Bluff
My vision is still black but voices drift into my consciousness. Whitley's voice.
And what needs to be done?
She's scared. I don't like it. I try to force my mind into focus. Listen, what's happening?
You're worth more than we could resist, Whitley
I don't know whose voice it is, but it's not a friend's. I groan and try to push my muscles in to moving. It's not very successful.
"Bluff?" her sweet voice sings at me. It makes me dizzy. I don't like the feeling.
Reminds me of unwelcome memories.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
I groan again but slowly my head is clearing. I can feel the rope tight on my wrists, around my shoulders. A moment later I'm able to hold my head up and blink my vision back slowly.
Soft fingertips graze my cheek so gently, I have to resist the urge to move into the touch. She's dangerous, remember? This feeling, it's isn't safe.
Resist, I remind myself. There is so much more at stake.
"What happened?" I manage to get out of my cracked lips and sore throat.
"I was going to ask you the same thing."
I wince. "Where are we?"
"The fisherman's ship you, they... got for us. Headed out to sea."
"Headed where? To what ship?"
There's a pause, and though I my head throbs like I'm 100 feet below the surface, pressure about ready to explode my brain into little bits, I turn towards her.
She presses something soft against my head and I wince at the sting. I was cut in the head, I remember now. Stupid. Always making stupid choices to save people I don't even know.
Well, not always, but too often. It never turns out well for me in the end.
"What are you doing?" I ask in a whisper.
"Trying to clean off some of this blood, see how bad your wound is."
"It's fine. I've have worse. I'm more worried about our current destination because if it's the wrong ship... we won't live long enough for it to become infected."
She pulls her hand from my head. "I don't know. I asked, but Knick didn't give me an answer."
"Shit," I spit.
"What?" she whispers.
"He would have answered if it was one we liked. The only reason he'd avoid it..."
Whitley swallows.
"Can you untie me?" I ask her under my breath, unsure who's watching.
"I don't know," she whispers. "They're watching us. They'll notice."
"Okay. I should be able to do it myself, it'll just take longer."
"Wait!" Whitley says, her voice suddenly brighter.
"What?" I ask, looking up searching to find what's given her hope.
"It's The Freedom, I can see their buccaneer flag."
I strain to turn my head in the direction she's pointing. She's right, it is The Freedom, but the sight doesn't give me quite as much hope.
I shake my head. "I'm not sure so sure even that's a good thing."
"What do you mean?" she asks. "How could it not be?"
"Knick tied me up, almost tied you up. Said you were worth a lot... that line didn't sit well with me."
She looks down at the ground, she agrees.
"Something has changed," I say.
"But that crew, The Freedom...they're your friends. Like family, you said."
"They're pirates."
"But..."
"Your father is family too. How much did he sell you for?" My stomach sinks as I let out the words, as I watch her face wince in pain. I don't like her pain, but it's important she gets this. We are not safe on The Freedom any longer. "I don't know what they intend, but it's unlikely to be good for us."