I’ve been thinking about the word saved, Annabelle. How this “Lord” refuses to save us. How Mrs. Laghari tried to save the binoculars and fell into the sea. How perhaps I could have saved all those people on the Galaxy if I had only stopped Dobby and that limpet mine.
I think back to that final afternoon, after Dobby and I parted company. For hours, my head pounded. My stomach hurt. I was yelled at twice by the crew master for not responding to guests quickly enough. I searched for Dobby every spare moment, looking down the halls, peeking over the rails. I never saw him. It was the final day of the event, and there was so much activity.
Perhaps I was in denial. Perhaps I thought Dobby would never really go through with it. I’d never known him to be a killer. Angry? Yes. Resentful? Yes. He could argue a blue streak about class, wealth, privilege. But a murderer of strangers? Could a person truly change his nature so much? Or is it a case of what you can’t imagine, you won’t believe?
“Benji?” I heard Jean Philippe say. “Come out of the sun.”
He was under the canopy with the others, all except Yannis, who had dragged out to relieve himself over the side. We move so slowly now, like infants crawling.
“Please, my friend,” Jean Philippe said. “You are burning.” It was midday, the worst time to be exposed. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been out there. I slid back toward Jean Philippe until I was just inside the canopy.
Everyone was quiet, their burned and blistered legs extended between one another like logs. Lambert was poking at the car magazine. The Lord caught my gaze and gave me a goofy smile. I turned away and saw, outside, that Yannis was on his knees, staring at the sky.
“Oh my god,” he mumbled. “Don’t anybody move.”
“What?” Nina said.
“A bird.”
Our eyes popped open. A bird? Nina rose to peek out, but Geri blocked her with an arm and motioned for her to be silent. We heard a small fluttering sound. Then a shadow appeared on the canopy.
The bird’s feet were moving just above us.
“Benji,” Yannis whispered, “it’s coming toward the edge.”
I stared at him and flipped my palms. What did he want me to do?
“When I say so, reach around and grab it.”
“What?”
“You’re the closest. You have to grab it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s food.”
I began to sweat. I saw the others looking at me. Lambert made an angry face.
“Grab the stinking bird,” he said.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can! Grab it!”
“Benji, please,” Nina said.
“It’s walking to the edge,” Yannis said, his voice low and steady. “When I say so … reach up and grab its feet.”
I was mortified.
“Get ready …”
I raised my hands up toward the flap. I tried to imagine what the bird looked like. I prayed for it to fly away, save itself, save me.
“Here it comes …，” Yannis said.
“Easy, Benji,” Geri said.
“You can do it,” Jean Philippe said.
“I don’t want to,” I whispered.
“Just grab it!” Lambert said.
My hands were trembling.
“Now,” Yannis said.
“Wait—”
“Now, Benji!”
“No, no, no,” I groaned, even as I shot my hands up and, with one sharp motion, swung them around and slammed them down. I felt the small bumpy talons in my fingers and I squeezed hard. The bird squawked, flapping its wings manically. I spilled out of the canopy, and its feathers whipped my chin as its long white body tried desperately to flee, twisting, yanking, pecking at my fingers. I tightened my grip and squeezed my eyes shut.
“What do I do?” I screamed.
“Kill it!” Lambert yelled.
“I can’t! I can’t!”
The squawking was horrible. Have mercy! it seemed to be screaming. I am not one of you! Let me go!
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Don’t let go!”
“Benji!”
“I’m sorry!”
Then Yannis was on top of me. He snared the bird’s head and twisted it fiercely. It died with a snap. Its plumage fell against my chest. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I looked at the dead creature. I looked at Yannis. I looked at the rest of them, including the man who calls himself the Lord, and all I could blurt out was “Why?”
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ANCHOR: Tonight, in his twelfth installment, Tyler Brewer profiles another victim in the sinking of the Galaxy, a promising young ambassador cut down in his prime.