Waterborne (Wanderlust 3)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Building a decent raft took longer than Tanden hoped. He hated the pace, because it slowed them down but also because the work was monotonous and allowed his mind to wander, which was the last thing he needed. He tried to make himself focus on the work. Finding good sized trees, struggling to fell them with his rusty cutlass, forcing vines to bend as a poor substitute to rope.

They had to stop work in the evening. Jale wandered into the jungle to look for fresh water and fruit. Tanden sat on the beach, staring at their raft even though he had been told to build a fire. Jale had neglected to leave behind her flint, so there wasn't much he could do anyway.

Rustling leaves announced her return. Without turning, Tanden said, "You didn't give me your flint."

"You could have still piled the wood."

"Oh." Tanden tore his eyes away from the raft and slowly stood up. "Sorry. You're right."

Jale put down her armful of fruit and stared at him, her head tilted, hands propped on her hips. Tanden didn't know what she wanted. After a moment, he tentatively stepped towards the scraps of wood they had hacked away from the usual raft pieces. Only to freeze when she spoke.

"I don't know how to help you."

Tanden clenched his hands. "I don't... know what to tell you."

She stepped up beside him, one hand raised like she wanted to touch his arm. But she didn't. Her hand just hovered. They stayed like that for some time. Tanden knew, without having to look at her, that she was trying to say something. Probably trying to think of a nice way to say it.

"Just..." He sighed. "Just talk."

"If being angry keeps you alive—keeps us alive—be angry."

Tanden turned around. "Being angry means—"

"He's dead."

His vision went blurry. He couldn't focus on her. Pressure built in his chest, crushing his heart, squeezing his lungs.

Then he blinked, and Jale came sharply into focus again. There were tears in her eyes. She was devastated, frustrated. He didn't care. Tanden took a step forward. "Don't say it like that. Don't—"

"But it's true." Jale crossed her arms and stared up at him. "It hurts and it's true. You can be angry at me, fine. But you can't be apathetic. You can't shut yourself off from everything. I can't keep us alive on my own. So if you need to focus on a feeling, pick anger."

"I am angry!" Tanden shouted. He expected Jale to flinch, but she didn't. "I'm angry and I feel like I'm being torn apart and I feel like I want to smash that raft into pieces and just swim out into the ocean until I drown. That's how I feel. My feelings aren't going to keep us alive. I can't keep you alive!"

Jale stood her ground. "You said we weren't going to die on that beach."

"Because for some Goddess-damned reason I thought, for a second, that finding and killing Toliver would fix everything. But it won't. I know that, and you know that. But." He stopped abruptly, taking a few deep breaths. His head hurt. Part of him knew it was dehydration. Knowing the cause didn't help. Being angry didn't help.

"But," he continued, voice low, "If I ignore everything, all of that, I can move. I can't think about Soren or Toliver or anything. Because if I do I want to curl up on the sand and just— and I— What am I supposed to do? Even if we find Toliver and save the crew? I can't be on a ship without Soren. I can't. But that's all I am."

"Tanden."

"It is true," Tanden muttered.

"You said you were here," Jale said.