Boen hung over the side of the boat, heaving the russet coloured contents of his stomach into the frothy waters. Eryn was rowing as vigorously as she could, though the slate-grey morning was already turning pink in the east - and in the west the stars were receding quickly.
A moan accompanied the splashing oar, and Eryn kicked him in the shin. ‘Beerguts! Stop churning and come help!’
He coughed and moaned again, and then slowly dragged himself to the oars. Taking one in his quaking hand he rowed on her count, keeping his eyes closed tightly and breathing deeply - concentrating on quelling his nausea.
‘Are you ok?’ Eryn asked.
There was a short silence, and then a gasp for air: ‘I think so.’
She slapped him hard across the back of the head, and he wrapped his fingers around the blow, shielding himself from another.
‘What the hell was that for?’
‘What use were you last night? You were drunk as an orchard-wasp! I needed your help and you were asleep!’
‘It wasn’t my fault! They were basically water-boarding me!’
‘You could have stopped them; you could have said you were ill.’
‘Ill, right!’ He rubbed the back of his head and clenched his teeth tightly. He didn’t feel up to having an argument with her.
He sighed deeply a few times, and then couldn’t help but ask, sourly: ‘So what did you need help with anyway?’
‘I found something. In one of the bedrooms.’
‘You went sneaking around the rooms? What if you’d been caught?’
‘I almost was.’
‘Bloody hell... what did you find?’
‘I’ll show you when we get back.’
‘Well at least tell me. I can’t spend the trip wondering what it is.’
‘It’s a statement. From a bank in Iceland.’
‘So?’
‘So you know who else has access to the account?’
Boen didn’t, he knew the list of people was short, but it wasn’t common knowledge who could access the community account.
‘Pa, John Camberwell, and Kelly,’ she said.
‘So what does that mean?’ He closed his eyes again; another wave of nausea was sweeping through him. ‘Everyone knows the Camberwell’s have access, and Kelly… it wouldn’t have made much sense for him to go for provisions without being able to pay for it. And, well, I suppose it’s obvious your pa has access too, he’s the overseer after all.’
‘It means that my pa and Kelly knew this Red Sawbone, and had accounts with the same bank.’
‘Does it? Well, so what if it does?’
‘I don’t know, it might not mean anything, but doesn't it seem strange that no-one has ever mentioned Red? Or that we all use the same account? I mean, everyone knows about the Greenland institution,but why’s this Icelandic account a secret?'
‘Eryn, are you trying to wreck your pa? I don’t know what these papers have got to do with Kelly but what if you found out your pa killed him? Would you let on?’
She was quiet for a long time, and in the silence Boen wondered if he would point his finger at his own father. He didn’t think he could, not even for the scars across his back.
‘I had a dream once,’ he said to break the silence, ‘that my pa was a terrorist - like the ones we used to read about from the millennium - he had a plan to put bombs in the collars of dogs and send them amongst people in the community. He got me to mix the powder for the bombs, and I remember crying, thinking: I don’t want to kill people, and I knew that if I did go along with it, I would have to kill myself. I had to decide whether to kill people or tell the authorities about him.’
‘And?’ Eryn said.
‘And I turned my back on him. It was the only thing to do.’
She was silent again, a lone wave rocked the boat, and Boen turned to navigate toward the hole in the quarantine wire. It was little over quarter of a mile away. Once through the gap they would try and use the sail, though there was no draught at all.
‘Did you really have that dream?’ Eryn asked. ‘I mean, was that little story intended for me?’
‘I really had it - what you just said reminded me is all.’
They negotiated their way back through the wire, and Boen released the sail. A breeze fluttered the dark cloth, but didn’t catch it - there wasn’t enough wind to make them move.
‘May as well take it down.’ Eryn suggested.
‘We’ll row with it - hopefully it’ll pick up.’ He sat back down and steadied his trembling fingers, trying to will his palpitations to stop. He just wanted to sleep.
Another quarter-hour passed, and the light was strong in the east now - all the stars had been replaced by a misty grey glow. They had roughly two hours before people started to wake and start their daily chores. Guliven, however, would already be awake and readying himself. Boen’s head reeled.
A gust of wind pulled the cloth tight and made them jolt forward. Eryn smiled, and Boen collapsed over the side once more, heaving.