Blackwater Kraken (The Dystopian Sea Book 3)

by Sean Michael Argo

He rubbed his nose, “Nah, I can get that.”

  Drucilla looked over her shoulder at Mr. Pit. “I haven’t exchanged anything yet.”

  Bard smirked and caught up with his Captain. He dropped three brass coins into the man’s hand, leftovers he's managed to hold onto ever since the sinking of the Osiris. The man nodded and clambered onto his bike. Drucilla’s face lit up as she stepped into the cab, a new experience that did not involve a beast trying to eat her was rather unique.

  Shops of all kinds lined the avenue. Streams of people stood stagnant closest to these stores. The rest were in constant motion. The driver weaved in and out of the pedestrians with skilled maneuvers. He never stopped. If he foresaw a hold-up, he would squeeze his horn and slow down only slightly.

  Bard leaned forward and yelled over the sounds of the populace, “Take West Avenue at the end of Main.”

  The man nodded in response. Drucilla was squeezed between her two shipmates. “Why does everything smell like cinnamon?”

  “It’s our main export.”

  “I love it,” Drucilla closed her eyes and took in the warm spice mingling with the fish odor and filth of the people.

  They sat in awed silence as they breathed in the essence of Atoll Sparta. At the end of the Main Avenue, the cart took a sharp turn onto West. The crowds immediately disappeared. The sun was lowering in the sky, and the taller buildings cast a shadow over the dispirited street.

  “Right here.” Bard slipped the man a tip for being quick and efficient.

  12.

  Drucilla, Mr. Pit, and Bard stood in front of the engineer’s place of business. Dru and Mr. Pit looked to Bard to take the lead. Bard groomed his hair, brushing down the windswept strands with wetted fingers, before rapping on the heavy wood door. A stout, grizzled and graying man opened the door.

  “What d’ya want?”

  “I’m here to see Kira.”

  The door slammed in his face with enough force to rattle the tin roof up above. The echoes of a heated conversation reverberated out to them. Bard kicked at the little bits of sand coating the docks. Captain Drucilla looked at Mr. Pit, keeping her hand on the hilt of her saber as they listened to the unintelligent squabbling.

  The door opened, and a disheveled girl with loosely bound brown curls popped her head out, “Bard!”

  The woman burst through the door and embraced the seafaring Spartan, landing a kiss on his cheek. Her hands were stained black around the fingertips and in the creases of her knuckles. The same black marks coated her coveralls in pools of dark splotches.

  She pulled away and slugged him in the shoulder, “What took you so long to come see me?” She stepped back and braced both palms on her hips. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

  Bard smiled and rubbed the nape of his neck, “The last couple years have been hectic, to say the least. This is my Captain, Drucilla, and her first mate, Mr. Pit, of the Penny Dreadful.” They each nodded as Bard introduced them, “Can we come in?”

  “Yes, of course,” Kira opened the door further to allow them passage.

  What seemed to be a small building opened up into a large room. Workbenches and shelves ringed the perimeter. There were few flat surfaces not taken up by engine parts, cogs, wheels, and tools. Despite the unkempt appearance of Kira, the engineer’s space was clean and organized. The smell of oil and grease assaulted their noses as they stepped inside of the workspace.

  There were four other men, each working diligently on a separate project. The older gentleman who greeted them initially paced between the other three only pausing to make a comment or suggestion as he monitored the work.

  “Kira,” Bard called her attention before she had a chance to begin talking, “We’re here on business.”

  “Oh?” The old man handed her a wrench and gestured for her to return to her bench, “Talk while I finish this up.”

  Drucilla took long strides around the outside of the room, taking time at each workstation and bench to observe the engineers. Mr. Pit never left the door. He watched on in silence as Bard followed Kira to the engine she was repairing.

  “I’m sure you have heard of the blackwater by now.”

  Kira nodded without looking up from her project. Bard told her everything he knew. He told her about the kraken and the survivor they found floating on the altar buoy. She listened intently and wiped her hands on a well-used swatch of cloth before nodding and turning around.

  “Terrance!” The sound of her voice cut sharp through the air, “These people need to know everything you know about offshore drilling—the old way.”

  “What’s this all about?” The little old man running the operation came to Kira’s call. He cleaned his thick, fogged glasses before looking back up to Kira for further explanation.

  “They think the blackwater and a real-life kraken came from an old drilling site. Is this possible?

  The other engineers stopped what they were doing and turned towards the conversation to eavesdrop. “I ‘spose it’s possible. You know where the origin is?” He asked Bard.

  Drucilla stepped forth to join them and handed the old man a small sheet of paper with the coordinates etched onto it. “This is where we think it started.”

  “Hmm,” the little old man looked intently at the scrap of paper while he thought for a moment. Without a word, he disappeared into an adjacent room. The sounds of items being tossed around created enough of a raucous to cause everyone waiting to startle every now and again.

  When he reappeared, his arms were laden with different tubes. He motioned for one of the engineers to move a bench to the middle of the room. The table scraped against the wood floor as the engineer repositioned it, and the old man dropped the tubes onto the table. He opened each one, removing the blueprint only enough to check which it was. Finally, he pulled out the one he wanted and spread it over the table for everyone to see.

  “This is the baby you got to blame right here,” his temperamental air was replaced with jovial admiration as he pointed to the plans laid out before him.

  Drucilla leaned over the plans. She did not understand all of the notes or exactly what she was seeing. She studied plans for ships in the past, but this was the first time she had seen schematics like these. Mr. Pit gave the blue and white scroll a brief glance before waiting with crossed arms for the old engineer to explain himself.

  Terrance stood by Drucilla in silence, giving her time to take it in. Eventually, she let out a small sigh and looked up at him.

  “Tell me about it,” Drucilla gestured with a nod of her head.

  “You see this here?”

  “Yeah.”

  Bard bent over the table, propping himself up on his elbows and forearms.

  “I am not going to explain the entire process. Essentially though, this drill uses multiple drill tips to carve a hole through the Earth. The further down it drills, the stronger the drill tip used and eventually the walls of the pit are lined with concrete to prevent it from caving in as drilling continues.”

  Drucilla rubbed her brow as she thought of what this meant. Terrance continued, tracing an imaginary line with his finger towards the bottom of the sketch, “Pretend this is the ocean floor,” everyone nodded, “This particular drill drilled around 5,000 feet down and left a hole in the ocean that’s 3 feet in diameter,” Terrance was oblivious to the color washing from Drucilla’s cheeks at the sound of this. He continued, “Now, the thing is, we don’t know what’s below the ocean floor. There will be a hole, but there is no telling what is on the other side of that. Usually, cephalopods prefer caves.” He scratched one of the protruding tufts of white hair. “I don’t have any information on why they stopped drilling. It could very well be because of a cave on the other end. Then again, that kraken can fit through anything her beak can. Not very comfortable though.” Terrance let out a light-hearted chuckle.

  Drucilla tried to digest what all of this meant, “She can fit through anything her beak can? How big is her beak?” The little man shrugged and
started to roll up the blueprints. Drucilla laid her hand over the center to weigh it down, “We need this.”

  The engineer’s blood boiled up into his cheeks and ears. “Oh, no you don’t,” he gave the map a swift yank, pulling it from Drucilla’s grasp, and rolled it up.

  “I’m sure there is a price,” Drucilla squeezed the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white.

  “You don’t need it.”

  “How do you propose we take care of this then?”

  “Underwater explosives.” He laughed. “That’s the only way you’ll plug it up, and hell only knows what the repercussions would be of a blast like that."

  Drucilla’s irritation grew more difficult to control, “Tell me what you know,” the words were sharp.

  The man’s smile slipped from his lips. He stared at Drucilla with his blue eyes. They were the freezing frosty, blue showcasing the first signs of blindness. “The best thing to do is trap that creature in her den and blow the entrance up. The thing is, I’m not a geologist,” he jabbed his thumb into his chest, “and even if I was, without samples to study, I couldn’t tell you what to expect from blasting there. You could end up trigging an earthquake or releasing large amounts of gas. If this drill is the source of the blackwater, then you could just go and make it worse for all we know.”

  Drucilla took a deep breath. “What is the probability of that?”

  The engineer shrugged and walked the blueprint back into the room. As he returned, he continued, “There’s really no way for me even to give you an estimate. Luckily, any floating settlements probably won’t notice an earthquake. The problem is that it could potentially destroy land settlements. Even Seattle has structures supporting it from the sea floor. If a tsunami ripped through there, it could be catastrophic.”

  Drucilla looked at Mr. Pit and Bard. Seattle was still damaged and undergoing construction. It could not sustain more damage. The Battle of Seattle hurt their infrastructure and population. The recent developments with the blackwater and now this kraken had destroyed the fishing industry.

  “Thank you,” Drucilla finally said. She turned to leave.

  Mr. Pit followed Drucilla.

  Bard turned to Kira. “I guess this is goodbye for now.”

  Kira bit her lip and looked at Terrance, “Can I take leave long enough to escort them back to their ship?”

  Terrance was a bit flustered. She could tell by the red in his cheeks. He looked at her finished work and gave her a dismissal wave of his hand. Kira gave a little bounce onto the balls of her feet and wrapped one of her arms around Bard’s elbow.

  “Come on then,” Drucilla motioned.

  The man with the cart was nowhere in sight. The street was empty. Drucilla sighed, “How long is the walk back?” She looked up at the skies. It was almost nightfall.

  “I know a shortcut straight over the top,” Kira reassured them. She re-secured her hair before scaling a small wood ladder one door down.

  Drucilla looked at Bard. He gestured for her to go before him. Atop of the building, they could see the stretch of metropolis around them. Kira pointed out a route connected by strong fishing nets, long planks of the board and flat or slanted rooftops. She skillfully led the way straight across the concentrically designed settlement.

  13.

  It was dusk by the time they reached the port where the Penny Dreadful docked. Bard recognized Abigail’s dark silhouette leaning over the railing in stark contrast to the bright rising moon. She straightened up when she saw the four of them step into the dim, cloudy lights on the docks.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you when I see you?” Kira shoved both of her hands into the pockets of her worn coveralls. A strand of hair fell in her face.

  “Thank you for helping us,” Bard said.

  Drucilla and Kalak went ahead onto the ship. Bard turned around to watch them board the Penny Dreadful and spotted Abigail waiting for him on the gangplank. He looked back at Kira. She was watching her toes. After a moment she cast her eyes up at Bard.

  “Will I see you again?” she asked.

  “I hope so. I should be out on the town tonight, and then…. I’m not sure what’s in store for me.”

  Kira’s hands exploded from her pockets and jutted out to Bard’s sides. The full weight of her body embracing him caused him to teeter backward. Her hair smelled like oil, salt, and cinnamon. Bard ran his hand soothingly over the fine tresses.

  “It’ll be okay.”

  “It’s already been so long, Bard, I just hope I see you again, too many sailors who don't come home these days.”

  She looked up at him, and he could see the moisture glossing her large, brown eyes.

  “I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.”

  Kira released Bard. She didn’t linger around or say goodbye. Her hand slid down into his, she gave it a gentle squeeze and then disappeared the same way she came—into the darkness.

  It took seconds for him to reach the gangplank where Abigail ran to meet him.

  “Kalak is coming with us.”

  “Sounds good.” Bard almost asked who else was coming. He tried to keep a smile as he thought of all the friends they’d lost that should be there with them. The barracks used to feel full, booming with life. Abigail touched his shoulder.

  “Should we wait on the docks?” she asked.

  Excitement glistened in Abigail’s eyes. Bard nodded for her to lead the way. An authentic smile curled the corners of his mouth as he watched her swagger down the gangplank. In the past, it was a point of pride that she never set foot on a fixed structure. If anyone asked her to go ashore, she would laugh at them and usually crack a joke regarding how much sea time she had in comparison to them. Bard never fully understood her aversion considering she was always curious. She waited for him just before the horizontal line marking the entrance of Atoll Sparta.

  Abigail smiled at Bard as he approached, “Ready?” She asked with an open hand stretched out towards him.

  There was a slight pause of anticipation before Bard wrapped his fingers around hers and they stepped over the threshold together. Abigail immediately took a few steps forward—then all of a sudden teetered a bit.

  “Shit,” Bard said and rushed to support her.

  “What’s wrong with me?” Abigail’s eyes flew to his.

  Bard tried not to laugh, that was until he remembered how much shit she’d given the crew. He opened his mouth to tell her, but a chuckle rolled out.

  “Tell me!” the words were rushed out and cut short by Abigail dashing to the edge of the structure and puking into the water.

  Kalak’s loud steps approached.

  Bard tried to breathe through peels laughter. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Fuck you!” Abigail tried to stand, but as soon as she did, she hurled again.

  Bard looked up at Kalak. He had Artisema on his shoulders. His voice boomed out to Abigail, “It doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

  Abigail’s stomach gradually calmed. She walked at a slow, cautious pace back to the others. A pained, cross expression contorted her features. She stepped past her three companions and then stopped. She tried to hide the fact she was breathing through nausea. “I’ve still never been sick at sea.”

  She looked back at her companions. Kalak and Bard maintained composure for a moment laughter bubbled back out. Abby cursed and turned her back on them again, her fists curling into tight balls.

  Artisema’s voice called out to Abigail.

  “I have ginger candy. It’ll help.” She leaned over Kalak’s massive frame to hand Abigail one of the sticky, brown sweets.

  Abigail’s temperament broke, she smiled and took the candy from her, thankful to have something to help with the land sickness. As soon as the nausea subsided, she turned on Kalak.

  “What do you think you’re doing bringing her out drinking?”

  Kalak shrugged. “She’s worked hard all day. She wants to see the city. Nothing will happen to her.”

  Abigail d
id not like this, but she could not deny Artisema an opportunity to get out. Abigail knew what it felt like, and experienced deep empathy for her lack of a burden-free childhood.

  “She’s your responsibility.”

  “You won’t get no trouble from me!” Artesima made a quick salute before slapping her hand back on Kalak’s head for balance.

  Abigail stopped beneath the archway.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Bard asked, stepping behind her.

  “I haven’t seen anything like it before. Well,” she looked at Bard with her green eyes, “Not up close like this at least.”

  “Where do you want to go tonight?”

  “I don’t care, honestly,” Abigail smiled. “I just want to experience Sparta.”

  Bard raised his eyebrows. It was late in the night and only certain kinds of establishments remained open. His cheeks flushed slightly and he cleared his throat as he thought of the wild side of Sparta. “Um, well, there’s a bar a lot of locals gather at. We can take the long way there through some of the agriculture centers.”

  “Sounds good,” Abigail said. "Never seen dirt that wasn't wet."

  “We’re down for anything,” Artisema took the liberty of speaking for both her and Kalak.

  The night was dark. A cool breeze whipped through the city and prickled the skin. It was on the cusp of being uncomfortable, yet fresh and crisp. The agricultural sectors were on the furthest stretches of the curved structure. They branched out in a series of docks, nets, pens, and random creations filled with plants and animals floating atop the ocean surface.

  Abigail pointed to one odd looking clear dome lush with vegetation in the interior.

  “They’re terrariums,” Bard supplied.

  A wild squeal sounded off in the distance and stole the party’s attention. It took a moment for their eyes to make out the silhouette of a young girl tugging on a stubborn pig. She would stop her efforts and he would stop moving. As they drew near, they could see her stomp one foot in defiance.

  “Come on Stan, we’re gonna be late for dinner!” The pig sat down. He came up to her chest while sitting on his hindquarters. The little girl growled in frustration.