"those who accept reality will never change it"
Consequences
copyright 1996
by Christina Kamnikar
A man is standing in the cargo-hold of a passenger ship bound for South America. It is dark in the hold; almost quiet, except for the continuous thrum of the engines, and something far away that might be the sound of waves. There are a million boxes, some large, some small, crates and expensive luggage and various supplies spread out around the sole visible human standing next to a long, narrow crate. He is sipping what appears to be wine.
He has been waiting for something to happen for almost a day, and now that it has finally occurred, he is almost afraid. But there is a surety underlying that fear, an acceptance of fate that makes whatever may occur bearable.
"I know you can hear me, Nicholas."
Silence. He smiles quietly, and takes another sip from his glass. He waits a moment, then shrugs. "You don't have to answer me. I expect you are very angry. But I must point out that if you truly wanted to die, you should have simply waited until sunrise. Giving me a weapon under those circumstances was not the brightest thing you have ever done."
There is no reply. The man frowns, then says brusquely, "If you explore the coffin, you will find two bottles next to your feet. They should sustain you for a while... at least until you are willing to be reasonable. In your current state, you are unable to break free from your confinement, as I'm sure you know; and eventually you will become hungry." Another sip, then a chuckle. "We are in the hold of a passenger ship. There is no sunlight, no sharp objects in that box with you, no wood to pierce your heart... and no flammables. If you were stronger, I'm sure you would destroy your prison to make a stake, but you aren't, and by the time you regain your strength, I trust you'll have reconsidered. If only for the sake of your companion."
More silence, but the man is definitely amused, if only at his own expense. "I confess, I didn't want to do this to your friend. I've never had much use for her, despite your attachment to Dr. Lambert. But it occurred to me that your state of mind was sufficiently desperate that you would simply attempt to kill yourself at the first available opportunity, if I didn't give you an... incentive... to remain here."
Something that might be a growl sounds from the depths of the box.
"Mmmm. Quite. You'll get me for this, I know, I know. How dare I. How could I do this to you. As usual." A low laugh as the man drains the glass and sets it down on a crate. "For a million reasons, Nicholas, a million excellent reasons..." Softly, the man whispers, "And because I love you. And I am even willing to share you, at this point, if that is what it takes to keep you alive. You might be interested to know that I gave her your blood as well as mine. She seemed to respond better to you than to me." He pats the box, smiling, then murmurs, "Enjoy your accomodations. I'll see you when we dock." He walks off to the staircase, whistling quietly, leaving the hold deserted once again.
After a long time, there are more sounds from inside the box. But there is no one in the hold to hear them.