Here it comes: She means, Are you all right in the head?
"No, I'm not okay. I won't be okay until I'm through with what I've got to do out there on that ship."
"Are you sure about this? Is Vicky really out there?"
Yes. She's out there. But she's dead. Eaten by—Jack fought the urge to burst out crying.
"Positive."
"Then let's call the Coast Guard or—"
"No!" He couldn't allow that. This was his fight and he was going to do it his way. Like lightning looking for a ground, the rage, the grief, the hatred balled up inside him had to find a target. If he didn't settle this personally with Kusum, it would destroy him. "Don't call anyone. Kusum has diplomatic immunity. Nobody who plays by the rules can get to him. Just leave this to me!"
Gia shrank from him and he realized he was shouting. Abe stood by the truck with the oars in his hands, staring at him. He must sound crazy. He was close to the edge...so close to the edge...had to hold on just a little longer...
He pulled the now-inflated boat to the edge and pushed it over the bulkhead into the water. He sat on the edge and held the boat in position with his feet while he lowered the crate of incendiary bombs onto it. Abe brought the oars. Jack settled himself into the boat and looked up at his best friend and the woman he loved.
"I want to come with you!" Gia said.
Jack shook his head. Impossible.
"She's my daughter—I have the right!"
He pushed away from the bulkhead. Leaving the land was like cutting a bond with Gia and Abe. He felt very alone at that moment.
"See you soon," was all he could say.
He began to row out into the bay, keeping his eyes fixed on Gia, only occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure he stayed on course toward the black hull of Kusum's ship. The thought that he might be going to his death occurred to him, but he let it pass. He would not admit the possibility of defeat until he’d done what he had to do. He’d set the bombs first, leaving enough time to find Kusum and settle up.
He did not want Kusum to die in the blind, indiscriminate, anonymous fury of an incendiary explosion. Kusum must know the agent of his death...and why.
And then what would Jack do? How could he go back to Gia and say those words: Vicky is dead. How? Almost better to be demolished with the boat.
The pace of his oars increased as he let the rage mushroom out, smothering his grief, his concern for Gia, consuming him, taking him over. The universe constricted, focused down to this small patch of water, where the only inhabitants were Kusum, his rakoshi, and Jack.
30
"I'm so scared!" Gia said as she watched Jack and his rubber boat melt into the darkness. She felt cold despite the warmth of the night.
"So am I," Abe said, throwing a heavy arm over her trembling shoulders.
"Can this be true? I mean, Vicky is missing and I'm standing here watching Jack row out to a boat to take her back from an Indian madman and a bunch of monsters from Indian folk tales." Her words began to break around sobs that she could not control. "My God, Abe! This can't really be happening!"
Abe tightened his arm around her, but she took scant comfort from the gesture.
"It is, kid. It is. But as to what's in that ship, who can say? And that's what's got me shook. Either Jack has gone stark raving meshugge—and comforting it's not to think of a man that lethal being meshugge—or he's mentally sound and there actually are such things as the monsters he described. I don't know which frightens me more."
Gia said nothing. She was too occupied with the fear that clawed ferociously at the walls of her brain; fear that she would never see Vicky again. She fought it, knowing if she let it through and truly faced the possibility that Vicky might be gone forever, she would die.
"But this I'll tell you," Abe went on. "If your daughter is out there, and if it's humanly possibly to bring her back, Jack will do it. Perhaps he's the only man alive who can."
If that was supposed to comfort Gia, it failed.
31
Vicky sat alone in the dark, shivering in her torn, wet nightie. It was cold in here. The floor felt slimy against her bare feet and the air stank so bad it made her want to throw up. She was utterly miserable. She’d never liked to be alone in the dark, but this time alone was better than with one of those monsters.
She’d just about cried herself out. She had no more tears left. Hope had grown when the monster climbed the ship's anchor chain, carrying her with it. It hadn't hurt her yet—maybe it just wanted to show her the boat.
Once on the deck, the monster did something strange: It took her to the back of the boat and held her up in the air in front of a bunch of windows high above her. She had a feeling somebody was looking down at her from behind the windows but she couldn't see anyone. The monster held her up for a long time, then tucked her under its arm and carried her through a door and down flights of metal steps.
As they moved deeper and deeper into the ship, the hope that had sprouted began to wither and die, replaced by despair that slowly turned to horror as the rotten smell of the monster filled the air. But it wasn't coming from this monster. It came from beyond the open metal door they were heading for. Vicky began to kick and scream and fight to get free as they moved closer, for she heard rustling and scraping and grunting sounds coming from the darkness beyond that door. The monster didn't seem to notice her struggles. It stepped through the opening and the stench enveloped her.
The door clanged behind them and locked. Someone or something must have been standing in the shadows behind it as they’d passed. And then the monsters were all around her, huge dark forms pressing close, reaching for her, baring their teeth, hissing. Vicky's screams faded away, dying in her throat as an explosion of terror stole her voice. They were going to eat her—she could tell!
But the one who carried her wouldn't let the others touch her. It snapped and clawed at them until they finally backed away, but not before her nightie had been torn and her skin scratched in a couple of places. She was carried a ways down a short corridor and then dropped in a small room without any furniture. The door had closed and she’d been left alone in the dark, huddling and shivering in the farthest corner.
"I want to go home!" she moaned.
She sensed movement outside the door, and the things out there seemed to go away. At least she couldn't hear them fighting and hissing and scraping against the door anymore. After a while she heard another sound, like a chant, but she couldn't make out the words. And then more movement out in the corridor.
The door opened. Whimpering with helpless terror, Vicky tried to press herself farther into the unyielding angles of the corner. There was a click and light suddenly tilled the room, blazing from the ceiling, blinding her. She hadn't even looked for a light switch. As her eyes adjusted to the glare, she made out a form standing in the doorway. Not a monster—smaller and lighter than a monster. Then her vision cleared.
It was a man! He had a beard and was dressed funny—and she noticed that he only had one arm—but he was a man, not a monster! And he was smiling!
Crying with joy, Vicky jumped up and ran to him.
She was saved!
32
The child rushed up to him and grabbed his wrist with both of her little hands. She looked up into his eyes.
"You're gonna save me, aren't you, mister? We gotta get out of here! It's full of monsters!"
Self-loathing engulfed Kusum was filled as he looked down at her. This child, this tiny innocent with her salty-wet stringy hair and torn nightdress, her wide blue eyes, her eager hopeful face looking to him for rescue—how could he feed her to the rakoshi?
It was too much to ask.
Must she die, too, Goddess?
No answer came, for none was necessary. Kusum knew the answer—it was engraved on his soul. The vow would remain unfulfilled as long as a single Westphalen lived. Once the child was gone, he would be one step closer to purifying his karma.