hunting scavenge and getting Lucky Girl out, and now he’d screwed it up again. He moved his arm gingerly, trying to get it to loosen up. The pain was intense.

“You awake?

He looked up. Lucky Girl, peering through the ferns. In the daylight, she was still pretty. Her light brown skin was smooth and clean, freshly scrubbed. She’d pulled her long black hair back and tied it in a knot so that it was out of her way, showing the delicate structure of her face. She grinned at him. “Pima wants to know if you’re up.”

“Yeah, I’m up.”

“Get over your beauty sleep, Nailer,” Pima called. “It’s breakfast time.”

“Yeah?” Nailer pushed himself upright and forced through the ferns to where the girls crouched around a newly built fire. Down on the water, the ship was still there, shifted by the tide, but so tangled in the rocks that it hadn’t fled down the coast. Luck was holding, he supposed, especially if they wanted Lucky Girl’s people to find her quickly.

He looked around for whatever they were eating. He didn’t see anything prepared. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked, puzzled.

“Whatever you make,” Pima said, and she and Lucky Girl laughed.

“Ha ha.” Nailer made a face. “Seriously, what you got?”

“Don’t look at me.” Pima leaned back on the sandy ground. “I made the fire.”

Nailer gave her another dirty look. “We’re not on light crew here. You’re not the boss of me.”

Pima laughed. “Guess you’re going to be damn hungry, then.”

Nailer shook his head. He started rifling through the sacks of food they’d pulled off the ship the night before. “Don’t be surprised when you find snot in yours.”

Pima sat up. “You spit in my food, I’ll spit in your mouth.”

“Yeah?” Nailer turned around. “You wanna try?”

Pima just laughed. “You know I’d kick your ass, Lucky Boy. Just make breakfast and be glad we let you sleep.”

Lucky Girl interceded. “I’ll help.”

Nailer shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Pima doesn’t cook because she’d screw it up. All muscle, no brains.” He started pulling fruit from a sack, digging through the rest of the food. “Check it out.” He pulled out a pound sack of grain.

“What is it?” Pima sat up, interested.

“Wheat berries.”

“They good?”

“Pretty good. They chew better than rice.” He paused, thoughtful. “You swanks have sugar?” he asked Lucky Girl.

“Down on the ship,” she answered.

“Really?” Nailer looked down to the water. He didn’t want to have to climb all the way down and come back up. “Can you get some sugar and some fresh water?”

Lucky Girl nodded, surprisingly eager. “Sure.”

Nailer kept rifling through the food as Lucky Girl disappeared down the hillside. “Man, I can’t believe how much food they have.”

“Regular feast every day,” Pima said.

“Remember that pigeon Moon Girl brought me for a luck gift?”

“Good eating.”

Nailer jerked his head toward Lucky Girl, scrambling into the ship. “Bet she wouldn’t think so.”

“Is that why you want to leave with her?”

Nailer shrugged. “Never really thought about it until last night…” He trailed off, trying to explain what was in his mind. “You saw her cabin, right? All the scavenge? It’s nothing to her. And look at all her rings. Take that diamond out of her nose and you or me, we’re rich. But she doesn’t even notice.”

“Yeah, she’s rich all right. But she’s not crew. No matter what you say. And I don’t trust her. I asked her about her family, who they were…” Pima shook her head. “She ducked and dodged like Pearly when you ask him why he thinks he’s Krishna. She’s hiding stuff. Don’t be fooled just because she looks so sweet.”

“Yeah. She’s smart.”

“More than smart. Sly. You know all that gold on her fingers? Some of it’s missing today. Don’t know where she hid it, but it’s gone now. She’s saying all kinds of things about us being crew, but she’s running her own game, too.”

“Like we aren’t?”

“Don’t blow me off, Nailer. You know what I mean.”

Nailer looked up at the tone in Pima’s voice. “I hear you, Boss Girl. We’ll watch her close. Now lemme cook.” He found a sack of some kind of small dried red fruits and tasted one. They were tart and sweet in a mix. Pretty damn good. He tossed one to Pima. “You know what this is?”

She tasted. “Never had it.” She held out her hand. “Gimme some more.”

He grinned. “No way. I’m using them. You’ll just have to wait.”

He set the sack out beside the wheat berries and stared at all the food, so casually kept in the ship. “I never really thought about how bad it is here. Not until yesterday. Not until her.” He paused. “But you got to think, if she’s that rich, there’s other swanks out there. There’s money out there. And it ain’t here. Even Lucky Strike’s a joke, in comparison to what she’s got.”

“So you think you can just go live with her or something? Happily ever after?”

“Don’t make fun of me. Even the people on her crew are richer than Lucky Strike.”

“If she’s telling the truth.”

“You know she is. And you know if we stay here, we never get anything.”

Pima hesitated. “You think we can take my mom?” she asked.

“Is that what you’re worrying about?” Nailer smiled. “We saved the swank’s life. She owes us big-time blood debt. ’Course we can take her.”

“What about Moon Girl? Pearly? Rest of light crew?”

Nailer paused. “Lucky Strike didn’t share,” he pointed out finally. “He worked his own deal.”

“Yeah…” Pima didn’t sound convinced, but her next words were interrupted by Lucky Girl scrambling back up out of the greenery and vines.

“Got it!” she panted, smiling.

“Nice.” He grinned at Pima. “She’d be good on light crew when work starts up again, huh?”

Pima didn’t smile. “She’d sell pretty good to the nailsheds, too.” She turned away.

Lucky Girl frowned. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” Nailer said. “She just gets moody when she’s hungry.”

As he took the jar of water that Lucky Girl had carried up, he gasped. His shoulder was on fire. He almost dropped the water.

Pima looked up. “What’s wrong with you?”

“My back,” Nailer said through gritted teeth. “It hurts like a snake bite.”

“That means it’s infected,” Pima said. She hurried over.

“No.” He shook his head. “We cleaned it.”

“Lemme see.” She pulled off the bandaging and sucked in her breath. Lucky Girl took one look and gasped.

“What the hell did you do to yourself?”

Nailer craned his neck around, but he couldn’t see. “How bad is it?”

Lucky Girl said, “It’s really infected. There’s pus everywhere.” She came closer, businesslike. “Let me take a look. I’m trained in first aid. From my school.”

“Swanky,” Nailer muttered, but Lucky Girl didn’t respond. Her fingers probed and pressed against the wound. He flinched at the searing fire.

“You need antibiotics,” she said. “This smells awful.”

Pima shook her head. “We don’t have those here.”

“What do you do when you’re sick?”

Nailer grinned weakly. “Let the Fates decide.”

“You’re insane.” Lucky Girl stared at his wound again. “I should have something on the Wind Witch,” she said. “There’s a whole medical closet. There ought to be some kind of ’cillin.”

Nailer shook her off. “Let’s eat first.”

“Are you crazy?” Lucky Girl looked from him to Pima. “You don’t wait on something like this. You take care of it now.”

Nailer shrugged. “Now or later, what’s the difference?”

“Because it just gets worse and worse.” Her face hardened. “And then you die from it. This looks like you’ve got a superbacteria. We need to do something fast, or you’re not going to make it.”

Without warning, Lucky Girl shoved her thumb into his back, into the heart of the wound. Nailer screamed and scrambled away. He clutched at his shoulder, gasping. The pain was so bad he thought he’d black out.

When he had himself under control he yelled, “What’d you do that for?”

“Crew up, Nailer.” Lucky Girl made a face. “You can’t collect a reward for saving me if you’re dead. Let’s get your ass down to my ship and get you fixed up.”

“Crew up.” Pima laughed and hit Lucky Girl on the shoulder. “Swank’s starting to talk like us.” She grinned again, then gave Nailer a serious look. “She’s got a point. Your mom would have been damn glad to have money for some ’cillin. You want to go out like she did?”

Sweating and sobbing. Skin like fire. Her neck swollen with infection. Eyes red and pus-filled.

Nailer shivered. “Okay, you want to play doctor, go for it.” He snagged an orange as he started down the hillside. “I’m not going out like she did, though. Won’t happen.”

Despite his words, it was hard to get down to the water, and it was worrying. His arm and shoulder and back were all on fire. Lucky Girl and Pima guided him down, going slowly, both of them helping, reaching out to support him like he was an old lady made of sticks.

As he made his way farther down the hill, Lucky Girl’s words lingered, unwelcome. A reward wouldn’t do him any good if he was dead. He forced down his rising fear, but still it tickled at the back of his mind.

He’d seen other people’s wounds turn nasty, sick with rot and gangrene; seen their stumps crawling with maggots where they’d gone bad after having an amputation. Despite his bravado, a trickle of fear ran strong in him. His mom had prayed to Kali-Mary Mercy and she’d died in a haze of flies and fever pain. A superstitious part of Nailer wondered if the Scavenge God was balancing the scales of his Lucky Strike with a sickness that would kill him before he got to reap the rewards. Sadna was right. He should have made more offerings to the Scavenge God and the Fates after he got out of the oil room. Instead, he’d just spit on that luck.

They reached the ocean. The ship had rolled during the night, turning itself nearly upright; it made it harder for them to climb aboard. Pima finally hauled Nailer up, groaning, her muscles flexing as she dragged him up like a dead pig, then left him lying on the carbon-fiber decking while she and Lucky Girl went below.

When they finally came back, they were both shaking their heads.

“It’s all broken open,” Lucky Girl said. “The ocean must have gotten it.” She surveyed the wreckage of the ship. “I don’t see anything in the water.” She shook her head again. “It’s all lost now.”

Nailer shrugged, making a show of nonchalance. “When your people get here, they can give me medicine.” But even as he said it, he wondered how much time he had. He was shaking now, and even though he sat in hot sun, he felt chilled.

“With your satellites it won’t be long, right?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Lucky Girl sounded uncertain.

Pima nodded at the girl’s jewelry. “With your gold we could buy medicine from Lucky Strike, no problem.”

Lucky Girl looked up from her study of Nailer. “This Lucky Strike has medicine?”

“Sure,” Pima said. “He’s crewed up with the boss men. Gets them to bring things on the train.”

“No.” Nailer shook his head. “We can’t let anyone know about the wreck. They’ll pull the scavenge.” He shivered. “We need to keep low until Lucky Girl’s people show up. Then we can do whatever we want. We let people know now, and they’ll come after our scavenge with everything they got.”

“It’s not your scavenge,” Lucky Girl said fiercely. “It’s the Wind Witch, and it’s my ship.”

Pima shook her head. “Just a wreck now. And you’re only alive because Nailer’s nicer than most of our people. Had himself some kind of religious experience out there. Got the fever eye, now, for sure.”

Nailer shook his head. “I don’t have fever eye.”

Pima shot him a glance. “You don’t think you’re paying the price for all your luck?”

“What’s fever eye?” Lucky Girl asked.

Pima stared at her. “You don’t know fever eye?”

She shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

“When dying people look into the future? Last look before the Fates take them?”

“I don’t have fever eye.” Nailer felt tired. He sat heavily on the canted deck, perched in the sun. “Maybe if I wash it, it will make it better.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Pima spat. “Nothing’s going to make that better except medicine.”

Nailer put his head on his arms. “How long? Till your people come?”

Lucky Girl shrugged. “The GPS tracker will bring them. Soon, I think.”

“You’re that important?”

She seemed embarrassed. “Pretty much.”

“Who’re your people?” he asked. “You’re cagey about it.”

She hesitated.

“We’re crew,” Pima reminded her.

“My name’s Chaudhury. Nita Chaudhury.”

They shrugged. “Never heard the name.”

“I have my mother’s name, until I inherit.” She hesitated. “My father’s name is Patel.” She waited expectantly.

There was a pause; then Pima said, “Patel? Like Patel Global Transit?” Pima and Nailer exchanged glances as shock rolled over them. “You’re a boss girl?” Nailer asked. Pima’s face turned furious. She lunged at Nita and shook her. “You’re one of the damn blood buyers?”

“No!”

“Patel Global buys all kinds of scavenge down here,” Pima said. “We see their logo all the time. Them and General Electric and FluidDesign and Kuok LG. Everyone’s always talking about keeping quota so the blood buyers won’t find another supply. Go across to Bangladesh or Ireland. Lawson & Carlson won’t even supply filter masks because they say they’ve got to keep costs low.”

“I don’t know.” Nita looked embarrassed. “It’s a corporate priority… to source from recycled materials vendors.” She hesitated. “Ship breaking would be one possible trade source for raw components.” She looked away. “I’ve never really followed that side of the company.”

“You goddamn swank.” Pima’s face had turned harsh. “You’re lucky we didn’t know who you were when you were still lying under your bedroom furniture.”

“Leave her alone, Pima.” He was feeling worse, feeling tired and nauseous. “We got bigger problems.” He pointed to the horizon. “Check it out.”

Pima and Nita turned. All three of them stared across the sand flats to where the last of the tide was trickling away. From the direction of the ship-breaking yards, a crew of people was headed toward them-eight or ten, all in a knot.

“That your crew coming for you?” Pima asked. “Maybe your blood buyer people?”

Nita ignored the jibe and craned her neck to stare across the waters. “I can’t tell.” She scrambled into the ship and came back with a spyglass. She trained it on the distant walking forms. “I’m seeing a lot of scars and tattoos. Your people?”

Pima took the glass and peered through.

“Well?” Nita pressed. “Is it one of your scavenge crews?”

Pima shook her head. “Worse than that.” She handed the spyglass to Nailer.

“What do you mean worse?” Nita asked.

Nailer cradled the spyglass in his good hand and peered at the distant beach. The view slid over reflecting sand and salt water pools until he found the figures hurrying across. He focused on the faces, found the leader. “Blood and rust,” he cursed softly.

“What’s wrong?” Nita asked again. “Who is it?”

Pima sighed. “His dad.”