point. But like most things with him, it was just too damn abstract.
They think I’m a traitor, Menhaus thought, but they just don’t get it.
“That’s the way,” Saks said happily. “Now we can both watch ‘em.”
Saks and Fabrini engaged in a staring contest. It lasted only a few minutes. The hatred between them was like a pall hanging in the air and it smelled of raw meat and gunpowder.
Saks smiled. “Well, I guess you boys are fucked,” he said.
Cook and Fabrini just stared, waiting for the bullets.
But as usual, Crycek looked like he was waiting for something else entirely.
“Which one of you should I kill first?” Saks said. “Which one?”
“Kill me,” Fabrini rasped, “you fucking pussy.”
“It’s not that simple, Fagbrini. Not that simple at all.” He patted Menhaus on the shoulder. “In fact, I’m going to let my pal here decide.”
“No,” Menhaus said flatly. “I won’t.”
“Yes, you will. If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”
The barrel of the gun was shoved into Menhaus’ spine. It was death and he knew it was death. He’d thought he could join Saks and pacify him. Keep him from killing the others, but it wasn’t that simple. He’d simply underestimated the twisted, sadistic turn of Saks’s madness. The man was so far gone now he just didn’t realize how crazy he was. Right and wrong had become vague concepts. And maybe, just maybe Saks wasn’t so crazy as Menhaus might have thought. Maybe he’d planned it this way all along. He only wanted Menhaus on his side because it fit into his plans. He had an unwilling participant now in murder.
“Well, old buddy, which one?” Saks asked, almost lighthearted.
Menhaus had no saliva left. Yet, he attempted to lick his lips. “This is insane, Saks. We’ll go to prison for this.”
Saks started laughing. “Christ, Menhaus! Look around! You see any fucking cops or jails or judges? No, we do what we want here. Frontier justice, eh?” The gun was pressed deeper into his back. “Now decide.”
Fabrini and Cook maintained their cold, hateful stares. Menhaus admired the both of them like he’d never admired anyone ever in his life. They were men. Real men. Real human beings. Scared shitless inside, but facing death bravely. Neither of them would ever stoop to doing what he did. They’d die first.
But they don’t understand, they just don’t understand. I did this to save them, I really did…
And he was right: they didn’t understand. They thought he was weak and selfish and empty inside. That’s what they thought and Menhaus knew there wasn’t a damn thing he could say to change their minds.
“Well?” Saks said.
“I guess Cook is the one,” Menhaus said in airless voice.
Cook just stared, unblinking.
Crycek started tittering. “All the little puppets in a row,” he said in a dry, ragged voice. “Doing what they’re told to do. You’re all so fucking stupid, every one of you. And especially you, Saks, you’re the dumbest little puppet of all. He’s out there, watching and listening, getting stronger as we get weaker. Only it isn’t a him, it’s a they, a them. Them ones hiding in the fog, they’re the ones that pull your strings and make you dance and you, you silly fucking little man, you let them! You let them! They own your mind, they make you walk and talk and hate and kill… you’re the stupidest one of all! The stupidest!”
“Shut your goddamn hole!” Saks ordered him, pulling the gun out of Menhaus’ back and aiming it right at Crycek’s staring face. Right at that sallow mask with the crooked, lunatic grin.
But Crycek just shook his head. “I don’t have to shut up and I won’t shut up! They already own you, but my mind is my own. They can’t get in my head because I won’t let them in there, won’t let them get fat sitting in their web sucking the juices of my mind dry!” He pressed the tips of his fingers to his temples. “I make my own decisions, do you hear? Not you and not them!”
“You’re goddamn nuts,” Saks told him.
But Crycek assured him that he was completely in control of his faculties. He dared Saks to shoot him, because he didn’t honestly believe that those bullets would kill him. “It might look like they did and it might look like I die… but will I? Or is it just something they’ve planted in your little mind? Is that even a gun you hold, Saks?” He started giggling afresh, wiping spit off his chin with the back of his hand. “Think about it, Saks! Go ahead, think about what I say! This might be your last chance! For all you know, for all you really know, you might be alone right now. Lost in this hungry fog all alone… and you just think we’re here. We might have all gone down with the ship… just ghosts, memories. C’mon, Saks, close your eyes, when you open them we won’t be here… ghosts..”
“SHUT UP!” Saks roared, unable to listen to that droning, insane voice any more. He could feel Crycek up there, in his head, like dirty fingers sorting around, making him think things and feel things, filling his mind with lies and doubts. “YOU BETTER SHUT THE FUCK UP IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU!”
But Crycek just giggled. “Can you feel them, Saks? Can you feel them up there draining you dry? Sucking your mind away?”
Saks was trying to sort it out, because none of it was true. It couldn’t be true. It was all madness what Crycek was saying. There was nothing out in that fog, no devil, no evil presence that ate minds. And… and in the boat, Cook and Fabrini and Crycek were there. They were not ghosts, because if they were ghosts that would mean that Saks himself was the crazy one. Talking to shadows. It would mean that he was by himself out there, that he was totally alone…
So Saks did what came natural to him.
He pulled the trigger on the Browning. The shot rang out and the bullet passed harmlessly over Crycek’s head. And that shut him up. It didn’t wipe that smirk off his face, but it sure as hell shut him up. The others weren’t saying much either, just staring with those sweaty, sooty faces. Accusing faces.
Finally, Fabrini said, “Nice try, Crycek. It almost worked.”
But you could see from the look on Crycek’s face that it had not been a ruse. He believed everything he had said.
“Next one goes right between your eyes, Crycek.” Saks had calmed now, but still looked a little confused. He put the gun back on Menhaus. “Okay… you said Cook and Cook it’s gonna be. You sure now?”
“I’m sure.”
Saks raised the gun and took aim.
And then Menhaus made his move.
30
It happened fast.
As Saks took aim Menhaus moved with a speed he’d thought abandoned him years ago. Saks hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t even remotely expected it. He probably just assumed Menhaus would curl up and pout. And that was his mistake. Menhaus threw his body against Saks, upsetting his aim and knocking him into the gunwale. The gun went off, but the bullet went into the sky. And then Menhaus had his hands on it, struggling against Saks. Saks kicked him in the stomach, in the thigh, but he would not let go.
By then, Cook and Fabrini were at his side.
Fabrini punched Saks in the face about four or five times while Cook and Menhaus wrestled the gun away.
The fight gone out of him, Saks let it go and sunk to the deck plating. Used up and empty, all the hot air gone now like somebody had bled him empty.
He did not look at them or even speak.
Cook took the gun to the bow where it would be out of harm’s way.
Fabrini took the knife from Saks’s boot while Menhaus held him.
It was all over very quickly.
“There,” Fabrini said, giving Saks a good kick in the ribs. “There you are, asshole. What’re you going to do now?”
Saks just stared at him, his face smeared with blood.
