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The sound of their boots crunching the shales is the backdrop to this hunting trip. They have been chatting lightly the whole morning, but still have yet to find any leads on food.
“We’ve an hour left before we need to return. Let’s cover more ground,” Lieutenant Irving suggested.
Lieutenant Hodgson agrees, “I’ll go east with Mr. Armitage and Mr. Pocock.”
Irving nods, he wants to object, due to his history with one of the remaining men, but he thinks better of it. “Farr, Hickey, you’re with me,” he sighs. “Take a bearing. Walk half an hour, then turn back. We’ll meet at this spot.”
~*~
John descends the ladder to the orlop. He takes in his bearings, “Mr. Hickey?” he asks. Despite their status of superior and subordinate, John and Cornelius have grown close as two of the very few who attend Sir John’s Sunday mass from Terror. He hears a shuffle, a whisper, surely Hickey must be down here. “Mr. Hickey? Is that you I’m hearing?” He sees a shadow move, but no response. “Identify yourself.”
The shadow splits to reveal two figures, one steps forward. “Lt. Irving.”
“Mr. Gibson, what are you doing here?” He was expecting Cornelius…
“I’d come down for coal earlier this morning and heard one of the ship’s cats crying back here. Somewhere.”
John looks past Gibson and sees Cornelius, stuffing in his shirttails…
Oh. Oh .
Gibson continues his excuse. While John stares beyond him, hoping to discern why Cornelius would ask him here… They’d had so many conversations… about their upbringings… about their faiths… Sure, they’d discussed hypotheticals , but that’s what they were… right? Cornelius couldn’t have... He couldn’t be…
“The Captain -- His seat of ease has a draft. Have Mr. Hickey see to it.” John surprises himself by speaking.
“Here I am, Lieutenant,” Cornelius finally steps forward. John startles, he can’t believe Cornelius would do this… He takes his leave without another word.
~*~
Hickey and Farr watch as John approaches the Netsiliks. “Do you think they have food on them?” Hickey asks, not even realizing he's talking out loud.
“Likely yes, if they’re anything like Dr. Macdonald described.”
Dr. Macdonald…. Hickey pauses, his mind flashing back to the carnivale, the screaming, the smoke, the fire, the bloody knife in his hand. He makes eye contact with the doctor, before he's pushed further away, no way of atoning for his actions.
Hickey swallows thickly. “We’ll need to bring them back to camp.”
“Are you crazy?” Farr asks. Though, he doesn't see the glassy look in Hickeys eyes as he stares down at the group below.
“No, it’s logical, we’ll need their help to learn how to hunt here.”
“We’re not kidnapping a family, I’m going to get Lieutenant Irving,” Farr takes a step forward.
“Wait,” Hickey says, toying with something in his pocket.
When Farr sighs and turns back, Hickey drives his knife into Farr’s gut. Pulling him back from view over the hill.
He watches Farr’s lifeless body drop to the ground and suddenly feels sick to his stomach. Ripping off his clothes, Hickey begins to wretch.
He hears shales moving and grabs his coat, tears in his eyes, he throws it back on. Hickey climbs on top of Farr, slapping him across the face, desperately trying to undo what he'd done.
“What’s happened?” Irving asks from a few feet behind him.
Hickey stops, his body rigid, he feels incredible guilt, and knows there is no way John will ever forgive him for what he'd done, probably because he himself couldn't either.
When John finally touches him on the shoulder lightly, Cornelius makes a decision, the same he’d done the night of the carnivale. And he plunges his knife into John’s abdomen, and does so again, and again, not looking at him quite yet, when John finally falls back, Cornelius follows him to the ground, locking eyes with John, praying for his forgiveness.