He took the life jackets off the rest of the bodies before dumping them into the water, too.
When he was done he moved back over to Addison, saying: “Happy now?”
“At least we won’t die of that smell,” she said.
He picked up his fishing line and cast it back into the sea.
“Okay,” she said, “now we have to get to those islands.”
Shy turned to look at her, keeping his line in the water. “Too bad we have no clue which way to go.”
She looked all around the ocean with a concentrated look on her face. “What if we just picked a direction? At least that way we’d be trying.”
Her tone was super condescending, like she was blaming Shy for them being stranded. “Fine,” he said. “Point which way, and I’ll get us going.”
“Why me?”
“Because it’s your idea,” he said.
She gave him an exaggerated frown. “Don’t they train you people for this kind of thing?”
“What, sailing to some island nobody’s ever heard of in a broke-ass boat?” Shy pointed near his feet. “With only one oar?”
“You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”
“Look, Addison,” Shy said, not wanting to spend the last of his energy arguing. “I’m sorry about your friend, okay? And your dad. It sucks. But I lost people, too.”
She looked down at her feet. It seemed like she was going to get upset again, so Shy said: “For real, though. Pick a direction and we’ll give it a shot. Like you said, it’s better than just sitting around doing nothing.”
Addison turned to Mr. Henry and said: “Do you have an opinion about this?”
The man shook his head without looking up. Shy could tell he was coming to the end, and he wished he could do something. Give him painkillers, at least, to ease his suffering. But they had nothing.
“What about you?” Addison asked Shy.
He turned to the ocean. The tide seemed to be moving in one specific direction. Maybe it was being drawn toward one of the islands—though it could just as easily be the opposite. Shy shrugged and mentioned it anyway. “I guess we could go with the tide. We’ll move faster that way.”
“Okay,” she said, looking up at him. “That makes sense.”
Shy showed Addison how to bait the hook and cast the line, then he sloshed his way to the front of the boat with his oar and dug back into the water.
“It’s Addie, by the way,” she called to him from the side of the boat.
He turned to look at her, confused.
“My name,” she said. “Only old people call me Addison.”
Shy nodded. “Addie. Okay.”
He went back to working his oar through the water, wondering if they were being nice to each other now.
33
Otay Mesa Cemetery
When the sun started setting, Addie came to Shy and suggested they trade for a while. He happily agreed and handed her the oar, then stood back to watch. It took her a while to get the hang of it, but once she did, she got them going pretty good. He was surprised a skinny, private-school racist had the strength to pull it off.
She turned around, half smiling, and said: “Is this right?”
“Damn, Addie,” he told her, “you’re not as useless as I thought.”
She flipped him off, and he turned his attention back to fishing. But all he did was fail about a hundred different ways. He tried double-baiting the hook, tried tossing it as far from the boat as he could, tried dropping in two lines at once. Nothing worked. The closest he got was when a small, round fish nosed the bait, then darted away.
When it grew dark and a small shark started passing back and forth underneath his bait, Shy gave up and pulled his line back in and looked around. The night was brighter than usual under a mostly full moon. But there was still nothing to eat and no rain and no land in sight.
Shy sloshed his way over to Mr. Henry, who’d been silent for a while, no longer even whimpering in pain. His pant leg was torn wide open now. Shy pulled the man’s hand from his leg to see how much worse it looked. Pus and blood oozed out of the gruesome wound. The skin around it had turned a purplish-red, and dark streaks ran up and down his leg. When the smell of it hit Shy, he turned away and went to get the jug of water. He held it out to Mr. Henry and said: “Drink some.”
The man shook his head and closed his eyes.
“I’m serious,” Shy said. “You need water.”
No response.
Shy knew the oilman wouldn’t last much longer, and they had less than a third of a gallon left. If he didn’t force it, he and Addie would be able to stretch it that much further.
He turned and watched Addie working the oar. It had been over an hour, easy, and she still hadn’t even taken a break. He was shocked. There was no way she’d ever done this kind of work before, yet she kept on rowing like it was her job.
He turned back to Mr. Henry and shook him by the shoulder. When the man opened his eyes, Shy told him: “You know I’m gonna keep bugging you till you drink some, right?”
The man reached out and took the jug, poured two small sips into his mouth and cringed as he swallowed. He wiped his chin on his shoulder and handed back the jug.
Shy patted the man on the back, wishing he could do more; then he sloshed his way over to Addie and made her drink some, too. “You’re still not tired?” he asked.
“Of course I’m tired,” she said, handing back the water jug. “I’m exhausted. This sucks.”
Shy took a sip, re-capped the jug and then held it up to see how little was left. It was like sand in an hourglass, telling him: Here’s how much time you have left to live.
“Look,” Addie said, letting out a big breath, “I’ll tell you what I know about the Hidden Islands, okay?”
“Yeah,” Shy said, taken off guard. He was surprised she was offering information without even being asked.
“It isn’t much, but whatever.” She looked out over the ocean. “So, according to my dad, they used to be a cluster of four, but three are now underwater. Only Jones Island is still inhabitable, which is where he works.” She shrugged. “Oh, and it’s a private island, so you can’t just go on vacation there. You have to be invited.”
“You’ve never been there, though?” Shy asked.
“Are you kidding? My dad take me to his secretive, private work island?” She rolled her eyes.
“What’s so secret about it?” Shy asked.
Addie grinned and shook her head. “I’m not sure how it looked back on the ship,” she told him, “but I barely even know my dad. All he cares about is working and amassing his fortune.”
“At least he took you on a cruise.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah. The big father-daughter bonding trip. My dad’s attempt at”—she did air quotes—“being more present in my life. I only agreed to go because he said I could bring Cassie.”
Shy nodded. Even though the real world barely mattered right now, he wanted to know more about her dad, especially knowing he had a picture of Shy. “So, why’d he leave if you guys were supposed to be bonding?”
“You just have all the good questions, don’t you?”
Shy shrugged.
“He told me he needed to check on some new research they were doing. But he was going to meet us in Hawaii.” Addie’s face grew serious, like she was thinking about what might have happened to him when the waves hit. She tapped the oar against the bottom of the boat a few times and added: “I guess his company has some arrangement with you guys. They let him get picked up by a private boat.”
She looked like she was getting upset again, so Shy decided to ease up a little. “Anyways,” he told her, “lemme take over for—”