Fabius had arrived at the promised time, punctual as always. He crouched next to Joey, making his massive body look smaller. Joey imagined this was what a bear about to pounce on prey looked like.

“Are you sure they are in there, Joey?” whispered Fabius.

“Yes, commissioner.”

“How sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

Joey felt the commissioner examining him with a long, hard look. Joey knew he wasn’t infallible, but he was sure about this. Even though he wasn’t the most methodic or organized constable out there, he had done his homework on this one.

He had exhaustively staked this place and had seen known members of the dark scientists unloading crates to the warehouse earlier in the evening. Besides, he had a feeling about this place. His mom had always said he had an eye for people and a nose for trouble. He knew that the commissioner agreed with at least the second part of that statement.

But even so, there was a lot at stake here. Joey betrayed his nervousness by peeking over the battered and crumbling brick wall.

“You know that if I use this warrant,” tested Commissioner Fabius while unrolling an official-looking scroll, “and there is nothing there….”

“Thousands of hours of my colleagues' work will go down the drain,” Joey concluded. He regretted it as soon as he’d done it. The commissioner didn’t take interruptions well, so he gave him the look. It was bone-chilling and gut-wrenching. Joey had never understood how the man did it. “Trust me, chief. I know that there is a dark sciences lab there.”

The commissioner sighed. “Let us hope you’re right. Otherwise, I would have to explain a lot to the mayor. Have I told you that you’re the constable giving me the most paperwork to fill?”

“Yes, sir. Several times. But you’ve also told me that I’m worth the trouble.”

The commissioner harrumphed. “Don’t get cheeky. Pride doesn’t look good on a constable.”

“Yes, sir.”

The commissioner held up his bioluminescent lamp. He closed and opened the lamp's blinds, signaling the tactical team. The task force signaled back.

Like a band of hyenas closing in on prey, the officers wearing bulletproof vests took their positions around the warehouse. Four of them used a battering ram to bring the front door down.

As they stormed the building, panicked men in lab coats screamed in surprise and tried to escape. But it was no use. The officers had positioned themselves strategically on the exits, like a silent constrictor that envelops its prey. There was nothing left for them to do but choke.

Even though there were a few punches and swings of the staff, no shots were fired. The element of surprise had been enough. The raid was over before it even began.

“Clear!” signaled the raid team.

After getting confirmation that all had gone well, the commissioner came inside, followed by Joey. Both sighed in relief. It was indeed a dark sciences lab. The ungodly stench of petroleum was unmistakable. Bits of coal residue darkened the ground and crackled under their feet. To the left were pens of unlicensed cows mooing and displaying signs of stress at the shouting and appearance of unknown visitors.

“I am sorry I doubted you, Joey. You were right. They were running a covert operation here. There are residues of coal on the ground. The cows, too. It’s a huge bust. I think we might make the first page tomorrow.” The commissioner’s voice dripped with enthusiasm.

“Chief,” Sergeant Morris gestured urgently from across the room, “You gotta see this.”

The commissioner and Joey exchanged looks and headed toward the door where the sergeant stood. Inside a side office was a geological survey map hanging on the wall with several pins on it. Diagrams and blueprints for petroleum extractors lay scattered on the table.

“What do you make of this, Joey?”

“I think they were trying to put together a petroleum extraction operation. Maybe what we found at the entrance,” said Joey, pointing to the big warehouse, “was just to amass funds for the next step in their operation. That, or they would put together a proposal to sell to an investor in the black market. In any case, this was their endgame.”

The commissioner glanced at the sergeant. Finding he had left to meet with the rest of the team, he approached Joey and whispered softly, " Are there any signs of him?”

Joey shook his head. “Signs, yes. Evidence, no.”

The commissioner sighed, disappointed.

“You troglodytes!”

Joey and Fabius looked up toward a commotion outside. One of the captives screamed and squirmed as the raid team dragged him out of the warehouse. “You should be the ones in chains! You scoff at progress! Technology must advance, no matter the cost! There is no way on earth that what those fanatics from the Science Academy say is true.”

The commissioner calmly walked toward the man like a bear nearing a mouse. Joey could almost hear the impact of the commissioner’s petrifying gaze hitting the man. The dark scientist’s indignation and shouts stopped instantly.

Fabius was a beast of a man. He was two meters tall. His well-built, hairy, solid arms and thick beard made one think of a bear standing on his hind legs, ready to strike. His voice was particularly strong, carrying across any space without being overly loud.

“I always find it amusing how you mask immoral profit under the guise of progress. Now, here is what is going to happen. I’ll personally spend several pleasant hours with you in the interrogation room. By the time we finish our little chat, you’ll have told me where the black market is and who runs these dark science labs in my city.”

The man paled, his whole body trembling. Joey couldn’t figure out whether the dark scientist was scared about the certainty of having to speak again to the commissioner face-to-face or of being questioned about who controlled the criminal underworld of New Lisbon.

“Take him away.” The commissioner turned to the rest of his team more benignly. “Good job, gentlemen. You have earned yourself a good night’s sleep. Go back home and take today and tomorrow day off. Rest. That’s an order. Worry about the reports once you’re back in the office.”

As the commissioner turned to ignore the command he had given to his team, he noticed Joey following him.

“I suppose there’s no point in telling you not to follow me.”

“Sir, I won’t be able to enjoy my vacation if I don’t finish this.”

“You’re the most stubborn man in the whole force. Did you know that?”

“The second most stubborn, sir.”

The commissioner let out a sound between a grunt and a chuckle at the jab from Joey, and both took off toward the precinct.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

*

The locomotive ran on the polished tracks that blemished the virgin green woods. The orange twilight of dawn prophesied the coming of sunlight. Light danced through the leaves and bounced off the golden ‘G’ letters that marked the side of the blue vehicle.

Even though personal locomotives weren’t nearly as big as trains, the heavy clickety-clack echoed in the woods was enough to disturb sleeping squirrels and wake up slumbering woodpeckers.

Inside the cab sat two men. One of them, more elegantly dressed, glanced at his silver pocket. He didn’t register the time. It was a gesture done not out of practicality but out of the necessity to exhaust some of the nervous energy that had been building up in him since his foreman had woken him in the middle of the night.

“Are you sure that’s what you saw, Red? This isn’t another of the town kids’ silly pranks, right?”

“Good Lord, how could they pull off a prank on this scale?” protested Red. “When did I ever lie to you, Mr. Geoffrey? I saw what I saw.”

“When, indeed?” Geoffrey trusted Red, which only aggravated his anxiety. He had known the stockman for years. “I just don’t understand how something like you described is possible.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea either, Mr. Geoffrey. All I know is that when I came to the pen to take the herd out to graze, I found what I told you.”

“We’ll know it soon enough. We’re almost there.”

Geoffrey was glad he’d gone through the trouble and expense of setting these tracks. Having a personal locomotive was something beyond the means of the general populace. In addition to buying the vehicle, getting insurance, and paying taxes and fuel, one also had to invest in the tracks. Not to speak of the never-ending bureaucracy of getting rails crossing other people’s properties and having to deal with those blood-sucking railtors. Geoffrey had spent almost as much money on his Mercury 3000 as he had in paying for the railroad circuit connecting his estates to town.

Geoffrey studied his foreman from his cushioned passenger seat. Red, with sunken eyes, nervously fidgeted with his fingers. What he had seen earlier in the morning visibly haunted him.

“How is the herd doing, Red?” asked Geoffrey to get both their minds off their worries.

Rescued from his dark thoughts, Red promptly answered, pride in his animals showing in his recovered, confident tone. “All plump and healthy, sir. We have several sea cows in heat. We should have some new calves in the coming month.”

“How many, would you say?”

“I am expecting at least thirty, sir.”

“Thirty? It’s a good year. Well done, Red. How about production?”

“Sir, you know I just take care of the animals. You must go to your bone carvers, tanners, and those cursed oil makers to learn about your crowns.”

Geoffrey moved uncomfortably in his seat. Nobody had talked to him in this tone in years. Nevertheless, he chose to overlook the short-tempered outburst of the old man. No one knew sea cows like Red; he hadn’t lost any on his watch. The herder had served him well over the years and had earned some slack. His mood was understandable if what he related to him earlier was true.

The boss and employee chatted about the livestock, and soon, they had reached their destination. A good conversation sped a trip faster than the fastest of engines. As the brakes engaged, the locomotive screeched until it came to a stop.

As Geoffrey left the solidness of the cabin’s custom-made wooden floors and stepped onto muddy, mushy soil, he decided that his choice of wear for the day was spot-on. He had brought along his boots made from the hide of one of his prized sea bulls. The waterproof material allowed him to confidently walk around on the soft, damp ground. Smelling the air, Geoffrey realized that something seemed out of place. He took another deep breath.

“Aye. That’s the first thing I noticed, too. No smell.” Due to the lake’s high salinity, it was natural to smell the edgy saltiness of the air as one neared it. But the smell wasn’t as strong as what Geoffrey was used to. Sweat started to run down Geoffrey’s forehead. “Lead the way, Red.”

Red grunted in agreement and started marching toward the pens. Both men were quite familiar with the terrain of these woods. They had worked here for many years and knew the estate like the back of their hands. They promptly found the shore—sooner than Geoffrey expected.

“Impossible,” exclaimed Geoffrey. He stared, puzzled, at his legs. He was knee-deep in the lake's clean, transparent water. This should have been dry ground. The shore should have been much further ahead. Looking around, he saw trees emerging from the water. He wasn’t lost. The lake had grown larger.

Red took his canteen, dumped it, and refilled it with water from the lake. He handed it to Geoffrey. “Taste the water, sir.”

Geoffrey momentarily hesitated. New Lisbonites always drank water from the river Aurum, never from the lake. He glanced at Red, who nodded toward the canteen, urging him to drink from it.

As Geoffrey brought the canteen up to his mouth, off the corner of his eye, he found Red studying him with a wide grin. Where had all of Red’s anxiousness gone? Why did he look so happy now? Something in Geoffrey’s mind screamed alarm, but he still sipped the water, tasted it, and swallowed it. “It’s fresh. No salt.” Geoffrey was left with a funny taste in his mouth.

“Not as salty as it usually is, at least.”

“Red, how is this possible? This is the largest brackish water lake on the planet. What force could desalinate the whole lake?”

It was unthinkable. The taste in Geoffrey’s mouth wasn’t getting any better. A headache was brewing in his mind. Strange... He rarely suffered from headaches. Was it the stress of the situation? Was he coming down with a cold? The cool air before dawn was quite chilly. He felt the urge to rinse the strange taste out of his mouth. Unfortunately, the canteen he’d brought was filled with water from the lake.

The headache receded. Concerns became smaller. Worrisome thoughts were put to the side and minimized until one concern was expanded and broadened. One thought filled Geoffrey’s mind until there was no space left for anything else. His possessions.

“What about the herd? Are all the animals accounted for?” desperately asked Geoffrey.

“Yes, sir. We built the pens with over enough margin to deal with a rise like this. Even though the shore has advanced this much, the water level only rose by a meter or so.”

“I want to see the herd.”

Red nodded. Walking in the flooded area with all the floating branches and leaves and the trees emerging from the water felt surreal to Geoffrey. He had played on the shores of the lake in his childhood. He often came down to Joey’s dad's estate to play with him there. He couldn’t remember seeing a flood like this in his whole life. He had read past flooding records, but there had never been like this.

They reached the estate’s pier after walking for a few more moments. They were a series of wooden planks placed over air pockets made from sea cows’ goldbeater’s skin to give them buoyancy. They were all tied to poles hammered deep into the lake bed with chains with generous safety margins. Even with the tides and waves of the lake, the pier remained intact. It was much more expensive to build it like this, but Geoffrey had thought that the investment was worth it in case of any eventuality. Today, he was proven right.

Geoffrey managed to climb on the first wooden board and helped old Red climb it. From there, they headed deeper and deeper into the lake until they came across a series of buoys that marked the boundaries of the paddock. Blocks of hollow wood framed the perimeter where his herd spent the night. Down to the lake bed were nets strong enough to ensure nothing could go in or out. His manatees happily came to the surface to breathe, placidly swimming, waiting for old Red to take them grazing. Geoffrey observed them briefly and found nothing odd about their behavior.

“They seem OK,” said Geoffrey, relieved.

“They are alright. I checked them all before I came to meet you.”

“Will the change in water conditions mean any trouble for the herd?”

“Manatees do just as well in freshwater as in brackish water, sir. Many species in the lake do. They’ll be fine. I can’t say the same thing about the shepherd pod or the seagrass prairies, but they should hold, at least for a few days.”

“What about our facilities? Is there any flooding?” Geoffrey tried to squint and see through the morning mist. But the light wasn’t very bright yet, and he couldn’t see the buildings of his estate from here.

“They’re all on high ground. We’re safe.”

Geoffrey nodded. This was another good investment he had made. He imagined that Wilson and Willis would be biting their nails off with regret. His nearest neighbors didn’t want to waste any money on preventing something as rare as lake floods, which happened once a century. As far as Geoffrey knew, all but one of the other producers kept their facilities as close to the lake as possible.

“What baffles me is that it didn’t even rain last night.”

“I don’t know what to say, sir. By Ambyssus’ eye, I’ve never seen anything like this in all my life.”

Geoffrey frowned at the new word. He didn’t recall hearing the expression before. Red was an old timer. Perhaps it was something people of his generation said. There was a certain comfortable ring to it. Something soothing and natural, as if the expression evoked thoughts of an old acquaintance one hadn’t met in decades.

“I want the safety margin of all our pens doubled. Talk to Wilkinson. Since we don’t know how this change in the lake will affect the sea cow’s pastures, I want to ensure we have enough forage to last us for a year.”

“Sir, the animals can spend seven months without any food. Rest easy. They are in no immediate danger.”

Geoffrey frowned at Red's easy tone. “That’s all fine, but I don’t want production or reproduction to suffer because they feel food is scarce. Get to it, Red.”

“Aye, boss.”

“I must go back to town to ascertain the situation.” Now that the worries about his possessions had been quenched, Geoffrey’s good nature and concern for his fellow men were allowed to resurface. “I doubt other cattle owners were as well prepared as we were. Perhaps we can lend some of our facilities to them. Will you be alright?”

“Rest assured, sir. I’ll be fine.”

Geoffrey turned and made his way to the locomotive. “By Ambyssus’ eye,” thought Geoffrey. “What a day!”

Geoffrey didn’t realize how strange it was for such an unfamiliar word to become so familiar to him so quickly, nor the suddenness with which the driving force of his thoughts was changing direction. He felt no weird taste in his mouth anymore, only sweetness.