Last Legacy

Chapter 6

BANG, BANG, BANG!

We were...abruptly woken up the next morning, to say the least.

"Get up you drunken scoundrels! Time to push off!" The gruff voice yelling in the hallway was that of Captain Adrian. It sounded like he was walking down the hallway, banging on every door he came to.

BANG, BANG, BANG!

"Come on! Get up! If you don't like working hungover you shouldn't have gotten plastered!"

He sounded much different than the day prior. Rather than calm and collected, his voice was loud, commanding, and strong. He didn't sound like some random Alaska anymore. He sounded like a captain.

And I got the feeling that if we didn't get our butts out of bed like we were told, that captain would lynch us on the main deck for everyone and the birds to see.

"Steve. Are you awake?" I whispered to him, although I'm not sure why I felt the need to whisper after such an abrupt wake-up call.

"Did the allies win the war?" He mumbled back.

I smirked. Leave it to Captain America to make everything patriotic.

BANG, BANG, BANG!

This time he knocked on our door.

"Hey greenhorns!" He yelled. "Time to learn how to shove off! Let's go!" I sat up quickly and started pulling my boots on. Steve and I both slept in our clothes last night so it didn't take long to get ready before we swung our door open, and marched out into the hall.

"I'll be back Koda." I told him before shutting the door.

The hall was full of middle aged, scruffy men, who all looked...very similar.

They all had scruff on their faces, and circles under their eyes. They were all fairly buff, and some of them were overweight, but not by much. There were a lot of tattoos to be seen, and a few ear rings around.

They were all scurrying by us as best they could in their obvious, hung over state. Adrian was nowhere to be seen, but I assumed that if we followed everybody else, we'd eventually find him, so I started in the direction of the crew. They went passed the rec room and down the hallway a bit more where there was an open door. Inside we found the rest of the crew members in what looked like some kind of locker room. Except instead of changing into gym clothes or swim trunks, everyone was pulling on some kind of bright orange, waterproof jumpsuit. They were groaning and chatting in a kind of 'just woke up' kind of way.

I didn't think anybody had noticed us yet, but I thought it best to announce my presence, so I stepped up and said in a Russian accent, "Man, are we in a crabbing boat or a prison block?"

Silence.

All eyes turned to me, then to Steve, then to me again. The crew was besides themselves with awkwardness. It was as if they'd never seen anyone new for years and now that a stranger was standing in front of them, they didn't know how to react.

"Are you the new greenhorns?"

The voice came from a younger man, maybe in his early thirties who looked a little more tidy and groomed than the others. He had shaggy hair, but it was smoother, like he had combed it, and hung limply around his face. He wasn't bad looking for a crabber. The look actually suited him. He had a gold earring in his right ear that completed the rugged-sailor look, but that wasn't what peaked my interest. It was the fact that when he spoke, a perfectly russian accent rolled off his tongue like butter.

"Greenhorn?" Steve asked. He obviously wasn't familiar with the term. The group of men laughed, all except the one with the accent. He had a very serious, down to earth demeanor.