Blackwater Kraken (The Dystopian Sea Book 3)

by Sean Michael Argo

Bard shrugged. “The same thing I have always done, I suppose.”

  Abigail looked at the waves crashing against the bow of the ship, “I think I may call it quits.”

  Bard looked at her in disbelief, “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I’ve thought a lot about the attack on Sparta. I refrained from going out with people so many times, and look what happened. I can’t control anything that happens out here. I can’t control when I die or what comes for me from the waves. There are still many things I have yet to experience, and I want to experience them, Bard.”

  “I don’t blame you. I’ve wondered what is going on in Drucilla’s head, honestly. I don’t think she plans on hunting after this is all over with.”

  “Why would you say that?” Abigail looked at him with knit brows.

  “From what we’ve heard and seen, the blackwater will eat through most of our hull, if not leave actual holes in it. The ship is going to take damage regardless of how much we hope it doesn’t. As it stands, we don’t have enough oil left from our season to pay the remaining crew. I have no idea how she will be able to raise funds to pay for crew and supplies to go out again. Plus, have you seen her, she’s tired, Abigail. I think losing Mr. Pit broke her.”

  He could see anger flash into Abigail’s eyes.

  “Don’t say that. She’s fine. She’s just exhausted and eager to see this through like the rest of us. I am going to see if Vlad needs any more help.” Abigail disappeared.

  Bard walked into the wheelhouse to see how far they needed to go into the blackwater. Drucilla was engrossed in the charts spread out over the table in the quarterdeck. According to her measurements, they only had another day of full travel left to make it through the Black Water. She did not acknowledge his presence as he sat across from her.

  “Incoming. Worm spotted behind us. Over.” The radio crackled.

  “Bard, handle that please,” Drucilla’s voice was placid. She did not look up from the charts to order him.

  Bard was stunned for a moment by her nonchalance. In the next moments, his feet led him to Vladimir’s workshop. He rapped on the door and pushed it open before he was given permission.

  Before Vladimir had the opportunity to say anything, he said, “Worm approaching fast behind us. We need to go.”

  Abby snapped into action, running to the upper decks ahead of them. Vladimir turned to Artisema, “You stay safe below and finish this.”

  “I can help. I’ve helped before.” She protested.

  “No!” Vladimir hollered at her, “You stay where it is safe.”

  Vladimir closed the door behind them. “Come with me.” He led the way to a small room which was set up similar to a utility closet. Within was all of the weapons Vladimir helped create for the battle. He piled Bard’s arms with lances to carry to the upper decks. Bard saw him lift a reconstructed gun which he recognized as one of Riddle’s arm attachments repurposed for Vladimir to handle.

  Above decks, the sky was dark from thick clouds surrounding them. In the distance, the sounds of the other two ships engaging with the worm reverberated over the water. Nothing should have surprised the crew of the Penny Dreadful at this point, but the worms looked far different than they expected. Their round bodies rose high into the air, slicked with the Black Water sliding down their dark purple scales. The head was void of eyes and in the place was a gaping mouth filled with row after row of teeth arranged in concentric circles.

  Abigail was already atop the deck helping launch arrows at the beast. Kalak mounted a jet ski in the distance. Lately, Bard felt rather useless above the ship and could not stand the thought of idly being ordered from place to place while the thick of the action occurred behind them. He decided to join Kalak on the open waters.

  The rumble of the jet ski between Bard’s legs awakened memories of better times. He was armed with both his harpoon and lance. Kalak and Bard ran in tandem around the aft end of the Penny Dreadful. The great worm was more massive than they thought. It's length easily twenty feet. Kalak’s chainsaw roared.

  He bravely charged forward, sliding around the circumference of the beast, pulling his blade through its flesh. The creature screamed at being cut and started to thrash in the water. Bard evaded it as it dived, teeth whirring like mechanisms down towards him. It plunged beneath the surface, and all that remained was a loop of its body above the waves.

  Bard’s harpoon landed smack in the middle of its body. He ran the jet ski, as fast as possible, away from the beast until the hook pulled and ripped through its flesh. Just as its body crashed, another head rose from the dark waters. The sun’s rays disappeared and the only light left was the florescent white fog lights on the two ships. Arrows fell into the water around Kalak and Bard.

  The men on the decks of the Samani ship were not surprised by the appearance of a second worm. They expected it, letting Bard and Kalak deal with the first one while they kept eyes peeled and hands prepared for destroying its mate. They had an air cannon of sorts which unleashed what appeared to be breakable orbs filled with an acid of sorts. Bard couldn’t tell what it was that splattered across the worm, spreading the corrosive wounds everywhere it touched.

  Bard was caught in a moment of awe as he saw the acid not only sear the flesh of the worm but eat it away until the guts fell through the hole pierced by the projectile. The head of the first beast reappeared in the water close to Kalak. From his position he was vulnerable. The mouth sucked in the water like a siphon, and it snaked back and forth over the surface towards Kalak.

  Kalak sped up, fighting the pull into the beast’s mouth. Bard raced to reach the creature before doom befell Kalak. His jet ski ran parallel to the beast. He discharged lance after lance as fast as he could until the beast slowed down and stopped creating a forceful pull into its mouth. Kalak was quick to respond to the change of events and circled the head. He came down upon its great neck with his chainsaw. Bard took the opportunity to discharge more lances into the beast as its body kicked and fought against its death.

  Both corpses sank into the black goop. Bard rode up to Kalak’s side. Kalak screamed at Bard, but Bard could not make it out until he was closer to him.

  “Take your fucking boots off!” Kalak screamed.

  Bard looked down, sure enough, the blackwater managed to eat away at the soles. He checked his pants and spotted the first splatters. Right there, bobbing above the blackwater, Kalak and Bard quickly stripped down naked, trying their best to avoid any spray from atop the surface. The ships nearing them posed a threat. Their ocean spray spewing up from their wake would inevitably soak them in the putrid substance.

  Fate shined down a good omen as the clouds broke with a mighty crack and the heavens opened up drenching the waters all around them in heavy rain. The men aboard the small boats tried their best to get Bard and Kalak aboard without being tainted by the blackwater. At one point Bard ended up being splashed on the calf. He screamed out as it seared his flesh before the rain could cleanse it.

  “Let me see your wound,” Kalak ordered. It still seared.

  “This just happened?” One of the men aboard asked.

  “Yeah,” Bard sucked air in through his teeth, “As I was coming up. Ugh.”

  One of the other men approached with a bottle of liquor. He handed it to Bard. Bard went to pour it on the wound when the man who handed it to him motioned for him to stop, “Drink it.”

  As Bard put the bottle to his lips, another man came up with a red-hot iron heated from one of the oil lamps on the small craft. They handed him a leather strap, and Bard realized what would come next. He took a few more swigs of the liquor before clamping his teeth down. Bard closed his eyes as they cauterized his wound.

  They did not give him time to recover. As they bandaged the fresh burn, Bard was given instructions. “You’re going to come down with a fever. If there is any discoloration around your wound over the next two weeks, you need to cut around it and re-cauterize it. Understand?”

  Bard nodded his head, trying
to swallow the pain in his leg. The wound was not extensive but it hurt horribly from both the blackwater and the hot iron. Kalak patted Bard’s shoulder.

  “I am glad you are okay,” Kalak said.

  “Me too.”

  “I’m going to alert the Captain that all is well. I think we should stay aboard these Samani ships until we arrive at the oil rig.” Bard nodded in consent.

  The men set Bard up with a somewhat comfortable bed made of a variety of materials. He was grateful to have the aid of one of the prettier women aboard. She insisted he didn’t move and helped him with water and a bite of food.

  “You need to sleep. Your body is going to be feverish soon, and if it can’t fight off the infection in time, there will be no hope of you helping when we finally arrive at the kraken’s den.” She urged.

  “I can’t sleep, not with us getting close to the next phase.”

  The woman scowled at Bard and disappeared. He tried to reach after her, but she was gone, and he could feel the first signs of fever ache throughout his body. When she returned, she came bearing a cup of steaming liquid.

  “Drink this.”

  Bard tried to refuse, as the smell was putrid, and he did not trust her. She pinched his cheeks to force it down his throat. He tried to fight, but the fever weakened his body and flushed through his veins at that moment. He let her pour it down his throat and choked on the bitter herbal tea.

  Within moments Bard was floating in a warm daze, and then there was nothing.

  25.

  Bard awoke in a confused panic. Sweat drenched his hair and clammy skin. He looked around him, seeking out the girl who showed him kindness. Abigail kneeled beside him instead. As the fog from his brain cleared, he recognized the familiar surroundings of the Penny Dreadful.

  “Are we close to the oil rig?” Bard asked.

  “We have been here for a while.”

  “How long have I been out?”

  “About half a day,” she said.

  Bard’s entire body ached with each minute movement. He checked the wound. Although there was swelling, it did not look infected. He let out a sigh of relief, thankful that other than a raging headache and a fatigued body, he was fine. It was just the two of them below decks. Bard could hear chaos reigning up above and the sound of rhythmic discharges exploding from the three ships.

  “How bad is it up there? Why are you down here?”

  “Captain ordered I stay with you and watch your wound until you wake up. The girl who patched you said that you should drink this when you came to,” Abigail handed him a small vial of another mysterious liquid.

  “Is it going to knock me out?” Bard eyed it suspiciously.

  “No, she said it was a painkiller though. It shouldn’t affect your reflexes, and it is supposed to numb the area for eight hours at least.”

  “Thank goodness,” he downed the vial.

  It was only a matter of moments before Bard could stand without pain. Abigail removed the bandages from his wound before he could protest. Her soft hands sent chills rippling over Bard’s skin as she dressed the burned flesh with a clean cloth.

  When they appeared above decks the scene around them was cloaked in thick smoke broken only by the fire plumes of explosives hitting the various worms slithering through the water. Bard tried to assess the situation through the cloudy veil. He could see the oil rig, not far off in the distance. That’s where Vladimir needed to get.

  In between discharges, the smoked thinned in certain areas. Bard could see the dire situation in full. The water around the Penny Dreadful slithered and writhed with the monstrous worms. Bard looked at Abigail.

  “I think it might be a spawning ground.” He said.

  Abigail nodded, “That’s what Drucilla thought too.”

  Bard rubbed between his eyebrows, taking a moment to fully assess the situation before diving into battle with his comrades. The kraken was nowhere in sight. The worms guarded her lair though, and it seemed as if there were too many of them to take down with the amount of explosions they arrived with.

  Bard touched Abigail’s shoulder and pointed to Drucilla. Drucilla stood behind a mounted projectile weapon of some kind. Round after round blasted into the waves with expert precision. Abigail grinned.

  “When did we get that?” Bard asked.

  Abigail shouted over the battle, “Vladimir had it tucked away, I guess. One of Riddle's spare arms. We better join them,” she frowned.

  Drucilla’s eyes were wild as she let round after round sink the worms down to the fathoms below. Vladimir was orchestrating the catapults in between getting the last bits of explosives loaded onto a cable launched across the water to the oil rig. His zip line looked sturdy enough, but Bard couldn’t help noticing there was a portion of it which sagged just within reach of the deadly worms.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Kalak asked Vladimir.

  “Yes, I vant to do this myself.”

  Kalak checked the cable one more time for stability. Vladimir harnessed himself onto the makeshift zip line. Bard looked out at the cable disappearing into the thick smoke. The sight of the water writhing combined with the thought of Vladimir’s journey made him queasy.

  “You checked your radio,” Kalak asked, "We haven't used these in years, and nobody has traded for fresh batteries in even longer."

  “Yes,” Vladimir rang from his device. The three men listened to the test come through on Kalak’s.

  Vlad was just about to push off when Kalak stopped him and offered him a firm handshake. “Come back.”

  Vladimir squeezed back and just before pushing off into the unknown said, “I vill do my best.”

  They watched the old tinkerer for as long as they could before losing sight of him altogether. Kalak turned on Bard immediately. “You will handle communication with Vlad considering your condition.”

  Bard scowled at Kalak. “If you want more responsibility, keep your eye out for worms closing in on us. There are flare guns in that compartment,” Kalak pointed to one of the benches that opened up into a storage unit, “Shoot them at the worms so that we can see them, understand?”

  Bard nodded. He was on watch while everyone else was of real help. The wounded harpooner stared out in Vladimir’s general direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of where he was. The best Bard could do was take it easy and keep his eyes vigilant and continually moving over the scene around him. While he watched the battle, his mind flooded with the thoughts that nagged at him ever since Morgan’s death.

  Once again, he was failing to take the initiative, failing to be of actual service to the Penny Dreadful like the other officers. He was the best harpooner anyone had even heard of, much less witnessed, and without a leviathan to hunt, he was struggling to be of use in war. It would be one thing if he was merely a deckhand, but they gave him the position of harpooner and a place in the officer’s quarters. Bard knew better than to leave his post, but so much of him longed to help more than he could at that moment.

  These thoughts fell silent as Bard heard the revving of engines that did not belong to the Penny Dreadful. He shined one of the lights on the deck over the water, sweeping it towards the sound. Of course, Panzer Fish cultists needed to join the action, Bard grumbled to himself. He looked around to see if anyone else spotted what he was illuminating. Kalak ordered a group of archers to meet the oncoming attack. There were not many of the cultists, maybe the last ten this side of the Cascadian Sea, but with the worms as well, it looked like a hard fight coming their way. Just then, to Bard’s relief, he saw one of the cultists end up swallowed by a giant worm. At least they were not working together and considering that the worms appeared able to slither up the sides of the whaleship to attack, that was a comfort indeed.

  The battle raged on. Screams of triumph, determination, and pain bounced chaotically over the waves. Flashes of fire illuminated the gruesome scene. Every once in a while the brief illumination of a worm being hit also highlighted the death of a man caught in the ci
rcular saw-like jaws grinding the bodies down the worm’s gullet with nothing more than a spray of blood spouting from their mouths.

  26.

  Vladimir flew over the open water. He kept his knees up on either side of the makeshift hang glider with one hand steadying his harness. He armed his free hand with a gun. His body skidded through the thick plumes of smoke, stinging his eyes. Arrows rained down around him. Now and then an opening of fresh air granted him clarity.

  The rig was just a few more seconds away. One of the worms burst through the water below Vladimir. Its mouth arched and missed him by centimeters. He could not look behind to see if his crewmembers slaughtered the beast or not. He assumed it fell instead of gliding back into the water by the amount of wake bursting up into the air and soaking him.

  Vlad’s feet hit the platform. He worked quickly to unfasten the explosives from the line. Just as he set the package down, a blow hit his upper shoulder, causing him to stumble forward. The ball of his foot caught the edge of the platform. He pushed himself back and rolled to the side, avoiding another blow from a Panzer Fish.

  Vladimir fired a round into the belly of his attacker. The cultist touched the wound as he fell from the oil rig. Another two Panzer Fish managed to clamor atop the structure. Vladimir avoided darts being spat at him from one while shooting the other down. He only had three more rounds within the gun and no bullets left that fit the ancient weapon. The first bullet missed, and the last Panzer Fish closed the space between himself and Vlad.

  Vlad was forced to react to the attacks. The cultist’s sword swung down at him, causing him to dive to the opposite side. Vladimir skid on his back shooting his last rounds into the Panzer Fish and hoping that was the last of him. As he stood, he felt blood soaking through the cloth covering his left arm. He checked the wound. It hardly broke the surface.

  Vladimir did not let the pain in his arm slow him down. He dragged the vast number of ancient explosives towards the center of the rig where the drill bit was. The waves crashed against the platform, the wind blew through the bars of the rusted device, freezing his hands with the salt water it carried.