something much bigger.
25
Cook could take it.
He could take it very well, thank you. He could take every ounce of shit Saks could dish out and keep coming back for more. Nobody could take more than he could.
He could take it and take it and take it.
But give it back? No, that wasn’t his way. Unless you wanted to count that little instance of him killing his father. But he hadn’t wanted that. He just hadn’t been given a choice. He didn’t want to kill anymore than any other sane person. Just like he didn’t really want to kill Saks. But, sooner or later, there might just not be a choice in the matter. He might have to kill him.
If I get that gun, he thought icily, then maybe. Just maybe I’ll do him out of general principles.
But it wouldn’t be in cold blood.
Saks would be given the chance to act like a rational human being. And there was the difference. Saks probably wouldn’t give any of them the same chance. Because deep down, Saks was not a civilized man. He was a crazy, bloodthirsty animal who drew his only true pleasure from the suffering of others.
And there was no denying that.
The big fish hadn’t come back and slowly the tension had drained out of everyone, drop by drop. But like sponges, they were still soaked full. Only getting out of that dead zone would ever really squeeze them out. The smaller fish were still around, though not as many now. They bumped the boat and fought from time to time, but other than that, it was quiet. Real quiet.
Slowly then, the men began talking again and especially after Saks ordered Menhaus to dole out some chocolate and crackers and a few sips of water.
“What’s the first thing you’ll do when you get home, Cook?” Menhaus said, shifting effortlessly back into denial of where they were and what they were facing.
“If you get home,” Fabrini said morbidly.
Saks laughed.
“Well, I’ll probably take a hot bath and have a good dinner and sleep for three days,” he said. “That sounds good to me.”
Menhaus smiled. “That does sound good. Me, I think I’m going to collapse on the couch and let the wife pamper me for a week.”
“Shit,” Fabrini said. “You guys got no imagination. Me, I’m going to get a bottle of booze and a couple whores and have me a good old time.”
“How about you, Saks?” Menhaus asked.
Saks smiled, all teeth. “I think I’ll reserve judgment. Some of us aren’t going home again.”
26
Although it was hard to tell what was night and what was day and how long of a duration either might be, Gosling posted his little crew in shifts of two hours each. Their job was to keep their eyes and ears open. Not only for danger, but for signs of survivors or land.
Because he was still holding out hope that there was land here. Had to be somewhere. There had to be land under all that oily water and it only stood to reason that sooner or later, some of it had to poke up and form an island or a continent.
This is what Gosling told himself.
This is what he was clinging to.
He didn’t know what was out there and what terrible forms it might take, but if he could get some dry land under his feet, he figured that they’d all stand a chance. A chance of living and just maybe, figuring a way out of this.
And maybe his hopes of this weren’t much, but it was the only game in town so he held onto it and held onto it tight.
27
“You guys kill me, sitting over there like that,” Saks said in a dry, raw voice. “Not talking. Not moving. Not doing a damn thing.”
“What’s there to do?” Menhaus said. “And, besides, maybe what we ought to do is be quiet. Crycek said-”
“Fuck Crycek,” Saks said. “He’s certifiable. Ain’t you, Crycek?”
Crycek did not say anything; he stared out at the fog and the water and weeds, maybe thinking things, but not saying them.
“Leave him alone,” Cook said. “What’s he hurting? What are any of us hurting?”
But Saks didn’t comment on that. At least not with his voice. But his eyes, well, they were saying things and they were the sort of things nobody wanted to hear.
“What?” Fabrini said. “We’re not allowed to just sit now, big boss man? What the hell do you want us to do?”
Saks laughed deep in his throat and it sounded like a low rumble of thunder. “Man, you’re slick. The lot of you. Slick as fucking oil. You think I don’t know what you’re whispering about over there? What you murdering bastards are planning? I know, trust me, I know everything.”
Cook put a hand on Fabrini, to keep him calm. “We’re not planning anything, Saks. All anybody wants is to go home.”
Saks licked his lips even though his tongue was getting dry. He looked at each of them in turn. He let his eyes hang on each man for a moment or two as if to say, lying bastards, I know what you’re thinking, I know, I know…
Then he grinned.
A huge, moony grin like a cat with a mouse. He started laughing. He kept laughing for several minutes. “Stupid dumb shits,” he cackled. “Don’t you know I’ll kill you? That I’ll kill each and every one of you mutinous goddamn dogs before I’ll let you lay a hand on me? Don’t you see that?”
Jesus, he’s cracking up, Fabrini thought nervously.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Saks ranted.
“Come on, Saks,” Cook said. “You’re being paranoid. Quit wasting your energy with this. For God’s sake, look where we are and what we’re facing… how can you act like this?”
“He’s right,” Menhaus said quietly. “We have to pull together.”
Saks had a confused, dopey smile on his face. He was humoring the lot of them. Sure, guys, pull together. Let’s all pull together. All for one and one for all, eh? That’ll come in handy when you shitrats jump me and throw me to the damn fishies. Oh, and then you’ll laugh, you’ll laugh and laugh, won’t you?
Cook watched him and didn’t like what he saw. “Easy,” he said.
Saks kept shifting in his seat restively like there were splinters in his ass. “You guys better start using your heads cause old Saks is in charge and he’s a hard master. Goddamn, yes.”
“Please, Saks,” Menhaus said. “Just relax.”
Saks started laughing again. But there was even less humor in that laughter now than there was before. It was more like an insane cackling, rising up high and hollow like dead laughter in an empty room before becoming a
