Viral Love

From opposite sides of our garbage raft, we stared at each other. Hojo’s black eyes returned my aggression with relish, and I knew if I started something, he’d at least attempt to finish it. As I watched, he picked random bits of filth from his hair. “Do you know where we are?” he asked.

“No. I need a land mass for identification.” I thought we might be somewhere in the Corel Sea. The water felt warm but I caught an occasional draft of cold air, possibly from the frozen winds of Icicle Continent. If we drifted west we might reach Costa del Sol. If we drifted south, we’d maybe hit Junon. I just hoped we wouldn’t go north. I hated Bone Village.

“How long before the suture thread dissolves?” I asked. He’d used it to bind together this craft of used bio-hazard containers and random debris.

“Constantly wet by salt water, not long,” he answered, drawing his knife. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to make our shark friends grow in number. I have to get the bullets out of my shoulder and side.”

“You will not,” I told him. “Those bullets can wait until we’ve hit land.”

Hojo gave me a thousand-yard stare. Slowly, he put the knife away. “If I turn violently psychotic, Turk, you have only yourself to blame,” he said. “Lead going septic isn’t pretty.”

“Go psychotic on me and I’ll kill you,” I promised. “I’m only waiting for an excuse.”

He smiled. “I know,” he disclosed. “But, you might find it harder than you think. I probably look frail, but I promise I’m as tough as a cockroach.”

I gave myself permission to look at him objectively. No, he didn’t look frail. A bit delicate, yes. He had sharp cheekbones, and a sort of fey body structure. Not feminine. He wasn’t a manly bodybuilder, but neither did he have an effeminate mien. He looked utterly masculine despite his smaller manufacture. He appeared fit and capable, and I reluctantly admitted to myself he had a certain grace.

I hated that, when being objective, I could see his appeal.

Scanning, I saw our shark escorts seemed to be dwindling in number. We’d started with five, but now I only saw three. Thank Shiva Hojo had managed to build the raft before they started circling us in earnest. I didn’t relish the notion of getting torn to pieces.

Did I see land? We’d floated for hours.

“Is that a dolphin coming toward us?” Hojo asked, pointing in the opposite direction.

I turned. The creature he saw seemed to indeed be a dolphin. A memory hit me. Cloud learned basic CPR in the attempt to save a little girl from a drowning death in Junon harbor. What did he say her name was? Priscilla? She’d had a pet dolphin. Cloud used the dolphin, too, giving it commands with a whistle.

The dolphin’s name? I searched my memory harder. Ugh. There it was. Mr. Dolphin. How original.

“Whistle,” I commanded Hojo.

“What?” He looked at me like I might be insane.

“Whistle,” I repeated. “I might know that dolphin.”

“You might know that dolphin,” he repeated. “Do you make friends everywhere you go, Valentine?” He turned and sent a shrill whistle over the water. Hope stirred within me as the animal immediately began moving in our direction. Hojo laughed shortly. “I’m dying to know how you acquainted yourself with a dolphin.”

I didn’t answer. If this was indeed…Mr. Dolphin, he’d take care of these sharks and get us to land.

With greatest pleasure I saw the sharks scattering. The dolphin swam right up to the side of the raft and hung his head over the side, chittering. Cautiously, I put out a hand and patted him. “Mr. Dolphin?” I asked, feeling like an idiot for saying the name out loud.

But, the dolphin responded. He swam around and around us a few times, making that high pitched clicking sound. Hojo, laughing harder, reached out and stroked the animal. “Thanks for getting rid of the sharks,” he said, sounding sincere.

“Mr. Dolphin, we need to get to Priscilla,” I said, hoping the name of his mistress would get us to firm soil. “Priscilla,” I repeated, grabbing Hojo and beginning to yank his lab coat off. It had enough length to serve as a leash if the dolphin held it in his teeth.

“Hey, what are you…?” Hojo fought me.

“Give me your fucking lab coat if you want to make land,” I said harshly.

Hojo took some things out of his pockets, then handed me the coat without another word. I crouched and held one end out to the dolphin. “Pull us, please.”

As if the dolphin did this every day, it began pulling. I secured Hojo’s coat to the raft, noticing the suture thread seemed weaker. Hopefully it would last as long as we needed it. I sat and let hope grab on with a set of flippers and krill teeth.

“Who is Priscilla?” Hojo asked, sitting almost directly beside me.

“Cloud saved her from drowning. She lived in Junon.” I didn’t like having him so close. But, the weight seemed better distributed like this, and it possibly made the craft easier for the dolphin to pull.

Hojo fell to silence for awhile, lulling me into a false sense of security. When he spoke I almost jumped out of my skin. “You’re an interesting person,” he said, his tone conversational. “You keep people at arm’s length and still make friends. How do you accomplish that?”

I’d always attracted attention, always. No matter how coldly I rebuffed a person, they came back for more. I’d avoided serious relationships for that reason. Lucrecia had been the first person I’d truly extended myself for, in any capacity.

“You don’t know?” Hojo chuckled. “I can make a guess, but I prefer not to guess.”

“Thrill me,” I said, thinking if he put forth a good, serious answer, I’d have to re-think his perception.

“You’re beautiful.” Hojo shrugged. “My son had the same effect on people. They were always willing to forgive him for his sins because of his looks.” He adjusted his glasses, then began a half-hearted attempt at cleaning them with salt water and the hem of his ripped shirt. “People just respond better to attractive people.”

Shiva help me, he was probably right. I drew stares no matter what I wore or where I might be. The older I became, the less patience I had with it, too. I felt like I never relaxed. Eyes rested upon me at all times. Even now, I had Hojo’s eyes upon me.

“You have Soldier’s Heart,” Hojo said softly. “Did you know that?”

I didn’t even know what that was. I said nothing.

“It’s also called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Hojo informed. “I probably kicked you over the edge myself, but I believe you started developing the disorder while still a Turk.”

I didn’t know why he thought I’d believe anything he said. “That’s very interesting,” I said flatly. “Shut up.”

To my surprise, he did. He resumed picking refuse from his hair and fussing with the contents of his pockets. Not an hour afterward, I spied land.