Rulio’s hair was caked in mud, dried in thick clumps against his dirt-streaked face. He was standing at the front of the Raven, staring out into the fog, willing it to part and free him from this nightmare.
Roland’s face dominated Rulio’s mind, an unwelcome spectre from a distant life. Rulio’s teeth were gritted, his hands bone white as they clenched the railing.
It didn’t make any sense.
After all this time, Roland had appeared again. That in itself was bad enough – but right now? And in this place? It was too much of a coincidence.
And he had taken Beck. Just taken her, and there was nothing Rulio could do about it. So he had just walked away, and left her.
His face began to shake as his emotions fought for an escape, but there was no vector for his rage. Not yet - but he wouldn’t leave Beck to Roland’s whims. He was the Captain, and he was going to rescue her as soon as he could. But first he had to get Keresi back to Port Authority, turn in their mission, rank up, and resupply.
And then he would deal with Roland.
A pattering against the metal deck signalled Marek’s arrival.
“What day is it?” Rulio asked, without turning around.
Marek stopped just behind him. “I’m not sure.”
Rulio considered his own question. When had they left Port Authority?
With a shock, he realised it was only the day before yesterday. Or at least, there had only been one night at sea before they arrived. And then they had had another night on the island. Or had they? He wasn’t so sure. It had been a long day on the island – too long.
“Me neither,” Rulio said absently. “Must be the fourth. Thursday. How is Keresi?”
“He’s doing okay. Beck, she – she made sure he was set up pretty well before she came back to us.”
“That’s good.”
Neither he nor Marek wanted to directly address Beck’s absence. Marek seemed awkward about it; Rulio was enraged.
“Captain?” Marek asked.
Rulio turned to face him.
“Who was that man?”
Rulio paused, as Roland’s face flashed in his mind again. “Gunfire Graves,” he murmured.
“Gunfire?”
“His real name is Roland,” Rulio replied, his voice a little louder. “Gunfire is just an… affectation.”
Marek paused. “An affectation… like Horrendous?”
Rulio knew he should probably explain that detail to Marek, eventually … but not now. So all he said was “Yes.”
Perceptively, Marek didn’t press further, and returned to the issue at hand. “Roland Graves.” He sounded the name out slowly. “You knew him?”
Rulio wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share with Marek. It had still only been a week since he’d found him in the water… although so much had happened that it seemed like far longer. And it would be nice to talk to someone about all this, aside from Keresi.
Rulio nodded. “He was my captain.”
Marek’s eyes widened. “Your captain?”
Rulio raised an eyebrow. “Did you think I was born a captain?”
Marek looked down. “No… it’s just strange, is all. Although I guess it explains what happened back there.”
Rulio supposed it did, although Marek didn’t know the half of it. “Can you take Keresi some water, if he doesn’t have any already?” he asked.
“Okay,” Marek replied. “Although I don’t think he’s going to be able to drink it,” he added as he walked off to complete the request.
Rulio turned back towards the fog and continued contemplating the situation he’d gotten them all into. His white cape, now a muddied brown, rippled languidly around him.
Someone, somewhere, knew more about this fog than they were letting on.
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Marek entered the cabin, mulling over the Captain’s revelations. This Roland guy – Gunfire Graves, or whatever – had been the Captain’s captain? And he had known right where to find them, despite the fog and everything? It seemed too serendipitous, too convenient. Marek was no expert, but he suspected some foul play was involved behind it all. But the only kind of actor outside of the crew he really knew about was the Port Authority, and he doubted they would be sabotaging their own missions and crews. A mystery, indeed.
And what about Roland and the Captain? What was their story, and why did they now have such apparent animosity towards each other? Marek suspected it had something to do with this ‘Tobias’ he’d heard mentioned, although he had no real idea of the timelines. Perhaps Tobias had been a part of Rulio’s crew only after Rulio and Roland fell out with each other. Whatever the story, it seemed far too sensitive an issue for him to dare ask the Captain about it.
Keresi was resting in his bunk, his left arm covered in bandages. From the brief glances Marek had gotten while he was helping Beck treat Keresi back on the island, the man’s wounds had been plentiful and nasty, but seemed mostly superficial. Hopefully.
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Marek carefully filled up a glass from the water container, then brought over a chair from the dining table and sat down next to Keresi’s bunk. Muno was curled up on Beck’s bunk, asleep. The strange crystal shard was on Marek’s own bunk, glowing with a faint violet light. He wondered as to its nature and purpose. As it stood, it was just a relic of their time on the island; a throughline into the present, proving that it wasn’t just some nightmare.
“Keresi,” Marek said softly, and the man’s eyes fluttered open.
“Oh… hey, kid.” Keresi’s voice was thin, carrying none of its usual vigour.
“How are you doing?”
“Not… too good.” Keresi’s eyes closed, then slowly opened again. He tried to smile. “That dog gave me a hiding, huh?”
Marek stared down at his feet. “Yeah.”
“Well, it didn’t kill me… so that’s good.”
“Yeah.” Marek didn’t really know what to say, so he raised the glass. “I brought you some water.” He held it out in front of him for a few moments before realising Keresi obviously couldn’t take it. “I’ll just… put it on the floor next to you,” Marek said awkwardly.
“Thanks.” Keresi sounded like he was drifting back to sleep.
“No problem. Just let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do.” Keresi’s breathing deepened. “Thanks, kid,” he added, and then within moments had fallen back asleep.
Looking at Keresi made Marek think back to everything that had happened on the island. The dogs… the face in the trees… the paratroopers… the man in black, Graves. And covering all of it, the strange fog, thick and ever-present.
None of it seemed normal. But then again, he didn’t exactly have any baseline for ‘normal’ here.
He told himself the past few days had all been some kind of freak occurrence. And surely, they were done with the fog now. There was no way the Captain would make them go back into it.
Although… Beck.
He grimaced. They couldn’t just leave her to Graves. But what could they do? Keresi was injured, which left only himself and the Captain. Not much of a team – especially when Graves had such a mastery over the situation back on the island. The Captain would probably have a plan. Anyway, it was obvious they had to get Keresi back to Port Authority before they launched any kind of rescue mission.
The grinning, fleshy faces of the dead paratroopers surfaced in his mind again. Marek felt a thin, cold sweat cover his forehead. He gazed at Keresi’s tired face for a few seconds longer, then rose and walked over to where the Garands were stowed. He really needed to do something to calm his mind and focus his thoughts.
It was time for some more target practice.
----------------------
Rulio heard Marek begin firing away at the back of the ship. He continued on like that for the rest of the evening, while Rulio cleaned the weapons and tried to think of a plan to get Beck back.
By nightfall, Marek had tired himself out, and drifted back into the cabin where Rulio was sitting next to Keresi.
Marek rubbed at his right shoulder, then filled up a glass of water and sat at the small dining table.
“Too much shooting?” Rulio asked.
Marek winced and rubbed his shoulder again. “I might have overdone it slightly.”
Rulio considered that. “You’re going to need the practice,” he said finally. “For when we go to get Beck.”
Marek nodded, then asked “What are you drinking?”
“Vat 69. You want some?” Rulio offered.
Marek nodded again.
“Bottle’s on the table.”
Marek sat down at the dining table, poured the amber liquid into a glass, and took in a slow mouthful of the whisky. His face relaxed into a look of contentment.
Rulio eyed him carefully. He was happy Marek looked more relaxed. God knew what kind of trauma the kid would have from everything that had happened on that island. Things had gone so badly, in fact, that it already seemed to Rulio like some kind of dream, or nightmare… something that could have no place in the real world. And that was how he felt. Rulio could only imagine how it must feel to Marek, who was so obviously untested.
“Not bad, huh?” Rulio asked, pointing at the empty glass in Marek’s hand.
Marek gave him a thin smile. “No.”
Rulio nodded with approval, then said “Get some sleep.” He stood up, casually cracking the fatigue out of his neck. “I’ll keep us on course overnight.” He wanted to get back to Port Authority as soon as possible, and had now passed beyond tiredness and into a stable status quo of semi-functionality.
Muno had begun pacing up and down the cabin again, fretting and meowing loudly, as he had done intermittently ever since they had returned to the ship.
“She’s not here,” Marek said.
With a final irritated meow, Muno jumped up onto Beck’s empty bunk, curled up, and went to sleep. Marek echoed the small kitten, and shuffled over to collapse into his own bunk.
Rulio got up and walked over to the ship’s wheel, then confirmed they were still on course for the Port. He’d have to stay awake to make sure they didn’t crash into any other ships, or get ambushed. His body wanted sleep, but his mind was ready for anything but.
And so he sat down behind the wheel, binoculars in his lap.
Time passed slowly. Rulio’s thoughts, like the night, darkened as the hours lengthened. The wind steadily picked up, until it whistled gently through the cabin over the drone of the engines.
There was no sign of any other ship. It didn’t surprise him that no one else was crazy enough to tackle the fog. He wondered where Roland had sailed off to. Not back to Port, surely?
His eyes were constantly closing themselves, but he remained trapped in a hypnagogic daze.
At some point Rulio noticed a high-pitched ringing noise coming from behind him. He turned and saw Tobias standing near the table, flicking a silver coin up into the air with his thumbnail. The boy’s long hair fell around his youthful, joyous face in chaotic brown-blonde waves.
“Lucky coin?” Rulio asked him.
Tobias shook his head, grinning. His blue eyes sparkled, full of energy. “Just a coin.” He flicked it up again, and it hung spinning at its zenith for slightly too long.
“If it was lucky, you’d still be alive,” Rulio murmured. He knew Tobias wasn’t real, that he was dead. But it would still be nice to talk to him. He held out his hand. “Show it to me.”
Tobias grinned knowingly and handed over the small metal disc.
Rulio held it up, turning it over between his fingers. One side featured an embossed silver bird, while the other had two gold hearts. Rulio wasn’t certain, but could guess at its meaning. “How did he find me?” he asked.
Tobias laughed as he sat down at the table. “How does anything find anything? He altered his reality, until you were at the same place at the same time.”
Rulio sighed. “Very helpful.”
“It’s very strange – how things used to be,” Tobias continued, ignoring Rulio’s remark. “And how different they are now. I’m glad I’m not around to see you two like this.”
Rulio looked at him then, really studied the boy’s face. Tobias hadn’t aged at all. Which wasn’t surprising.
“I miss you,” Rulio said, before he could stop himself. It must be the lack of sleep that was giving him these visions, making him all emotional.
The boy’s joviality shifted to something more solemn. “I know.”
“I wish you didn’t – that you…”
“Yes,” Tobias said, and his eyes were deep wells. “I wish that too.”
The coin spun on the table, then stopped, balancing upright on its edge.
“The new kid seems alright,” Tobias offered.
“He’s got potential.” Rulio replied. He considered the notion further. “He’s no you.”
Tobias laughed. “And who could be?”
Rulio gazed at the empty seat across from him, his eyes seeing without seeing.
Then they flicked open. He looked around and saw that the dim cabin was illuminated by a faint external light. The coin was gone.
It had to be almost dawn. He roused himself out of the seat and stretched his legs, then walked out onto the deck.
The sun was just a feeble glowing hint beneath the edge of the world. But as Rulio looked around, the pre-dawn gloom was reassuringly clear in all directions – they had finally left the fog. He immediately felt lighter at the realisation, calmer now that they had entered into the real world again. Strangely, tears began to well up in his eyes, but he quickly stifled them. And as the sun rose, the familiar, glinting sprawl of Port Authority crept towards him over the horizon.