Marek walked over to where Beck was sitting near the front of the boat, and put the can of baked beans down on the deck next to her. “I heard you’re a fan of these.”
Beck looked up at him with her wide, mismatched eyes and nodded.
“Keresi and the Captain don’t like them?” Marek asked.
“Oh, they can eat them – normally.” Beck replied. “But they refuse to touch these military-issue ones. ‘The Devil’s food’, they call them.” She smiled, and Marek scoffed. He looked towards the back of the boat, where Rulio and Keresi were sitting together and sharing a flask of something, illuminated only by the bright moon against the night. They didn’t dare run any of the ship’s lights.
“They can’t be that bad,” he said confidently.
She raised an eyebrow, her mouth open in a half-smile. “You haven’t tried them yet.”
Marek supposed that was true. But how bad could they be?
“Well, let’s give them a shot then,” he said, as he sat down next to Beck and picked the can back up. He quickly noticed that there wasn’t any ring on the lid to open it with. He looked at the can helplessly, turning it over in his hands. Seeing him struggle, Beck reached out for it, and Marek passed it to her. She took out her knife, and made quick work of piercing around the lid’s circumference before bending it upwards. Taking it back, Marek looked inside and saw a dark red mush of sauce and beans. It did look rather unappealing.
Marek dug out a spoonful and raised it towards his mouth. Somehow, Beck’s comments about the beans had made him feel a bit apprehensive. “Alright… here I go,” he said without much confidence.
Beck laughed. “Usually, I would heat them up first.”
Marek waved his free hand dismissively. “I can’t be bothered.”
He cautiously placed the spoon into his mouth. Beck was looking at him, her face expectant. Straight away, the appeal of the beans was radically diminished by virtue of them being stone cold. They also had a rather slimy texture, the beans themselves forming islands of texture among the slick sauce. Aside from those drawbacks, though, Marek found they actually weren’t too bad. The sauce was sharp and rich, with strong tomato flavours and a sweet acidity. As a masquerade for all the other unappealing aspects, it did a fine job. They weren’t the best baked beans he’d ever had, and probably wouldn’t even pass quality control to be stocked by any store. Nevertheless, he felt he could eat them out here without too much trouble while they were between destinations.
He looked at Beck, who seemed to be waiting for his verdict. “Hmm. Not bad,” he said with a nod. He didn’t think he sounded very convincing.
Beck was eyeing him deliberately, and no doubt saw that he wasn’t the biggest fan of what he’d just eaten. “Well, luckily there’s plenty more of them,” she said with a wry smile.
Marek took out another spoonful and gestured towards her. “Ah… would you like some?”
She nodded, and he handed her the spoon. From the look on her face, she definitely seemed to enjoy the beans far more than he had.
Overhead, a squawking gull broke their attention. The bird flitted downwards towards the back of the ship, unsteadily riding the breeze, before Keresi yelled and swatted at it, sending it veering off back over the ocean.
“Is it true?” Beck’s question was so abrupt that Marek jumped slightly.
“Is what true?”
“What you said, on that night we found you.” Beck shifted her head to look at him.
Marek looked down, uncomfortable. “About the storm?”
“Yes.”
Marek was silent for a moment. He wasn’t eager to talk about this, but sensed that this was Beck offering him an opportunity of sorts. He gripped the can tighter. “Yes.”
Beck nodded slowly. “But how could there have been a storm? There wasn’t one anywhere near us.”
Marek found himself unable to look at her, although he could feel her gaze on him. It was like a kind of shame on his part, perhaps. Or maybe because he knew that if he even hinted towards the truth, she would think him crazy. And so far, Beck was the closest thing he had to a friend in this new world. Or the makings of one, anyway. Yet if he closed himself off, refused to offer up anything, or lied to her – well, the outcome would be even worse.
“There was a storm,” he began carefully, “but not… here.”
He saw Beck’s head jerk slightly out of the corner of his eye. “Not here?”
Marek nodded, rubbing his cheeks.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“I was with my friends on a yacht,” he continued, “and we ended up in a storm.” He paused. At the moment, he didn’t really want to mention the fog, or the towering gangled creature, or the strange vortex. “Our ship was damaged, and I jumped off and… and somehow I ended up here.”
Beck considered this for a moment. “Ended up here? What do you mean – that you were brought to where we found you from somewhere else?”
Marek winced. He didn’t really want to say the next aspect of his story out loud. “Ahh… not so much somewhere else, as somewhen else.” He sighed. “Or maybe not, exactly. I don’t know yet.”
“Alright…” Beck’s voice was hesitant. “Then when did you come from?”
Marek winced again. “The future.” He shook his head involuntarily, defensively. “I know how it sounds.”
“The future…” Beck murmured. Then she was silent, her gaze upon him so intent that it was almost a physical force. “Was that where the vortex was?”
Marek was surprised that she remembered his passing mention of that. He nodded. “It sounds crazy. But I came here from a future – I don’t think it was the future of here, things are too different – but 1942 is a long time ago for me. Or at least it was.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Beck said uneasily. She waved her arm. “I mean, this is now, this is it – one moment into the next. It’s 1942.”
“I know.” Marek replied. “I can’t explain it. This is my ‘now’, now, but a few days ago I was in some not yet, except for me that was my ‘now’, and this was – well, I don’t know. It’s confusing.”
Beck pursed her lips, mulling over what he’d said.
“I think I believe you,” she said finally.
Marek looked at her in surprise. “You do?”
She nodded slowly. “I mean, I believe that you believe it. And beyond that, what difference does it make to me, really? Why should it matter where you came from, going forward? If you really came from some other time and world, or just this one after all… well, I think what matters is that you’re here now. From wherever, and whenever.” Her brow wrinkled as she focused on what she was trying to say. “We’re a crew now and… and as long as we’re all pulling in the same direction, I think that’s what matters. Sticking together for the future.” Her eyes were deep pools, studying him. “And anyway, everyone always comes from their own unique world, only in other ways.”
There was silence for a few moments as they looked at each other, and some semblance of understanding passed between them.
“And what world are you from?” Marek asked softly.
A flash of emotion crossed Beck’s face, just for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Marek added quickly, sensing he had overstepped.
“No, it’s alright.” A sad smile flickered across Beck’s lips. “I’d want to know too, if I were you.” She squinted off into the distance, at nothing in particular. “It’s just… not easy to talk about.”
Marek felt bad for having brought up the issue again. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said gently. “It’s like you said, what matters is going in the same direction from now on. The future, not the past.”
“Yes,” Beck said. She looked at him, her wide eyes a mixture of sadness and… was it regret? “But the past does still matter, all the same. If only in our own minds.”
“That’s true.” Marek replied, before slapping his leg lightly. “Well, if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here.”
Beck smiled, though her eyes still betrayed it. “Thank you. Do the Captain or Keresi know about your… situation?”
Marek shook his head.
“I’ll keep this between us, then. Although I think you should tell them, when you’re ready.”
Marek nodded, then scooped up a spoonful of baked beans from the can and sent it hovering over towards Beck’s face at the end of his outstretched arm. Beck looked towards him, saw the flying beans, and laughed. She reached out and took his offering, eating the beans with glee.
“We have to stick together, you know,” she mumbled through her chewing. She waved the empty spoon over towards Rulio and Keresi, who were sitting together in muted conversation. “Otherwise, those two will probably be the death of us.”
Marek smiled. “On that, I think we agree.” He scraped out a spoonful of beans for himself, then offered the can to Beck.
Muno decided to emerge from the shadows, and trotted towards them with his little legs moving in an unsteady blur. He thrust his head towards the can of baked beans, gave the contents a curious sniff, and then recoiled. Deciding that the beans were better off left alone, he sat between Marek and Beck, content to receive steady pats from the both of them.
The three of them sat like that for a long while, sharing the baked beans and enjoying the night. There was a stable and amiable rhythm, with neither feeling the need to force any more conversation. Away from them, Rulio and Keresi continued talking together in hushed tones, even after Marek and Beck had grown too tired and disappeared to their bunks.
The next day passed lazily as the Raven steadily cruised towards Obelisk Island. Marek and Beck passed the time by playing with Muno, who cautiously continued to explore the ship, steadily gaining confidence as he wandered around seemingly at random and carefully sniffed anything that caught his eye. Marek and Keresi focused on studying the sea charts and helming the ship’s wheel, ensuring they maintained a steady course towards their destination.
The afternoon had already grown long when Rulio called them all to the front of the ship, and pointed at the horizon. “There it is,” was all he said. His face was solemn, and his tone carried an undercurrent of veiled unease.
Marek squinted. And there it was.
His heart began to pound. The pressure of his pulse quickly became palpable in his ears, an organic drum beat. A constrictive tightness started to spread throughout his chest.
Across the horizon in front of them lay a wall of thick fog, its distance rendering it a thin, deep grey slash on top of the sparkling ocean.
A memory flared unbidden into his mind’s eye; recent, but from a lifetime ago.
He had seen fog just like that, once before.
His throat clenched as his cold hands squeezed themselves into rigid, clammy fists.
“We shouldn’t go in there.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“What?” Keresi barked.
“We shouldn’t go in there,” Marek said again, more forcefully.
“Pah! It’s just fog.” Keresi exclaimed contemptuously. “You’re not afraid of a little water vapour, are you?” He rubbed at his injured shoulder.
Marek’s face reddened. How could he explain to them in any rational way the dormant anxiety that had suddenly burst inside him?
“Marek might have a point.” The Captain’s voice was soft, but commanded attention. “After all, that’s the fog which has been causing all these problems lately – by persisting, for one. And that’s not natural, at least in any other fog I’ve encountered.” He looked at Keresi, then back towards the grey band on the horizon. “We would do well to keep our wits about us.”
Keresi said nothing more, but Marek could see from his expression that he thought everyone was making a fuss over nothing.
Marek couldn’t blame him. He would feel the same way too, if he didn’t know what he knew, if he hadn’t seen what he had seen. But the knowledge of a fog just like this one, in a different world, sat like a black pit at the core of his being as they sailed onwards.