After the endless night, a brilliant sunrise gave way to a clear morning with all the makings of another pleasant, typical day in the Pacific. The ocean was calm, and the soft whisper of the parting waves was the only sign the ship was moving at all amongst the limitless blue horizon that surrounded it.

The cabin was quiet when Roland walked back in. Akino and Daziel were still in the bunkroom, either asleep or avoiding him, so he made a simple breakfast of jam on cold bread with a coffee and ate it in silence. His uneasiness was growing with every meter they sailed closer to Heart’s Reach, and the sharp pain in his stomach was still there, biting away at him. Must be some kind of stress response. He grimaced. He didn’t have time to feel like this. His thoughts turned to Rulio, who had fast become a thorn in his side.

He couldn’t have shot Rulio – had been expressly forbidden from doing so, in fact. But the rest of Rulio’s crew were fair game, as far as he was concerned. That boy, Marek, had been an easy target. Still, just to be safe, he had given the kid a glancing shot to the side. It was a good shot – maybe the best he’d ever taken. The wound should be non-lethal, so long as the boy had some constitution in him. He’d given the kid every chance of survival. Even still, the sharp pain in his stomach was persisting, constantly gnawing at his insides. He grimaced and took another sip of the steaming coffee.

Akino emerged eventually, though they exchanged only a few cursory words before she walked off.

“If you talk to me like that again, I’m leaving.”

Roland had nodded. It was a fair enough ultimatum.

He didn’t see Daziel at all before they arrived back at Heart’s Reach.

Just before they arrived, he went into his cabin to look at the long, strange crystal again, still steadily pulsing with a deep orange. He still had no idea as to its purpose or function, but there was something about it that he found rather mesmerising. Sighing, he wrapped it up in a length of cloth and strapped it to his pack.

As soon as they passed through the gap in the cliffs and into the shadowed cove, Roland saw Don waiting for them at the end of the pier. As always, the man was dressed in a blue suit, and thin tendrils of smoke were curling out from a cigarette perched in his mouth. Caleb was standing behind him.

Roland took a sharp breath. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be very pleasant.

“You’re late,” Don said through a thin smile once they were within earshot.

Roland threw a rope down onto the dock, and Caleb rushed forward and started winding it around a large iron cleat bolted into the wooden planking. “Radio wasn’t working.”

“Strange. Well, at least you’re all back in one piece.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Not all of us. Jonny’s dead.”

Don’s eyes widened. “Jonny’s what? Christ, it was a simple supply run. What the hell happened?”

“A certain Captain Horrendous, that’s what,” Roland snapped back. “He followed us from the Port.”

“And?”

“And we… exchanged words.” Roland waved a hand. “Don’t worry yourself, Don. I got one of his crew first.”

Don’s eyes narrowed. “Got one as in shot one?”

Roland nodded, then walked down onto the dock.

Don exhaled with a scowl, then threw down his cigarette and stamped it out. It was a few moments before he spoke. “Just who the fuck do you think you are, Graves? Do you have any understanding of the pressure I’m under? Do I need to go with you every-goddamn-where now, and make sure you behave?”

“He pushed me,” Roland said defensively. “He’s always been too stubborn.” He shrugged. “I needed to get the reality of the situation through to him.”

“The reality of the situation…” Don nodded slowly. “Let me tell you a little something about reality, Graves.” He whipped out another cigarette and lit it, then took a long drag. “This fog that’s spreading over the ocean – what do you imagine that it is?” He raised his eyebrows at Roland, who was standing silently. “That’s not rhetorical. You can answer.”

“I don’t know,” Roland replied. “It’s just… fog. But…”

Don’s eyebrows shot up even further. “But what?”

“But it brings with it other things. I saw the dead dogs on Obelisk. And you’ve told me about the fate of some other crews.”

“Yes. That’s right. This is no normal fog, Graves. I don’t know much, but I know that. It’s the end times – God’s wrath. Or at least it will be, for those who aren’t prepared.” He took another long drag, then blew the smoke out in a thin jet. “You’re helping me, and I’m helping Mr Sterling. We’re both cogs in a bigger machine. A machine working tirelessly to ensure the primacy of the United States through these dark times. But we could become very important cogs if we both play our parts well. You follow me?”

Roland nodded. Anything to shut Don up.

“That’s good. You might be operating under a Special Exception, Graves, but you are not God’s own instrument. Not yet.”

Roland smirked. “Well, it felt nice to put Rulio in his place.”

“Oh, I bet it felt good,” Don said, smiling as he walked towards Roland.

Roland smiled back uneasily, just as Don’s arm lashed out and connected with his stomach. Roland’s cap fell into the dirt as he doubled over, coughing and gasping for air.

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Don crouched down and placed a hand on Roland’s shoulder. “My apologies. But I sensed a more physical lesson was required to drive home the point. Whatever history you have with Rulio – I don’t give a shit.” He straightened back up. “There’s too much at stake here for you to fuck it all up.” He unholstered his 1911 and racked the slide, ejecting a round from the chamber. He caught it and held it up towards Roland. “Do you see this bullet? Take a close look. Note carefully that it doesn’t have your name on it. No – any bullet will do for you.” He placed the bullet in a pocket and reached out his hand. “You’ve had your fun, Graves, now it's time to step back in line.”

Roland ignored the hand, spat into the dirt, and began to push himself upright as his breathing began to steady again. Then he picked up his cap and dusted it off, glaring at Don.

Don laughed. “You really want to kill me, don’t you? Ah, but then you would be in trouble.” He stamped out his cigarette. “Far better for us to continue helping each other out. And then when all is said and done, perhaps we can settle our score. Now come on, let’s get some lunch. You must be starving.”

Roland spat into the dirt again. “I’m not hungry.”

Don shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

What Roland really wanted to do was visit Beck. She had been at Heart’s Reach for almost a week now; he hoped Caleb had been keeping an eye on her. He filled a plate with food in the main building, and then headed towards Beck’s room. As he walked, he rubbed at his stomach, still tender from Don’s fist. That bastard. Oh yes, Roland would continue to play at this game, so long as it continued to serve him. But he couldn’t wait to put a bullet in Don’s head.

The storage building that had been converted into Beck’s room was the furthest building from the dock. After unlocking the door, he gave it a push, and it creaked open. The cramped interior was dimly lit by the single yellow lightbulb, and smelled of damp wood and cloth. Beck was lying on her bunk, facing the wall.

“Beck? I’m back.” He set the plate down on the floor next to the bunk. “Brought you some food.”

Beck didn’t move.

“Oh, and I shot your friend,” he continued. “What was his name? Marek?”

Beck spun around. “You shot him?” Her one green eye seemed to glow out from beneath her black hair, which had already declined from a flawless bob into something scruffier.

“Ah. She speaks.”

Beck glared at him. “Is he dead?”

“I don’t know. But if I wanted him dead, he would be.” That much was true. “I didn’t kill him. Whether he lives or dies now is up to him.” He took a deep breath and frowned. “I didn’t kill him.”

“There’s no difference if you don’t even know!” she shouted. “Why do you have to be so fucking cruel?”

Roland shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

Beck scowled. “Oh, here it comes.” She turned back towards the wall. “Some sad story. Well, don’t bother. Everyone has one of those nowadays.”

Roland looked down. “Some sad story,” he repeated softly, as his mind wandered backwards.

“Are you sure we’ll find crew here?” Robert asked him.

Roland nodded. “This is where it’s all happening.”

The port was erupting with activity. In every direction, swarms of people were rushing about on trajectories unknown. Some were pushing flat trolleys filled with cargo, others were hauling large sacks over their shoulders, and yet more were scurrying with heads down and cigarettes dangling from their mouths, spiralling trails of white smoke into the sky. The coalescent conversation of the masses provided a steady burbling, underlined by the clangourous din of large machinery and engines.

“There’s too many people.” Robert said, shaking his head. “How are we meant to find anyone in the middle of this?”

Roland waved a hand. “We’ll find a tavern, and start there. There’s bound to be work wanted fliers up somewhere.” He smiled. “It’ll be fine.”

Robert shrugged. “Lead the way, Captain.”

They began to snake their way slowly through the bustling crowds. Roland had little idea of what was around, and was heading for the edge of the docks and what looked to be the main street.

At the side of the road ahead of them, a young man was sitting on a wooden crate, swinging his legs lazily and nonchalantly flipping a coin into the air as he looked around. The mild wind was tugging at his long brown-blonde hair, and when he noticed them, his blue eyes sparkled. “Hey! Need a crewmember?” he asked loudly as they neared him.

They both paused. “Are you a crewmember?” Roland asked.

The young man stopped flipping the coin and nodded earnestly. “Yes, sir.” He must have been in his late teens. Little more than a boy, really.

“Lucky coin?” Roland asked, gesturing towards it.

The boy nodded, and flicked it to Roland, who held it up and turned it over. On one side, glinting in the mid-morning sunlight, was a silver eagle, while the other side sported an embossed seven-pointed star. “Where’d you get this?”

The boy shrugged. “Just found it.”

Roland flicked it back to him. “Nice coin.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“The name’s Tobias, sir. Tobias Crawford.” He held out his hand. “At your service.”

Roland shook it. “Roland Graves. And this is Robert Sterling.”

“Good to meet you both.”

Roland nodded. “Well, Tobias, do you have any experience?”

Tobias nodded. “Spent a couple of years hauling cargo on the docks here. Odds and ends, you know.”

“That’s not sailing.”

Tobias frowned. “That’s true, but I’ve got the work ethic, sir. And I want to get out there – I’ve got to. You won’t regret it, I promise. A chance, that’s all I need.”

Roland raised an eyebrow and looked at Robert. “Well, we could give you a try, I suppose. Until we find someone better.”

Tobias leapt down from the crate. “Oh, you won’t find anyone better, and that’s a promise! Thank you, sir!”

Roland smiled. “We’ll see.”

Tobias was only a few metres away, but for all the good Roland could do he might as well have been a hundred. The kid’s eyes were swollen nearly shut, his face bloody, and his throat was straining to get in each ragged, wheezing breath. Like Roland, he was tied to a chair.

Roland tried to call to him, but all he managed was a wet gurgle. He had to tell Tobias, he had to say… but his jaw felt broken, and his throat was burning.

Roland focused as hard as he could on Tobias, trying to send some kind of comfort to him, as if it could change anything. Tobias’ eyes found his, and there was wild panic there, burning through his tears. That was all they could do now, look at each other through their tears. A final camaraderie.

Roland gurgled again. He had to say – if he could just get it out –

I’ll remember you, he wanted to say.

I’m sorry, he wanted to say.

I’ll make them pay, he wanted to say, even if he didn’t believe it.

But he couldn’t get any of it out. Why hadn’t he told Tobias earlier? If only he’d known… but here it was now; after all their time together, certain to last forever, it had arrived in an instant. The end.

“Hello?” Beck had turned back around and was staring at him. “Are you just going to stand there forever?”

Roland blinked as the world returned. “I was…” He found himself mumbling, struggling to get the words out. “I was… happy, once…”

“Oh, I don’t care!” Beck reached down, picked up the plate of food and threw it against the wall. “Just get out!”

“Beck–”

“Get out!” She turned back towards the wall, and that was that.

Roland switched the light off on his way out the door. He didn’t know what he had been hoping to achieve by telling her about Marek, and he couldn’t be surprised by her reaction. Mostly, he just wanted to see her again. Even if she had just shouted at him, seeing her was enough. A comfort, somehow. And it had made him wonder…

He shook his head. There was no way he would let Don get the upper hand. They were all living in his world now, and Don would soon realise that. Roland would never be forgotten; he’d make sure of it.

His resolve bolstered, he decided to go and find Caleb.

He eventually found the boy in the armoury, meticulously cleaning a Colt 1911. Caleb looked up as he walked in.

The corner of Roland’s mouth turned upwards. “Think you’re ready to handle that?”

Caleb nodded emphatically.

“Well, come on then. Let’s practice some shooting. And I want to talk to you about something.”