The blare of the Qubæs horn startles me awake, vibrating every metal surface within the ships hull. With a yawn I lean up on one elbow, noting the dim lighting of the crewmen's hold and the silence surrounding it.
"Up ye get boy!" Herbert hisses, appearing from the darkness like a monster from the shadows.
I jump in surprise but make no sound, my eyes widening as the old man begins tearing apart my rack.
"What's wrong? Herb, what's happening?"
The old crewman's wild eyes flash towards me in fear as he grabs my upper arm with an iron grip and yanks me to my feet. With a thrust, he shoves a knap duffle into my worn hands and shoves toward the metal stairs leading to the deck. Still barefoot and hungover from sleep, I stumble and bash my face against the edge of Casey-cooks stove. I release a muffled scream as my body collapses to the floor and my hand rushes to press against my cheek and nose. Red seeping between my fingers.
Herb rushes forward with a limp and brings me roughly to my feet once more.
"They've come!" He hisses over the steady hum in the ships hull.
I blink in confusion, my breath coming fast and my heart racing. I look wildly to the bunks behind Herb and stare in disbelief at the few crewmen who had woken at the ruckus. They all lay silent, their eyes staring blankly at the commotion. My first thought was to scream.
Was I being thrown overboard?
Could this be Herbs real plan to get rid of me before Nukaro?
Before my brain can process further, Herb turns me sharply one-hundred-eighty degrees and begins to prod me up the slippery steps. My feet slip continuously on their surface as I work blindly up the stairwell.
"Herb, what are you doing?" I manage to croak through my dry mouth.
The old man barely utters a sound, his eyes flashing here and there as if his life depended on it.
After what felt like an eternity, I reach the port door and work the long thick latch in my hands. Heaving it to the left to release the door, I stumble through the hatch and onto the freezing outside deck of the Qubæ.
The wind howls in my ears, stinging my cheeks and burning the wound on my face. Herb grabs the back of my shirt collar and pulls me harshly to the left. My nostrils fill with the harsh smell of sea salt and my ears scream at the high pitch racket of metal against ocean waves. Out of the thick darkness, strobe lights fill my vision and I choke as Herb yanks me into the shadows.
"Who's come..." I whisper over the shrill of the Qubæ.
I can feel Herbs old, weather worn arms grasped tightly around me. Such a feeling I now realised was one of concern, not of hurt.
The old crewman's hold loosens, and I gasp for a sharp breath.
"Lookin, they be." He says, his sharp eyes seeming to glow in the flashes of light.
I barely ask, "looking for who-" before the sound of heavy boots thunder in the air.
"Must get you off-" pulled once more against my will, my feet stumble as I'm dragged passed the radio room, and the cargo hold door, to the lifeboat release pods on the far side of the ship.
The pods themselves were no more than sleek long canisters that held enough oxygen for nine hours if submerged.
Through the wail of the wind, I stand paralysed as Herb begins to ready one.
"Herb, what is going on-"
"Nukaro police," he grunts, his hands working on a small machine box positioned near the release pods hatch.
YOU ARE READING
Grey Horizon
FantasyA ship has just arrived in the famous port city of Nukaro, the capital of Aegeus, and in its hull, is the last hope for all the realms of Valen. The only problem? He doesn't know it yet. Comments are welcome and encouraged!
