by J. J. Harkin
“Ple-ase!” coughed the struggling man.
He was ignored, of course. Around and around him the chains were twisted, and then laced through the cinder blocks before the padlock was latched. A massive splash was heard as the weights were shoved over the side, and the remaining length of the chain hurried down after, rattling against the side of the pier like a machine gun. Then, with a massive jerk, the bound man was yanked into the bay, silenced by a cacophonous firewall of laughter.
Panic struck him as dark water leaped upward on every side. It was very cold. Down, down, down he went, holding his breath as best he could. Abruptly the descent stopped, as the anchor beneath him evidently struck bottom. It was absolute night here. Unbreakable chains made resistance irrelevant; he could hold his breath no longer. Water filled his lungs at last as he gave up, gasping for the sustenance which was denied him.
But then a strange light began to fill the water. He coughed and spluttered at the bottom of the silent bay, yet his vision – rather than growing dim – continued to brighten. Suddenly something like many dazzling lights seemed to surround him, and then he saw no more.
Chapter VII
THE SEA HAG
Den and David soon found that chartering a boat tended to be a less than scientific process. They might have taken a plane had there been an affordable way to be sure what the landing conditions on the island were like. Yet, for all they knew, there might not be an airstrip, or even a stretch of water sufficiently free of coral reefs, for any kind of aerial landing to be safe. Thus the two friends found themselves wandering aimlessly about the Los Angeles shipyards on a Friday night, searching painstakingly for the particular longshoreman whose ad had caught their attention. It seemed that LA housed many a fine ship, but that few of their owners had much interest in making a one-way trip anywhere, unless it somehow amounted to a fairly well-compensated shipping opportunity.
“The ad mentions a 6 PM dock time,” explained David, squinting down at his smartphone for the twelfth time. “We’re looking for the boat in slip number 526.”
After at least an hour of wandering, they eventually found it. To their dismay, it turned out that the slip they had searched so long for had been right in front of their car all the time. It was a large vessel, painted industrial orange, with the inexplicable name The Sea Hag stamped flagrantly across its hull.
“Hello?!” shouted David. They heard nothing. “How do we get on board one of these things?” he asked, in an aside to Den. The ship rose at least two stories above the water’s surface.
“I think there’s supposed to be a plank or a ladder or something…” Den replied. “Hey there!” he called out hopefully, once more to no response.
They were on the wrong side of the boat. When the two friends finally troubled to follow its length to the other side, they found a long stairway that connected with a broad gangway leading aboard the vessel. Immediately they began to climb it, having had quite enough of the shipyards for one evening.
“Anybody home?” called David, not troubling to raise his voice much anymore. The ship’s deck was spotlessly clean, organized, and devoid of rust, but again uniformly painted in a strangely bright shade of orange. The captain’s cabin seemed to beckon, so they ventured cautiously sternward. Pulling aside the door, they finally found their elusive longshoreman. There she sat, buried in a fresh copy of the LA Jewish News, largely ignoring them still.
“What can I do for you two gentlemen?” she asked. Her snugly fitting, tan jumpsuit made her appear somewhat like a Dreamsicle stick amid all the bright orange.
“You’re a woman?!” exclaimed David, definitely a little too loudly.
The newspaper lowered slightly, revealing stunning green eyes, which were scanning the two of them with a resigned silence that somehow still laughed out loud. “Can I help you?” she asked slowly, without a trace of scorn.
“Right, well…” began David aimlessly. “Yes, of course. I mean…”
Den knew better than to let David blunder on into conversational quicksand. “Hi!” he interrupted cheerfully. “We’re here to inquire about your ad.”
“Yeah,” put in David, holding up his phone as though proof might be necessary.
“Oh, good” – she folded the paper to place it aside – “then you’ll be looking to charter the boat?”
“Exactly. We need to get almost to Samoa,” explained Den, pulling out his map. “Here’s where we’re headed. That’s not out of range for a vessel of this size, is it?”
“Oh no, not out of range at all,” she said, squinting down at the map in her turn. “Not that I see anything…”
“I read the LA Jewish News as well!” blurted out David nervously, as a tentative smile creased his face. “What’s your name?!”
Both Den and their new friend exchanged awkward glances. “He’s not good at meeting new people,” explained Den sympathetically.
“Call me Ms. Valiant.” She stood, leading them back out onto the deck. “Where are we headed? Some sort of uncharted island?”
“Actually, yes,” Den admitted.
“What’s the cargo?”
“Just us, and all the supplies we’ll need to last there for a good while.”
Again David barged nonsensically into the conversation. “Don’t you think The Miss Valiant might have served better as a name for the boat than The Sea Hag?”
“Traditionally speaking, yes,” said Rachel, returning his glance steadily, “but I thought The Sea Hag served my purposes better, as names like The Miss Valiant tend to attract all of the wrong kind of attention.”
Thump! Tripping over a heavy cable, David had lost track of his footing, and fallen gracelessly to the deck upon his hands and knees. “Oh, yeah?” he said, doing his best to pick himself up as though nothing had happened. “And what kind of attention is that?”
“The kind that follows me around with its tongue lolling out of its mouth.” She surveyed David doubtfully before turning away, smiling, to lead them on a further tour of the ship. In the end it seemed The Sea Hag would serve their purposes perfectly. Soon both a price and a date of departure had been decided upon, and they were all shaking hands.
“Thank you!” said Den, quite sincerely.
“Yes, thank you Ms. Valiant,” agreed David formally, now attempting to seem as composed as possible.
“Just call me Rachel…” she said warmly, and waved before returning to the cabin and her newspaper.
It took the two friends nearly four days to get everything they needed together. As they honestly had no idea what their destination would be like, it was difficult to know what to pack, and so they decided to bring everything. David brought the most, having cleared out his entire robotics workshop, his closets, his kitchen, and several nearby camping stores. Den did not have too much with him, but spent a good deal of time collecting the various items he thought he might need to stay technologically connected while away: a generator, satellite dish, and several computers. On the appointed day, Rachel Valiant had them meet her by a massive crane which was used exclusively for loading outgoing vessels, with the result that they were headed out to sea within twenty minutes of their arrival at port.
While Den enjoyed a brief DiCaprio moment at the ship’s bow, David roamed the upper deck carefully, hoping to avoid further embarrassing incidents. Since he had insisted upon bringing along his dachshund, David felt it wise to escort the little dog across every surface of the boat, until he was sure the pup had made himself at home.
“If that dog goes overboard, it’s S. O. L.” Rachel felt obliged to mention. “You know that, right?”
“Dogie will be fine,” David assured her. Cradling him in his arms, David carried the wiener dog over for an introduction. The touch of the dachshund’s smooth, short, reddish-brown fur calmed him miraculously, so that he actually began to relax in Rachel’s presence. Noticing this, she gave Dogie a soft pat. To David’s lasting delight, the innocent eyes and long nose of the dog thereafter worked quick ma
gic on Rachel’s tough exterior. Soon enough she had Dogie sitting in the old captain’s hat she kept upturned before the helm, where he could safely alert them to the presence of passing gulls with excited barks. This was a perfect arrangement, for it allowed David to remain at Rachel’s side under the pretense that he was looking after the dog, and both mariner and dachshund seemed to genuinely appreciate the extra attention. After a while Den returned to join them as well, and the four got to know one another quite rapidly.
It turned out that Rachel actually lived on the boat – a converted fishing vessel which she had purchased at a government auction. Though she rarely took The Sea Hag out of harbor, Rachel had been raised by a family of crabbers on the East Coast, and seemed to know exactly what she was doing. It was a grand boat, and they all had a lovely time.
That night Den and David found themselves sleeping in real beds below deck, rather than in the rudimentary hammocks they had for some reason expected. Rachel commented that they must have read too many pirate stories as children. The beds were quite comfortable, and tucked away in private cabins, complete with portholes. Though the whole ship still bore a rather fishy smell, none of them suffered from sea sickness, and the ocean remained relatively calm. Dogie tended to be most energetic during the morning, as he invariably wore himself out by afternoon. Keeping the birds at bay seemed to be his sacred quest at first, but that was only until he noticed the flying fish which started chasing the boat instinctively. It was quite a lot for a little dog to do, but he kept at it, howling and yowling as though inspired by the valiance of Rachel herself.
Den impressed them with his cooking prowess nightly. Though most of the food they had brought was designed to spring easily from a portable kitchen, Den’s perfect seasonings and marvelous presentation worked wonders with the ordinary. So none of them suffered from hunger, especially the dog, as he got all the scraps. David eventually even calmed himself enough to have a sane conversation with Rachel – something which had obviously proved quite a hurdle for him. One night after dinner had been finished, and while Den was in the shower, the two of them sat relaxed at the quaint table below deck. Dogie lay limp as pasta in David’s arms, loudly snoring in overfed satisfaction.
“So, Rachel,” he wondered vaguely. “Why is this boat so very, very orange? Is it on purpose?”
“It was this color when I bought it,” she laughed, “but orange is a very emotional color – or so they say. It was one of the superficial reasons I was attracted to the boat. I guess I figured no one prone to hiding their feelings would be much interested in coming aboard.”
“Hmm,” said David thoughtfully, “but you do like to surround yourself with interpersonal firewalls, now, don’t you?”
“So didn’t you say you were some kind of designer?” retorted the beautiful sea captain, skillfully redirecting the conversation.
“I make designer robotics,” David admitted. “I’m sorry to say it isn’t anything too artistic.”
“Ah, but robots are the art form of the future, aren’t they?”
David was quite impressed with her for thinking so. “I guess I’d like to believe they are. I mean, the well-oiled, ergonomic precision present in the finest androids has always been my inspiration.”
“Did you bring any with you?”
“Are you really interested in this?” asked David, slightly surprised.
“I have my mechanical inclinations. It isn’t difficult to see that you do as well, David.” He was beginning to like it when she found reason to call him by name. “Your arms have the knotted topography I only associate with an experienced mechanic, you see. All that time spent constantly screwing and unscrewing things…”
“Well, I uh… You what?” David sat up – eyes wide – feeling rather confused. The look on Rachel’s face might have been quite serious had it lacked the roguish grin peeking in at the corners of her mouth. Dogie chose that moment to give an odd whine, and squirmed in David’s arms as he dreamed, perhaps chasing some elusive, imaginary prey.
Rachel laughed, giving up the act at last. “Oh my God, you should have seen your face! I might have been the first woman to arrive on Planet Nerd!”
David was glad her joke had sprung from a playful intention. “Funny. Actually, NERD happens to be the name of the place where I recently quit my job. You know: the National Enterprise for Robotics Development. It’s just outside LA.”
“Yeah, I think I’ve heard of it,” she replied, happy to see he had been such a good sport. “Gee, I wish I could see something you’d put together.”
“Oh, well… you can, actually,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “At least I thought I’d left it in here somewhere.” David was having trouble reaching his quarry without waking the increasingly active dachshund, who was wriggling like a piglet. Dogie’s teeth were now bared in some dream-inspired death-lock.
“Here it is,” David said, finally pulling forth a Magic U-Ball. “Have a look at this.”
Rachel leaned forward to take the U-Ball. “What do I do with it?”
“Just hold it and wait for it to display something.”
She did so, and soon began laughing again to herself. “But what is this thing?” she asked, laden with mirth.
“It tells you whatever the principle thought on your mind is,” David explained. “Why, what did it say?”
“Oh, nothing,” she lied. “And you invented this?”
“I sure did. Developed it myself on my lunch breaks. You like it?”
“Yes, I think so. I really do.” She seemed momentarily pensive. “But how did you come up with such an idea?”
“It was nothing, really – just one of those rare pipedreams that actually ended up working in the end. Keep that one,” David added. “I have a zillion of them.”
“Thanks,” she said, still smirking. Dogie chose that moment to emit a low growl, and began to run in his sleep. “I wonder…” said Rachel to herself, getting up to approach David. She had never been this close to him, and he could not help but feel a bit uncomfortable. Kneeling down over the dog, Rachel carefully placed the U-Ball on the dachshund’s furry neck. Abruptly David understood what she was attempting to do, though he doubted it would work. Nevertheless, the two of them leaned forward hopefully, waiting to see if the ball would display anything.
“Elephant.” That’s all the U-Ball said, and both David and Rachel found it uproariously humorous to say the least. Den could hear their cacophonous laughter behind a closed door at the other end of the ship. Dogie jumped up due to all the noise, and soon his cautionary yipping could be heard as well, adding to the din.
“Elephant?” exclaimed Rachel raucously. “Elephant?! Do all little dogs chase such enormous animals in their dreams?” She picked up the U-Ball, which had fallen to the ground, and returned to her seat.
“I suppose that’s what it means,” admitted David. “I certainly wasn’t thinking of elephants. Were you?”
“Definitely not.”
“Well, I guess this means Dogie has some pretty big tastes when it comes to hunting,” he said, poking the energetic dog in the belly before releasing him to roam the floor.
“What’s going on in here?” asked Den, as he entered the room.
“Nothing sordid,” smiled David. They explained about the dog’s Magic U-Ball reading.
“How very odd,” said Den, not having imagined David’s contraption might work on animals.
“Unexpected,” agreed David. “I certainly didn’t think it possible.”
“But tell me: What do the two of you hope to find when we reach this island?” asked Rachel, taking the opportunity to satisfy her further curiosities.
“No idea,” Den admitted. “All we know is that it’s an artificial island which my grandmother ordered built some years ago.”
“But why would she want to leave you an island?”
“Your guess is as good as either of ours,” David said, sitting back with his hands folded behind his head thoughtfully.
> “And you have no idea what the landing conditions will be?”
Den responded first. “The will was quite unspecific. All I can say is that Victoria, for reasons best known to herself, went to a great deal of trouble to make sure David and I would come to visit the place. There is no telling what we might find there.”
“So she was unspecific in the Pacific?” asked Rachel, enjoying herself. “Better than Titanic in the Atlantic or – I dunno – achin’ in the Arctic…”
“You are a very strange lady,” stated David confidently, without a bit of sarcasm.
“Yeah,” agreed Den happily. “Just weird enough to take us seriously, I’d say...”
“Well,” smiled Rachel, “I’m definitely glad to have you both aboard. This should turn out to be a fascinating trip! It’s kind of like a mystery.”
“Yes, it is,” said Den. “It really is.”
The moment they had all been waiting for came a few days later. Rachel announced that they were no more than twenty miles off the coast of the island, and the men hurried up to the deck. They might reach it by noontime, she thought, if there was anything there to find. All doubts were soon alleviated. Den and David spotted it first, being well armed with binoculars at the ship’s bow.
“I see a dot!” exclaimed Den.
“Me too!” shouted David, secretly relieved to see they had not made the trip for nothing.
As they approached, it became apparent that the island was like nothing they could ever have imagined. There was no sign of a beach, for a high concrete wall thrust vertically from the water’s surface, and this was topped with a windscreen of trees that covered – or at least surrounded – the island completely. Glad to hear as much, Rachel switched on the sonar, hoping to find that she could drop anchor fairly close. Higher and higher the island reared up before them as they neared it, like a walled fortress in the sea. Nothing beyond the line of trees was visible, so that they wondered what the island’s interior might look like.