by Robert Gray
Sam couldn’t get on the ship quick enough. Me, well, I could wait, though I did have to admit this “voyage,” as Dad called it, did sound a little exciting ….
At least until a few days later, when we hit the nastiest storm I’d ever seen, which wouldn’t have bothered me so much, if I could see land.
The torrential rain sloshed around the ship while the waves heaved us from side to side. Most of the time, I couldn’t tell the difference between sky and ocean. It didn’t matter, anyway. Both made me feel as if trapped inside a soaking wet coffin.
Sam, however, was having the time of his life. He and the captain steered the ship while yelling out piratey insults like scurvy and barnacle to describe their hatred for the storm.
I found shelter in the galley (why didn’t they call it a kitchen?) where my mom and dad struggled to keep plates and whatnots from falling off the shelves.
Mom cleaned the broken plates off the floor—the snakes on her head looking pretty seasick as they curled around each other for support—while Dad added two more sets of arms to his human form and tried, with little success, to keep the rest of the dishes and cups from crashing down. With the three of us, we managed to gather most everything not fastened to the wall and lock it away in a sturdy old chest.
The raging storm boomed and cracked, and the galley door crashed open, sending in a blast of wind, which carried the all too familiar smell of the undead.
One of the zombie deckmates stood in the doorway, his clothes dripping wet. He shook some of the water off as his boots squished down the steps. When he saw me, a dreamy grin spread across his face, like he’d just gotten a whiff of the juiciest brain ever.
“Captain be much obliged if you’d relieve some of the hands as they been fighting the storm for hours and are tired and hungry,” the zombie said to my dad, though his bloodshot eyes never left me.
“Arr,” I said, trying on my best pirate voice, and I threw up a hand to salute him.
A tin cup we missed packing rolled off a shelf, and the zombie caught it like he meant for it to happen. He brushed against me as he passed—Ugh! I could smell every bit of his wet, dead flesh—and he filled the cup with some green foamy stuff and took a long swig.
“I’ll go up. You girls stay here,” Dad said.
As good and dry as that sounded, I wasn’t into bonding with the brain eater. I’d much rather take my chances with the storm. “I’ll go up with you—”
But Mom cut me off. “Listen to your father. It’s dangerous out there.”
I was going to say, But Sam’s only seven and he’s practically driving the ship, until one of Mom’s ill snakes snapped at me. I could tell she wasn’t in an arguing mood, so I kept my mouth shut and watched Dad turn into a humongous green gorilla and tromp up the steps and into the storm.
Thankfully, the zombie followed right behind Dad, but my happiness was short lived. Dad must’ve been big enough for five zombies, because five zombies crashed in, cursing and stinking. What a bunch of low-life brain eaters they were. Worse, they all smiled as they passed me, and not in a friendly way.
I hadn’t noticed the pot simmering on the stove until one of the zombies grabbed it and slammed it down at the center of the table. The others shoved their hands into the slop and scooped out grayish-green jelly and stuffed it into their mouths.
I started to ask Mom if she knew how much longer this storm would last, when I realized she didn’t look too good. Her snakes sagged even more than before, and her skin glistened with sweat. “Maybe you should lie down,” I said.
“I’ll be fine,” she managed. “Just need some air.”
She stood up, and for a second I thought her snakes were going to throw up all over the place. Then her cheeks puffed up, and she rushed above deck, leaving me alone with the five hungry zombies and an empty pot of brains.
“Should be over in three hours,” one of the zombies said. He kicked his feet up on the table and used a sharp blade to clean a chunk of brain from between his teeth.
“Excuse me?” I said, inching backward to create as much distance as I could from the table of brain eaters.
“The storm. It should be over in three hours.”
“The storm?” Was that some kind of zombie pirate code for eating my brains? I moved back faster.
“You were asking your mom how long the storm would last. It should be over in three hours.”
My back hit a wall, knocking over an old portrait of Captain Mossbeard, one painted before he turned into a zombie. I frantically tried placing the picture frame back on its nail, but I wasn’t having much luck.
“Name’s John Wart, by the way. I’m the quartermaster. Here, let me see that.” He slipped the picture frame onto the nail and checked to make sure it was straight. “And you are?”
“Oh, right. I’m Eve,” I managed.
“The mammoth sitting next to me is Sawbones,” John Wart continued. “He’s the ship’s gunner. You need something blown up, he’s your zombie.”
Sawbones waved at me with a hand the size of a tombstone. “Hi, miss.”
The other three zombies were identical triplets, what John Wart called mates. There was Black Feet Pete, Brain Beat Pete and Dead Meat Pete. They each greeted me, speaking at almost the same time and finishing each other’s sentence.
“Nice to meet,” the first started. “You, Eve. Hope the rough sea,” the second continued. “Isn’t too much for you,” the third finished.
I guess the other zombies had the same problem trying to figure out who was who, because John Wart said, “You can call them Three Petes. It’s easier.”
As we sat around the table, the zombies told me stories of the sea, but they weren’t all that exciting, to be honest. The zombies must’ve thought the same thing, because soon enough John Wart and Sawbones began arguing over the proper way to barbecue brain.
Suddenly, we heard a loud roar from outside followed by what sounded like a mountain crashing into the sea. Everyone’s face at the table turned an unhealthy shade of decay as we waited and listened. At first, I couldn’t hear anything except the rain and ocean pounding against the ship, but then the wood below cracked and screamed. Something was tearing into it.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
In answer, the galley door slammed open, and a deckhand shouted, “Viperfish just hit the ship!”
FOUR
THE TRIANGLE
After Captain Mossbeard returned from below deck, he reported that the blaggard lass had pillaged so much blasted wood that the only thing keeping his grand and dear ship together was some scally-wagging barnacles.
I was just happy the viperfish hadn’t stuck around to finish us off. I’d never seen one before, but I’ve heard stories about their massive size, spear-like teeth, and soulless eyes. Based on the holes I saw in the walls along the lower deck—my Jack! They were as big as dinner plates!—I had no urge to see a viperfish, either.
We worked as hard as we could to plug up the holes, and it seemed for every bucket of water we dumped out, a hundred more would pour back in.
It wasn’t until seven in the morning that I could finally lay down. My sore feet sloshed in my soaked shoes as I trudged off to bed, and I fell asleep before the blanket hit my chin.
When I woke and stepped outside, I noticed a thick fog blanketing the ship, which under normal circumstances would’ve been comforting. I walked up to the bridge to see the captain, because I had this odd feeling we were lost.
Captain Mossbeard was steering the ship, as usual, a big, steely grin on his face. I was about to ask him if he knew where we were when I noticed the compass’s needle spinning wildly in circles.
“We’re lost, aren’t we?”
The captain’s rotten lips pulled back in a sneer, showing off his pointy teeth. “We’re close,” he said. “This is where things start to get interesting, lass.”
“Close to what?”
“Why, The Triangle of course.”
“The Triangle? W
hat’s that?” I asked, because in my mind I pictured the ship trying to stuff itself through a triangle-shaped door, which seemed impossible to me.
The captain held his belly and laughed for a long while, giving me more than enough time to feel stupid.
“The Bermuda Triangle. It’s the only portal we’re allowed to pass through.”
Sam ran up the steps and said, “This fog is so thick. I wish we had this stuff back in—” but he cut himself off when his eyes found the spinning needle. “Uh, Captain Mossbeard? I think something’s wrong with your compass.”
“There’s nothing wrong,” I said, trying to sound smart with my newfound knowledge. “It means we’re almost at The Triangle … you know, The Bermuda Triangle.”
“Is that true?” Sam asked Captain Mossbeard.
“Aye. Your sister here was just telling me about The Triangle. I think she might have a little pirate in her after all.”
“Arr,” I said.
Wow, you’re really getting the hang of this pirate thing,” Sam beamed.
I whispered thank you to the captain, and he winked at me and continued steering his ship through the fog, which was so thick now I could stuff a pillow with it.
Around midday, I went to check on Mom. She had managed to fall asleep, but her normal olive skin was pale and slick with sweat. I refilled the cup of water next to her bed and left her alone.
With nothing else to do, I decided to keep busy by helping Sawbones and Three Petes swab the deck, which seemed suspiciously similar to mopping. They told me how brave I was with the storm and the viperfish. I didn’t think I had been brave. But who was I to argue?
“Good thing … the viperfish … never showed. We would’ve … peed … ourselves,” Three Petes confided to me.
“Only thing worse than a viperfish is a splitter fish,” Sawbones said. “Them suckers can multiply by the thousands and rip apart an entire ship within minutes.”
“Let’s hope we don’t run into one of those,” I said and shivered at the thought.
“Nah, we’ll be through The Triangle ‘fore then.” Sawbones smiled. Though most of his teeth were black or missing, and he could flatten me with one of his tombstone-sized hands, I couldn’t help but find him wonderfully horrible.
Before long, swabbing became too much like work, and I pretended to be a pirate, which was much more fun. I arred and yo hoed and barnacled this and avasted that.
Sawbones and Three Petes joined in by pretending to be humans. Sawbones put the business end of a mop on his head and brushed the mop-hair out of his eyes like a human damsel in distress.
“Oh, who will save me? I’m a silly human, and I don’t know how to think without help.”
Three Petes attempted to rescue him—um, her—but when they tried to pick Sawbones up, who easily weighed as much as the triplets put together, they all collapsed to the deck, and I laughed so hard tears ran down my cheeks.
“Are these bilge-sucking sea scum bothering you, lass?” Captain Mossbeard asked. His smile told me he didn’t mind us goofing off.
“Arr, they should walk the plank to Danny Jones’ cabin,” I said with a sharp salute.
“Don’t you mean Davy Jones’ locker?”
“Arr,” I said.
“You better stay on this one’s good side,” the captain said to his crew. “She has even less patience than I do with you scalleywags.” He laughed heartily and then added, “Wanted to let you know we’ll be passing through The Triangle soon. It be good to get your mom up. Fresh sun and salt on the other side should fix her right up.”
I guess he saw the concern on my face, because he asked, “What’s wrong, lass?”
“Did you say it’s gonna be sunny on the other side?” I asked. In Gravesville there was no sun, only darkness at night and heavy fog and thunderclouds during the day. Occasionally something that might be the sun reddened the clouds to puffy bruises, and of course we had a big and beautiful moon and stars, but pure sunlight …?
“My friend Sally once told me that if the sun were ever to break through the clouds, we’d all melt.”
When the captain stopped laughing, he said, “I’m sorry, lass. I’ve been on the sea far too long. It’s not every day I meet someone who’s never seen the sun.”
I shrugged. “I’ve never been outside of Gravesville before.”
“Well then, I would humbly request that you join me on the bridge when we cross through The Triangle. You won’t be disappointed.”
“But what about melting?”
“You’re a human, and we’re going to a world of humans that haven’t melted yet. I think you’ll be fine.”
I went below deck to check on Mom and to ask her about this whole sun thing, but she was still asleep. I couldn’t find my dad, either. I figured he was sleeping, too, especially after all the work he’d done to help close up the holes in the ship.
I recalled something else Sally had told me about the sun. That it was about 11,000 degrees, which seemed pretty hot to me. I know the captain had said that all those other humans haven’t melted, but maybe those humans had adapted to the sun over time. Maybe their skin was thicker than mine.
Not taking any chances, I put on as many clothes as my body could hold: a knit hat, a scarf wrapped three times around my neck, wool gloves, a long-buttoned shirt, black cotton pants, two pairs of socks, my black snow boots, and a heavy overcoat with a soft, furry hood. I didn’t want my eyes to melt, either, so I grabbed a pair of sunglasses, the ones my mom used when she didn’t feel like wearing her special contacts.
“I’m ready for you, sun,” I announced into a mirror.
A few minutes later, a deckhand blasted into the galley. “Captain’s requested your presence and such. Says we’ll be crossing over any moment.”
I had never been more scared in my life.
The ship was eerily quiet as I pushed through the fog and made my way to the bridge.
When Captain Mossbeard saw me bundled up for the sun, his mouth opened and shut as if he were about to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he shook his head and walked to the railing to address his crew.
“Triangle dead ahead! Batten down the hatches! Hoist the main sails. Jimmy that rig, maggots!”
Suddenly, howling wind blasted my face and cut into the snapping sails. I could feel myself tipping backward as water gushed from beneath the ship.
“We’re falling, lass. Grab onto something. It’s about to get bumpy,” the captain said, spinning the ship’s wheel this way and that.
My legs lifted from the deck, and I felt my grip slipping as the ship pitched down into the misty unknown.
FIVE
INTO THE NEW WORLD
“Hold on, lass! Almost there!” the captain yelled, but I could barely hear him over the screaming deckhands and roaring wind.
The ship plunged into the ocean, sending a huge wave crashing over the bow, dousing everything and everyone. For a moment, I thought we were going to sink, but then the bow surged up from the water, and the ship lurched from side to side as sheets of ankle-high water swirled around the deck.
Sam rushed up to the bridge. “That was awesome! Can we do it again?”
I used the railing to pull myself up as the ship settled into the smooth rhythm of the sea. My legs wobbled, probably from the extra twenty pounds of soaked layers I wore.
“You need help,” I managed, tucking my soggy gloves into my overcoat pocket.
My attention soon shifted to a single beam of golden light that pierced through the fog right in front of me.
“Is that…?” I lowered the sunglasses from my eyes, then decided to stuff them into my pocket, as well.
“Sunlight,” the captain said. “Go ahead, lass, touch it.”
Though part of me expected the light to burn a hole right through my hand, I couldn’t help myself. It was too wondrous.
Oh, how amazingly warm the light felt—like holding a rare and perfect jewel—and I wanted to keep it with me always and learn
its mysteries.
Another beam of light burst through the fog. Then another. The radiant beams expanded, burning away the mist until the sky opened up to a clear blue, and then the light seemed to break apart and scatter into the water, which sparkled all around us.
Captain Mossbeard turned me around. “Look, lass. There she be.”
I cupped my hand over my eyes and peered at the flaming ball that sat on the edge of this new world.
And I cried.
“It’s amazing,” I said to the captain as I wiped tears from my eyes. “I never would’ve imagined …”
Sam wasn’t as excited as me. “I’d rather the thunderclouds, maybe some lightning. This is boring. And it’s hot! I’m going below to get a drink.”
I pulled off my hat and scarf, because it was hot out here. As I took off my overcoat, I saw Dad assisting Mom up the steps, and I rushed over to them.
“Isn’t it horrible, Mom! If this doesn’t make you feel better, I don’t know what will.”
“It’s beautiful,” Mom agreed as she sat down on an old crate full of ropes. She was still weak, but her snakes seemed to have made a full recovery. They bobbed and swayed with tongues flicking as they explored this new world.
By the next morning, Mom’s sickness had passed. I would’ve been happier, too, if the sun hadn’t fried my skin. I could barely move. I had an even harder time trying to sleep. About the only thing I could do over the next few days was curse the sun for its wickedness.
Wolf stayed by my side, and Mom and Dad checked in on me every once in a while, but there wasn’t much they could do. The captain even stopped by to cheer me up. He told me he’d heard of such burns caused by the sun, but the pain should pass, though he was pretty sure I’d start shedding skin like a snake soon.
The pain did go away after a few days, and the shedding, while adorably itchy, wasn’t as bad as the captain had made it sound. I still hated that sinister fireball, and more than ever I wanted to go home, so on the ninth day of our voyage, I marched up to the bridge and demanded Captain Mossbeard to turn this ship around. When that didn’t work, I begged him.