Blackbow

by Greg Ramsay

  “Having braved your graciously gentle training, you now get to aid us in escaping this island! In order to do so, we must aid the worthless dropouts in securing a boat. Despite their weakness, try to be gentle; they are still our allies and have done well to secure usable parts. Your role is support.” Bruce announced.

  “Yes Sergeant!” They all shouted in unison before a unified escape effort finally commenced.

  “Do you honestly think we’ll make it?” Spirit asked in private.

  “Do you really need to steal my cynicism shtick from me?” Bruce replied jokingly.

  “True, if I take that from you, you’d have no personality at all!” Spirit retorted.

  “Oh, I’m sorry I bore you, dear Goddess...” Bruce mocked with a smile.

  “Sure you are. You never answered my question.” Spirit nagged, annoyed.

  Strategically, they waited 'til one of the months when the tide occasionally slowed enough to finally came around. Pleasantly, their luck pulled through in the form of a heavily rusted unloved little outboard boat.

  “Alright Hollywoods 1-3 get up on that limp stalagmite and get ready!” Bruce ordered, pointing to a giant jagged pointed rock formation that surrounded the island like guards. “Boat team, get ready to help the occupants and try to save the boat.”

  The seven dropouts proudly stood ready.

  “Everybody else spread out between the two teams so we can enact Operation Stopgap. Spirit, take Birdy and Savage to position B, Monster, head down to the beach and prepare to clench up!”

  All in attendance dutifully took up their positions with silent professionalism. This could be it! Bruce thought optimistically. Once Monster stepped into the waning tide, the ‘stalagmite’ teams stretched vine-ropes behind his back for meters like a fence. They all waited in intense anticipation for the little rusty boat to arrive, carried more by the violent waves then by its own neglected motors. Even in the distance, Bruce could tell the boat was overloaded nearly to the point of overflow, this time thanks more to the addition of massive Mots than of lifeless human slaves.

  Wind roaring, the waves once more stirred with rage, lifting and propelling the boat like a projectile in a railgun.

  “Here we go, bitches, get ready!” Bruce yelled.

  We monitored where boats usually land and spent days clearing the beachhead... if this doesn’t work what else can we do? Monster braced himself like he was waiting to hold up the Earth itself, his massive muscles shivering with anticipation. Water roared towards them, blending with fearful noises from the helpless losers it carried. The derelict boat slammed into Monster’s waiting arms. Veins bulged from his already straining muscle while Bruce screamed “Support,” causing the stalagmite teams to jump off the side, using their weight to tighten the fence in an effort to bolster Monster’s position. Both teams watched from their perches on the massive rock formations as the boat team rushed over to escort occupants away.

  Once the boat was slowed, the vine fence was released, leaving those that held it to weave it into the boat’s remaining tie points. Together everyone pulled the boat away from the tides that gradually threatened to scuttle it against the rocks some of them had just been standing on.

  “Welcome to KamaGiri Island. What is your stance on humans and can any of you fight?” Bruce immediately demanded of the newest recruits. Clearly abused and broken, humans just shook their heads ‘no’ if their guilty faces didn’t say enough. One small Mot looked to his equally human sized counterparts.

  “Our stance is what brings us here, we are against human slavery and were arrested for propagandizing equality. We aren’t fighters...” One finally explained.

  “Then you won’t mind joining our mission. I’m Bruce Knight, leader of our little society here. Our intent is to escape and free all those enslaved. You can just use your muscle if needed and leave the fight to us.”

  “Indeed we don’t mind, thank you King Knight.” Incensed, Bruce restrained his annoyed awkward look. “I’m no King. You join Monster and take orders from him. Carry on.” Bruce said calmly, pointing to a now panting Monster sitting uncomfortably on the beach.

  “Hey Monster, did all that restraint during training make you go soft?” Savage mocked jokingly.

  “No all my holding back made sure your spine remained intact.” Monster retorted through heavy breathing.

  “That’s boring.” Savage replied sarcastically.

  “Sorry; next time I’ll just snap your neck, like a cat.” Monster said with a smile.

  “Thatsa boy!” Savage said, her sarcasm masking worry he’d managed to assuage.

  “Boat team, status.” Bruce called out.

  “Coral fucked it in the low tide, beach drag didn’t help.” One of them replied.

  “Figures. See if you can break the GPS so we can get coordinates to go back next time.” Bruce ordered.

  “I doubt that’s doable...” He replied.

  “Weren’t you a technician?” Bruce argued.

  “A systems tech Trainee. All we did was look at Holdfast door code or sit around in lectures.” He whined.

  “So, you’ve touched a computer in a technical capacity. Therefore, you can automatically do it because I demand as much.” Bruce said, laced with frustration.

  “Maybe, if Google was available. Otherwise, no one can expected to just do stuff because I’m 'Sort Of an IT guy.' It’s a bullshit cliché!” He argued.

  “Your new name is now Google, problem solved. Fix it, Google!” Bruce demanded with finality, ignoring his frustration.

  “Sonovabitch...” Google seethed quietly once Bruce had wandered away like the arrogant, indifferent king he claimed not to be.

  “So we’re still trapped...” Spirit observed quietly, her eyes falling.

  “Ya pretty much, but at least the tech is apparently intact. Assuming the Mots are too retarded to have secured the systems we might have a chance... After we actually get a usable boat that we can turn around without damaging it ourselves or losing it to the damn rocks before we’re even onboard. Which also graciously assumes we ever fucking escape the tides afterward, all so we can starve at sea.” Bruce listed cynically.

  “We won’t starve, we’ve been smoking meat and gathering veggies remember?” Spirit reminded him with somewhat forced hope.

  “Awesome; so we’ll take all that food aboard a boat that won’t have enough room for everyone just so we can capsize and lose everything. The future is always so bright.” Bruce retorted.

  “Yup. At least we can leave people behind; odds are most won’t argue. Tactically, that means the Mots will just be delivering more people for our side.” Spirit theorized.

  “Whom will also then be trapped. That’s a society that will ensure great longevity...” Bruce noted.

  “Focus on getting us a ride, then be cynical!” Spirit said before walking away, bored of him.

  Chapter 7 - Escape

  “Boat team, split up, set up camp at multiple points around the island. I want someone nearby wherever the next ship arrives.” Bruce ordered, hoping a sense of duty would distract from their growing dismay. “Combat team, I want one fighter with each of the three boat teams to act both as guard and runner. That way whichever team that finds a boat can remain nearby to secure assets in case the boat sinks. The rest of you, back to camp; we need to focus on preserving supplies for the return trip!”

  Savage, Birdy and Monster each picked a sub-team from the now-separated original boat team members. Meanwhile, the last shipment of workers they’d saved formed eager teams of their own, determined to earn their place under ‘King Knight’.

  “Newbies, you’ll need guards- take the Hollywoods with you!” Bruce called out to the mixed human-Mot groups.

  “No, we’ll just use our muscle, as you suggest.” The Mot he’d been talking to previously replied seriously.

  Humoured by this, the rest of Bruce’s main team shrugged or smiled, then returned home to hunt and gather. Suicide is their right... though I have
n’t the time to train obedience. So, they can prove themselves as worth my time by surviving. We’ve likely decimated the predatory species on this hellhole of an island by now, anyway. Or at very least made them weary of our resolve to survive.

  Given the sheer size of this island one can’t get cocky. Rambling inwardly, Bruce carried on through the trees that leaned over him. Monkey-like mammals with anorexically thin bodies milled about in the branches, eating away the bark while aggressive mutated birds glared through the black voids of their three eyes. In its own way, Bruce always felt like KamaGiri itself was watching him, doubtless hoping he’d fall, but also with a strange air of collective curiosity. Spirit’s makeshift branch, leaf, wood, and vine meat smoking shack was hard at work drying meat for preservation.

  On auto-pilot, Bruce set about his usual hunter/gatherer rituals until nightfall. When dusk finally filled the crowded forest, he readied his bow for training. Awakening to the sound of grunts, Spirit finds Bruce holding a smooth boulder between his straining arms, rotating between squats and lifting to work his legs and arms efficiently.

  “Shall we run or are you getting too weak for that?” She challenged nonchalantly. Throwing the boulder down like a minor annoyance, Bruce laughed.

  “10k race?” He challenged in return.

  “Too easy.” She replied.

  Wordlessly they lashed their quivers, readied their bows, and took off full speed into the woods. The winner is they whom both are fastest and secure the most food. She’s got no chance. Like so many times before, Bruce went from cocky assuredness to frantically running after Spirit, who’d gained a sudden lead. Together, they raced through vibrant clearings, dingy swampish areas and near-desolate clearings, shooting anything they saw while keeping up a running pace.

  Severely regretting his exercise initiative, Bruce found his performance average at best. Though despite his nagging self-judgment, he managed to keep pace well-enough. After what felt like hours of adrenaline-pumping, desperate running, Bruce found himself strides behind the well-rested Spirit, who had the decency to retrieve their few kills while he lamented his performance in a small pond. “More white feathers than black. It seems I’ve won!” Spirit announced cheerfully, barely masking her mocking disappointment.

  Bruce turned to see three mutant monkeys and a demented bird that looked to come from a drug-induced nightmare all adorned by arrows with his fletching. Meanwhile, Spirit had scored two more kills, leaving a final score of 5-3. Casually Spirit disrobed, joining him in the pond to bathe. Aching from all the exertion, Bruce winced when she bumped into him.

  “Do you ever have interest in me, as a woman?” Spirit enquired suddenly, her expression softened by an apparent mixture of excitement and curiousity.

  “I see you as a warrior, an equal, my sister. Sexuality is something best relieved on one’s own time when it distracts too much from training. I see no value in complicating our relationship, for both our sakes.” Bruce replied with his typical coldly analytical tone.

  Spirit’s face took on the practiced expressionless void she’d always held during training, she turned away from him dejected.

  Gracefully, she gathered herself, “Being warriors does not mean we must practice abstinence. Our resilience thus far implies we’re mature, and therefore unlikely to destabilize our relationship.”

  Spirit retorted casually, letting her frustration bite into him. Bruce ignored her. Thoroughly soaked in the warmth of the sun-baked pond both Sergeants re-dressed then wandered back to their camp with their food, neither of them acknowledging the previous implications Spirit brought up. They wait for another shipment of likely innocent criminals and strike it lucky when a ship barely survives sinking by riding up one of the arches of rock. Carefully, with much aid from their new self-proclaimed underlings Bruce and Spirit dislodge the boat, turn it, and managed to get it safely fastened ashore.

  “Google, get to work! Boat team, condition check, everyone else prep our supplies for exfil.” Bruce delegated seriously, giving Spirit a small smirk. All he received in return was a look that seemed to say ‘I told ya so.’

  “Boat’s still afloat, don’t see any obvious signs of compromise.” A gangly boat team member with a striking red beard reported optimistically.

  “Noted, thanks Ginge. Have your guys do an exterior sweep while I dive.” Bruce commanded, then hopped into the water.

  A few Mots who’d returned with an armload of food stored that, then lifted the boat up for him. Straining, Bruce let his armour take the wrath of coral and buffeting of waves so he could inspect the hull. Overall, to his joy, he found only superficial damage. On the beach he admired their only hope at salvation. Rusty though it was ,the small ship had a rather well-preserved cabin and tough hull.

  “Boat team, hull is good, need interior status.”

  “Solid, Knight, we’ve given 'er three sweeps.” Ginge called back happily.

  Mot bodies were offloaded one by one, then tossed unceremoniously into the waves.

  “A watery grave beats being buried here...” Monster whispered to them sadly, watching them float away.

  “Monster, would weapons testing be inappropriate?” Bruce called out with all the consideration he could muster.

  “I’m sure they have no argument.” Monster replied like a seasoned soldier. Arrows flew into the bodies one by one.

  “How’d that work? Bruce asked.

  “Like shit! Shots are landing but these arrows won’t do much unless you hit a soft spot.” Monster called back, his naturally heightened vision leaving no doubt.

  “Figures.” Bruce muttered frustrated.

  “SUCCESS!” Google suddenly screamed, rushing out to the group with a huge smile.

  “Knight, I’ve managed to reset the ship’s unsecured navigation program to take us back. The gauges report the fuel/batteries we’ve recovered off other recent wrecks are enough to make the trip!”

  “Brilliant work, Google!” Bruce exclaimed with an expression that almost showed pride.

  With a final gesture their entire collection of supplies was loaded into the vessel.

  “Wouldn’t it be better to leave some stuff behind in case this doesn’t work?” Google asked, wandering up beside him.

  “Many of our group have opted to remain and secure their own living, despite my efforts to convince them. They have their own supply. If our effort fails we’ll simply swim back and secure new supplies. Not the end of the world.” Bruce replied calmly.

  “Our supplies are loaded, shall we give this a go?” Spirit suggested, standing suddenly alongside him.

  “Not yet.” Bruce replied before suddenly running off into the trees.

  Silently Spirit gave chase which Bruce didn’t mind. Birds sang almost mournful songs all around them like they always did. Why would anyone want to remain somewhere that even the wildlife lament existing in? Bruce thought to himself, ducking and weaving through rough forested hills with grace. As they emerged into a man-made clearing they’d carved with their own hands, they found sunlight glinting on polished stones.

  “Why here?” Spirit asked.

  “Despite the brutality she kept her promise. Seems only right to say a final goodbye or we may be dragged back here by karma.” Bruce drew his rusty broken sword. Laying it across his arms as if contemplating offering it to her, his eyes fell on the ministerial seal engraved in the top of the blade just below the hilt.

  “There were times I hated you, Reva, almost more than my father... but in your own way you kept your word. You’re why I can stand here and say our worthless species just might have a chance. I’ll keep my word too, I’ll make humanity stronger together with Spirit. I’m sure despite your past failings, your sister would be proud of you like I hope my mom is of me... You can keep this, I don’t need it anymore.”

  Bruce finished, barely repressing his conflicted sadness. Saluting one last time, Bruce shoved his broken blade into the ground as a headstone. Turning away after a final salute, his blade remaine
d behind like a standing symbol of his torture, an offering to a friend and a means of symbolically burying the weak man he was with her.

  “One can’t understate what you mean to me. You made me a woman when I’d been broken beyond the reach of any life that wasn’t slavery. You made a warrior of what was once nothing more than a toy for the powerful, with the same and worse abuses. Like Bruce, I hated you so much at times, but there truly was method to your madness. I only wish you could’ve joined us... The fight ahead of us would’ve been so much more meaningful if we could’ve fought together as equals. I know you wanted to die before you went mad, even if you didn’t want me to hear it, I did... I hope death is all you wanted it to be. Goodbye, Captain...” Spirit said, unashamed to cry.

  Eyes widening in shock Bruce missed a step while stiffly marching away. She wanted to die and Spirit didn’t tell me? I’m not surprised... but I guess it’s different to find out now. I thought she was just losing it, mental illness or somesuch misfortune, let alone the cancer... I wish I could’ve done something... but she died a warrior, so that’s all that matters, right? Bruce agonized internally as he marched, trying to gather himself before Spirit caught up.

  “We’ll make it all worthwhile in the end.” Spirit assured him with a pat to the shoulder then pranced ahead with lithe precision.

  “Damn right.” Bruce affirmed seriously, despite her distance. Unbeknownst to him, Spirit smiled. In due time, they arrived at the beachhead slickened by rain that fell from their faces like tears.

  “It’s now or never, the storm’s gonna wreck the boat before we even try otherwise!” Monster’s guttural voice rang out.

  “Alright, load up. TODAY, WE ESCAPE THIS HELL!” Bruce screamed out like a rallying call.

  Bruce’s students, Spirit, Monster, Google, and five other Mots boarded the ancient boat. Those who chose to remain handed the strongest of the sailors makeshift oars.