The Deep Read Free Page B

the Bad Years, she became truly cruel. In time, Luke realized that cruelty was an implicit facet of her nature; she’d simply taken a while to express it.

6.
    LUKE FINALLY FELL BACK ASLEEP and awoke hours later as the yacht slit the night sea. The feeling was not unlike being in a luxury sedan speeding across a freshly laid strip of asphalt; Luke sensed the velocity in his marrow, but the fine calibration of the machine prevented him from truly experiencing it.
    He sat up in bed. If he’d had another dream, he couldn’t remember it.
    He hadn’t dreamed regularly since he was a child, sleeping in the same room as his brother, Clayton, their beds separated two feet apart—Clayton had measured that distance, bedpost to bedpost. He measured a lot of things, space being vital to him.
    Clayton had suffered night terrors pretty regularly as a child; he’d thrash, shriek, even make these doglike yelps. Usually their mother would shoulder through the door to shake Clay awake so violently that his head snapped back and forth.
    You’re fine! she’d say, slapping Clayton’s cheeks hard enough to pinken the skin. You’re perfectly fine, for heaven’s sake!
    Some nights, when Clayton started to thrash, Luke would slide under the covers with him. Clay’s skin was clammy and too hot—it made Luke think, horribly, of slipping into bed with someone who’d been boiled alive. Sometimes he’d wrap his arm around Clayton’s chest and whisper softly to him.
    Ssshhh, Clay . It’s okay, just a nightmare. You’re okay, you’re home safe in bed .
    Luke rose from the bed and padded into the bathroom. The carpet of the yacht’s interior was incredibly soft; it felt like walking on cotton batting. He twisted the bathroom spigot, but no water came out. Luke’s throat was gluey with thirst.
    He made his way topside. His watch read 3:09 p.m. He could reset it, but time wouldn’t matter soon. Where he was going, everything was pitch-black all the time.
    The ocean stretched out. A low-lying moon was halved by the horizon; they were steering straight at it, giving Luke the impression of heading toward a huge tunnel carved out of the night.
    “You’re awake.”
    Leo Bathgate stood on an upper deck. Shirtless, his hipbones jutting above his shorts like jug handles. “You sleep okay?”
    “Out like a light before my head hit the pillow.”
    “Good to hear it. Hungry?”
    At the mention of food, Luke’s stomach snarled.
    “Starving, actually.”
    “We got grub onboard—but temper your expectations, Doc.”
    Bathgate led him to a kitchen as well appointed as any restaurant’s. The food was stashed in cardboard boxes. Japanese snacks. Cans of wasabi peas, bags of shrimp chips, Choco Baby bars, Pocky, plus bottles of Fanta and Pocari Sweat.
    Luke said: “Is that squid jerky ?”
    “Wild, huh?” said Bathgate. “This tub was brought down from the Land of the Rising Sun, right? We’re loaded for bear with Japanese delights.”
    “Anything you’d recommend?”
    Bathgate said, “The shrimp chips aren’t half bad. Kinda of like Cheetos except, y’know, fishy .”
    Luke tore open a pack of squid jerky.
    “Pretty good,” he said, chewing thoughtfully.
    Bathgate said, “I found this, too.” He held up a bottle of Japanese whiskey. “I had a warm beer the other night,” he continued, “but there’s something about drinking hard liquor alone on a boat. But now you’re here, want me to crack it open?”
    Luke bit into another rawhide squid, chased it with a handful of wasabi peas, and snorted as the burn hit his nostrils.
    “You only live once, Leo.”
    Leo poured a stiff belt of whiskey into two glasses and cocked his head at Luke.
    “Want a splash of Coke? Some’d say it’s sacrilege, sugaring up good hooch. But hell, I’m a low-class man with animal tastes.”
    “Oh, I doubt a low-class man would have a yachting license, would he?” Luke told Leo with a grin.
    Leo tipped a wink. “No, but a low-class man would have a