The Crimson Tide

1

GILBERT

---

THERE'S TEN OF US in The Crimson Tide. I only trust one.

She sits by the fire, a flurry of cold air racing through an open window as the smoke from her cigarette clouds around her.

My sister used to be beautiful, with long, dark curls that flew down her back. Her skin was pale, but dotted with brown freckles, especially around her nose. Kate's eyes were always black, though. And they're never looking directly at you.

"Gil?"

I run a sweaty hand along the side of my trousers."They're here?"

Kate flicks the cig onto the ground, stomping the small bud out with her foot before taking out her gun. It's a small, semi-automatic pistol, in a shiny bronze tint. "Yeah,"

The corners of her red lips turn up. Her eyes stay distant. "You get the door."

As if on cue, there's a loud bang that echoes throughout the barn. I sigh, and stand up from the stool, back aching from sitting for so long. It takes both of my hands to slowly slide the rusting metal door open. Two gentlemen stand waiting.

One of them, a bit taller than myself, flashes a smile. He has smoky dark brown hair tied up into a long braid that runs around his shoulder. His skin is a light pasty colour, except for the right side of his neck, which is covered by a reddish burn scar.

"Mr. Hudson," I say, shaking his warm, dry hand. It lingers a moment before I untangle my fingers and pull away. "And..."

"⁠—Bee Sawyer, sir." The second man slouches in front of me, looking about ten years younger than his companion. His eyes are a very light blue, almost grey, and short strands of blond hair peak out beneath his British Navy hat.

"Aye! I don't have all day," Kate's voice rings out from inside the barn. Mr.Hudson bows his head, heading inside. My eyes flicker back to Bee, whose hands are shaking.

"Eh-" I take one of his palms in my own. "Don't worry, man. She's not 'gonna harm you."

"Oh, I know," Bee chuckles, jerking his hand back. I bite my lip in embarrassment. "It's the high. Got on the smoke years ago."

Smoke. Of course. I still remember the long drags I used to take myself before a night in the mines. Some evenings were cool, and it all helped me think clearly. At least, clearer.

That was all so many years ago when it was just Kate and me.

After the... incident.

A loud voice from inside brings me back. I adjust the collar sitting uncomfortably on my neck. "This way-" I start to mutter, but Bee's already gone in.

"What do we 'ave here today?" Kate spits. Her black tunic spills out of the short leather skirt she only wears for special arrangements. Long ruby earrings dangle just above her shoulder. I remember buying those for her at a trades store when we were in school. It's a fine surprise she still carries them.

"Ah⁠—" Mr.Hudson grabs one of the stools, adjusting his coat before sitting down.

"⁠—We have some news, surrounding the war." He huffs. "Thought you would like to know."

"Actually⁠—" Bee clicks his tongue, side-eyeing me. "Mr. Hudon doesn't know shit all 'bout the war. 'Bout the real war."

Kate's grin grows as she turns to look at Bee. "O' course he doesn't. But you do, right?"

"But I do." Bee nods. He carefully takes off his British Navy hat, hairs drifting down the sides of his thin face. "I know exactly what's going to happen, what the Germans are trying."

Mr. Hudson rolls his eyes, his braid flipping to his back. Now that I get a solid look at him, his posture is all off. If I could describe the way he was acting up, I'd say he looks like a lamb to the slaughter.

Nerves. Probably nerves. I think. Being in a room with Kate makes your heart race in fear. She could be calm one minute, and next thing you know a gun's at your throat.

The silence in the room is deafening, and I know me and Kate are thinking the same thing. "Why are you coming to us than, boy?"

"Because I want something in return, a wish. Something the Navy wouldn't grant me. " He clears his throat, grabbing a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.

"I want to get rid of a baby."

***

Whether it's with rain or blood, it doesn't matter. The streets of Dublin are always wet.

Kate drags my feet along the short winding roads, and I struggle to keep walking. My eyes water with the thick pollution covering the street, and my lungs burn. Several children stop in their lawns, until mothers and fathers pull them inside, slamming the doors.

I don't dare to turn my head and try looking at Kate.

Five days. I repeat the conversation that happened this morning over and over in my head, trying to get around the fact this will all be gone in five days. These buildings? Reduced to ash, just bits of foundation visible. These people have no clue what's up.

The pavement starts to flatten down to a nicer, stone road. The air gets warmer as surrounding chimneys pump out smog. I wonder what Kate's thinking about.

What am I saying? Of course I know what she's thinking.

We don't kill mothers every day.

Kate hasn't always been like this. Independent. Brutal. Mean. She used to be my best friend, tied together by a trustful and appreciative bond, unlike now, where I'm only here because we're siblings. Siblings and associates.

I ask myself why I'm here, sometimes. But then my brain follows back to the days when she and I were all alone, and I can't imagine it being like that ever again. I'm scared that if I leave her, Kate won't need me anymore.

It's such a stupid thing, to feel needed. But it's the only thing that makes me a part of The Crimson Tide, the only thing that keeps me here, so the feeling lingers. It lingers until the tips of my fingers turn cold, and my head starts to ache.

"Gil? Gilbert?"

Kate grabs my shoulder, and I snap out of it. We're here.

A long gate stands in front of us, shielding a wide driveway from our reach. I notice the small, delicate angels carved into two beige columns and bite my tongue. I don't remember this here. Ruben must've added it. God, he's weird.

"Is he going to invite us in?" I ask.

"Soon." Her dark eyes flicker off to the distance, and I'm stricken back by her outfit. It's the same one...

The same one when we got the news.

Sudden flashbacks surface into my eyes. A baby blue crib, swaying as Kate violently sobs into it. My warm hand touching the back of her shoulder, the other one barley grasping onto a stuffed teddy bear. "M-my baby!" ⁠—

Kate's changed. For the worst.

She's my sister, I grew up with her for God's sake. I remember Dad putting her tiny, fragile body into my arms... then rushing back to the hospital to see Mum.

"I'll be back soon," He said. "You just take good care of your sister, 'aight boy?"

I remember watching him get into the cab. I remember him paying the driver what seemed to be a bit too much for just a 'ride to the hospital'.

He'll come back I thought.

He never did.