Pryce woke up from a restless sleep to realize that the ground was shaking, an earthquake, he realized with horror as the dust from the roof of the cave shook loose, dusting the floor with a thin layer of powder.
However the seismic activity did not intensify, instead the quaking died out in less than half a minute. Pryce breathed a sigh of relief; earthquakes were rare and devastating on the Mainland, but perhaps minor ones were more common here? The phenomenon was poorly understood, though one strength of the plate tectonics theory was that it could explain the cause of seismic activity, if not the origin.
He quickly went to check up on Fathom, who had slept through the quake. Pryce woke the dragon with great difficulty, and even when awake he only murmured incoherently no matter what Pryce tried to do.
Perhaps the minor earthquake was a good thing, the wildlife would be disturbed and the carnivores less likely to go hunting, meaning less trouble for him. Seeing as there was no point in delaying the venture, Pryce checked and double checked the only things he needed to bring, his water bottle, rifle, and its ammunition.
Regardless of the end result, this journey would not last long.
> [JOURNAL ENTRY]
>
> Day 50,
>
> This may be my last entry; I’m leaving it here in Fathom’s home in case someone finds it someday. Perhaps Fathom might make a miraculous recovery. Maybe I should’ve taught him how to read, but knowing him he’d seek out other humans if given the chance. If he can get someone to read this to him, here’s a message for Fathom:
>
> Thank you for saving me that day, and also for bothering to talk to me every day after that. The past twelve years have not been kind to me, and I don’t remember the last time I had so much fun as when I taught you all those things. So once again, thank you.
>
> I’ve been thinking that I’m at least somewhat responsible for what happened, as you said Pathogen (the name I’ve given the dragon you fought) seemed disappointed that you were still alive. If you had guarded your territory instead of talking to me for all those days, he may not have attacked so aggressively.
>
> You’d probably scold me for thinking that way, but I just can’t help it. Also, I’m dead now, so it’s not like you can do anything to stop me.
>
> I hope your wing and other injuries healed well without me removing the stitches.
>
> Well, I was going to say more, but if someone’s reading this to you then that means you’ve met more humans anyway. I hope you get along with them. Be friends with them and help each other, but don’t blindly trust them either; we can be…not great, sometimes.
>
> I’ve left you the chronometer, do whatever you’d like with it, it’s yours now. Now that I think about it, the things on the ship weren’t technically mine to give, so I suppose you’d have to talk to the other humans about that.
>
> Anyhow, it’s time for me to go.
>
> Fly well.
>
>
>
>
>
> Your friend,
>
> A. Pryce
----------------------------------------
“Fathom, are you awake?” Pryce asked, patting the dragon’s head. Fathom’s wheezing breath continued without any change, and Pryce gave up on rousing him. He did not try very hard for fear that the dragon would try to stop him by force, and felt a stab of guilt for this deception.
Pryce left all the dried and leftover meats he had left in front of the insensate dragon in case he got better, and pulled out the chronometer to look upon it for what might be the last time. Though the shell was dented and scratched, the engraved text was still easily legible.
Mk. 10 Wright Marine Chronometer
542,639
Pryce gently propped the nonfunctional device against a rock so that Fathom would not miss it. Before he left the cave, Pryce glanced back at the chronometer, then at Fathom, and closed his eyes to take a deep breath.
“See you soon.”
----------------------------------------
Pryce arrived at the river without incident and carefully examined the waters to make sure there weren’t any predators lying in wait. He couldn’t really see them in the dark waters even if there were any, so steeling his nerves he untethered the boat, pushing it into the water and vaulting aboard just as he had practiced yesterday. The river immediately began to carry him down its length, and he rowed to stay close to the shore where the water was hopefully too shallow for most creatures to traverse.
His brain decided now was a great time to point out how poetic it would be if he died in the same river where he buried his comrades, but he pushed that thought aside to count the seconds.
By counting he could approximate how far he had traveled, but he was so busy watching in all directions that he quickly lost track. It was a uniquely unnerving experience to know there were many dangers surrounding him, but none that he could see. Pryce was only one man, so he had to keep glancing in all directions for fear of anything sneaking up on him. The beach was empty and safer than the waters, but something could still attack him from there.
Soon he saw a group of crocodile heads sitting with their eyes just above the waterline. They didn’t look very different from the ones he knew, perhaps a bit bigger at 3-4 meters, but that wasn’t too surprising; crocodiles were an ancient type of animal that barely changed in hundreds of millions of years.
These animals left him alone, as they weren’t huge, but Pryce stayed cautious anyway. He continued drifting down the river and occasionally saw hints of larger creatures in the river; the tip of a fin, the end of a tail, and large wakes that disappeared into the deep were all things he caught glimpses of every few minutes.
These sightings deeply unnerved him, and Pryce badly wanted to step on shore to walk the rest of the way, but he knew that path was likely more dangerous even if it seemed safer.
Perhaps twenty minutes into the journey, Pryce saw a shape lying on the beach and began to row deeper into the river to go around it. Once he got closer, he realized it was a massive crocodile and paddled faster; he couldn’t see the entire body, but he estimated that it was at least 5 meters long.
He managed to pass the great reptile without colliding with it, though it turned to hiss at him before he drifted away. Pryce wasn’t sure why they didn’t pursue him, but perhaps they weren’t hungry, or he was too strange. Many animals tended to have an instinct to avoid unusual things, at least for a little while.
He quickly paddled the boat back to the shallow waters, continuing to drift along for another few minutes before he hit something. This didn’t worry Pryce too much, as the boat drifted close to the beach and sometimes bounced off of a stray rock, but this time what he had hit was not a rock, but another crocodile who reared out of the water to crunch down upon his makeshift boat.
Pryce stumbled backwards from the crocodile, the floor of the boat beneath him tilted as it was pulled down by the enormous reptile, and he clumsily jumped towards the beach, abandoning ship to scramble through the shallow water onto dry land. He turned back with rifle raised and saw the crocodile – it had to be at least six meters long – was still thrashing with the shell in its mouth, so Pryce turned to flee east down the river while the animal was occupied.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
There was nothing to be gained by shooting it if it wasn’t actively threatening his life, and Pryce slowed to a stop to check that the predator was not chasing him – crocodiles were actually faster than humans, but it had not bothered to pursue him.
Pryce stopped to check his surroundings and recover his stamina. He had all 9 clips of 54 bullets on him, and he had not lost anything critical with the boat. He’d been floating down the river for maybe half an hour, though it was difficult to tell time accurately from how nervous he was. If he was moving at 6 km/hr that simply meant he had traveled two kilometers. Of course, his internal clock was not at all reliable, and knowing the distance he had traversed didn’t help him in any way, but it would have helped ease his mind to know how close he was to his objective.
Pryce began to walk at a brisk pace as he looked around him every few seconds. The shoreline here was sandy, but leaves, sticks, and other such debris littered the ground. He took some comfort in the fact that this background would make it difficult for raptors to sneak up upon him.
Another problem was the bugs, which were a constant nuisance. He had to devote a great amount of attention to batting them away in case their stings were venomous. He’d already been bitten by smaller insects shortly after he arrived on this island, of course, and he was fortunate that none had posed a serious health risk.
He stopped moving when he thought he noticed movement in the trees. A herd of small, somewhat deer-like creatures were in the trees, and he was glad to see them since that meant there were probably no predators around, animals having much keener senses than he.
Pryce was a little unnerved when he saw the extra set of limbs folded against their backs, periodically one would extend these ‘arms’ to reach for some branches and bring it low enough for them to eat. A curious usage for limbs, Pryce wondered again why no larger animals had six limbs on the Mainland before shaking his head to focus on staying alert.
He continued to follow the river, and several more minutes later he saw the curve of the river give way to the ocean. Relieved, he picked up his pace and threw another token glance backwards, doing a double take as he saw something white in the forest.
The only animal Fathom mentioned that had that color were the white tigers, so that meant it was either a relatively harmless white animal, or Pryce was being stalked by a six-legged tiger. Judging by the approximate size of the creature hidden behind the foliage, it was the latter.
Pryce wasn't sure what to do. He regretted starting the conflict with the raptors, regardless of their initial intent. What if this new species was just being cautious?
While he didn’t want to be the aggressor, showing mercy to a mindless animal could easily end in death. It wasn't just his life on the line, but Fathom's as well, and the dragon had said that white tigers hunted in packs. They didn't need a raptor's intelligence to employ the tactic of using a diversion either, so he couldn't give this one individual his undivided attention lest another one of its kind sneaked up on him.
Pryce considered firing a warning shot into the air, but that would mean only having 5 bullets left in this clip. Maybe he could exchange the clip after the warning shot?
He decided to walk backwards while paying attention to his surroundings, and the white colors moved with him as he steadily approached the ocean.
Heart pounding, Pryce frantically glanced around to try and see anything else stalking him, and he realized the miscellaneous sounds of the forest had gone silent.
A few hundred meters left to the ship now, Pryce could see it easily now that the trees were out of the way. He resisted the urge to run, and kept walking with his head swiveling around.
Two hundred meters to the ship, and he saw another white shape obscured by trees.
One hundred meters, and he thought he saw a third, but it might've been one large one.
Fifty meters, and his pace quickened involuntarily as he approached the ship.
He made it to the base of the ship without ceremony, opening the hatch and slamming it shut while three white figures sat behind the trees.
Pryce took a few moments to breathe, not quite believing that he had made it.
----------------------------------------
Pryce stepped onto the deck of the ship, feeling almost nostalgic at having returned to his temporary home. The first thing he did was to use the binoculars to peer into the forest. He still couldn't make out any distinguishing characteristics, though he could see the white and black stripes occasionally moving through the dense foliage.
He gave up after a few minutes; the tigers were no longer a concern now that he was safely aboard the ship.
Then Pryce checked and re-checked all the bulkheads, making sure that if he tore a hole into the side of the ship it would not sink the entire vessel.
He took a few minutes to rig up a pulley in order to help him pull the crank that hoisted up the anchor. It was easy to advance the ratcheting mechanism with an 8:1 mechanical advantage, though it took some time to complete this task.
Without the anchor to hold the ship in place, all that kept the ship on the beach was the fact that the bow was embedded into the sand. Pryce spent another half hour to start the engines, causing thick smog to puff out of the great smokestacks. Once the engines were running Pryce used them to wriggle the ship side to side, steadily pulling it free from the beach it had been anchored on for 30 days.
The time he had (almost) crashed the ship into the beach was fresh in his mind as he let the ship drift away from shore. Once he had some distance, he cautiously directed it towards the entrance of the river at low speeds. He was grateful that the ship was designed to be steered by one person, but even still he was unable to control the ship very well as he was by no means a skilled helmsman.
The Horizon was 15 meters wide, so he wasn’t exactly threading a needle by entering the 50-meter-wide river, but the incredible inertia of the ship made it a nerve-wracking experience. Even going slowly, he managed to somehow get too close to the shallows a few times, causing ear-piercing shrieks as the metal hull scraped against rock.
Pryce had no time to check if the ship was taking up water, all checks would have to wait until he reached his destination and dropped anchor. He felt a sense of satisfaction as a few crocodiles crawled out of the river to escape from the dreadful noise. Pryce saw that they had four legs as they fled, but he quickly refocused onto his task of not sinking the ship.
Some parts of the river were wider, some were narrower, but Pryce managed to get through them. He tried not to think about how much damage the poor Horizon was accumulating, though that was difficult when the entire ship groaned under him.
Perhaps an hour or two later, Pryce finally reached the shore where he had departed. He let the river kill the momentum of the ship, then revved up the engines one last time to slowly land the ship onto the beach. Pryce dropped the anchors the moment the ship came to a halt, then dashed to the lower levels of the ship to check for damage.
Using a lantern for light, he spent another few hours thoroughly combing the walls for any signs of leakage, though he found none. The hull bulged inwards in several places, but not enough to be at risk of letting in water. He had no way to diagnose the outside of the hull which had to be in much worse condition, but that wasn’t very important at the moment.
The next thing Pryce did was to scan the surrounding area from the safety of the ship, frequently glancing at the skies so that he wouldn’t get picked off the ship by a phoenix so close to the end. Several minutes of careful inspection later he was satisfied that nothing was near the ship, at least not in his line of sight.
He returned to the wheelhouse and was about to turn off the ship’s engines when the foghorn’s dangling pullcord brought a smile to his face.
Pryce stuffed the rest of the penicillin along with the medical supplies he might need into a bag, then freed the ship’s chronometer from its home for his personal use. The Mark 9 chronometer was almost too large to be held in the palm of his hand, and rather awkward to use, but it was just as accurate as his Mark 10 had been.
Then he covered his ears and blared the foghorn five times before shutting down The Horizon’s engines.
Satisfied that the deafening noise would’ve scared off any animal in a few hundred meters, Pryce opened both doors to cautiously peek outside the hatch, rifle raised. Seeing nothing amiss, he shifted the weighty backpack to be more comfortable before heading back up the mountain.
To his surprise, he saw Fathom dragging himself from the cave entrance to look down on him. Pryce was relieved to see him doing better, but also a little irritated that the dragon had strained himself so unnecessarily. Then again, it was probably his fault for blowing the foghorn; he could see that being a cause for alarm, even for a dragon.
He raised his arm to wave at Fathom, and two things happened at once.
First, several white blurs leapt out from their hiding places behind boulders, and at the same time Fathom roared, his voice quavering before giving out altogether – but it was enough. The white tigers dug their six limbs into the ground and bolted into the opposite direction, leaving Pryce aiming at thin air.
He had only seen them for a brief glimpse, but the white-striped, sixed-limbed creatures only bore a passing similarity to tigers, as their heads seemed to have more in common with bears than any feline.
Focusing on the last few meters, Pryce quickly scrambled his way up the rest of the mountain towards Fathom, who was panting and wheezing from his exertion.
“Thank you,” Pryce gasped as he approached the dragon.
“You-…” Fathom weakly croaked. He tried to speak again but quickly gave up, clutching his throat in pain.
“We can talk later, are you feeling better?” Pryce asked, wondering if he should increase the dosage.
Fathom instinctively tried to talk again before wincing, then he raised a foreclaw to point his thumb a little above horizontal.
“A little better?”
The thumb pointed up.
“Alright, that’s good. I’ll give you 80 grams, and if you stop getting better, I’ll give you more.”
Fathom brought his closed fist towards Pryce, then opened his talons to reveal the chronometer.
Pryce raised an eyebrow in surprise. A second later he pocketed the device, glad to feel the comforting weight on his person once more. "Thanks-"
Fathom lightly flicked Pryce with the backside of a talon.
“Ow! What was that for-” Pryce cried, looking up to see the dragon glowering at him. “…yeah, okay, I'm sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his head.
Fathom snorted austerely, but then his gaze softened, and he nudged Pryce gently to rasp, "Thank...you..."