The Ties that Bind

Chapter 7 | The Aftermath

Somewhere Off the Coast of Brazil 1998

There was a hot, dry heat in the air and Thomas had sweat through every t-shirt he owned. The smell got so bad, Ruth kept a three-meter distance between them and hit him away whenever he got too close.

Thomas lost track of how long he'd been made to sit in his small tin cabin aboard the Dolce Vita. Six, seven hours, maybe. It was a large transport vessel; one Thomas was sure was used for commercial fishing at some point in time due to the faint fishy smell in the stale air. Thomas carved a T into the wooden bedframe hidden by his pillow with his knife, small enough to hide but sharp enough to do some damage, especially when he knew how to use it. It was a gift from his parents when he turned sixteen and had belonged to his grandfather. 

He napped for a while, pulled awake by the heavy rock of the ocean and then read for an hour before emptying his stomach overboard. Ruth hadn't bothered him for a while which was unusual for her but he'd seen the way she'd made goo-goo eyes at the pretty boy sailor aboard and figured she was busy trying to get into his pants.

His parents disappeared hours ago into an upstairs room on the ship with two others he didn't know and hadn't heard from them since. Thomas didn't know what business they had here, but it was important enough that they were under strict instructions to lie if asked about it.

Laying against his pillow in the steel bunk, the tip of Thomas' pencil snapped against the chalk white paper of his small sketchpad and only then did Thomas really bring himself back to reality.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side, landing with a light thud on the ground. As if on cue, the door opened with a metal screech and Ruth appeared in the doorway. Tall and slender, her skin was tinted umber from the relentless sun and freckles spackled her face. However it was her eyes that gave her away, as blue as a coral reef. Dressed in a light tank-top and shorts, she leaned up against the door. Thomas' nose wrinkled and his skin prickled at the sight of her.

He glared at her. "Ugh, what now?"

"Oo, someone's cranky. What are you doing?"

"It's called none of your damn business," Thomas tucked his sketchbook away in his bag, seeing the wooden handle of his knife in its sheath, and pushed past her out into the narrow corridor. Twenty-five days they'd been confined to the boat. His patience was thin, he was sure he was going to have a mental breakdown at any moment over the tiniest thing.

"Mom and dad told me to get you."

He didn't ask why, navigating through the narrow corridors of the ship and pushed through the doors to the deck. A gush of hot air hit him in the face and in an instant his vision was flooded with light. There were trees, everywhere. Tall, lush overgrowth that grew into the river. Last he looked they had been surrounded by ocean and a lot of it. Close by on the coast was a boat dock, small wooden buildings, and a bustling network of people. "Welcome to Amazonas, Brazil, little brother," Ruth said beside him. "Mom and dad want to see us. Now."

He groaned uncomfortably. He preferred the dry heat over the humid and sticky heat he was now suddenly experiencing. There was no time to change but he knew he'd be hearing about it from his mother. Thomas followed Ruth through another short network of corridors and up a flight of stairs to a double door. His mother and father were standing around a table, in a heated discussion. The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. If they were arguing, it usually meant bad news.

Upon entering, Thomas' father Daniel looked up at him with a hard look. His face was lined with deep crevices and scars savaged the side of his throat and neck. Eyes so bright but so dark they pierced Thomas with a fierce disdain. "Thomas, Rochelle. Get in here."