by Aaron Galvin
Paulo stepped forward.
Lenny stopped him.
Tieran grinned back, patting the translucent, coiled whip that dangled at his side. “That’s righ’. You don’t want none of this, do you, big fella? Call the skin off your back and sting you for days to boot. That’s what my jelly whip’ll do.”
“You hurt her—” Paulo growled. “Touch her…you die.”
“I’ll die, sure. But it won’t be this day, now will it?” Tieran reached into his pocket, drew a set of keys, and tossed them at Lenny. Then he leered at Ellie. “Always did like me a cow with a fair bit a meat on her bones. Come on with you, back to the bus. I mean to get this haul tucked away and meself snockered proper ‘fore nightfall.”
Lenny kept his hand on Paulo’s stomach until the bus exited the parking lot. He noticed Paulo’s earrings glittered the entire time. Don’t wanna include me in the conversation, Paulie?
“Come on.” Lenny tugged at his crewmate’s Selkie suit. “Let’s get her fired up. No tellin’ when Oscar’ll be back. Bet it’s soon though.”
“Why?” Paulo asked.
Lenny guessed the question came only as a poor man’s attempt to delay time. A love-struck idiot. Lenny shook his head, waiting with Paulo until the bus had driven out of sight. Only then did Paulo budge.
Lenny walked up the gangplank. “’Cause he don’t want Weava second-guessin’ all this. Ya hear how scared he was back there?”
“Yeah,” Paulo agreed as he untied one of the mooring lines from the dock and tossed the rope onto the boat. “Hey, boss. You think Tieran was telling the truth?”
“Nah. He’s always been full of it.”
“I dunno. Sounded serious.” Paulo moved onto the next line. “Think it might be Henry waiting for us back home?”
So Paulie’s thinkin’ on it too. Lenny looked over the side. “Guy’s a freak. Could be he tracked ‘em quick. They escaped in one of them cop cars. Pop said most got trackers on ‘em. Might be Henry used one to find ‘em.” Lenny frowned. “Plus, Henry’d move fasta than us in that slave ship we hauled here in…yeah. Guess it might be Henry.”
“I hope so.”
“Wha’?” Lenny asked. “Whattaya talkin’ about, Paulie? Ya hate Henry as much as I do.”
“Yeah.” Paulo walked up the gangplank. He took the loose ends of rope in hand and coiled them. “But it’s not him I’m hoping to see.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Racer,” said Paulo. “If Henry caught up to them, that means he found Racer.”
Lenny felt cold as he watched Paulo bind the rope end over end, running them around his elbow and into the palm of his hand, each additional layer looking more and more like a thick noose.
“The pup turned runna,” said Lenny. “He’s not the first to—”
“I don’t blame Racer for running. I blame him for the way he escaped.” Paulo continued, his face scarlet. “Racer hit Ellie. Knocked her out cold, Len. He could’ve killed her.”
But he didn’t plan it, Paulie. Lenny kept the thought. I did.
“I hope Henry did find him.” Paulo finished another loop. “Hope he brings Racer back too. When I get my hands on him…”
Lenny watched Paulo knot the rope.
GARRETT
Oscar stopped Garrett outside a brick building. He opened his arms as if to encompass the entire pier. “Tell me, what do you see?”
Garrett thought he missed something. “Buildings…the ocean?”
Oscar grinned. “My father loves to reminisce about this pier. How it looked when first he came. He’ll talk for hours of men bustling back and forth, whether hauling fish or packing them with ice. Then Father would say, ‘Boats! Boats, you can’t imagine the number of boats, son.’” Oscar turned to the water. “Now, look at it.”
Garrett spied only two—one of them, the yacht that Lenny and Paulo worked to untie from the dock.
“Nothing,” said Oscar. “Nearly all the competition wiped away, thanks to my father’s brilliance. Come. Let’s have a look around shall we?”
Garrett followed Oscar’s lead inside. Hung over the door, a chipped and faded crimson sign with a triangle of interlocking Cs emblazoned in gold lettering creaked in the breeze. Below the sign read Crayfish Collins Co. est. 1883.
A tiny bell signaled their entrance, yet no one stood behind the counter to greet them. A chalkboard listed the day’s catch—flounder, salmon, tuna, and more Garrett never knew existed—along with prices.
The scent of fish bathed Garrett in its odor as he followed Oscar around the counter and through a series of doors. A makeshift inner office opened into a warehouse with grey, blue, and black plastic tubs stacked inside one another between hangar doors.
Garrett assumed they provided access onto the pier. He saw more tubs, packed to the brims with ice, aligned in rows down the middle of the floor. Each had neon green stickers placed upon the ice listing the fishy treasure kept fresh inside.
Far to the back, gaunt, unshaved men, hampered by their warm attire, worked in the freezers. Dirtied, orange waders covered their bodies from the chest down and ran over rubber boots. Stocking caps covered their hair and ears. Each of the men had a dark grey sweatshirt hood draped down their backs.
“You own all this?” Garrett asked as they passed an employee shoveling ice from the freezer into a plastic bin.
“I will,” said Oscar. “Once I’ve proved myself to Father.”
Garrett’s stomach turned as Oscar led him past a conveyor belt where more men in orange waders gutted and cleaned fish. Twice, Oscar had to pull Garrett along or else leave him awestruck at how fast the employees wielded their knives. The two teens passed more fish—some headless, others with their heads attached but stomachs slit open.
“Prove yourself?” Garrett asked.
A few employees glanced up, but none would meet Garrett’s eye.
“Aye,” said Oscar. “It’s all a bit complicated to explain. Suffice it to say I believe this will all be mine soon. After all, I’ve earned it.” He spun on his heel. “Well, Garrett. Now you’ve seen it. What do you think?”
“It’s uh…” Garrett glanced behind him.
Some of the employees they’d passed whispered to one another. All shut up and resumed their tasks upon noticing Garrett watching them.
“Yes, go on.” Oscar urged. “Tell me.”
Why are they so afraid?
“It’s great,” said Garrett. “You’re pretty lucky.”
“Luck.” Oscar frowned. “You know, that’s exactly the sort of answer I’d expect from Lenny. Has he been speaking out of line with you?”
“What? No…what do you—”
“Because if he has—” Oscar lowered his voice. “You need only say the word.”
Garrett took a step back. “He hasn’t said anything to me. No one has really. Just you.”
Oscar’s grin returned. “That’s because I’m your friend, Garrett. Remember? I’m the one who brought you here. I’m the one taking you home.”
“Yeah…about that. I have a couple questions.”
“I’m sure you do. And I’m happy to answer them once we’re asea. I expect Lenny and the others are ready for us by now. Come!”
Garrett hesitated. “I-I don’t know about all this. I’m starting to think maybe…maybe I don’t want to go.”
“Listen to me, Garrett,” said Oscar softly. “You’re special. I promised that I would show you that, yes?”
Garrett nodded.
“Right.” Oscar twisted toward his employees. “Attention everyone! Stop what you’re doing.”
Garrett watched as all activity ceased.
“You all know me,” said Oscar. “I want you to take a long look at my friend here.”
Garrett winced under the attention.
“You all know what he is, I trust?”
What I am? A chill ran up Garrett’s spine as he watched each employee nod. Some even removed their hats and placed it over their chests.
�
��You-” Oscar pointed to the nearest employee. “Have you ever seen Garrett before?”
The man cast his eyes downward. “N-no, m’lord.”
M’lord? Garrett thought to himself. Where’d you find this guy, Oscar, the Middle Ages?
“Garrett,” said Oscar. “Have you ever seen this man?”
“No…”
“Right then,” said Oscar. “Tell Garrett what he is.”
The man shuddered. “H-he…he’s a-a….”
Oscar clapped his hands, startling the man. “Well, go on then, we haven’t all day, do we? Tell him.”
The man worried his hat in hand.
“He’s an Orcinian—” a deep, confident voice came from the crowd.
Garrett heard a collective gasp and he watched as the employees parted away for an older, wiry man. Unlike his coworkers, the older man didn’t shy away from either Garrett or Oscar.
“Fenton?” Oscar said. “What are you doing here?”
“Your father sent me when he heard about the-” Fenton looked at Garrett. “-friend, you decided to bring back.”
“Whoa,” said Garrett. “We-we’re not friends.”
“Garrett, don’t be foolish. Of course we are.” said Oscar. “And as for you, Fenton. I don’t know why my father sent—”
“To bring you in the rest of the way,” said Fenton. “And to make sure there’s no more mistakes.”
Oscar stamped his foot. “There haven’t been any mistakes!”
Whoa, temper tantrum. Garrett fought back a laugh. He thought Fenton did too, if the smirk teasing his lips was any indicator.
“And even if there had been,” Oscar continued. “My father will be overjoyed to meet Garrett and you know it.”
“Not my place to disagree.” Fenton motioned toward the warehouse entrance. “Shall we? Your father’s waiting.”
“Fine. But I want it known I found him.” Oscar put his arm around Garrett’s shoulder. “I brought him here. He’s my guest. Understood?”
Garrett shrugged away. “Look, I’m not anyone’s guest. Okay? I don’t know even know how I got here. Sheriff Hullinger took me to the jail to answer some marshal’s questions. Then Lenny, h-he shot me—”
“Lenny did?” Fenton asked.
Garrett nodded. “Th-then I woke up on some bus an-and he…Oscar…he said I was special. That he’d give me answers about what I am. But I don’t care anymore. I just wanna go home.” Garrett searched the employee faces. Willed one of them to speak up and say they’d help him. “I-I didn’t choose to come here.”
“I know, son,” said Fenton. “Truly.”
Garrett blinked. “You do?”
“Nobody chooses this.” Fenton put his hands in his pockets. “But you’re here now and I can promise you three things. You want answers? We can give you some. Tell you all about what you are. Help you figure that out. All right?”
“Y-yeah.” Garrett said.
“Another thing I can promise you is that the one who shot you…Lenny.” Fenton narrowed his eyes. “I’ll deal with him.”
Why do I feel like when he says deal with he means…deal with? As in…dead…sleeps with the fishes? Garrett shifted. “Wh-what’s the last thing you can promise?”
“You’re coming with us.” Fenton took a gun out of his pocket and aimed it at Garrett’s chest. “One way or another.”
Garrett wet his pants.
“We can do this the easy way or the Salt way,” said Fenton. “Your choice.”
Oscar stepped in front of Garrett. “How dare you. Put that away. That’s an order.”
Fenton shook his head. “It’s not your show anymore. That’s straight from your father’s mouth.” Fenton waved the aim of his gun toward the door. “Time for a boat ride.”
Oscar leaned his head around. “I won’t let him harm you, Garrett. I promise.”
Garrett doubted Oscar. He didn’t doubt Fenton. The man’s gaze never wavered and the ease with which he delivered his threats reminded Garrett of mob bosses in all the movies he’d watched over the years.
Reluctantly, Garrett followed Oscar. He lost any misguided hope he held of someone rescuing him the moment they exited onto the pier. Garrett didn’t see a single person in their vicinity, no one to shout at for help. Instead, he listened to Fenton’s heavy footfalls the entire way back to the boat.
Lenny awaited them at the dock.
Garrett didn’t need to read lips to gather Lenny’s reaction at who had joined their party.
“Whattaya doin’ here, Boss Fenton,” Lenny asked as they walked up the gangway.
“Shut your mouth, pup.” Fenton growled. “Don’t say another word.”
Yikes. No wonder Lenny’s such a grump.
Garrett felt the engines purring beneath his feet as he stepped aboard and a gentle shake of the ocean tipping the vessel back and forth. He heard the thud of plastic against metal as Lenny loaded the gangway.
The yacht drifted away from the pier.
Garrett’s heart raced. What do I do now?
Fenton reminded him with a nudge in the back. “Downstairs.”
“P-please.” Garrett said.
“Ever heard of box jellyfish, son?” Fenton asked. “Cause that’s the kind a venom I have loaded in this tranq. You want to find out how much it stings?”
Garrett shook his head.
“Downstairs.”
Garrett stumbled over his feet as he followed Oscar toward the stairwell.
The engine thrummed as Paulo steered the vessel eastward, then throttled up and drove the yacht from the inner harbor toward the main channel.
Garrett lost his balance and fell against the railing. Ahead, he saw a few masts peaked here and there, but elsewise only blue skies and grey water on the horizon. Behind, the Boston cityscape dwindled.
“Keep moving.” Fenton reminded him again.
The bottom of the stairs opened into a grand room with lavishness beyond anything Garrett had ever seen outside of TV. A tray of cold meats, cheeses, and crackers sat at the bar alongside several metal tins with steam rising off them. Garrett’s stomach rumbled.
“Master Collins,” said Fenton. “Join me on the captain’s deck.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Oscar replied. “Garrett’s my new friend and I mean to keep him company. I am a Collins, after all. Father wouldn’t want it said I wasn’t hospitable.”
Garrett watched Fenton eye him warily.
“Go on, Fenton,” said Oscar. “Garrett means me no harm, I assure you.”
“Aye, aye.” Fenton stepped out of the room and closed the door behind.
Then, Garrett heard it lock.
“Hey!” Garrett pounded on it. “Let me out. I need to go home!”
“We are going home,” said Oscar. “We’ll be there shortly, in fact, though I expect Fenton means to keep us tucked away in here until nightfall.”
Garrett faced Oscar. “Wh-why are you doing this? Why did he lock the door?”
“We can’t very well allow some passing fisherman to catch sight of you, now can we?” Oscar opened one of the metal tins and spooned himself a bowl of clam chowder. “Might as well enjoy a nosh in the meantime.”
Garrett chose to focus on the fading sight of land. The ship had cleared the main channel, now in the lower middle of Boston Harbor. Islands lay to either side of their approach and beyond them nothing but ocean.
Is this really happening?
Garrett felt the floor rise and fall beneath him as the yacht gained more speed. The new sensation gave him butterflies he might have enjoyed in any other circumstance. The walls closed in on him here, however, and made him feel even more nauseous.
Focus on something else…
Artwork adorned the walls. Not the cheesy and cheap kind, but paintings created by a master. Simple, yet elegant, all depicted marine life with complementary framings that spoke each received equal care in their appointments.
A pod of dolphins graced one painting - their natural grins evoking glee a
s they swam. Another depicted a heap of seals basking in the sun. Then a horrid one with hooked tentacles wrapped around a barnacle-encrusted whale.
The lone killer whale portrait entranced Garrett most. Beyond simply painting the magnificent creature, the artist had captured its essence - the raw power in its size, the beauty in its two-toned skin, the wisdom in its eyes.
Garrett felt a tickle in his toes whisper all the way up to his neck. “What am I?”
“Hmm?” Oscar mumbled as he slurped his soup.
“What am I?” Garrett faced him.
“Ah…back to that, are we?” Oscar dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “First, I think it best you hear what you’re not.”
“O-okay…”
“You’re not human.”
Garrett thought back to his skin changing in the Tiber High pool. The same transformation it made at the Indy Zoo when the shark-man’s tank burst. “So I’m what? A mutant or something like you?”
Oscar grimaced. “Only in my wildest dreams could I wield the power you possess. No, Garrett. Unfortunately, you and I are not alike. Do you see this?” Oscar reached for the pearl-white hood draped down his back. Held it up for Garrett to see. “Suit, coat, call it what you will. In truth, it’s only a ticket, a pass that I might dwell in your world for a time. I’m a Selkie.”
“And I’m not.”
Oscar shook his head. “You’re an Orcinian.”
“You keep saying that.” Garrett’s voice rose. “What does it mean? Just tell me already! What are Orcinians?”
“Murderers.” Oscar leaned forward. “The finest killers in all the Salt.”
LENNY
Boss. Paulo spoke to Lenny’s mind. Any guesses why Fenton’s here?
Lenny shrugged. Whateva the reason, it’s not good.
Buckets of blood, Paulo cursed. I knew something wasn’t right. Even back at the pier. Tieran was way too cocky. And when’s the last time you saw Fenton leave the cavern?
I dunno. Lenny tried to remember.
I do, said Paulo. Never. He’s been the head overseer since the Crayfish bought me and my mom. I’ve never seen him leave.
