Gaby adjusted Jaime’s arms while he aimed the pistol.
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“You’re aiming based on the notches on the back and front of the gun. Those are your front and back sights. They should be aligned.”
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Jaime squinted down the pistol at the board of wood she had set up at a distance. Alek scoffed and walked up behind Jaime, reaching around him to steady the gun and knocking his foot into a more stable position. Ever since they had made their truce, not only Alek, but everyone on the crew had become a lot friendlier with Jaime, somehow sensing an ease to the prior tension. Alek, Gaby, and Beau were apparently the touchy kind of friendly and Jaime did not know how to respond to the sudden increase in skinship. Especially from Alek. Jaime tried his best not to squirm, feeling Alek’s chest pressed against his shoulders.
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“Can you not interrupt my lesson?” Gaby griped at Alek.
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“His posture is completely wrong.”
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“I’m getting there! Let me explain the damn gun first, Alek.”
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She stepped forward and made eye contact with Jaime.
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“You know, I’ve been shooting for five years longer than him, right? I am the superior teacher here.”
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Alek released Jaime and scowled at Gaby.
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“I saw actual combat.” He countered.
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“Who shot the flower women while you laid on the deck?” She boasted.
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Alek rolled his eyes.
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“You learned to shoot at the academy?” Jaime questioned.
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He was pretty sure that students were not allowed to possess firearms, but Gaby also wasn’t the type to worry too much about repercussions. His father had privately mentioned to Jaime that he was a little concerned that Gaby seemed far less afraid of the strange wilderness than the rest of the crew.
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“My sponsor at school made a hobby of target practice on weekends. She and her wife used to take me with them as a reward for acing exams. Now…Alek, fuck off, and Jaime, aim for the center of mass.”
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They spent a few hours getting Jaime to a passable level of marksmanship, bickering amongst themselves the whole time. Even Emory and his father eventually wandered over and chimed in with their opinions. Jaime couldn’t remember ever receiving this much instruction from his father over the entirety of his childhood. Who knew that all he needed to do was to take up firearms?
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“So how am I meant to hit a moving target?” He questioned.
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“Swing through.” The Captain barked, “Follow the target with the gun and then move it fast enough to pass the target and shoot into the blank space ahead of it where it will enter as it moves.”
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Jaime did not feel confident in his ability to hit anything except for a static target. Hopefully any attacking eldritch beings in the wilderness who had a taste for his flesh were the slow-moving type. Alek didn’t look particularly confident in Jaime’s abilities either.
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“Maybe don’t try to shoot anything when I’m in range of the bullet.”
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Jaime glared at him.
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“Fine, I’ll be sure to let you get ripped apart.”
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Gaby howled with laughter.
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“Look, he does have spunk!”
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She slapped Jaime’s shoulder playfully. Everyone else leaned back a little, seemingly concerned that Jaime would misfire the gun while she hit him. That was just insulting, really. Suddenly, Beau appeared at Gaby’s side, gently touching his eyepatch.
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“Does this mean I have to learn how to aim with a new dominant eye?!”
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~
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Gaby and Emory chose to stay back and help Beau reorient his aim while Alek, Jaime, and Milton explored a new area after the boat drifted slightly downriver.
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“I’m tired of being stuck on the damn boat.” Milton commented, “No navigation to be done here anyway.”
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The Captain was determined to stay with the ship no matter what happened and frankly Alek thought a man of his age was better off not wandering into the wilderness, supernatural or otherwise. He was a little surprised that Jaime had volunteered again so close after losing his toes, but the cartographer seemed compelled by a visceral need to map out the strange environment. Maybe it gave him a sense of security - although Alek wasn’t sure that the place was mappable. It was entirely possible that it shifted and changed around them all the time. Which was an unnerving thought. Suddenly, he better understood Jaime’s desire to fit the place into neat, defined boxes.
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Jaime was going on at length, explaining to Milton the areas that he had mapped so far.
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“The environments are just completely opposite. How does that make any sense?” He ranted out loud, more to himself than the navigator.
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“You know what bothers me?” Milton said, pulling at his silvery beard, “You can never see the stars in this place. The sky is either overcast or blocked by tree branches. There’s no way to guess your position. I don’t even know what direction we’re facing at this point.”
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Alek saw Jaime look stricken and glance down at his notes. There were no cardinal directions in his attempt to map the place. The ship and river formed a central point from which all the locations were drawn relatively. Alek looked up at the sky. It was true that there was no north star to point the way here. After the events of the last expedition, Alek still wasn’t positive that even day and night behaved properly. But then again, they had both been half out of their minds with the cold and the sky had been obscured by the storm so who was to say they weren’t misjudging their own senses?
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Milton was in his late forties and had the most sailing experience aside from the Captain.
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“You said you came across a place like this once…” Alek prompted.
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“No, it was nothing like this. Before our experiences here, I was on your side of things. Thought the lads must have gone crazy from the heat or stress of the shipwreck. I’ve certainly seen strange things, but never like this. Nothing that you couldn’t brush away by claiming you’d been staring too long at the sea.”
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The three men continued to weave through the foliage, seeking new terrain.
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“Do you think that woman was talking about this place?” Jaime asked.
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“La Fenestrea, huh?” Milton mumbled.
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“You speak the language, right?” Jaime directed at Alek.
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“Er no. I think the local language got mixed with colony languages. It sounded like a bastardized version of the latin word, fenestra.”
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Alek stepped on a small rock as he spoke and felt it crumble underfoot into fine powder. Perhaps the landscape was changing again.
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“When I sailed around the east, I met a tattoo artist. He was obsessed with the concept of ‘in-between spaces’ - not uncommon, stepping into shrines and such is considered a transition there. But I told him the story of those stranded sailors and he told me the folktale of a tattoo master who kidnapped a girl and inked an enormous spider onto her back.” Milton spoke.
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“She got sent to an alternate dimension island?” Jaime asked.
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“No.” Milton answered, “When she awoke, she was transformed into a spider demon and ate the tattoo master, leaving only his head behind. Told me I should stay away from such places and that one could not step over a threshold and return untouched by the space on either side. Very poetic man. I suppose I should have listened to his advice.”
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Alek could see that the ground was becoming firmer and dustier, pale soil peeking through the moss.
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“Nietzche.” Jaime mumbled.
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“Afraid I’m not an academy-learned man.” Milton replied.
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“And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” Alek quoted, “I don’t think he intended it quite so literally, but…”
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The ground crunched beneath Alek’s feet again. The moss was receding entirely as the trees became more sparse. When they stepped out beyond the treeline, the trio faced a wide open, barren space that looked like it had endured an intense drought. Bizarre, given that the trees were thriving only a small distance away. No plants grew here and the ground was cracked and devoid of moisture.
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“Is that snow? It’s pure white.” Milton said.
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“No, maybe sand?” Alek replied, kicking at the dust by his feet.
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That didn’t quite fit either. Sand would be shifting underfoot, not as solid.
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Jaime stepped out in front of them, bending down to touch the dust. He brought his fingers to his mouth to taste it.
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“Derrand, seriously?! You’re worse than Gaby!” Alek snapped, reverting to his surname out of irritation.
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“It’s a salt flat.” Jaime said definitively, turning to raise an eyebrow at Alek.
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~
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“Great.” Alek griped, as Jaime pocketed a sample of the salt, “Just what we need. Running out of freshwater and we found a field full of salt.”
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Milton groaned.
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“I was hoping we would find a food alternative to sauerkraut myself.”
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Jaime peered out over the horizon. It looked like the salt flat just went on forever. He couldn’t see an end to it. The wind picked up and ruffled his hair.
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“There are certain animals that live in this type of ecosystem. Like flamingos and brine shrimp. We should at least venture out a bit and look.”
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Alek was giving him a disbelieving look.
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“If we find flamingos on this godforsaken island, I owe you half my pay if we ever get back.”
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Jaime licked his lips to relieve the dryness and tasted salt.
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“Are flamingos edible?” Milton questioned.
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Jaime didn’t have an answer to that one. He stood back up and stepped out further into the salt flat. In the distance, it was difficult to discern the color of the sky. Suspended particles of salt had created a white haze. Alek and Milton followed him. The taste of salt grew stronger in his mouth and his skin felt grimy with the fine dust.
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After some time, Jaime turned back to face the other men and felt his heart shudder momentarily. The white cloud of particles had obscured their visibility and he could no longer see the treeline behind Alek and Milton. Alek saw Jaime’s startled expression and looked over his shoulder, cursing when he recognized that they could no longer clearly see their route back.
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But it was fine, right? The trio had been walking in a straight line. All they had to do was walk straight back and not veer from the invisible path they had made across the flat. Jaime blinked hard as his eyes began to sting from the salt in the air. He squinted, opening his mouth to communicate the plan to Milton and Alek, but was interrupted by a large gust of wind. The change had been so subtle that the explorers hadn’t noticed, but the wind had steadily picked up as they crossed the open space. Alek raised his voice over the wind and indicated that they should return.
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But with each step, the wind grew stronger and more torrential, whipping from every direction. Jaime stumbled and narrowly caught himself on his injured foot with a wince as a gust knocked him sideways. They weren’t making any progress and Jaime was no longer certain which direction they faced after ducking and turning to try and protect himself against the onslaught. Visibility was completely shot. He could only see glimpses of Alek and Milton a few feet in front of him and even the ground had become slightly obscured. The wind kicked up more severely and Jaime flinched as the salt began to slice against his face with force.
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Shit. This was really bad. He tried to yell in Alek’s direction, but the words were carried away with the gale. They were being pelted with salt and Jaime’s skin and eyes were now stinging as if he had been pricked with needles. He ripped the jacket from around his waist and pulled it over his head, hoping to block the torrent of fine particles from slicing at his face. His lungs were now beginning to ache with prickling pain as he inhaled the salt flying about and began to cough.
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He saw Alek also pull off his jacket and fling it over Milton’s head. Through narrowed eyes, he saw Alek grimace and press his hands to his eyes. Milton crouched to the ground and tucked his head under the coat in an attempt to better buffer the salt flying in a whirlwind around them. Since he had thrown his coat to Milton, Alek was without protection. Self-sacrificial idiot.
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Jaime stepped forward and clasped at Alek’s lapel, flinging him to the ground. He fell over Alek and pulled the fabric over both their heads while Alek coughed violently next to him. He had the barrier of protection tucked over their faces like a turtle shell, but that didn’t spare their remaining exposed skin from the wind. Jaime had never been whipped with cattails before, but he assumed it felt something like this.
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By the time the wind finally died down, they were bruised, wheezing, and caked in a thick layer of salt. Milton’s beard was stiff with white granules, hair no longer moving with the slight breeze that remained. Jaime tried to wipe at his face and cringed. His skin was covered in tiny microabrasions and his nose was bleeding from being hacked at by the salt. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to blink away the burn in his eyes. Alek was in a similar condition, but had his own eyes squeezed tightly shut. When he finally opened them, blinking harshly, Jaime could see that they were reddened and bloodshot, looking worse for the wear than Milton’s.
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Jaime took a deep breath and immediately regretted it, chest spasming in pain.
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No flamingos for dinner then.
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~
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Miraculously, the trio had managed to stumble their way back to the ship. Alek had bruised himself further by bumping into more than one tree before Jaime finally took hold of his hand with annoyance and led him back through the woods like a seeing-eye dog.
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Upon return, he had immediately wanted to throw himself into the river and wash off the salt, but Jaime had yanked him back onto the ship before he had a chance. Right, it was saltwater. More salt. Also, they had technically never determined what happened to the crew member who disappeared under the water.
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Now, he was stuck gently brushing at his face with a rag and a portion of his water rations, cringing as the salt stung the tiny cuts scattered across his skin. His clothes laid stiff where he had thrown them on the floor. After an hour or so, Alek’s vision had become less blurred. The doctor had declared that his cornea was miraculously unscratched. It still hurt like bitch, though. The whites of his eyes had fractured red lines running across them. He groaned and let his forehead collide gently with the mirror then immediately jerked back as the pain worsened.
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The sensation was somewhere between ‘unhealed tattoo’ and ‘took a cheesegrater to the skin.’ Either way, deeply unpleasant. His whole mouth tasted like salt. And the inhalation damage to his lungs made him feel vaguely like a tuberculosis patient. Alek was a little surprised that he wasn’t coughing up blood.
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Alek didn’t think he could stand lying back and bathing in pain for the next few hours. He wandered to Jaime’s room next door, knocking loudly. He cringed as his skin hit the wood. Jaime didn’t answer so he barged in.
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Jaime was standing shirtless at his own mirror, trying to scrub salt from his skin. Alek’s eyes traveled briefly across the elegant curve of his spine, before he coughed self-consciously and looked away. His lungs protested with a dull surge of pain.
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“You know generally people wait after knocking.” Jaime complained.
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“I thought you didn’t hear it because you had salt in your ears.”
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“What do you want?!” Jaime groused.
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Alek hadn’t really planned this far, mostly looking to bother Jaime in order to distract from his own pain.
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“Should we…eat some of the fruit?”
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Jaime’s eyes narrowed.
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“What? Maybe it will hurt less, if we’re high on weird fruit? We already know it’s not poisonous.” Alek added, wrinkling his nose.
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“You’re asking me to take weird opium fruit with you?” Jaime countered.
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“Yes?”
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~
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They sat across from one another on Jaime’s floor and both gently placed the fruit in their mouths. Both immediately writhed in agony.
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“Oh god, why did I listen to you?!” Jaime cried out as soon as he swallowed.
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Alek didn’t reply, instead waving his hands near his mouth in silence, eyes watering. The citrus juice burned the small cuts that littered Jaime’s cheeks and tongue. He took a deep breath, trying to cleanse the feeling from his mouth.
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“Ok, that was a bad plan.” Alek confessed, finally overcoming the sting.
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“Fuck this fruit! And this island!” Jaime yelled.
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Alek laughed and then grimaced.
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“Don’t make me laugh, my face hurts when I move it.”
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“Oh, you think this is funny? I save you from blindness by salt storm and this is how you repay me?”
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They ended up lying side by side on Jaime’s floor. Jaime looked over and saw Alek untie his bun, running his hands through his hair. He laughed despite himself.
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“You still have salt in your hair?”
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“I can’t get it out!”
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Served him right. Jaime knew there had to be a balancing cost for shiny, long blond hair. He reached up and touched his own hair. It was beginning to reach the base of his neck and he found himself continually pushing it out of his face. Maybe that was why Emory and Alek kept theirs long and tied back while Beau kept his hair cropped short. This awkward medium length was becoming a little annoying. Then again, he had managed to scrub all the salt out of his own scalp. He wondered how Milton’s beard was faring. Jaime had trouble picturing him clean shaven.
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“How long does it take for this to kick in, again?” Alek questioned.
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“I’m not eating anymore of the spikefruit.” Jaime protested.
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“Is that what we’re calling it? The sad part is that I’m not even sure what it tasted like besides pain.”
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“It tasted like grapefruit…and pain.”
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“I don’t feel anything. Maybe Gaby was faking it to screw with me.” Alek complained.
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Jaime tilted his head and caught a glance of something in his peripheral vision. He froze and looked over at the corner of the small room. Ice filled his chest as fear trickled through him. He knew it was irrational and that the image was only an effect of the fruit, but his throat still began to tighten with anxiety.
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A woman stood in the corner of the room facing the wall, perfectly still. Her figure was slim and Jaime could see the back of her blonde hair, cropped severely at mid-neck. He knew her. Of course, he did. If she turned around, he would see a face remarkably similar to his own. During childhood, the only physical traits that the fraternal twins didn’t share were gender and hair color. Jaime had always been grateful for the dark curls that had distinguished him from El. Sometimes at night, he would sneak into his father’s study and gaze up at their mother’s portrait, wrapping his hair around a finger over and over. He had always secretly thought of the trait as a gift from his deceased mother, one not imparted to El.
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He begged his mind to keep the illusion at bay. Repeated the words ‘don’t turn around’ again and again in his mind while he clenched his teeth.
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One time at the academy, Jaime had burst into his dormitory room in a fit of anger then flinched upon passing the mirror and seeing how similar the flash of blue in his eyes looked to El’s cold stare. He had avoided his reflection for a week. As they grew older, he had been delighted to realize that he was outpacing her in height, creating a greater divide in their appearance. He wanted to laugh. Of course, she had followed him here. Even in the middle of the ocean, he couldn’t…
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“Jaime.” Alek said, shaking his shoulder.
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Jaime took a breath, turning his head toward and ignoring the figure in the corner.
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“Sorry, what?” He choked out.
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“Can you see the flowers on the ceiling?”
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Jaime looked up.
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“No?”
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“Ok, good. I figured it was the fruit, but we did get attacked by giant flowers so…”
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“Right.” Jaime replied, throat tight.
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“It doesn’t really hurt anymore.”
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Alek was right. The pain had faded into the background, but now something more cumbersome had entered his room. He glanced back to the corner. El had turned slightly. Jaime could see one sharp blue eye looking at him.
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Jaime turned on his side to face Alek, trying his best to ignore her. Was it safe to turn his back? Unconsciously, he took hold of Alek’s bicep and hugged his arms around it. His crew mate, who had been staring at the ceiling with a slight frown, turned to look at Jaime.
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“What’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost.”
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“No. Just-” Jaime swallowed hard, trying not to hyperventilate and continued speaking, “Do you see anyone in the corner?”
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Alek frowned and looked past Jaime’s shoulder.
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“No. Just more flowers.”
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Jaime let out a relieved sigh. Alek couldn’t see her, so when Jaime turned back, she would be gone. The illusion had been proven untrue.
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Jaime looked back.
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El was still there.
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She had turned fully around and was pointing at him.
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“Should we go up on the deck?” Alek asked, “Maybe this is better out in the open. You look a little pale.”
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Jaime sat up immediately.
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“Yes, that. Let’s do that.”
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Jaime continued to cling to Alek’s arm as they exited his room and went up to the man deck, glancing behind him as they went. She didn’t follow them and Jaime collapsed on the deck in relief. Alek laid down next to him.
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“You’re hyperventilating, Derrand.”
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Jaime stared into his eyes. They were lying quite close.
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“Were your eyes always this green?” He blurted out.
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“Yes.” Alek replied as if speaking to a child.
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“Not like that!” Jaime snapped at him, blushing.
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“Your right eye is a different color of green. It’s dark forest green, instead of light green.”
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Alek furrowed his brow and reached up to touch the skin under his eye. Jaime glanced around and relaxed when he realized that El’s doppelgänger was nowhere in sight.
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“It’s probably the fruit, right? You don’t think the salt changed my eye color or-?”
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“Maybe. I mean anything is possible.”
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“You are an incredibly un-comforting presence, do you know that?” Alek sighed.
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“Sorry. I think Gaby and Emory are better at this.”
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“Do you think we can control it?” Alek mused, raising his hands up and outstretching his fingers.
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“What are you doing?”
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“I want to see the stars.”
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“I don’t think this is a wishing fru-”
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Jaime shut up when he looked up and the branches of the trees had retracted, the sky suddenly full of stars.
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“Holy shit. Alek, can you find our location from this? Or at least our direction?” Jaime asked excitedly, sitting up on his elbows.
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Alek looked confused.
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“They’re wrong though.” He told Jaime.
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“What?”
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“Look.” He pointed up at the sky, “The stars are a different pattern. None of the constellations are there.”
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Jaime dropped back to the deck and stared up at the lights above them. Alek was right. This was a completely different arrangement than the stars he knew from the map on his childhood bedroom ceiling.
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“That’s a shame.” Alek said simply.
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Jaime was starting to think that Alek’s reaction to the fruit had peaked after his own. He looked glassy-eyed.
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“I miss the Big Dipper. That’s my favorite constellation.”
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Jaime bit his lip and tried not to laugh at the childlike statement. Despite the tension of El appearing as a hallucination, it was amusing to see Alek acting dazed.
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“Why that one?”
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“It’s easy to find.” Alek replied, hands still stretched up in the air toward the sky.
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“Do you think-”
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Jaime cut himself off. That was a ridiculous thought. At least he wasn’t beginning a game of patty cake, but still.
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“What?”
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“Could we rearrange them? The rules don’t really apply here so…” Jaime rambled, waiting for the other man to say something derisive, but Alek continued to look at the sky contemplatively.
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Alek pointed at a star and dragged it across the sky. It moved with a glimmer. Jaime reached up and did the same. They reconstructed Orion’s Belt and The Big Dipper. Jaime felt a sudden wave of calm. Maybe claustrophobia had been the culprit in summoning El’s image. It felt safe here on the deck.
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They continued rearranging the stars until they fell asleep. When they awoke in the early hours, it was still night and the fruit’s effect had worn off.
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The night sky still persisted, but the stars were gone once again.
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