Antumbra - A Lost Cause

Seasick - Chapter Fifty Four

It had been two days since they'd left port, and subsequently two days since Arva last ate or slept. She had no appetite, and even though she was tired, any time and every time she closed her eyes all she saw was Katalin, all she heard was Sam, and all she felt was misery. She spent all her time in the room they 'rented' on the freighter, unwilling and unable to do much else. She had cried so much the day it all happened her eyes were still raw, and her wounds were so sore and battered she could hardly move a muscle without seething in pain. Arva never felt so worthless, so undeserving, and cursed herself repeatedly. She sat on the bed, enclosed in the dank, cold surroundings of the steel cage that was their temporary living quarters, a leaky overhead pipe competing with her nose for who could drip more. The ship rocked and creaked as it moved through the waves, groaning like a sleeping animal. Boomer and Kyodai were elsewhere on the ship, possibly exercising, possibly working on their machines, which she couldn't do even if she wanted to. Arva didn't want to be anywhere near Antumbra. It seemed as though nearly every time she got into that suit destruction and death followed, and it was bad enough that she had to move it onto the ground transport to then load it onto the ship, but she no longer thought of it as a protector. The crew were handsomely 'encouraged' with a wire transfer to forget what they had seen, but they seemed quite used to sneaking elicit items into their shipments, which both assured and unnerved them, but it was worth it to get home.

Home. Arva thought a lot about her friends and family, and her mind was scattered. They were what, she believed, they were fighting for. Now things didn't seem that simple. It didn't seem right to destroy one family for another. Some of the Kovacs' children were about Hannah's age, and Arva thought about how they had lost a sibling. They were a large family, but they were close, and the pain they must have felt Arva could only imagine. She wondered if a fraction of that pain was felt by Hannah when she had left. She wondered if she would even see her sister again. She wondered if she herself would survive, or if she would end up dead in the snow. She wondered if that's where she belonged.

"Whattup, kiddo?" Boomer asked as he entered the room. Despite the cold, he had a fine layer of sweat over his body, and was slightly favouring his right side, "how's that tummy treatin' ya?"

"It's fine," Arva muttered without looking at him.

"You need me to change the bandages?" Boomer offered.

"I'm good, thanks," she said.

"Well you don't sound good," he reclined in the seats built into the wall opposite her. "You can't keep beating yourself up over this, Arva. It's not your fault."

"I'm just tired," she said.

"I can see that," he said, "you eaten anything yet? You're not lookin' so hot." Arva didn't reply, so Boomer stood up and rifled through the small amount of supplies they still had. He tossed her a small packet of saltine crackers. It landed by her foot on the seat, but she didn't so much as glance at it.

"Come on," Boomer insisted, "even if you're not hungry you need to eat something. I know things are shitty right now but it'll get better."

"It won't," Arva's voice trembled slightly, "it won't ever get better."

"I know it feels that way," Boomer sat down next to her. He picked up the package of crackers and peeled it open, plucking one between his fingers like a card and held it in front of her face. Boomer always wore sunglasses, it covered his missing eye, but it also made him just that much harder to read. He held the cracker the same way he held a cigarette, and didn't move an inch as he waited. After a moment Arva let out a quiet sigh and finally accepted it, forcing herself to eat.

"Honestly," Boomer continued, "I haven't found the trick myself, but eventually, and I do mean eventually, you will feel just a little less shitty. Once we're home, and you see your friends again, you'll start thinking less about what you lost and more about what you still got." He shrugged, not seeming entirely convinced of his own words. He could very well be right, but to Arva it was just words. Words meant so little after what she had gone through.