SICK HEART by Huss, JA (non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

And I want that story. I want to know what’s up with these fucking birds and how Cort van Breda—the Sick Heart himself—managed to tame them like he’s Tarzan.

But of course, I didn’t get that story. I will probably never get that story.

And tame isn’t even the right word. Those stupid birds love him. Even the gulls. They don’t feed him the way some of the albatrosses do, but they don’t move when he gets near. They aren’t afraid of him the way they are me.

We cut the meat of those three fish into strips and dried them in the sun. And that’s what we’ve been chewing on for the past two days.

Today we are foodless again. And I’m not looking forward to more fishing.

But when I come out of the bathroom and go looking for my jump rope, ready to pretend fishing isn’t happening, Cort isn’t holding the net. He’s just standing on the edge of the training platform, looking out to sea.

I walk over, wondering what’s attracted his attention, and that’s when I see the ship coming right towards our platform.

I gasp, and Cort turns to me, shaking his head. I’m not sure what that means. No, he will not let Udulf take me? Or no, there’s nothing he can do?

But then I look back at the ship and realize it’s neither of those. Because as the ship gets closer and angles the side of the hull up to the rig, I count twenty kids on deck wearing orange life jackets.

And then I see Maart. He waves to us.

No. Come on, Anya. Maart is waving to Cort. Not me. I saw those two together on the Bull of Light. There is something between them. Something more than just trainer and doctor, if that’s what Maart is. And it’s more likely that Maart’s skills were built out of necessity and involved a lot of on-the-job training. He is probably half the reason Cort is still alive right now. Maart gives no fucks about me at all.

I saw the way he looked at Cort in that clinic back on the Bull. He was very worried about the blood loss and maybe he’s just not used to having strangers in the clinic with him after a fight when he’s putting Cort back together, but it might just be that he didn’t care if I knew.

Maybe he wanted me to know that they are something more.

That bottle of Lectra was always going to be consumed, so they were always going to fuck me that night. But I get the feeling that Maart was sending subtle signals to me too. Making sure I understood that that’s all it was.

Just fucking.

You’re here today, gone tomorrow, girl.

But I didn’t go. I wasn’t sent away. Cort brought me out here to the rig with him. And now it’s all starting to make sense. This is all a fantasy. Just a dream world. A temporary reprieve. And this place that has started to feel like home suddenly doesn’t feel like anything anymore.

Because this is his training camp. And I don’t know why we just spent thirty days out here alone, but I get the feeling it’s all just… work.

I am just work.

Cort absently props an arm on my shoulder as he watches the kids jump from the ship. One by one, they jump, splashing into the sea below. Most of them have life jackets, but a few don’t. The older ones, I realize. And by older, I mean like… twelve. Maybe. There are a lot of little ones, though. One very small girl is screaming her head off in Rainer’s arms as he positions her over the side of the ship, ready to let her fall.

The ship is a platform supply vessel. Lazar was obsessed with ships and he owns several just like this one, so I recognize the class. This one looks like it’s been around for a couple of decades and isn’t freshly painted the way Lazar’s ships are. But I don’t care how rundown the ship looks. This means we’re getting food and water today.

I’m already picturing a bath in the tub tonight when the tiny girl squeals again. The deck they’re on isn’t that far from the water. I don’t know how long that fall is—twenty feet, maybe? But all the older kids—the ones with no jackets—are directly below her, like they’re gonna catch her or something.

Cort shakes his head as he watches. And then he signs to me for the first time since we had sex on the roof. She’s afraid. But she’s gotta get over it. Then he quickly adds, more to himself than me, If she can’t make it through day one, she’s fucked.

Day one of what?

But I don’t have time to think about that because Rainer drops the little girl and she screams. Like one of those super high-pitched toddler screams. But those damn kids below actually do catch her. And then I realize that some of the other jumpers are already clambering up the platform stairwell below us.

But I’m worried about the little one, and keep my eyes on her as she is maneuvered through the water towards the rig. She is so small. Barely more than a freaking baby. Definitely no older than three or four.

Cort taps my shoulder and points as the kids enter the training floor.

I expect them to greet each other. Some backslapping, maybe? At least a few hellos, but those kids say nothing. They don’t even look at Cort. There is one older girl—pre-teen, or maybe an actual teen, wearing training shorts and a tight, black tank top—who takes charge and starts opening up the huge rusty shipping containers that line the back side of the platform with a set of clanging keys.

She swings the doors open, banging them against the containers next door, and then the next thing I know, the entire platform is swarming with kids. They are mostly small. The girl who seems to be in charge is the oldest