As the water grew darker, I felt my body crying out to breathe, to expel the carbon dioxide accumulating in my blood. In a few seconds, my human form would submit. Water would fill my lungs, my brain would lose oxygen, and my death would come.
And yet, at that moment, Annabelle, I felt something new wash over me. Something liberating. After all that had happened, and everything I had done, I accepted this as a just ending, because I accepted the world as a just place. In that way, I accepted that God, or little Alice, or whatever force we all answer to, had justly determined my fate.
I believed. And in believing, I was saved.
Just as the Lord had promised.
Suddenly, my hands were empty. The mine was gone. Above me I saw a perfect circle of bright light, and in that circle was the entire sky and the sun, spraying rays like porcupine quills. My body began to drift up toward its center. I didn’t have to do a thing. As I lifted, I felt certain that this is what it’s like to die, and I saw there was nothing to fear from it. The Lord was right. A hovering Heaven is always waiting for us, visible from beneath the Earth’s blue waters. Such a wondrous world.
Moments later I burst through the surface, gasping for breath. I saw the raft, maybe twenty yards away. I saw little Alice, waving her arms. “Here!” she yelled. “Over here!” And I realized I had heard that voice before, from someone with a flashlight the night the Galaxy sank.
When I reached the ladder, Alice helped me inside. I was gulping air as I tried to speak.
“It was you in the raft … that night … you saved me …”
“Yes.”
I fell to my knees and confessed everything. “I brought the bomb onto the boat, Alice … It was me. Not Dobby. I planned to blow it up. It was my fault.”
The words spilled out easier than I imagined, like a loose tooth that after hours of painful clinging suddenly slips onto your tongue.
“I was angry. I thought Jason Lambert was my father. I thought he’d done unforgivable things to my mother—and to me. I wanted him to suffer.
“I’d lost my wife, the only person who mattered to me. I couldn’t afford her medical treatments. They cost too much money, money I never had but others did. I blamed myself. Everything seemed so unfair. I wanted revenge for all the suffering I’d gone through. I wanted Jason Lambert to lose as much as I did.”
“His life,” Alice said.
“Yes.”
“It was not yours to take.”
“I know that now,” I said, looking down. “But …” I hesitated. “That’s why I never went through with it. I never detonated that mine. I hid it away. Please believe me. Someone else must have exploded it. I can’t explain. It’s been torturing me ever since it happened. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I’m to blame …”
I began to cry. Alice touched my head softly, then rose to her feet.
“Do you remember the last thing you did on the Galaxy that night?” she asked.
I closed my eyes. I pictured myself in those final seconds on deck. The rain was beating down, my elbows were on the railing, my head was hanging low, staring at the dark waves. It was a terrible moment. I was thinking about how I had failed you, Annabelle, and the horror I’d been ready to commit in my grief, and what a pathetic, empty man I had become.
“Benjamin?” Alice asked again. “What was the last thing you did?”
My eyes opened slowly, as if coming out of a trance. Finally, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I confessed the truth, whispering the words I had been hiding all this time, from you, from Alice, from myself.
“I jumped.”
A long time seemed to pass before I spoke again. Alice had her hands clasped under her chin.
“I didn’t want to live anymore,” I whispered.
“I know. I heard you.”
“How? I never spoke.”
“Despair has its own voice. It is a prayer unlike any other.”
I looked down, ashamed of myself. “It doesn’t matter. The Galaxy blew up anyhow. I saw smoke from her engine room. I saw her go under. I didn’t do it. But it’s still my fault.”
Alice walked to the rear of the raft. She stepped onto the tubed edge without the slightest hesitation. Then she turned back to me.
“Lift your head, Benjamin. You were not responsible.”
I slowly raised my eyes.
“Wait … What do you mean?”
“The mine did not explode.”
“I don’t understand. Then what destroyed the ship?”
She turned her gaze out toward the deep. Suddenly, three massive whales burst through the surface, enormous charcoal monolithic bodies with flippers spread out like wings of a plane, easily the largest creatures I have ever witnessed on this Earth. When they hit the water, the spray from their impact flew through the air and covered us in seawater.
“They did,” she said.
Moments later, the sky began to glow. The air went flat. I somehow sensed our time was over.
“Alice.” I hesitated. “What do I do now?”
“Forgive yourself,” she said. “Then use this grace to spread my spirit.”
“How do I do that?”
“Survive this voyage. And once you do, find another soul in despair. And help them.”
She spun on the raft edge, never lifting her small feet. Then she crossed her arms in front of her.
“Wait,” I choked. “Don’t leave me.”
She smiled as if I’d said something funny. “I can never leave you.”
With that, I collapsed, and my hands hit the wet raft floor. I was, at that moment, in complete submission. Alice looked at me one last time and recited the words that you, Annabelle, had spoken so often.
“We all need to hold on to something, Benji,” she said. “Hold on to me.”
She fell from the raft without a splash. I scrambled to the edge. I saw nothing but blue water.
News
ANCHOR: We begin tonight with some startling findings in the strange saga of the Galaxy yacht, which sank more than a year ago. Here is Tyler Brewer from the island nation of Cape Verde.
REPORTER: Thank you, Jim. Last week, the robot probe from the Iliad returned to the Galaxy wreckage, this time releasing an even smaller robot camera about the size of a toaster. That device was able to enter the sunken yacht through its shattered hull and send back sharp images from the inside.
ANCHOR: And those findings were released today?
REPORTER: Yes. Preliminary reports claim that “repeated impacts to the yacht’s exterior” created three sizable holes, and one of those impacted the engine room, which likely led to flooding and caused an explosion that quickened the sinking of the vessel. It was not believed to be a missile, as the holes in the hull do not conform to that sort of strike. One scientist postulated that whales, perhaps agitated by the loud music being played on board, could have been at fault, as whales are known to occasionally attack ships for such reasons. The bottom of the yacht was also painted red, a color that can attract those massive creatures.
ANCHOR: What about the passengers—or, to use the nautical language, the “souls” on the ship? What can you tell us?
REPORTER: Well, as you may recall, Jim, our own footage from that night showed that, due to a rainstorm, most of the guests were inside a small ballroom on the second level, listening to the band Fashion X, when the explosion occurred. Apparently, based on images from the probe, many of them died in that ballroom, and their remains can be seen and counted. Of course the Galaxy’s actual manifests were all lost, and helicopters taking passengers back and forth make a definitive calculation impossible. But a Sextant spokesperson did tell us, “The number of identified remains is close to all the people we believe were on board.”
ANCHOR: So it’s unlikely anyone escaped or survived?
REPORTER: It appears that way.
Epilogue
Land
LeFleur and Dobby sat inside the jeep, which was parked outside the small terminal of Montserrat’s airport. A blue-and-white prop jet was landing on the single runway.
“I guess that’s it,” Dobby said, reaching for the door handle.
“Wait,” LeFleur said. “I think you should have this.”
He popped open the glove compartment and took out the plastic bag. It contained the original notebook, with the added pages folded inside it. He handed it to Dobby.
“You’re sure?” Dobby said.