Cause of Death

Heike woke up later, silent and grateful, accepting the breakfast Serenica had made for him. He seemed to have a proper amount of shame about his self-inflicted illness, but she didn't blame him or nag or anything like that.

"Are you feeling disoriented?" she asked.

"Not more than usual, if that word means what I think it means."

"It does. Try to be more careful in the future."

"Being careful is why I drink," he said in a frightening moment of apparent lucidity.

Serenica could not entirely relate to his words, but she did understand. She shook her head.

"Off you go, then. Try not to die. Can you do that for me?"

"Aye, aye."

Serenica went to check on her other patient before anyone could come distract her with congratulations.

John's diarrhea was getting worse. A day passed by and Serenica got the permission to move him onto the deck. It was a better way to die, out in the open air, even though there was nothing good about the whole situation.

John couldn't wear pants anymore. He was soiling himself constantly and poor Ben had to scrub the deck once every hour. He didn't mind, at least that was what he said. He only wanted Longlines to have an honorable death. That was what he said, and Serenica had no reason to doubt him.

Still, there was no honor in the agonizing death brought on by the torment that was memory diarrhea The young man's bowels were routinely malfunctioning, and it seemed as if their worsening state correlated directly with his madness. Serenica cried. She was beyond consoling, her tears were as uncontrollable as John's insides.

"Mother…" he groaned, clawing at the deck with his last willpower, as if trying to grab onto life with whatever he had left.

Serenica wailed, throwing her head back. She had tried to feed him and make him drink earlier, but it had all been in vain, as the memory diarrhea now controlled his entire body. Everything she gave him got turned into liquid along with his brains.

"Mother, kill me," John cried and the illusion of his will to live vanished.

Serenica held his head in her lap, trying to imagine herself as the mother of this dying young man. The mental image and the fictional emotion were too much for her. Soon her tears multiplied in numbers and were flowing down onto his face in a continuous stream, wetting his hair.

He breathed one last raspy breath and all vigor vanished from his maddened gaze.

John Longlines had died, leaving her with nothing but questions.

Suddenly a strange calmness took over her. She wiped her face and looked up, for she had seen a tall, wide shadow cover her from the burning sun.

"I am so sorry," Spade said to her.

"So am I, friend. So am I," she replied.

She had a naive hope that the captain would leave John alone now. She didn't want to risk disturbing the peace the young man had found in the arms of the Mother of Worms.

She took out the paper that had the name of John Longlines on the top and wrote a few words.

Deceased. Cause of death: memory diarrhea due to having been a picky eater.

There was a commotion around her. The men had seen her succeed. Now they had seen her fail. They seemed to understand how she had been overpowered by the illness, but it didn't make the situation any less bitter.

Once John's body was wrapped in white linen, as was customary and proper, the captain pulled Serenica close to him.

Her heart sunk.

"I know you will not like this, but we need to find out what he left unsaid. I will take his body now."

"You will not do that," Serenica said. "End of discussion."

"To my knowledge...I am the ender of discussions here." Spade turned away.

Myorka came to console Serenica. She had a box of sugary little treats that tasted a lot like almonds. Funnily enough, Serenica could actually eat. She had neglected her own needs and was now desperate to get some energy into her body.

"It was rough," she said as they were sitting in her workspace. She was smoking and eating with both hands. "It was damn rough. Do you think he will do it?"

The bookkeeper seemed to instantly know what she meant. "No, I can see him respecting your wishes. He'll get over it."

Serenica let out a heavy sigh that felt like all of the winds of the world combined. It tasted like the sweet smoke of the premium pipe tobacco and the feverish sugar rush of the pink cubes.

"Bad luck follows me wherever I go," she said.

"Really? I would consider you to be unusually lucky, knowing your story," Myorka said and crossed her legs, looking at the healer with curiosity. "You're alive, employed, and you have managed to not kill anyone lately. I think that counts as lucky."

"You are terrifyingly right, I fear for the unlucky ones if this is good fortune."

The bookkeeper laughed bitterly. "The world is cruel and the cruelest thing about it is how wonderful it all is. Really, have you looked out towards the sea lately? The color makes you believe in gods again."

"It will take more than the sea to rectify what I have been through," Serenica said. "I've been chased, delegitimized, groped, humiliated and robbed and if I can't set these things straight I am not sure if I see a reason to carry on anymore."

They ate thhe rest of the treats, somber and barely looking at each other.

"About that man you killed..."

"Hm?"

"What did he try to do to you, exactly?" Myorka asked.

"He was my landlord. He wanted to snitch on me...I did what I saw as necessary."

The bookkeeper grimaced. "He had a very bad idea."

Suddenly Serenica remembered another man with bad ideas.

"Spade," she hissed. "I have to look after him to keep Little John safe. He'll doom us all."