by Rob Dircks
And together we cry into the night, “ARRR!!”
Brick inspects my new accessory. “Nice. I approve. You look fine.” And she gestures to pat me on the back again.
“Don’t you dare.”
Then suddenly, she tilts her head, moves her hand to her chin as she looks past me into the night. “Hmm. Something’s up. Something’s up. Darker than it should be. No moon. And feel those waves thumping on the hull? Too big. Too frequent. Arrr, maties, methinks a storm’s a comin’.”
“Um, that’s just you playing pirate, right? Or are we really headed into a storm?”
A wave, slightly larger than the last, crashes against the bow, sending a sheet of spray over us. We grab the railings to keep from being ejected into the abyss. The rain begins.
She nods. “Arrr.”
< 54: Heyoo >
I have never missed okra so much.
“Heyoo, sheet in the staysail and jib tight as you can! Then drop the mainsail! Wah, furl the jib, and don’t forget to hang on to the furling line!”
The wind and waves toss the ship as the storm builds its fury. With one working eye, and sheets of rain pelting down, and barely passing knowledge of sailing terminology, Brick may as well have been yelling for me to recode CORE without a computer, on scraps of paper, in the dark. “The staysail what?”
Brick continues to shout over the din, “Forget it! Switch with me! Just take the wheel, keep us steady as you can, heading into the wind! And all of us, safety lines right now!”
Click. Click. Click. Wah snaps his safety line to a railing just as a wave crashes over the bow, knocking him over, and sending him skidding right to the edge. “WHOO!”
“Heyoo, is he actually having fun?!”
“Yes! Not programmed with enough fear!”
Brick and Wah manage to gather the sail into a double reef, and another wave sends thousands of gallons of sea water breaking across the deck. The wheel bucks in my hands, angry that I might try to control something in this chaos.
“It’s going to be a monster, boys!”
Damn. I have never missed okra so much.
——
The storm has been raging for thirty-three hours.
The sea towers over us, threatening to crush this tiny boat I once thought was enormous. Each time we crest a wave, each larger and more ominous than the last, we slide down the back side to a moment or two of calm before the next wave – and the next wave of fear.
Brick and I, just feet from each other at the wheel, shout to be heard. “Brick! Will this ever end?”
“It’s a terror, this storm! It’ll crank up your Fear-of-Death Index for sure! But don’t worry, all things come to an end! And this ship was built to withstand just about anything! She’s got some real sass!”
I make a mental reminder to ask Brick, if we survive, just exactly what “sass” means. “Do you mind if I go below? Check on Wah?”
“Of course! It’s my watch! And we sure as a pickle aren’t getting anywhere fast! Go!”
I carefully maneuver myself down to Wah’s cabin. In the relative quiet – in other words just slightly less than an ear-shattering din – I can hear moans coming from Wah’s bunk.
I put my hand on the shape under the blanket. “Wah. Wah. I don’t mean to wake you. But I think you were having a nightmare.”
“Hhmh?… Heyoo… Dad… is it… is it okay if I call you that sometimes?”
“Yes. Call me whatever you like. Heyoo the Pirate is my current favorite.”
He reaches for my hand. “This isn’t fun anymore. I’m… scared.”
Strange. I search my database. Yes. This is the first time I have ever heard Wah say those words. The boy without fear. Just three days ago, laughing at the waves, now afraid. I pull him into my arms. “Don’t be scared, young one. Would you like to hear a story to put you at ease?”
A shrug. “I’ve heard all your stories. Two or three times. No offense.”
“Not this one.”
He raises his eyes to mine. Searching. A little smile. “Really?”
“Really. It’s a short story. The story of a very brave man. I only knew him for short time. His name was Arch.”
< 55: Arch >
Sarah
There she is.
Sarah.
Mending the nets by the edge of the river. Her least favorite job. She said it proved even CORE is sexist, making that a woman’s job. Okay, there’s one more thing I can thank CORE for. Not making me mend those fucking nets. It’s awful. Sorry, Sarah.
She’s not alone. There’s a servile unit a few meters away, helping her. It can’t track me, but the moment I make myself known it’ll flip the fuck out and notify every other unit in the goddam Sanctuary. Shit, the way I look, a monster, Sarah will probably flip the fuck out too.
Think, Arch. Think.
Ah, fuck it.
I run from the bushes right towards the unit. Before it can even react, I’m on it, shoving it into the river, holding its head under the water. I can’t drown it, it doesn’t breathe, but it’ll stay disoriented while I smash in its head in with this rock.
“Mmrmph! Mmrmph!” It’s flailing its arms wildly. Fucking things have a pretty strong survival instinct, I’ll give them that. Sorry, buddy, we could’ve been friends. But I can’t risk it.
Instantly, she’s on me. Sarah. Screaming. I try to call out her name, but she’s on my back, gouging my fucking eyes out, so all I can shout is “AAARRRGGHGHH!!!” She’s protecting a fucking unit? I throw her off.
“SARAH! IT’S ME! ARCH!”
The moment before the toolbox smashes into my temple, before I can turn and see her face for the first time in thirteen years, I hear rage like I haven’t heard in a long time. “Arch is DEAD, you motherfucker!”
God, I love that woman.
< 56: Arch >
Woozy
Woozy.
Holy shit, that was some knockout punch. She used a toolbox, though, so I call cheating.
I try to raise my head, see where I am. But my skull splits open with pain.
Blackness.
Woozy.
Holy shit, that was some knockout– wait, I already had that thought. Okay, easy, Arch. You’ve probably suffered brain damage. Don’t make any sudden movements. Let’s just open our eyes, real slow like.
Searing pain. But no blackness. Okay, we’re making progress.
It’s dark. But I can make her out, on the other side of the fire. She’s still beautiful. Maybe even more now. I want to tell her so bad about our son. Wait. The unit! It’s sitting right next to her! What the hell? I try to scream “…sarah… the unit… escape…” It’s just gibberish. I’m fucked. Then the pain.
Blackness.
Woozy.
Okay, third time’s a charm. Or is it three strikes and you’re out? Just lay still, don’t even open your eyes, just talk. Don’t try to scream, or your head will probably explode. Whisper.
“Sarah.”
“Yeah. I know it’s you. Saw your tattoos. Whatever’s left of them.”
I’m tied up. She fucking tied me up. “The unit..”
“Her name’s Em. She’s fourteen years in, so it’s okay. She’s got good judgement. Hasn’t reported you. Even though you just tried to kill her. Even though CORE is on to you, and has told her to report anything out of the norm. So how are you here? You weren’t supposed to remember.”
“I could never forget you.”
“Ha!”
I open my eyes. She’s standing over me.
I whisper, “You don’t look happy to see me.”
She points at me, with her anger, that I remember all too well, boiling up from under. “I mourned you, for our son, for the team, for years, Arch. YEARS. CORE locked me up too. Six of those years. Did you know that? The things they did to me. Sterilized me. Rehabilitated me.
“Oh, and they told me they had a unit. With some map data and pieces of a plan. I told them I didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.
For six torture filled years I told them that. Do you know what they’re talking about, Arch?”
I tighten up my gut, getting ready for her kick to my ribs. And… KICK!… yup, there it is. Ouch.
“Well, Arch? Come on, I want to hear you say it.”
“I- we- I-“
Another kick. Damn. I whimper through the pain. “I sent out the wrong unit.”
“You.” Kick. “Stupid.” Kick. “Idiot.” Kick. Holy fuck. I think she broke a rib. Yeah, she definitely broke a rib. I’ve never seen her this pissed. She lashes out, “You should be dead. I thought you were dead. I wanted you to be dead. Not only did you fuck up the plan. You killed our son. Our son, Arch. You killed him by sending him out there without a hope in hell.”
She gears up for another kick. She’s gonna kill me.
I shout, “No I didn’t! He’s alive!”
Her foot stops an inch from my gut. And for once, she’s speechless. She drops to her knees, catches her breath, then presses her thumb into my temple. Oh my God the pain. Oh my God. Almost blackness, almost.
“Don’t fuck with me, Arch. You’re a ghost. I could kill you right here and not even feel a thing. So choose your next words carefully.”
“….our son is…alive… and he’s coming.”
< 57: Arch >
That’s the day I gave up.
The pain is better. Now it only feels like two axes in my brain instead of three. I open my eyes. Ouch. I’m in a large tent. Small fire in the middle. It’s dry and warm. We’re still near the river, I can hear the current running. Sarah’s putting something to my lips. Tea. Mmm. “That’s nice.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
I smile. She frowns, mutters, “You look like shit. Like actual shit. Not a metaphor.”
“I love you too.”
She laughs. I made her laugh. Man I love that laugh. She stops. “I know that look. You think you got me, because I laughed. Well screw that. I’ve got a LOT of brain reorganizing to do, lots of new information to sort out, and I’ll tell you what, it’s not going to be pretty. The ghost of Arch doesn’t just float in and make everything better.”
“Got it.”
“Good. Now tell me everything about my child.”
I tell her what I know, which isn’t much. She exhales, like she hasn’t exhaled in a decade. Unties me. Offers me the cup to hold. “They made it. It’s a miracle. And where are they now?”
I sip the tea. “No idea. But does it matter? We don’t even know where we are. “
“New Jersey.”
“New Jersey?”
“New Jersey.”
“I heard you the first time. What’s a New Jersey?”
She shows me a detailed drawing. Lots of lines, everywhere. It’s a map. “It’s where we are. The Sanctuary is in an ancient region called New Jersey. We found out one day on the dig. Remember when you used to say the secret digging they’d been doing around the river’s edge and the shores when they were clamming, for centuries, was a total waste of time? They were never going to find anything?
“Well we did find something. Maybe four or five years ago. A small capsized boat. Sealed like a tomb. Inside, a compass, some books. And this map. It showed us two things: that we’re in a place called New Jersey; and that the little oral-history-homemade map we put together for the unit wasn’t that great to begin with – even if you sent out the right unit, it would have had just marginally better odds out there getting to ICEMAN. And then I put together that you sent out the wrong unit and it only had half a map. The plan was finished. That’s the day I gave up. And started over.”
“Started over?”
She whistles. A teenage boy skulks in. “Yes, Sarah?”
“Go get Ray.”
A few moments later, the boy returns with a tall, thick man, not the kind of man you’d want to get in a fight with. Hands gristled from a lifetime of hard labor. Reminds me of me, actually, when I was a bit younger. If I looked human anymore, we could pass for brothers.
“Hey. We’ve got a visitor. Ray, this is Arch. You’ve heard the stories. And Arch, this is Ray. My husband.”
Ah, fuck me.
< 58: Heyoo >
The fourth day of the storm.
< ELAPSED: TIME: 13 Years; 09 Months; 16 Days; NOV-02-2878 >
Brick clambers towards me on the bridge. “Heyoo! Coming your way!”
The fourth day of the storm.
More furious than ever.
She has assured me that our catamaran will remain seaworthy, but I fear it’s taking quite the beating. We’ve lost entire railings, lights, and windows. It is frightening, but we find that one can fear death for only a few hours at a time. So sleep does come, in short doses, when we’re completely exhausted. I can’t even remember what it’s like to walk, or limp, on solid ground. When this is over, Wah can have sailing. I’ll be growing old – if we survive at all – somewhere far away from water. Where units belong.
She bumps into me, snaps her safety line in. “I’ll take her!”
“Thank you! And tell me again how safe we are!”
“Heyoo! My boy! Things have changed for sure on this Earth, weather and all, crazy as a soup sandwich, but do you know how big a wave it would take to do any real damage to this boat? It’ll never happen.”
In answer, the ship groans. We turn to behold a wall of water. I flip up my eye patch, as if the ghost of my other eye might help me make sense of the monster ahead of us. It’s not a wall. It’s a mountain. Millions of gallons of doom. Beyond enormous. Brick crosses herself.
“Brick! I’ve been meaning to ask, what does that mean? The crossing yourself thing?”
“It means that a big enough wave just happened! Get below!”
——
CRASH!
Still alive.
CRASH!
Still alive.
If possible, it’s even worse down here in the cabin. Not being able to see the huge waves that threaten to splinter our ship to pieces. Sitting knee-deep in water, listening to the bilge pump’s losing battle against the intruding ocean. Feeling at one moment weightless, and the next pounded into a corner. Wondering if this is our last stand.
Brick rubs her little metal box. I think the kneading provides some form of stress relief. She is, at last, afraid. “Um. Hey. Anyone want to play B.S.?”
I laugh, half heartedly, point to some playing cards floating among our clothing, food paste packs, a dead fish. “I think I see two Jacks.”
“Hmm. Okay, B.S. is out. Well, we don’t have much room down here, but Wah, I’ve been meaning to show you something. Come on over.”
“Baseball?”
“No, no. Silly. Dancing.”
I smile. “This should be interesting.”
Wah, ever up for a new adventure and simply tired of being afraid, leaps to his feet, wades over to Brick. She returns her little box to its home deep in her pocket, takes his right hand and places it on the small of her back, raises his left hand in the air. I remember seeing humans do this occasionally back at the Sanctuary, though not pitching back and forth on an angry sea and splashing around in a half meter of water.
Their fear dissolves. Brick moves in time to an imaginary rhythm, guiding Wah, both laughing, trying not to fall, and forgetting that we might die at any moment. There is a song that accompanies my memory from the Sanctuary, so I sing:
I love you truly, truly dear,
life with its sorrow, life with its fear,
fades into dreams when I feel you are near,
for I love you truly, truly dear…
It’s just a moment, and perhaps only for being so out of place, it is perfect. Laughing, hand in hand, in the face of our own mortality. It lasts forever.
CRACK!
Well, that forever was quick!
We stop. Calm. Silence. Did a bolt of lightning strike the ship? Did something break? Is this a dream?
The mast crashes through the roof of the cabin, barely missing Wah’s head.
<
br /> It crushes my left arm.
The ocean follows in. We are trapped. Then the world turns upside down. Darkness. Water.
This is not a dream. It is a nightmare.
< 59: Heyoo >
I liked that arm!
I yank my arm free and reach for Wah’s hand in the underwater blackness. He, or Brick, grabs it. Tears it from my shoulder.
Really? I liked that arm!
No time to mourn the loss. I lunge out with my other arm, grab the hand I can now see. It’s small. Wah! I pull him towards me, then push him through the opening created by the mast, at the top-now-bottom of the cabin. I watch his feet, furiously kicking to exit this underwater tomb.
He’s free.
One down.
I turn back. Adjusting to the dark, I see Brick’s lifeless body moving with the turbulent water. I reach out and pull with all my might. Her foot! Pinned beneath the mast! The last bubbles escape her mouth. Dear God, Brick is dead.
No.
NO.
I reroute some of my remaining reactor power to my arm servos, overloading them temporarily. I push the mast, push, push, PUSH! Come on, you damn thing! Just not possible. Her foot. I must tear her foot free.
I try to keep it intact. Blood loss now would ensure death. I pull her foot. Again. Again.
I feel her ankle break.
I’m sorry, Brick.
But that seems to to have given me a better angle. One more pull. She’s loose! I rush to push both of us through the cabin’s opening. Quickly. Time is running out. She hasn’t had a breath in almost a minute. Go! Go!
We reach the surface. Brick doesn’t gasp for breath as I’d hoped. It may be too late.
“Heyoo!”
Wah! Through the torrent I can see him, a few meters away, on the front trampoline portion of the catamaran, the largest piece remaining. “Wah! I can’t swim with Brick! Only one arm!”