Chapter 6 - Escaping The Hold

I woke up to the feeling of being momentarily airborne before slamming into something hard. 

Just as my brain was starting to process the fact that I'd been forcibly flung from the wooden crate I'd been curled up on, I was sent sailing in the other direction, this time smashing into a stack of wooden barrels.

Everything creaked and groaned with each movement, including me. But unlike me, everything else stayed put, secured with ropes and chains. Wood strained. Barrels shifted. And I rocked about in the fray.

The ship lurched again and I went tumbling once more, this time landing back on the wooden crate I had started on. I clung to it desperately, my fingers curling around the rough rope.

What the fuck was happening here?! Where was my cat?! Why were we moving?!

I tried to settle myself, taking a shaky breath.

Maybe we were heading to a different port? Something closer to a hospital? Or maybe they'd forgotten I was down here? Or maybe there had been a shift change or something, and the so-called captain forgot to mention I was here?

I was trying to make sense of what was happening, but, to be honest, that was not my priority right now.

My brain was very unhappy with this entire situation. About the movement. The noise. It felt like it was being stirred around in my skull, like it was made out of soup.

We hit what I assume must have been another wave, and this time, the ship bounced and I hit my head.

Jesus Christ! I was gonna die down here! If I wasn’t concussed before, I sure as shit was now!

I saw faint slivers of light coming from somewhere nearby and knew I had to get to it. I had to get out of here before I got crushed by some flying crate or beheaded by a loose barrel or cracked my cranium on the ceiling again.

“Hello?!” I called out, feeling panic start to build in my chest. There was no reply. I shouted louder, but the only answer was the muffled sounds of footsteps above me. I waited, hoping someone might hear, but it was like I didn’t even exist.

The floor beneath me lurched again, but I clung to the rope and rode it out.

Okay, maybe I could figure this out. I just needed to plot my route to the exit. I'd move from rope to rope so that I had something to hold onto and keep myself steady.

It was dark, but my eyes were adjusted, so I could make out where I was going. The faint light from what I assumed was my way out also offered a little assistance by way of illumination.

Alright, so from the crate, to the barrels, to another crate, and then there was a railing at the stairs.

There was a momentary lull, so I took the opportunity to reach for the rope that was lashing the barrels down.

Ha! Success! I was doing it! I was—

We hit another wave and I became airborne again, cracking my head on a low-hanging beam above my head.

Nah, fuck this. I couldn't wait. I couldn't take my time here. I needed to go. I needed to get out of here. Like NOW.

Nausea crept up on me, twisting my stomach into a knot as I forced myself towards the light.

The room tilted again, forcing me to my knees. I didn't care. I crawled, clamping my fingers around the rope holding the crate down as soon as I was close enough.

Another wave hit—this one all nausea. I was going to be sick. I needed to get out. I needed fresh air. I couldn't throw up here—could you even fucking imagine? I'd have my own puke flying around at me every time this bastard ship bounced!

With a surge of desperation, I lunged forward, grabbing at the railing as I hauled myself up the steep, narrow steps.

I thought about Oreo again, my eyes scanning over the crates, barrels, and boxes as I searched for him. I didn't want to abandon him down here, but I couldn't see him anywhere and was in no position to go searching for him right now either.

I started pounding on the door—well, it was more of a hatch, really—one fist hammering hard enough to rattle it while my other hand clung to the railing.

"Hello!? Someone!? I’m gonna be sick!” I shouted, my voice strained and desperate.

It felt like I was pounding it for hours, but in truth, I have no clue how long it took before the hatch swung open and I spilled out, colliding with a boy who looked at me like he'd just seen a ghost.

"I told ye, boy! There ain’t no ghosts on this ship!" a rough voice grumbled. A man, standing back, watching me with his arms folded across his chest.

I didn't stick around to argue with them or give them any explanations. There was more light coming from above. The promise of fresh air. A safe place to throw up.

I pushed past the boy, forcing my way up another set of narrow stairs until I burst onto the deck. The fresh air hit me, but so did the light. It was so bright it nearly blinded me, but my stomach had reached its breaking point. I barreled forward, barely making it to the railing before I leaned over it, retching over the side of the ship.

As I clung to the railing, the bile rising up again, I looked out over the water, my eyes going wide with horror. There was nothing but the open sea in every direction, waves stretching out endlessly under the bright morning sky.

Another wave of nausea hit, and I lurched over the side again, barely aware of the men who were now staring at me, murmuring with wide-eyed confusion.

“Who opened the hatch?” one of them hissed, his voice carrying in the sudden tension.

I was vaguely aware of the gathering crowd, staring at me like some kind of oddity, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was still retching over the edge, wishing that the nausea would just subside. I could deal with the pain in my head. I could deal with the light sensitivity. But the nausea... That was too much.