“You’re looking pretty woozy, Sam. Get some sleep. Melody is on the way.”

“Shouldn’t I, like, stay awake?” I asked. “If I fall asleep won’t I die? They always keep the gunshot victims awake in the action movies. Shout at them not to stay awake, ‘stay with me, buddy’ and all that.” Babbling about action movies at a time like this? I really was losing my mind.

“You only need to keep people awake for concussions. That’s what Melody says, anyway. Gunshot wounds are gonna stay gunshot wounds whether you’re awake or not. And we both need sleep after that business yesterday with the Hydra.”

“So why aren’t you sleeping?” I asked woozily,

“Because you’ve been shot and don’t seem at full capacity. I’ll be more useful awake.”

That made sense to me. I shut my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

It would have been lovely. A much needed rest after a trying day. But my mind kept replaying the moment the Special Forces Soldier lifted his gun and shot me. Not when he shot me in the arm, but in the bar, the first time. The time that hadn’t, apparently, actually happened anywhere now except in my mind and perhaps in Hannity’s. I wonder how many people lived on after knowing they should have died. Not should have. Did. I did die. I remembered the flash of pain. I died too fast to remember much else, but I remembered suddenly not being dead. There was an empty space in between that pain and the not being dead that loomed in my mind like a terrified silence.

I flinched awake as I was shot in the head for what might have been the tenth or hundredth time that night.

My eyes opened to the cream colored panels of the ceiling, and then, when I grunted, a tight, cold frown that belonged to First Mate as she stepped forwards to look down at me.

“Sam.” She said,

“First Mate.” I grunted. I was feeling better, surprisingly. Despite the terrible sleep. I sat up and looked over to my arm to find it wrapped in a clean, white bandage.

“I’ve got the bullet here if you want to keep it as a souvenir.” Melody said, lifting up a plastic baggy, it’s insides stained with a little blood. A deformed lump sat heavily in one of the corners.

“No.” I said, “And I already told Elma everything, so there’s no need for you to look at me like that. If you want to kick me off the ship, fine. But if you could at least point me to a good place to lie low---”

“You said you’re carrying a ring. What is for?” She asked,

“It’s personal.”

“If you want to stay on our ship, I need to know, Sam. You say it doesn’t have anything to do with it, but you also don’t know why these people are chasing you.”

I glanced to Melody, who was the only other person in the room now. She was playing with a pair of chopsticks she’d found on the table, picking up and putting down a salt shaker with them like one who hadn’t touched chopsticks often but still had the deft hands of a surgeon. She seemed to be pointedly ignoring me. Elma was nowhere to be seen. There was no help for me here. First Mate’s expression was a mask made of steel and ice. I had no doubt she would leave me here.

“It’s a family heirloom. It’s got nothing to do with Caligon.”

“Don’t family heirlooms go to their surviving heirs? You don’t usually give them to the dead.”

“It’s not my family. It’s my… friends.”

“No. No pauses. No ‘friend’. Who was he?”

I felt the blood rush to my face.

“He was a friend. Really. This I promise. A close friend.”

“A lover?”

“No.”

“But you had feelings for him, or something else, else you wouldn’t have paused.”

I tried to keep my temper down. The circumstances warranted the questions, I knew, but how dare she embarrass me like this?

“I had feelings for him. Yes.” I said, shaking, “But he wasn’t interested in anything more.”

“And he was part of the Sacred Trust?”

“Yes. But he didn’t do what I did. He was just a normal member. Went to rallies, listened in on discussions. But he’d always been sick. He gave me this ring, during his last week alive, and made me promise to give it to his sister. I did. When I came to find her, I learned that she’d died a few days before I found her. She and her brother were estranged. It was a car accident.”

“Strange coincidence.”

“A car accident and a long standing illness?” I said, “Perhaps it’s unfortunate, but these things happen. I promised to give it to his sister, so that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“What were their names?”

“Davis and Keisha Crawford.”

“I want to see the ring.”

“There’s nothing there. It’s a plain gold plated band.”

“I want to see it. If you want to keep your promise to your friend and get to the Necrompolis Islands you’ll do as I ask.”

“Fine.” I spat.

“And you promise that everything you’ve told me is true?”

“Yes.”

“I need to hear you say ‘I promise’.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“I promise that everything I’ve told you this past hour is true to the best of my knowledge.” So many promises in a single day. It was like having rough wool scrubbed across the top of my tongue. I reached into my shirt and hooked a fingernail underneath the skin just below my ribs and pulled away. It hurt. A lot. It was false skin, but of a slightly different kind than the rest. So long as I tore it right, it would heal in under a minute if I pressed the flesh back together.

I fished around in the slightly moist cavity there and removed the ring, holding it up for First Mate to see. I caught Melody’s look.

“Safest place. It won’t get lost or stolen there. I used to use it for carrying things I didn’t want other people to find.”

“You’re a mother fucking secret agent.” Melody said, “That’s so cool.”

“Not really.” I said, thinking of the endless, endless hours I spent combing through the internet or waiting near government facilities, or simply lurking in crowds near events important people would be at, hoping something would happen.

“Not at all.” First Mate cut in, her mouth a firm line. She took the ring from me and held it up to the light. She didn’t find any incriminating evidence. Of course she fucking wouldn’t. It was just a golden band. “I’m going to have Lucas look at this, if that’s alright with you.” She said.

“I don’t mind parting with it at all. It’s not like I literally sewed it into my flesh to keep it safe.”

“Good.” She said, clenching the ring in her fist. “You can stay on the boat, Sam. I don’t like the idea of abandoning you, whatever prejudice you hold.”

“I’m not---!” I scratched the back of my head viciously and shut my mouth. Fine. Whatever.

“Hopefully once we get past Alder’s Grave they’ll stop following you. Once we reach the Sea of Tongues any inexperienced crew is either going to turn around or die.” A small smile crept onto First Mate’s face. “And any experienced crew will know that the Befuddled isn’t going to be caught if she doesn’t want to be caught. If you survive the Isle’s, we won’t head back this way. We’ll put you to shore in Newbury or Cincinnati.”

“Thank you.” I said after a moment of struggling with myself. I didn’t feel thankful. She had the ring. She forced Davis’ name out of me. But it was the thing to say, so I said it.

First Mate looked at me, her face inscrutable. I had no idea what she was thinking, but I was sure she could tell my thanks weren’t genuine.

“Melody.” She said, turning sharply away from me. “Watch Sam today. You’re to stay inside this building. Don’t give his name to anyone, and watch the door. We told Povold that his name was ‘Sam’. Not an uncommon name, but Adler’s Grave isn’t huge and I don’t doubt if anyone came around asking about a Sam Bless Povold would rat you out. We’ll rent rooms for everyone on the top floor.”

A bar, tourist shop, grocery store, multinational restaurant and hotel. This place really wanted to cover all it’s bases.

“Aye aye cap’n.” Melody said, saluting lazily. “Err, First Mate’n.”

“Nobody should bother you here, and if they do? Well the Guardia will be on them like a ton of bricks, and if they aren’t, then Quiver will toss them out a window.”

“The Caligonian Special Forces always work in teams.” I said, “But at least one of them is always remote. Not a fighter. An information gatherer. They’ll know their agent is dead, but unless they’ve got a boat full of Special Forces agents that they just didn’t send out for whatever reason, I don’t think we’ll need to worry about them before we leave. The Antenna, as the remote partner is usually called, won’t come after us.”

“Well, let’s not rely on that. You never know.” First Mate said, “I’ll see the two of you later. I’ve got to do an inventory of the ships supplies. To make sure we get what we need while we’re here.”

When First Mate left the room, Melody jabbed the chop sticks she was holding at me.

“It’s just you and me till the others come back tonight, Sam!” She said, “Let’s get drunk.”

Melody got drunk, but I abstained. My arm was now throbbing dully, and the strange restfulness of my sleep was washed away by worry. I was a hunted man.

I was safe for now. Probably. But I was not reassured by First Mate’s confidence. I had killed one of theirs. Caligon would want me dead on basic principal, now, quite aside from whatever reason they had previous.

“If you don’t buy a drink you have to leave.” Someone said, “If my countertop is that interesting you can afford to buy a little drink to look at it, can’t you?”

I looked up at a woman whose face immediately made me think ‘Fox’. Not because she was attractive, though she did have a vague, exotic kind of attraction when I looked at her right, but because her features were almost lupine. A pointed face, wide, alert eyes, and straight orangish hair threaded with black. She was completely human, of course she was. She had to be. But even when she grinned it had an almost foxy cast to it.

“Sorry. I’ll take an, uh, Aqua Spike Pale ale.”

“Really?” She said, cocking and eyebrow.

“Sure.”

“Racecar!” Melody said, not quite drunk, but definitely tipsy. “I didn’t see you pull up behind the bar! Come for a pit stop?”

I blinked at her.

“Are you having some sort of attack?” I asked, “You’ve only drank alcohol, correct?”

“Racecar is my name, and this is my building.” The woman apparently named Racecar said. “Racecar Jennivive Cumulonimbus.”

“Ah.” Was all I could think to say.

She put my beer down in front of me and the corners of her mouth quirked upwards in what wasn’t really a smile.

“My parents thought that a child should be able to choose their own name.” She said, “I had a box full of little cars and a plastic track that I absolutely adored and so when I was old enough... “

She made a wide, sweeping gesture as if introducing herself during a play.

“It didn’t start bothering me until I was in high school, but by that point I’d realized that I was a stubborn daughter of a bitch, and so kept the name to spite everyone else. Nice to meet you, Sam. Good to see you again, Melody.”

“A pleasure, Ms., ah, Cumulonimbus.”

“Mrs.” She cut in, waving a ringed finger in my face. It was a bright silver thing, set with an ugly milky white stone that I, with a jolt, recognized as a Cat Stone. Same as the ones at my hip. “My husband is off on some Ocean Vessel somewhere.”

Melody looked away, and took another sip of her beer.

“He hasn’t been back in three years.” Racecar’s cunning, fox-like eyes narrowed at our ship's doctor. “Melody here thinks he’s dead. But I know better.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Melody objected.

“I heard what you didn’t say.”

“I’m---” I almost said ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ but then my brain caught up with me. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

Racecars mouth quirked into another not smile.

“That’s good. Keep on like that and I might be able to stand having you around. I’ve been serving the crew of the Befuddled for nigh on twenty years now,” which surprised me. She looked like she was in her thirties, at most. “Can’t stand most of ‘em. Do better if you don’t want me spitting in your drink, like I do to Melody. ”

“She loves us.” Melody whispered, loud enough for Racecar to hear. Racecar leaned over the counter and spat in Melody’s drink.

“Aw! Gross!” Melody cried, pushing the beer away from her. I instinctively put my hand over top of my beer.

It was at that moment the front door was pushed open. It was just a push, despite the door slamming into the wall with a sound that made all the other patrons jump. The hand that had pushed it open was just so big, so thick and bulbous, that I didn’t doubt it had taken all of its finesse not to smash the door down. It was at least as tall as my torso, and was a little thicker. It was a squashy, unhealthy blue, and that was all I saw of it before it retreated

The door now opened, a man stepped through it, ducking under the huge, retreating arm. A man who, though I’d never met him, I knew I could easily hate for the rest of my life. I looked over to Melody, and saw a look of utter loathing scrawled across her face like an angry child's scribble.

“Racecar! How’s my favorite widow doing?” He said, and his grin gleamed white. “You know you’ve got a wanted criminal sitting at your bar. We’re looking for a little cash, you mind if we just pick him up?”