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hasn’t moved to flop on its back yet. Maybe because I’m no threat. A soft spot. Near its throat. I claw harder. My fingertips grow warm as if blood paints them. The monster twitches frantically as my fingernails dig deeper into its thick neck.  But how? The monster rolls.

Like the captain, I refuse to let go. I can’t give up now. My entire body tightens with the weight of the beast on top of me, but it passes quick. My chest screams with pain, but I can’t let it stop me. Not yet. My fingers dig and tear into the wound, opening it wider. Energy rushes from me. I push and pull, thrusting harder until my entire fist bursts into the beast’s throat. It rolls again. This time I hold onto the loose flesh around its open wound. The searing pain crushes me but lapses quick enough for me to maintain my grip. I reach for its gullet. I reach for anything I can. If I tear out its esophagus, it won’t be able to breathe. But I only feel mush. Soft, disgusting tissue like creamed corn. Then, the monster stops rolling with me lying on its back and its wild rage subsided. It lunges toward Shiner once more, and he pierces it through the eye with his extended shank. It goes limp. So do I.

The odor is putrid. I slip my hand from its throat and find it covered in a dark, messy substance. “Malice, inside and out,” I mutter. I take a deep breath and look up to see Shiner staring in disbelief. “What is it?” I ask quietly.

Shiner responds in a melancholic tone. “A bloody alligata’. What is tha’?” He points to my hands.

I slip off the beast with a lazy crash onto the deck. The black goo drips from my fingers. I shrug my shoulders. “I’ll get the mop.”

“We have to help the otha’s!” he barks. “Your talents! You’re a Heala’. Help the otha’s!”

“Oh. Right!” I rush to the closest body. Stripe is bleeding out fast while lying against the deck rail, unconscious.

“Can you help?” Shiner asks in a panic.

“Go get your salts. They’ll help the smaller bites. I’ll try to heal the rest.”

Shiner rushes below deck. To the kitchen I presume.

I tear a sleeve from Stripe’s tunic to use as a tourniquet. The end of his femur is splintered where his leg was torn from his body. My stomach upheaves as I get closer. I let it come out. The chaos, the blood, my enslavement, it’s all too much. I vomit more than I thought I’d eaten today, and it only adds to the stench of the chaos. I’ll have to scrub that later. Except Shiner killed the mop. Not important, Stone. Focus. These men need you.

The blood pouring from his arteries has slowed, so I brainstorm how I’m going to stop the bleeding completely. I’m not cut out for this healing stuff if I can’t handle a simple amputee. Astor would have had this man all buttoned up and onto the next by now. I peruse the deck as I ponder what to do and I see his leg lying next to the alligator. That’s it! I shuffle over to grab the appendage and line it up with his stub as best I can. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I figure it’s better to have a complete leg than a stump, so I might as well try to reattach the thing.

“What’re ya doin’?” Shiner cries out. He returns with his salts and help. The rest of the crew follows him on deck.

“I… I…” is all I can get out before he pushes me to the side and starts working his own remedies. His initial state of panic has obviously worn off.

“You can’t just reattach a leg that’s been ripped off,” Gentry reprimands. “Even if you do manage to reattach it, the thing will just be an obstacle. It’ll never work the same. It’s a loss he’s going to have to accept. Shiner will get the bleeding to stop. He’ll be okay. Go check on the captain.”

Gentry starts dishing out orders to everyone as they emerge from below deck. He’s the authority figure now with the captain, first, and second mate all debilitated. Or worse…

“Chunk! Lump! Go prep the infirmary. We’re going to need three beds and milk of the poppy.”

“Sir. We don’t have an infirmary,” states Lump politely.

“I know that, you idiot. You need to set one up. Just make sure we have three cots ready and the proper medications handy along with water. Plenty of water.”

“Yes, sir.” Both deckhands scurry off.

“Boomer! Edgerin! Start cleaning up your mess. We don’t want any further injuries caused by something that can be so easily avoided.”

“Our mess, sir?” Boomer asks, puzzled by his command.

“All the fishing line, the hooks. The damn gator! Yes, it’s your mess. You’re the fishermen, now clean up your tackle and catch.” The two of them jump to it immediately.

Gentry stops shouting orders to check on Stave, who appears to be coming to. Gentry props him up against a wall, examining him for any serious injuries. There doesn’t look to be anything except a few minor bumps and bruises.

“Elder. How’s the captain?” He yells over to me.

“Uh…um…I don’t think he’s… He’s dead, sir,” I say with a sober voice. This is the man who is enslaving me. I should be thrilled he’s no longer alive. This is my chance to get to the Crimson Capital as intended. To save Jay. But instead of elation, I feel guilty. I feel dread. I feel disgusting. I caused this.

The captain has no more than a few minor punctures from the alligator’s spine and a couple scratches here and there. The wounds are not prominent enough to be fatal.

“Let me see.” Gentry motions for a deckhand whose

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