Where the walrus bodies had once been mostly submerged by the weighty harness placed about their necks, Henry stood in the neck-deep water, a frosty sheen already threatening to take hold over the surface and freeze it over without the kiln’s heat to keep it melted. The walrus slaves had been freed hours ago with Lenny’s first foray into the crematorium. Their harnesses had been cast nearby, their yokes too wide and large to truly fit over Henry and bind him. The chains they left behind had served to lash the Frenchman to the wheel, however, and Tom Weaver had doubled down on the imprisonment by strapping one manacle over Henry’s left hand. The manacle’s opposite end was staked into the upper floor, outside the ditch, and beyond the point where Henry might hope to pry it free of his own merit.
For all the bindings that held Henry, it was the last of the tortures Tom Weaver had left that raised Lenny’s eyebrows. So that’s what he was yelling about . . . Lenny understood, noting the frayed ends near Henry’s neckline, the place where his Selkie hood once hung. Instead, Lenny found the key to Henry’s Salt transformation newly carved free of his suit. The Leper hood he once wore was now staked just beyond his reach by the same dagger that Henry had used to kill Vasili.
With his one remaining good eye, Henry Boucher glared at Lenny from down in the watery ditch that would serve as both his prison and his death sentence. “Have you come to kill me, little Lenny? A final act of mercy?”
Lenny approached him slow, wary of Henry even despite his former crewmate’s predicament. “No. I’m not gonna kill ya, Henry.”
“To gloat, then?” Henry asked.
“No . . .”
“Then, why come?” Henry asked.
“To see what you was yelling about,” Lenny answered. “And to better understand the other man I gotta ride with all the way back to the capital.”
Henry chuckled, then, his teeth broken and bloody. “To learn what the monster is capable of, yes?” His good eye glinted up at Lenny. “Oui. You came to see what fate awaits you also when Monsieur Weaver passes judgement on you next, hmm? After all, it was you who took his son, Dolan. Your choice to bring Garrett Weaver into the Salt.”
“Think me and Tom have settled that between us,” said Lenny.
“Have you?” Henry challenged him, his grin widening. “Ah, but you are not free of him yet, nipperkin. Perhaps he still has need of you to find his son. And when Tom Weaver is done with you . . .”
Lenny fended off the seed of doubt that Henry sought to plant with his implied threat. “What’re you suggesting, Henry? That maybe I set ya free and you’ll watch over me or something? Protect me? Is that it?”
“No,” said Henry. “For we both know it would be a lie . . . and when have I ever lied to you, little capitaine?”
Lenny tried to think of an example, his memory failing him, despite all that they had been through. “Why warn me, then? If that is what you’re trying to do.”
“Because you came to see me,” said Henry, his chains rattling as he attempted to move and was held back. Frowning, he looked on Lenny again. “And because it seems possible that you are the last face I will ever see, little Lenny . . . the one person I might ask for a final favor.”
Lenny scoffed. “Favor, huh? After I watched ya kill Vasili and then ya tried to do the same for me too? Nah, I don’t think so, pal. Gimme one good reason why you think I’d ever do you a solid, Henry.”
“Because I spoke true to you,” said Henry. “If it were not for me, you would have been killed in Crayfish Cavern when your owner sentenced you to die. I saved you from that end, little capitaine . . . just as you now could save me from this fate in fair repayment.”
Lenny snorted. “You’re crazier than I thought, Henry. Especially if you think I’d ever go about setting you free after all you and me been through together. All the stuff I seen you pull,” Lenny glowered as he thought back on their forced journeys together. “Aye, the pain I seen you put others through.”
“My Chidi, you mean . . .” said Henry softly.
“And Vasili today . . .” Lenny’s chest tightened as he reflected on others he had known and lost along the journey of life. “Racer and his father, Ansel, too. Both of them would still be alive, if not for you. Who knows how many others I never even met too?” He clucked his tongue. “And let’s not pretend like ya wouldn’t have killed me too not even an hour ago if Tommy hadn’t come to stop you from it.”
Henry smiled. “And still you came here to see me off,” he toyed with him. “Why, little Lenny? For all that I have done to others . . . for all that I have done to you . . . why come?”
“I dunno,” said Lenny. “To see another monster meet his end, I guess. How about that?”
“No,” said Henry, his good eye flashing. “You came here because you are a Dolan . . . and, like your father, guilty or no, you would never leave another person behind.”
Lenny cringed at his father’s words used against him. “That’s where you’re wrong, Henry. Can’t say as I ever thought of you as a person. To my mind, you’re just one more monster in the Salt.” Lenny rose to leave. “Aye, and another one that I’ll be glad to put in my past and forget about.”
“And yet here you are,” Henry called him back. “Because you know the debt is not repaid . . . and, if you leave me now, you will never have another chance to repay what is owed.”
Lenny wheeled on him. “I don’t owe you nothing, Henry. I wouldn’t free you even if I did.”
“And I do not require my freedom,” said Henry. “I ask only a simple favor of you in repayment for saving your life before.”
Lenny glanced at the shattered door, a voice within him whispering he should have never come inside. That he should turn around and leave without hearing Henry’s final request of him. Lenny sighed when looking back to his former crewmate. “What is it?” he asked. “What favor?”
Henry’s face broke, then, his lip quivering in such a way that Lenny had never seen before. When the fallen Frenchman did speak again, his voice was broken and soft. “If you should ever see my Chidi again,” Henry hesitated. “Tell her for me . . . tell my Chidi that I love her without end.”
Is he being serious? Lenny thought, his brow furrowing at the sincerity and weakness in Henry’s voice. The same manner he had often heard Paulo wax on about when speaking of Ellie. Henry really thinks he loved her? That Chidi ever loved him?
His chains rattling from his shaking, Henry’s chin trembled too, tears staining his bloodied cheeks as he went on. “Tell my Chidi that I would have done anything to be with her again . . . and tell her . . . tell my Chidi that I will wait for her in the green waters. Aye, that we might be rejoined again forever more.” Henry sniffled as he looked up at Lenny. “Will you do that for me, little capitaine? Please, little Lenny? Promise me . . . swear to me that you will find my Chidi and tell her for me?”
The sincerity in Henry’s shattered voice and his hopeless position begged Lenny to consider the request. One he would have readily agreed to had it been near anyone else to ask it of him. Yet the longer Lenny stared at Henry’s broken and blood-stained face, all that he could think of was the others who had bled and died at the Frenchman’s hands.
“You’re not going to Fiddler’s Green, Henry,” Lenny whispered, the elation he once dreamed of having when telling Henry off now drowned in hollow reality. “And if I ever see Chidi again, there’s only two things about you that I’m gonna tell her – one being that ya got what was coming to ya . . . and the other being that she don’t have to look over her shoulder for you ever again.”
Henry snarled, then, his chains rattling as he tried and failed to fight against them. “Dolan!” He shouted when Lenny turned to walk away from him. “Dolan! You look at me, you nipperkin! Dolan!”
Lenny ignored him, focusing on the door and the ideas of what lay beyond the threshold.
Henry’s shouts, curses, and threats followed him all the way outside of the crematorium and then as he crossed the diminishing, burning field of Selkies
pyres too.
Lenny Dolan kept Henry Boucher’s predicament in his mind, even as he rejoined the other Selkies at the train. And, when all the remaining former Selkie slaves and prisoners departed Bouvetøya several hours later, Lenny Dolan swore to himself that he would keep the memory of Henry Boucher’s final request alive and well in his mind, if only so that he could one day seek out Chidi Etienne and tell her how the monster from their shared past had finally met his end.
23
CHIDI
Far beneath the surface, Chidi tread water alongside the one-eyed, mystic Nomad, Watawa. Some twenty yards away from the other grouping, both had kept their distance from those among the Hammer tribe.
Surrounding their leader, the collective bodies of Hammerheads and their brethren in half-human form shielded any sight of Atsidi Darksnout and his fallen son.
Chidi turned toward Watawa. Will Allambee die? She asked, searching for truth in his one good eye, remembering how he seemed to see and know such things from their time spent together on the road to the Indianapolis Zoo.
Watawa sighed, exhaling a stream of bubbles to float into the above. If the Ancients will it, then, aye, he replied. How did you come to meet and travel with the boy, Chidi? He was not with you when last you parted ways with my brother and I at the zoo.
I met Allambee on land before I ever knew you and Quill, said Chidi, going on to explain to Watawa how she had come to meet Allambee through the events of the Shedd Aquarium in her initial pursuit of Marisa Bourgeois. A lifetime ago, she thought, remembering her admiration for Marisa’s defiance and boldness, and her later curiosity and concern for Allambee ever after.
Watawa nodded when Chidi had finished her tale. For all your encounters, you did not know this boy was the son of Atsidi Darksnout when we rescued his father from the Dryback zoo?
No, said Chidi. But Marisa did . . . she thought to herself, glancing back in the direction of the boat where the elusive runner awaited with Bryant. She’s seen all of this . . .
The notion tormented Chidi, recalling so far back even as to when Marisa had swapped places with Allambee at the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago to thwart Lenny Dolan’s crew of Selkie catchers.
Then came a worser, pervading thought Chidi had long wondered over from the start of her encounters with the mystic and elusive Silkie runner.
What else has Marisa seen and not told any of us?
Chidi had little time ponder such thoughts.
Watawa gently touched upon her seal back, nudging her to swim forward. Go, child. He motioned ahead to the ring of Hammers and the warriors in half-human form. Atsidi Darksnout calls you to meet with him.
Why? Chidi wondered. She forced herself to swim onward, if only so that Allambee might see her and know she had not abandoned him. With a swish of her hind-flippers, she sped forward to cross the distance. She cringed under the scrutinous stares of the warrior wall that she approached. Without warning or signal, the Nomad warriors opened their ranks to allow her to meet with the ones they safeguarded within.
Beyond, Chidi glimpsed Allambee slumped in his father’s arms. At a momentary glance, she recognized her own pain and grief paled in compare to the hollowed look that lived in the mournful eyes of Atsidi Darksnout.
Safely within the warrior ring, Chidi shivered nonetheless when the Nomads closed ranks behind her. Even as she dared to glimpse below, she found still more Hammers lingering in the depths also, their long, silvery bodies patrolling back and forth to ensure their leader was not disturbed from anyone swimming below either. Chidi startled again when the voice of Atsidi Darksnout entered her mind.
Come, Silkie, Atsidi quietly commanded her. Swim nearer to us. My son would have you at his side . . .
Chidi obliged, coasting through the water that she might look on her fallen friend again, her heart and soul both bidding her to accept the fateful truth that all others had already recognized. Despite the eyes of the Hammer chieftain watching her all the while, Chidi could not break her stare of Allambee Omondi.
The Salt had cleaned his wounds, his face pale in the moonlit water. He looked almost asleep to Chidi’s mind, the same as she had found him not an hour before upon their boat. Why did you have to come with us, Allambee? Chidi wondered, her eyes stinging as she hovered nearby, willing him to open his eyes. She wished for him to be whole again, and to cheer her as he had always done since their first meeting upon the shore outside of Chicago too. Why didn’t you just listen to me and stay behind with Zymon and all the rest that we left ashore?
Why didn’t you make him? Chidi’s conscience debated with her. You knew what awaited him here in the Salt . . . knew it from the first moment you met him on the beach outside of Chicago . . . and still you did nothing to save him.
I tried . . . Chidi defended against her guilt. I didn’t want him to come. I tried to protect him.
You failed . . . the nagging voice whispered within her, the same voice Chidi had come to know and submit to in all the long years since serving under Henry Boucher’s harsh tutelage. Just as you always fail, Chidi . . . you can’t help anyone. How many more innocents need to die before you understand and accept that too?
I’m sorry . . . Chidi whispered, not understanding that she had given voice to her thoughts until Atsidi Darksnout answered her in turn.
You are sorry? The Hammer chieftain asked. For what reason? Did you cause this hurt upon my son?
In a way, yes, said Chidi, swept in the tidal wave of guilt taking over her, mind and body. He was wounded because he was trying to save me from the Orcs.
Succeeded, Atsidi gently chided. Not trying. It would seem my son proved successful in his sacrifice, else you would not swim here, my Silkie friend.
Aye, said Chidi, her seal head nodding agreement and submission of his claim. When she dared to look up once more, she found Atsidi no longer watching her, but focused on his son instead.
Watawa the Open Shell claims my son reached for you among all the others, said Atsidi. That he whispered your name at the last. Even in these, his final moments with me . . . aye, with death singing his name, and despite all such circumstance, it remains your name that I have heard my son whisper and call after . . . the Hammer chieftain looked to her in full. Your name is Chidi, yes?
It is, she answered.
Then, tell me, Chidi, said Atsidi Darksnout, his eyes gleaming as he gazed upon her, his voice breaking. How is it that in my son’s last moments in this world, why is it that I am to hear your name upon his lips? What special bond between you?
He . . . he’s my friend, said Chidi.
Atsidi nodded. Then, as his friend, tell me something of the son I have only now come to meet. The same as I must soon bid farewell too in the same breath. What fate led him to this brave end?
Marisa Bourgeois, Chidi thought, but did not say. The longer she searched her mind for an answer, she gathered there was more than a little truth there also. Allambee wanted to meet you, she said to Atsidi Darksnout, reflecting again to among the first conversations she and Allambee had together, and on all the conversations since as well. Meeting you is all he’s ever dreamed about. He’s traveled far and wide on the hope of meeting and helping you.
Helping me? Atsidi asked, even as he clutched Allambee closer. How?
I don’t know, said Chidi. He told me that his mother often said you were a great warrior. She hesitated when Atsidi’s eyes squinted in question of her. But that you had done some bad things and would need his help to find your way again.
His mother said such things? Atsidi asked, his brow wrinkling. Was she with you also?
No, said Chidi. I never met her.
Atsidi slumped before coming around again. And did my son say anything of knowing why I left? He swallowed another mouthful of Salt water, exhaling a steady stream through the gills on either side of his neck. Why I abandoned he and his mother?
Chidi hesitated. She told him that you went away because you were worried someone might come to hurt them in order to get to
you.
And so my enemies have done anyway . . . Atsidi hugged Allambee closer to him. The Orcs found you all the same, my son. He said nothing for a moment, and so Chidi did not speak either. When the silence between them lingered on, Chidi had the thought to swim away.
Allambee’s withered voice called her back. He spoke in the Morokkoan tongue of his father’s people, a language Chidi knew well from her dealings with Henry and the Nomads in New Pearlaya. She did not know that her friend held any knowledge of the language.
Father . . . Allambee whispered, his voice thin and weak. Father?
I am here, my son, Atisidi answered, pulling away that they might see each other plainly. Your father swims at your side, as I should have done all these lost years between us.
Allambee smiled at that. There are voices, Father . . . he said. They call to me . . . they call me to swim . . . Allambee winced as he tried to sit up in his father’s arms. I-I can see them now . . . Though his pain forced him to ease back down again, Allambee craned his head around in Chidi’s direction as if he followed the direction of those no one else but he could see swimming in the water around them. His gaze was clouded, and Chidi thought that her friend seemed to both look through and over her at the same time. Allambee’s eyes widened in delight, his smile dawning as he gazed upon things that only he could see. They call me to swim the green waters, Father . . .
Not yet, Atsidi’s voice broke. Stay and swim with me awhile longer, my son. Beg them to wait for you and let you linger with me now.
They will not, said Allambee. Blinking, the fog over him seemed to lift for a moment, his face paining once more. And yet when the wave of hurt passed over him, his eyes found Chidi’s a final time. Chidi . . . he said, raising his arm and reaching out for her.
She darted toward him without thought, sweeping beneath his hand and rising that he might feel the dome of her seal head. I’m here, she said. I’m here, Allambee. I won’t—
Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 Page 36