The Lost

Jonah couldn’t let that happen.

He forced himself to slow his breathing, taking deep breaths to counter the rising panic. Come on, don’t just lie here! He wouldn’t have long before Gavin came back: he had to get out of the ties before then. He looked around the room for something to cut them. The vodka bottle was on the seat cushion a few feet away, but even if he was able to smash it Gavin would hear. But there must be a knife or scissors in the kitchen units by the sink. Jonah started to push himself across the floor to the far side of the cabin. He tried to use his good leg to propel himself across the carpet, but with his ankles fastened together it was impossible not to bend his bad knee as well. Each flex sent a fresh jolt of pain through the damaged joint, and his progress was agonisingly slow. At this rate Gavin would be back before he reached them. Even if he wasn’t, Jonah would still have to lever himself upright to search in the drawers. Gritting his teeth, he continued anyway, pushing himself past the fitted seat with the empty beer cans littering the floor...

He stopped as he realised.

Idiot.

Shunting himself around, Jonah groped behind him for the nearest can. It was awkward with his hands tied and slippery with blood, but he managed to pick it up. Gavin had already crushed it almost flat. Gripping it tightly in both hands, Jonah began to twist.

The flimsy aluminium flexed and bent like paper, but stubbornly remained intact. Listening for any sound from the passageway, he twisted harder. Come on, come on...!

The can ripped.

The jagged edge sliced through Jonah’s fingers and the meat of his palm, adding to the blood from his torn wrists. He didn’t care: he wanted it to be sharp. It was difficult bending his hands enough to hack at the nylon strip, feeling it pluck like a guitar string. But he managed to keep hold of it, dragging the torn edge backwards and forwards across the tie. Cut, you bastard! Why can’t you just —

The tie snapped.

As he reached down to cut the tie fastening his ankles, the sound of a door closing came from the passageway.

Shit.

The sharp metal sliced into his fingers as Jonah sawed furiously at the tie. It severed with a more-felt-than-heard snap. There was no sign of his crutches and no time to look. He started levering himself upright by the fitted seat, expecting the cabin door to open at any second.

Instead, the hollow sound of running water sounded through the wall.

Gavin had stopped to piss.

After being bound, even Jonah’s good leg felt stiff and weak as he stood upright. The boat had a subtle, queasy motion, which further unbalanced him. Leaning on the back of the seat, he looked around for a weapon. There was a heavy glass ashtray nearby on a shelf. Ash and old cigarette stubs cascaded onto the carpet as Jonah grabbed it and half hopped, half lunged for the cabin door. He couldn’t put any weight on his bad knee, but it only had to support him for one swing. If he connected it wouldn’t matter. If he didn’t...

Then it wouldn’t matter anyway.

He heard movement in the boat’s passageway as he reached the door. Flattening himself to the wall behind it, he raised the ashtray.

The sounds stopped outside.

For a second nothing happened. Then Jonah’s breath was forced from him as the cabin door smashed into him, pinning him against the wall. As it was wrenched away again, he threw all his weight against it, and was rewarded by an oath from the other side. While Gavin was still off-balance, Jonah yanked the door aside and swung the ashtray. It caught him a glancing blow on the jaw, but that was enough to stagger him. Yes! Feeling a fierce exultation, Jonah raised the ashtray as he stepped forward to end it.

And his knee gave way.

He collapsed against the door, dropping the ashtray as Gavin barrelled into him. They fell to the floor, and as Jonah tried to push himself away something heavy crashed onto his head. The room seemed to blur and tilt, and then a second impact took the use from his limbs. He felt weightless and detached, only dimly aware of being flipped over onto his front. He breathed in grit and crumbs from the bristly carpet.

‘Nice try, but I heard you moving.’ Gavin’s voice seemed to come from a long way away. Jonah felt his arms jerked roughly behind him. ‘That fucking hurt, though, so I don’t think we’ll take any more chances.’

Jonah could do nothing as his wrists were fastened again. Then he was rolled over onto his back so he was lying on his arms. From the corner of his vision he saw Gavin walk away and bend to pick something up. There was a soft tearing noise, then he came back.

In his hand was a plastic freezer bag.

A translucent film descended over his vision as the bag slid over his eyes, blurring Gavin and the ceiling above him into a blue-tinged nightmare. It was pulled down over Jonah’s nose and mouth, the plastic instantly fogging and inflating as he breathed out.

And then he breathed in, and the blue film sucked tight.