Atlantic Pyramid

by Michelle E Lowe

  “Oh.”

  “I didn’t want anyone to see my corpse, so I came out here to do myself in.”

  “I remember you were suffering a bad depression in those last few years,” Travis said.

  “Indeed. And in truth, I’ve always been guilt-ridden because I’ve never been able to carry out my mission.”

  “Wah mission’s dat, mon?”

  Shubrick shifted his eyes to Khenan. “To deliver a signed copy of the treaty between the American commissioners and the Dey of Algiers. When the storm came upon us, many of my men were killed and I was trapped here to live with my failure.” His voice became even more determined. “I swear, if I ever leave this place, I’ll deliver that treaty to the United States.”

  “How is that you’ve become a king?” Travis asked with amusement.

  “I hadn’t planned to go too far out to sea before turning a gun on myself. I just wanted to get far enough away from the village. But the farther I went, the less distressed I felt. I kept going until I arrived at these two ships.” He gestured to the General Gates and the Insurgent. “They reminded me of my own vessel, which gave me a sense of peace, so I stayed here and lived off the sea while I built my kingdom with whatever I could salvage.”

  “Why didn’t you go back to your own ship?” Travis asked.

  “An ugly incident that occurred in the lower hull,” Shubrick explained. “It became a grave site for some of my crew mates.”

  John T. Shubrick. I mulled over the name for a moment. It was the same person Tomas’s suicide letter had been written to. I’d found Shubrick’s ship on the first day of my arrival.

  As they talked amiably, I scanned the ship and discovered something unnerving—a number of barrels marked Gunpowder. I took solace in the idea that centuries of rain had probably soaked through the barrels.

  “I just built a new bridge,” Shubrick exclaimed. “Come, let me show you.”

  We followed him across the deck, over a plank, and onto the other ship, where more barrels sat. There were also dozens of water buckets and shoes hanging everywhere. A herd of octopuses lay leisurely on the deck.

  At first, I thought the plank was the bridge he’d mentioned, but when we reached the stern, I realized otherwise. Tied to the railing was a long bridge made from various boards with ropes as handrails. Its other end was tied to the deck of a capsized Liberty ship. It rested mainly on its hull, but slanted all the same.

  “Come,” he urged, stepping onto the bridge, which creaked loudly in protest.

  We looked at each other, then Khenan urged Travis, “You first, mon.”

  Travis narrowed his eyes and said, “Fine.”

  He examined the bridge a moment, then crossed himself before stepping onto it. He took one step, looked at Shubrick, and added, “This bridge doesn’t exactly seem new, mate.”

  “No? Well, perhaps I built it a while ago. I can’t recall—and since I’m now a king, I prefer that you address me properly.”

  “Your Highness, where are your subjects?”

  “There’s no one here but me, young man,” Shubrick said without looking back.

  “Dat’s no surprise,” Khenan whispered behind me, his words nearly lost among the groaning and creaking of the bridge.

  Travis started to say something, but I grabbed his shoulder and whispered fiercely, “Don’t, we need a boat and he’s got explosives all over the place.”

  Travis nodded and called out to Shubrick, who’d put some distance between us, “I say, Your Highness, we are in need of a boat.”

  Shubrick stepped off the far end of the bridge and turned to us. “What do you need a boat for?”

  “We need it to get through the junkyard so we can get to my plane,” I replied.

  “The junkyard? Is that what you’re calling it now? Well, young man, it is decidedly not a junkyard. The ships out here are valuable pieces of history. Some of them fought for countries and others took people on pleasurable getaways.”

  I understood exactly where he was coming from. I felt that way about my own plane, Gypsy Girl. Every time I sat in her, I felt closer to my grandmother. My plane was more than just transportation to me.

  “You’re right, Your Majesty,” Travis chortled. “Now, about that boat?”

  When we boarded the Liberty ship, Shubrick said darkly, “Watch how you speak to the king, sir, or I’ll blow you all to kingdom come.”

  “How?” Travis challenged. “I see no explosives up here.”

  “The crew left crates of TNT on this ship,” Shubrick said in earnest.

  We stood on the rail that now served as a floor. It overlooked four floating life boats lined side by side with piles of junk stored in them, one with what appeared to be a poorly tended garden. There were planks leading from the deck to the garden boat. None of them were usable, though.

  Shubrick’s face brightened as he swept his hand grandly. “Do you need food? I have plenty of vegetables in my garden.”

  I studied his so-called garden more closely, which consisted of a few scraggly potted plants.

  “No,” Travis answered, “we had weeds for lunch.”

  Shubrick gave us a tour of the ship, which meant climbing on rope nets to the nearest hatch. Our strange tour inside the ship included TNT crates in the hull—perhaps to let us know he wasn’t joking. He told us stories about his childhood, which sounded suspiciously like the plot of Tom Sawyer when he talked about convincing friends to paint a fence and searching for treasure in a haunted cave. Being unbalanced, I could understand how he might entwine Twain’s story with his own.

  “You may have a longboat,” he finally announced in his most regal tone. “Don’t worry about bringing it back. I have several. You’ll probably need it to return to the island.”

  When the tour ended, we headed back toward the General Gates. None of us spoke as we crossed the rickety bridge. The rain died down but didn’t make the journey any less unnerving.

  As we got into the longboat, the rain dwindled to a light sprinkle. Before I stepped in, Shubrick grabbed my arm and whispered, “Everything has an ending. I think you’re part of something that will one day affect my kingdom.”

  “I wouldn’t do anything to harm your kingdom,” I said.

  “Do what to what?” he asked, letting go of my arm, his unblinking eyes locked on me.

  Before either of us could say anything, Travis interrupted us, “Come on, let’s be off, eh?”

  “Yah, mon, let’s go before da rain ’its again.”

  I turned, leaving Shubrick to stare after me as I climbed into the boat. He continued to watch as we lowered the longboat into the misty water.

  “Things will get very bad before they get better,” Shubrick called as Travis and Khenan manned the oars. I sat in front, trying to light a torch Shubrick had given us for the journey.

  “Was ’e always like dat?” Khenan asked.

  “Nah,” Travis replied. “The sod went into the forest and came back completely off his rocker.”

  “Wat ’e say to you back dere?” Khenan asked me as he leaned into his oar.

  “Nothing. It was just gibberish.”

  “Figures,” Travis grumbled. “When people lose their marbles, it can be bloody scary.”

  We navigated our way through the misty ocean as a light drizzle began to fall again. A few minutes later, the fog lifted just enough to see a few hundred feet ahead of us. We eventually came upon two massive ships and four large commercial planes. The planes were from the same airlines—three DC-3 Into the Blues and a Douglas Dakota.

  “’ey, I been ’ere before,” Khenan suddenly said.

  “Really?” Travis said. “When?”

  “Nineteen ninety-five. Look over dere. Is da Jamanic K.”

  The vessel Khenan pointed out was completely capsized, with the Sylvia L. Ossa resting beside her. Khenan stared at the wreckage in silence.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “I ’ave a son,” he said softly. “’e be a young mon by n
ow.” He paused, then growled. “If it wasn’t fa dat goddamn ship, I’d be ‘ome wit me family. Dat ship took everyting from me.”

  “Don’t blame the ship, lad,” Travis soothed. “She’s just as much a victim as any of us.”

  I felt horrible for being the one to bring Khenan’s pain back. It had been a long time since either of them had seen their homeland or looked upon the faces of friends and loved ones.

  “When I was a child, my brother burst into flames and burnt up right before ma eyes,” he said unexpectedly.

  “Your brother spontaneously combusted?” I asked in surprise.

  “Ya, an’ from wat I ‘ear, it be genetic. Wat if me own son ’as gone up in flames?”

  “He won’t, lad,” Travis said, as if they’d had this discussion before. “Your son is out there somewhere, living his life in peace.”

  Khenan took in a deep breath. “I ’ope so.”

  The rain stopped as we headed toward another cluster of wreckage. The boundary of the junkyard appeared where the water level turned dark blue. Since my plane had crashed on the outskirts, we decided to weave our way in and out of the deep water to bypass any trouble spots. But each time the boat glided into deeper water, the temperature dropped so low I could see our breath.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Travis said with a shiver. “I forgot how cold it is out here.”

  “How is that possible?” I asked, rubbing my arms. My skin tingled. Chunks of ice floated around us like white islands, tapping against the wooden longboat. No one answered my question but I doubted if either of them knew. “Was it always like this?”

  “Aye,” Travis said, “it most likely has been this way long before the Ancient Ones came.”

  In the distance, bodies floated face down in the water. Before I could ask, Travis said, “Those are some of the unfortunate sods who tried rowing out and didn’t make it back.”

  “Dis place is no Disneyland, mon,” Khenan added. “Da rides ’ere can be deadly.”

  We rode in silence for the next ten minutes, the only sound being the slicing of the oars through the water. Just as I began to worry we’d either missed my plane or were rowing the wrong way, Gypsy Girl appeared.

  “There she is!” I shouted.

  “Bloody hell, mate!” Travis cried. “You nearly scared the life outta me.”

  “Over there,” I said, pointing to my right. “There’s my plane.”

  We crossed into the shallow area, where the air around us suddenly rose to a more comfortable temperature. Khenan tied the longboat off on a propeller blade and jumped out. Travis reached for the open door where Gavin’s body stared blankly back at him.

  “Jeez,” Travis said, disgusted, “it smells like piss in here.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Why does it smell in here, mate?” Travis asked as I grabbed the doorway and pulled myself inside.

  “My co-pilot pissed himself before we crashed.”

  “I’ve been on the verge of doing that once or twice meself. Been that scared, I mean.”

  I hardly glanced at Gavin’s body still slumped in the chair with blood on his face. The stench of urine permeated the air. I hadn’t told my companions that Gavin had appeared to me since I’d arrived, just as Lafitte had warned. Instead, I sloshed through the water to the back of the plane, where I raised a hidden lid from the submerged floorboard and reached inside.

  “I bet it’s something to ride in one of these,” Travis said, sitting in the pilot’s seat and moving the throttle around. “To see the world from a bird’s-eye view. You’re both lucky to have lived in the era you did, lads.”

  With considerable effort, I pulled a waterproof bag out and unzipped it. I always kept my emergency items in airtight bags in case of a crash. I hadn’t seen this one for at least a year since I’d packed it. It contained four changes of clothes, a jumbo tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, a stick of deodorant, a six-pack of soap, and three large towels. I’d also packed beef jerky, canned food, a can opener, lighter fluid, matches, and several bottles of water in it.

  “Doesn’t it bother you dat you’re sitting next to a dead mon?” Khenan asked as Travis played around with the switches.

  “Nah, I’ve seen dead folks before. Blimey, I’ve seen ’em in worse shape than this.”

  I zipped the bag back up and slung it over my shoulder. “Let’s go,” I said dolefully. “I think I’ve got all I need.”

  “Are you all right, lad? You look a little green.”

  In truth, I thought I might vomit. Being inside the plane was like being inside a gas chamber. The air had become toxic.

  “I’m okay. I’m just feeling mixed emotions right now.”

  I could almost hear Gavin’s voice pleading for me to take his body out of the plane. I glanced at his corpse. An unseen force drew my hand close to Gavin’s body.

  “Wat you doin’, mon?” Khenan asked. “You don’t be messin’ wit da dead.”

  “Stop it!” Travis insisted.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t pull my hand back. I struggled to regain control of it, but the force beat down my willpower.

  “No, lad!” Travis exclaimed, snatching my hand. “That’s enough!”

  It felt like I was in a trance. Before I had time to think, I moaned, “Get me out of here.”

  Travis and Khenan quickly helped me into the longboat. My shirt was drenched in sweat.

  “You all right, lad?” Travis asked as I took my place at the bow and clutched the bag close to my chest.

  “Yeah, fine,” I said, staring blankly forward.

  Khenan shoved the longboat away from the plane. “Jeez, mon, wah ’appened in dere?”

  “Don’t worry about that now,” Travis said, beginning to row. “Let’s just head back.”

  Waves of tremors rocked my body. What had been the force that had pulled at me and why had it been so intent on getting me to disturb Gavin’s body?

  The rain returned, though not as heavy as it had been earlier in the day.

  “By da time we get back to shore, we’re gonna ’afta run fer da village. I really don’t wanna make camp in da woods in da dark.”

  “We could stay with Lafitte,” I suggested.

  “Jean Lafitte?” Khenan said, his voice rising. “Might be int’resting. I ’ope ’im ’ave some wine.”

  After an hour of rowing, I spotted a familiar landmark. I looked back at Travis. He said nothing but his expression told me he wanted to tell me something. I wondered if he held his tongue because Khenan was with us.

  We crossed under a wing, heading for a yacht, when a gunshot rang out. Travis jolted forward with a start.

  “You say you fought in a war, mon?” Khenan mocked, just as a second blast split the air.

  “No, I was on me way to one,” Travis retorted as he ducked.

  Loud shouting followed the shot. I recognized Lafitte’s voice and climbed out of the longboat, onto the bow of the yacht to get a better view.

  “Lafitte?” I called.

  “Qui est la?”

  I squinted into the dense fog. “Is that you?”

  “Oui.”

  “It’s Heath Sharp, remember me? We met a few days ago. You showed me how to get to the island.”

  Lafitte made no reply. What if he didn’t remember me? Could his memory be that short?

  “Ah, oui! Bonsoir, mon ami,” Lafitte said. “Comment êtes-vous?”

  “Wet and tired.”

  “Just like the first time I met you, non? Are you coming from the island now?”

  “No, we went to my plane for some things. Would you mind if we spent the night on your ship?”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, I’m with two friends.”

  “No,” Lafitte said abruptly.

  “Oh,” I said, surprised. “Well, all right, then. I guess I’ll see you later.”

  Before I could convey Lafitte’s message to Travis and Khenan, an orange-and-yellow glow came toward us. As it drew closer, Lafitte appeared, wear
ing a bright yellow raincoat and hat, carrying a torch.

  “I mean no, I don’t mind if you stay the night. But first, help me with this shark I’ve killed.”

  I peered over the railing. Below us was a one-man sailboat. I leaped off the yacht and landed hard on the stern. The boat wobbled as I struggled to maintain my balance.

  “Oi, Jean!” Travis called from the yacht above.

  The pirate looked up at him. “And who are you?”

  “It’s Travis Livingston. Remember me?”

  Lafitte stared at Travis a minute, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t recall, but you’re welcome aboard my ship, anyway.”

  As Travis and Khenan leaped onto the sailboat, Travis said, “Captain, you and me drank rum once on the beach when I first got here.”

  “Rum isn’t exactly memory fuel, mon,” Khenan said with a chuckle.

  “Good point, lad.”

  The journey to Lafitte’s ship was short. Travis and I carried the shark. It was considerably smaller than the sharks we’d encountered earlier but heavy nonetheless. I held the tail, while Travis carried the head, its beady black eyes aimed at him.

  When The Pride came into view, Lafitte called for his crewmen to help with the catch. We boarded the ship and were invited into the captain’s quarters. The room looked as if it had been ransacked. Everything that wasn’t heavy had been moved and stacked into piles or placed on the table.

  “Would you gentlemen care for some wine?” Lafitte asked, taking off his wet rain gear.

  “Aye, Captain,” Travis replied as Khenan smiled broadly.

  “I have dry towels,” Lafitte said, walking to his dresser and pulling out the top drawer. He brought several out. “I’ve been doing some cleaning. Don’t be disturbed by the arm.”

  “Blimey,” Travis whispered, nudging Khenan with his elbow. “Look at that. It’s ole’ Captain Saxon’s arm.”

  “Dat be wicked, mon,” Khenan said, paling.

  Lafitte handed each of us a towel. “The weather was bad today. What made you go out to your plane to fetch things that could wait for another time?”

  “We were gonna turn back but dis idiot refused to.”

  I flushed with embarrassment.

  “Did you get everything you went out for?” Laffite asked.