Black Hearts

Two bodies wash up on a sandy beach. It is the morning after a heavy storm and the air still smells of it. Their ship had been taken by the storm and these fortunate souls survived. One man coughs up seawater as he awakens. He is bald with unkempt, mangy mutton chops. Looking around he sees the other body beginning to stir. Their ragged clothes are waterlogged as they rise and approach one another.

“Mr. Higgs?” Asks Brody as they near each other. “Is that you?”

Higgs was first-mate on the pirate ship, la Couer de Noir. A ship with a heart as black as it’s captain’s. Higgs is usually exceptionally clean for a pirate. He wears a hat and coat on board, but was able to bring neither with him as he was thrown overboard by the thrashing waves. He did have his cutlass in his holster. Its blade shines in the sun as it hangs at his side.

“Tis I, Brody. We need to head inland.” Higgs replies.

“Not I.” Retorts Brody. “I’ll stay and wait for the ship.”

Higgs face contorts. How dare this scoundrel disobey him?

“I said, we’ll head inland. The ship is lost and we need to find fresh water.” Higgs barks.

“If the ship is lost then you can’t tell me what to do no more.” Brody barks back.

“You’ll follow my orders or we’ll both die.” He steps forward putting his face in Brody’s. His face is red with rage and his voice matches.

“How’s about I give the orders now?” Shouts Brody as he moves for the sword on Higgs waist.

The tussle takes the two men to the ground. Brody pins Higgs down with his forearm to his throat as he pulls the cutlass from its holster. Higgs frees himself from Brody and begins to stand. He kicks Brody in the face flipping him onto his back and breaking his grip on the cutlass. He swiftly kicks the sword up to his hand and presses his foot down into Brody’s throat. Brody grabs at his ankle, but as he does his hands are slashed and stabbed repeatedly. Eventually Brody’s hands rest at his shoulders. Blood pours from them and from Brody’s mouth. Higgs drives the sword through Brody’s heart as he steps from Brody’s throat.

“Fool.” He scoffs to himself before spitting on the body of Brody.

Higgs trudges through the sand dragging Brody’s corpse with him. The seawater that drenched him when he awoke has already dried and been replaced with sweat. The blood dripping from Brody’s mouth has dried along the corners and heading toward the chin. A sinister frown looks up at Higgs as he reaches the top of the hill.

“Don’t look at me like that, sailor. I aim to bury you. Just need to find somewhere to dig.” And somehow, he thinks to himself. He knows to bury him; the corpse won't sink and a rotting corpse won't make good company.

Higgs has heard legends of deserted pirates. They’d found some genius and daring way in which they’d made it back to society. Most of the time he didn’t believe their tall tales. A friend had one of these tales, but he knows that he’d actually just spent a few weeks in a brothel and told no one where he’d really been. Higgs wishes this was that story.

The island is mostly barren. No soil, just sand. There are thickets of dead trees scattered throughout. Between the trees is nothing. Nothing to be seen, but the distant horizon out on the water. Higgs has found himself on a wasteland. Perhaps a wildfire ravaged this little island. Despite the storm last night, the island is dry and scorched. The sun beats down unimpeded against all surfaces.

Higgs clenches his lower back as he looks down at Brody. The empty eyes stare back at him and he feels unease as he thinks of what fate is soon to find him. He reaches down to close his eyes. He turns from the corpse and walks to some nearby tree trunks. Upon closer inspection he finds nothing helpful. Not even signs of insects in the wood. Then from nearby he hears a sound. Perhaps a voice?

He moves toward whatever it was. His pace quickens with optimism. A gentle breeze blows across him and soothes him from the heat as he hears it again. He’s closer now, but it's still just above a whisper. He’s found himself among a cluster of dead tree trunks as the whisper calls out a third time. The cool wind gives him assurance he’s onto it. It is then that he realizes it is not a voice. It is the wind passing through a hole in a tree trunk. In a rage he pulls his sword and smashes the trunk until the hole no longer exists. After calming down he remembers he’s still trapped on a barren island by himself with nothing to eat or drink.

He spends the next few hours searching the island. He comes upon a skeleton lying in a shadow cast by the remains of a tall tree. It is wearing the uniform of a French naval officer and even has a hat. Though sun faded it is in good enough condition for Higgs. He wipes the sweat from his brow and places the hat on his own head. Suspended along the circle of trunks he notices branches hollowed out into gutters. This makeshift irrigation must have gathered rain from the storm into a hollowed section of tree trunk. Just enough for Higgs to dunk his head after throwing the hat to the ground.

He gulps the water and then begins to cup it with both hands. Hastily he quenches his thirst and cools his face and neck. With the hat back on his head he searches the uniform and finds a knife, must be how he hollowed out his water system. There is nothing else in his pockets, but underneath the naval officer is a rectangular piece of wood, likely a piece of his ship. Higgs tosses the pile of bones aside and lifts the board. He can barely believe his eyes as he sees a hole big enough to crouch in. He lowers himself into the hole and pulls the board back into place. Protected from the sun’s rays he feels comfortable enough to let himself fall asleep.

He sleeps a restless sleep. No dreams to comfort him. When he awakes his body is sore from being cramped in the small space of the hole. He lifts himself back out onto the surface of the island. The ocean is quiet and the sun is almost gone. The sky holds onto its last dark purples of sunset as his stomach gurgles for his attention. He must eat, but what? He thinks to himself, what is there to eat? Then he remembers Brody. Well, Brody’s body.

Higgs returns to the corpse he left earlier today. He’s seen many dead bodies before, but has never felt so much dread before. He kneels knife in hand and cuts the shirt from the corpse. He then slices it into long strips of cloth and ties the strips together forming a rope. He ties a secure know around the palm of Brody’s left hand. He takes his cutlass to the wrist and severs Brody’s hand. Before he stands, he realizes Brody’s eyes are open again. The lifeless face stares up at him with its bloody frown disapproving of his actions. He closes them again and stands. Then carries the severed hand to the water by the opposite end of the rope.

He is careful not to let the hand drag in the sand as he walks to the shore. He tosses the hand into the ocean, and waits. Hours go by and not a nibble on the end of his line. Hope slips away each time his stomach calls out for food. The breaking of dawn restores some of Higgs’s optimism. Perhaps the fish will be hungrier in the morning. He pulls the hand back from the water and walks a few yards down the shore before tossing it back in. Over the next few hours, he tries to be patient and only occasionally tries to fish a different part of the beach, but to no avail. No fish are biting. In fact, Higgs is noticing as he thinks about it that he’s seen no sign of fish, nor birds, near or far. The thought of this has his stomach crying in agony.

He walks back up the beach this time letting the hand drag through the sand behind him. He stands over the lifeless remains of the crewman he once commanded. The eyes look back at him once again, dead, and pale, but still, he feels them looking. The bloody frown makes him cringe. Disgruntled, he rolls the body over. Taking a seat on the ground with his back against Brody's side. He looks at his failed bait, then at the facedown corpse. He knows now that Brody will serve him once again.

Higgs gathers firewood and tries for hours into the evening to start a fire. He fails despite many attempts. Hunger now grips at him with a ravaging pain. He works himself to his knees. He is praying on the altar of Brody's corpse.

He takes the left arm of the body by the wrist and hacks away at the elbow until it is free. He holds the forearm between both hands. For an instant he sees a rack of lamb before his eyes. He bites down into the flesh. It is warm from the sun, but still feels cold on his tongue. He fights through his disgust and eats. He eats until he can eat no longer. He runs to the rainwater basin to wash this taste from his mouth.

But when he arrives, it is bone dry. The sun had drunk his water throughout the day. He is stuck with this taste. Then his stomach calls out again. This time not to fill, but to empty. With a lurching gag, vomit erupts from his mouth and into the dry basin. Higgs is brought to his knees as he empties the contents of his stomach onto the sands beneath him. After he’s finished, he stands with a rage in his eyes and his heart.

“This is not a life I shall suffer.” He shouts as he pulls his cutlass from his side.

He places the tip against his abdomen and lets out a guttural scream. But instead of the sword thrusting with his hands into his body, it leaves his hands. He falls to his rear and the palms of his hands. When he looks up, he sees the semitransparent bodies of Brody and a French naval officer. Brody’s ghostly image now holds the cutlass. The specter throws back its ghastly visage and laughs. The two specters point and laugh as Higgs screams into the sky.