Strange Noises Fiction by Rachel Greenham

“You do realise none of this is real,” Lotan says, behind me. I turn as he approaches and hoist myself up quickly to sit on the gunwale. That puts us at a slightly less unequal height. “We’re going to wake up in a nice cosy mental ward, just as soon as they figure out how.”

He has at least made some effort to smarten himself up, and put a mostly-clean tunic on over his leggings. I think he’s gained weight. Well, lost some muscle tone anyway, and I think I detect a bit of a paunch under his tunic that wasn’t evident while he was lying flat.

“That’s your answer is it?” I reply. “It doesn’t matter that you killed her because she wasn’t real anyway?”

He comes up and rests his hands on the gunwale next to me. He’s tense. His fingers grip the smooth wood, whitening his knuckles. “It was an accident,” he says.

“Yes, I know.”

He looks at me, as if not expecting that answer.

“What, do you think I thought you meant to do it?” I ask. “Any one of us should’ve known it was stupid to do weapons-practice that close to the door.” He nods at that. “None of us thought of it enough to make you stop. None of us thought any more of it than that it was kind of annoying. Not enough XP,” I add. He almost smiles at that. “But you let Kerilas take the blame for it,” I say. “That’s what I can’t forgive. You let them kill him.”

“I’m not proud of what I did,” he says.

“Good.”

“They were going to kill him anyway,” Lotan says. “As soon as the Satthei set eyes on you, he was going to get it one way or another for what he did to you. Everyone says so. I still…” He sighs. “I still should’ve come back,” he admits.

We’re just quiet with each other for a little while. Me, sitting on the gunwale facing in, him standing next to me, facing out. I know what I should do, and I do it. I reach my hand forward and rest it on his upper arm for a moment. A gesture of reconciliation I don’t really feel, but I have to behave as if I do, don’t I?

I pull my hand back. “Why did you join the flotilla?” I ask, back to the business at hand.

“Sam wanted me to. Said we shouldn’t get too split up.”

I nod. That figures. “So you don’t actually want to be here.”

“I told you, I’m not here. None of us are. This is just—”

“What does it get you, Lotan?”

“What?”

“All this, ‘none of this is real’ shit? What is it actually getting you? Look at you. You look like shit, you’re living like shit. I mean, look around you. Look where we are!” The wooden sailing craft, the turquoise water, and if you look straight down you can see clear to the sand, the sandy beaches, the palm trees and forest, the reef, bursting with colour and life. It really is everything we’d ever have thought of if someone said ‘tropical paradise.’ Even the beautiful naked and semi-naked people and their kids splashing around being silly. “Have you any idea how much a holiday like this would cost back there? H-Home, I mean? And instead I find you just sulking in a smelly cabin. God’s sake, even if it is a dream, you’re allowed to enjoy it sometimes.” I managed to get a little smile out of him with that tirade. That’s something, I suppose. “You just have to be a part of it.”

“Yes, it’s all very seductive.”

I sigh. “I’m going ashore to find Sam,” I say, jumping down from the gunwale.

“Is that it? Interview over?”

I turn back to face him. “Is there any point asking you what you want to do?” I ask. “Any chance of a sensible answer?”

He doesn’t give me any answer at all.

“So you coming with, and see Sam? Or are you just going to go back to sulking in your cabin?”

I don’t know why I made that offer. I instantly regret it, but it’s too late now. Unless he chooses the sulk.

He shrugs. “Okay, why not?”

“Get your shore pack.”