“Hell yeah!” Justin crowed, wishing it was his. Now he knew what had been nagging him for most of his time here, at least before the kitchen tried to butcher him. These empty ships, just sitting there, waiting— all but begging— to be taken.
“Are you sure you want to do dis?” Abu-Sharrah asked, looking at them curiously. Clearly, he knew exactly what they were about to do. Just wanted to make sure they knew what they were doing. “I can still give you a ride.”
“We need a ship,” Max said simply. Trying not to dwell on visitors less fortunate than themselves as he spoke.
“We’ve imposed on you enough,” Shades replied. Remembering the gruesome, bloody spectacle he witnessed in that ceremonial chamber, he said, “And I’ve got a feeling that whoever brought those ships here won’t be coming back for them.”
“Wouldn’t that be stealing?” Justin asked, turning the tables on Shades.
“Who are we even taking it from?” Shades shot back, then stopped, taken aback by this strange reversal. “Hey, this isn’t like your little trophy. This is about survival.”
“Whatever.” Justin had risked his life for that little trophy, and he was not about to lose it at the last second. “Come on. Let’s go before that thing tries something else…”
Such as reloading, Justin realized, trailing off as yet another red dot appeared on Shades’ chest, tackling him just in time, but getting his own shoulder grazed in the process.
“Now we’re even,” Justin muttered, wincing at yet another pain he would have to ignore for now.
“Thanks,” Shades replied, “but it’s not really about being even, you know.”
Concluding that the entity would just keep shooting at them as long as they stayed within range, they turned their focus on which ship to make their escape in. Deciding that the other two were too limited-range to be traveling the Ocean in, they set their sights on the last one, a cruiser that was about a hundred feet long, looking to be in excellent condition. On a whispered count of three, they bolted across the dock and jumped behind the railing of that vessel. Staying as much below railing as they could, they undid the mooring lines one by one.
As Max and Justin finished unmooring, Shades crept over to the cabin door. Much to his relief, the previous crew apparently never got around to locking it before embarking on their ill-fated expedition, so he slipped inside.
“Please start…” Shades pleaded as he reached the helm. When the engines started with little difficulty, he signaled Abu-Sharrah, still aboard the Reflection, with a V, keeping as low a profile as he could. Waiting until his friends gave the word, he pulled out, keeping the bulk of their own ship between the entity’s firepower and the Reflection.
As they made their hasty departure, Max looked back, seeing an angry whirlwind of sand working its way across the beach toward them. As it drew near, he could make out, in the eye of the storm, a gun that he strongly suspected it had been shooting at them. Then, just as that dust-devil crossed the edge of the dock, it crashed to a halt, the gun clattering to the dock planks as it dissolved.
He wondered what that was all about.
“Fuck you!” Justin called out, waving the coin now that Shades had brought them well out of reach of any firearm. “It’s mine now, you son of a bitch!”
“God,” Shades muttered, “have you no shame?”
“All those people…” Max reflected grimly.
“What people?” Shades asked, clearly missing something here.
“Oh yeah, you weren’t there,” Max filled him in. “When I met Justin at the top of the mountain, I saw all these ships docked on the other side of the island. All of them were abandoned. Now I wonder what became of all those people…”
“We probably don’t want to know,” Shades pointed out.
“By the way,” Justin turned to Shades, “why did you stop here?”
“Oh. Right.” Shades then remembered why he came out here in the first place. “Dudes, we’ve got a problem.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
a ship of their own
