I think back to that final afternoon, after Dobby and I parted company. For hours, my head pounded. My stomach hurt. I was yelled at twice by the crew master for not responding to guests quickly enough. I searched for Dobby every spare moment, looking down the halls, peeking over the rails. I never saw him. It was the final day of the event, and there was so much activity.
Perhaps I was in denial. Perhaps I thought Dobby would never really go through with it. I’d never known him to be a killer. Angry? Yes. Resentful? Yes. He could argue a blue streak about class, wealth, privilege. But a murderer of strangers? Could a person truly change his nature so much? Or is it a case of what you can’t imagine, you won’t believe?
“Benji?” I heard Jean Philippe say. “Come out of the sun.”
He was under the canopy with the others, all except Yannis, who had dragged out to relieve himself over the side. We move so slowly now, like infants crawling.
“Please, my friend,” Jean Philippe said. “You are burning.” It was midday, the worst time to be exposed. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been out there. I slid back toward Jean Philippe until I was just inside the canopy.
Everyone was quiet, their burned and blistered legs extended between one another like logs. Lambert was poking at the car magazine. The Lord caught my gaze and gave me a goofy smile. I turned away and saw, outside, that Yannis was on his knees, staring at the sky.
“Oh my god,” he mumbled. “Don’t anybody move.”
“What?” Nina said.
“A bird.”
Our eyes popped open. A bird? Nina rose to peek out, but Geri blocked her with an arm and motioned for her to be silent. We heard a small fluttering sound. Then a shadow appeared on the canopy.
The bird’s feet were moving just above us.
“Benji,” Yannis whispered, “it’s coming toward the edge.”
I stared at him and flipped my palms. What did he want me to do?
“When I say so, reach around and grab it.”
“What?”
“You’re the closest. You have to grab it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s food.”
I began to sweat. I saw the others looking at me. Lambert made an angry face.
“Grab the stinking bird,” he said.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can! Grab it!”
“Benji, please,” Nina said.
“It’s walking to the edge,” Yannis said, his voice low and steady. “When I say so … reach up and grab its feet.”
I was mortified.
“Get ready …”
I raised my hands up toward the flap. I tried to imagine what the bird looked like. I prayed for it to fly away, save itself, save me.
“Here it comes …,” Yannis said.
“Easy, Benji,” Geri said.
“You can do it,” Jean Philippe said.
“I don’t want to,” I whispered.
“Just grab it!” Lambert said.
My hands were trembling.
“Now,” Yannis said.
“Wait—”
“Now, Benji!”
“No, no, no,” I groaned, even as I shot my hands up and, with one sharp motion, swung them around and slammed them down. I felt the small bumpy talons in my fingers and I squeezed hard. The bird squawked, flapping its wings manically. I spilled out of the canopy, and its feathers whipped my chin as its long white body tried desperately to flee, twisting, yanking, pecking at my fingers. I tightened my grip and squeezed my eyes shut.
“What do I do?” I screamed.
“Kill it!” Lambert yelled.
“I can’t! I can’t!”
The squawking was horrible. Have mercy! it seemed to be screaming. I am not one of you! Let me go!
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Don’t let go!”
“Benji!”
“I’m sorry!”
Then Yannis was on top of me. He snared the bird’s head and twisted it fiercely. It died with a snap. Its plumage fell against my chest. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I looked at the dead creature. I looked at Yannis. I looked at the rest of them, including the man who calls himself the Lord, and all I could blurt out was “Why?”
News
ANCHOR: Tonight, in his twelfth installment, Tyler Brewer profiles another victim in the sinking of the Galaxy, a promising young ambassador cut down in his prime.
REPORTER: Yannis Michael Papadapulous was born outside Athens in 1986. His father was the nation’s former prime minister, his mother a well-known opera singer. Yannis spent much of his youth traveling, and was sent to the prestigious Choate prep school in Connecticut before enrolling at Princeton and staying in the States to earn an MBA at Harvard.
He became known for several start-ups in Greece, and launched a vacation rental service that became the most successful booking agency in his country.
Yannis was catapulted to fame when People magazine, in a special edition dedicated to foreign celebrities, named him Sexiest Greek Man Alive. He was cast in two small films and became a regular presence in international party spots like the C?te d’Azur, Ibiza, and St. Barts.
His father, Giorgios Papadapulous, insisted Yannis return to Greece when he turned thirty to “get serious with his life.”
GIORGIOS PAPADAPULOUS: “My son was very gifted. Even as a boy, he was able to solve difficult math equations in his head. I imagined if he focused on something like economics, given his natural leadership, he could be a great help to his country.”
REPORTER: Yannis won his first election to parliament a year later, thanks largely to his celebrity. A few years after that, over objections from other cabinet members, he was named ambassador to the United Nations, the youngest person in Greek history to achieve that status. Critics claimed he was given the job as a political favor to his father. But Yannis became an effective spokesperson, and helped secure international loans to bail Greece out of its serious financial crisis.
At thirty-four, Yannis Papadapulous was the youngest person invited to join Jason Lambert’s Grand Idea voyage. He is presumed dead, his short life and promising career a victim of whatever happened that fateful night at sea.
Sea
It is nearing midnight on our seventeenth day. I apologize, my angel. I have not been able to write until now. Ever since Yannis snapped that bird’s neck, it’s like I’ve been drugged. I don’t know why it affected me so. The feathered carcass falling limply against my chest. I can’t get that out of my mind. I feel heavy, and can barely pull myself to a sitting position.
Maybe you’re wondering what happened next. Nothing. Not for a few minutes anyhow. No one on board seemed to know what to do with that dead bird. We just stared at each other. Finally, Jean Philippe spoke up.
“Miss Geri,” he said, quietly, “may I have the knife?”
He then began to skin the creature, plucking off the wings, cutting off the head. Nina cringed and asked if Jean Philippe knew what he was doing. He said yes, he’d had to do this as a boy in Haiti, usually with chickens, but this wasn’t much different. He did not seem happy doing it. Perhaps he wasn’t happy doing it back then, either.
We shifted away as the blood and guts spilled out. Eventually Jean Philippe cut out the breasts, which were the meatiest part, and sliced them into stringy pieces. He told us each to take one.
“We’re supposed to eat it raw?” Lambert said.
“You can let it dry in the sun,” Yannis said, taking a piece, “if you want to wait two days.”
Yannis began chewing. Nina looked away. Geri took a piece and handed it to little Alice. As has become her pattern, she gave hers to the Lord, so Geri handed her another. Soon all of them were chewing with exaggerated jaw movements. I could not bring myself to do it.
“Please, Benji,” Jean Philippe said. “You must eat.”
I shook my head.
“Do not feel bad about killing this creature. You did it for all of us.”
I looked at him, and my eyes watered. If he only knew the truth. That I did nothing for all of them, not when it mattered.
I glanced at the Lord, who was eating his piece and looking at me the entire time. He swallowed and smiled.
“I am here, Benjamin,” he said. “Whenever you wish to talk.”