Owen McCuen

But it did get me to thinking in a way I didn't want to be thinking.

We'll figure this out, was all I could say.

We went back into the cabin.

I knew I couldn't just go on deck and sit there waiting for help.

I made the excuse I wanted to make sure the boat was seaworthy, so I'd be checking around.

Whether Tim bought that, I don't know, but he didn't say anything.

He sat back down with Grace, who tried to put on a good face, but I could see her fingers kneading the edge of her shorts.

As soon as I opened the door to the head, I knew something was amiss beyond the pipes I'd seen earlier.

In one corner there was a bulge in the hull.

That didn't necessarily mean anything, except for its appearance.

The subtle lines and the object's shape told me it could only be one thing.

That probably wouldn't have registered in my mind if it hadn't been for the bone.

I looked closer.

Sure enough, it was the top of a skull.

I tried to tell myself it was a defect, but these stabs at denial no longer worked.

No doubt what I saw was the top of a skull.

No answer formed, but a lot of fear crowded my thoughts.

I checked under the sink and found nothing.

Inside the closet, I found a brown smear on the wall with small patterns, stringy patterns in it that I couldn't decipher.

I didn't need my imagination to figure out what I saw amidst the shelving on one wall.