by JM Coombs
Richard couldn't help blinking in surprise for the second time in as many minutes. "You want me to carry your money in my side-trunk? Are you sure?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Or in 'Squeakylid' — at least until we go our own ways."
Richard took the bag solemnly. "Then I will protect your treasure with my life, my lady."
Elizabeth gave him a warm smile — the first warm smile he'd seen on her. It lit up her face and turned the elegance of the diamond industrial drill bit into the elegance of the diamond and silver ring. "Yes," she said. "I would not be surprised if you actually meant that."
As Richard expected, the build went on through the night. More of the island's trapped craftsmen turned up to help after darkness fell. Richard made use of the building's only sofa to catch himself some much needed sleep while Elizabeth took the bed upstairs.
By morning, it was finished — a small rowboat, just big enough for two rowers and one 'Squeakylid'.
Julie turned to address the group of craftsmen, each with all their worldly goods on their backs or clutched to their chests. "Today," she said, "we've been given a great gift. With the help of Mister Richard Struggle here, and his friend, Elizabeth Whisper, we finally have a way out of here."
The craftsmen and women all nodded. They didn't cheer — not this time. The mood was instead one of grim-faced determination.
"Every one ready?" Julie asked.
Everyone nodded again.
"Then let's get moving. We don't want to wait to find out what shit Mister Offwood and his cronies might try to pull if we dawdle." She turned to one of the craftswomen and nodded.
The woman held up a hand to one of the aluminium walls, concentrated, and a good section of wall seemed to melt, splashing to the ground in a puddle of cool metallic liquid.
"There goes my deposit," Elizabeth muttered, wry smile firmly in place.
Two men and four women lifted the currently upside-down boat.
Richard and Elizabeth hoisted up Squeakylid.
"Go!" Julie barked.
They went, marching down Main Street like a swarm of human ants carrying a prize wooden beetle. All the way, cheap would-be hero labourers stopped work on their shanty-town like buildings to stare at the sight.
Neither Richard nor Elizabeth, nor any of the craftsmen or women, noticed a man in a faded baseball cap, run ahead of them — a man who'd been hiding behind one of the workshop's thin aluminium walls, listening to their every word.
In The Second Island market, Mister Offwood glared at the empty space where Julie should be carving wood trinkets. He'd have to have 'words' with her when she got here about the need for humans to eat.
One of his business associates walked up to him. "John's late," the man said.
"So's Julie," Mister Offwood replied.
The two looked at each other with narrowed eyes.
Suddenly a man ran up to them, out of breath and wheezing — a man wearing a faded baseball cap.
"What do you want?" Mister Offwood asked.
"Passage off the island."
Mister Offwood crossed his arms. "And why do you think I'd give that to you?"
The man smiled. "Cuz I have information on an escape by your workers."
Mister Offwood was suddenly all ears. "Go on."
A commotion behind them, towards the other end of the docks, caused them to glance around.
"Passage off the island, or no information," the man said urgently.
"Fine," Mister Offwood said.
The man pointed to where the commotion was. "That's them."
Richard and Elizabeth placed Squeakylid at the pier's edge with a definite thlunk sound.
"Lower away," one of the craftsmen called out.
The boat carrying team gently lowered the boat into the shimmering blue waters of the Creakylid sea.
"Stop right there!"
Richard turned. "Oh. Mister Offwood." He smiled at the furious man, while protectively stepping in front of Elizabeth and Julie. The man certainly looked ready to attack. "How good of you to join us."
Mister Offwood caught his breath before shouting. "That wood is stolen!"
The crowd around the docks watched with interest.
Richard scoffed. "Of course it isn't."
"Then where did it come from, eh?"
Richard pointed. "From the wreck past the peninsular."
"You can't salvage without permission!"
"Of course you can. I checked with the sheriff's office first."
Mister Offwood looked taken aback, but rallied with a smirk. "Well, you can't run a ferry service from here to the island without a council licence."
"I guess it's a good thing that it's not a ferry service, then," Richard said, still grinning. "We're only going in one direction and we're only doing it once. It's a personal boat trip."
Mister Offwood frowned, looking around at the two dozen people milling around in front of him. "But, how…"
Behind him, Elizabeth opened Squeakylid's lid with accompanying loud squeak sound, and motioned everyone to start climbing inside.
Mister Offwood's jaw dropped as person after person climbed down into the depths of the trunk. The last woman to climb in was Julie, who gave Mister Offwood a victorious smirk and a wave before disappearing into Squeakylid's depths.
Richard and Elizabeth clambered onto the gently rocking rowboat and took the trunk from the last two men on the pier. The two men then climbed into the row boat themselves and down into Squeakylid.
Mister Offwood hurumphed and turned his back on them. "Fine. If you're so desperate to throw away good opportunities, see what I care."
Richard and Elizabeth settled down by the oars for the first tour of rowing duty.
"Au revoir, Mister Offwood," Elizabeth called out in a voice so sweet it dripped.
"Yeah, whatever," Mister Offwood scowled. "Don't think that your leaving makes any difference to me. There'll be plenty more where you came from."
Richard scowled back. They heaved on the oars and soon were off over the waves, trusty compass leading them east.
They rowed in silence for a while until they were well out of earshot of the docks. Then Elizabeth turned to him with a thoughtful expression and asked, "Are you going to make this into a memory diary entry?"
"Hmm?" Richard said.
"A memory diary entry. You know, like the first one of your preparation."
Richard thought for a moment. Then a mischievous smirk slid onto his face. "Sure, why not. I'm sure someone will get a kick out of it — and I did kinda promise Charles."
Elizabeth gave him a sly look. "Or someone will get kicked because of it."
Richard chuckled. "I suppose it's not impossible." His eyes sparkled. "After all, some interesting people did say they'd keep a close eye on my crystal ball."
One week later…
Dock master Samuel Peterson opened another hate letter and groaned. His desk was piled high with the things. Letter after letter — some calling for his head — others calling for his job — he'd even received one letter that simply read, "FUCK YOU!"
Suddenly, his office door opened. He started to snap-off that he wasn't to be disturbed, but the rest of his sentence died on his lips.
Nikolo Maximilian Spinner stood in the door like an old, red-haired, Welsh Hercules. He quickly entered, flanked by three guards all wearing those long, flowing red robes and carrying those scary four-pronged spears.
In his hand, Nikolo held a crystal ball.
Samuel's stomach dropped.
"Samuel." Nikolo said, his voice as hard as steel.
"Yes, Grand Mage?" he croaked out.
"You are under arrest for gross mismanagement of council responsibilities, corruption, and fraud. You are also on suspension from all council duties pending a public enquiry."
Samuel's eyes widened.
"Yes, Samuel, a public enquiry," the Grand Mage bit out. "I have no intention of having this swept under the carpet."
Samuel's head dro
pped into his hands. It had all started out so small. Little things here and there. How had it come to this? He was cuffed and led outside to where it seemed half of the town's leadership was like-wise cuffed and waiting, sitting silently like a class of school children who've really pissed off the teacher. He spotted Mister Offwood among those restrained, cross-legged and looking miserable. Samuel was sat among the other prisoners just as another man wearing a faded baseball cap was dragged in for being drunk and disorderly.
The Grand Mage then left without a backwards glance.
Once away from the arrested men and women, and from the cries of the shouting drunk who seemed to have a grudge with Mister Offwood, the captain of the guard turned to Nikolo. "What should we do about Mister Struggle, Grand Mage? I know you intended to see him before."
Nikolo rubbed his beard. He really hadn't expected the boy to be quite so resourceful. "Mmmm… nothing for the moment. I think it may have been a mistake to so overtly intervene in Mister Struggle's journey so early on." He held up the crystal ball again. "I think I would like to see how this plays out."
Notes From the Author
That was Evacuate the Masquerade, the first episodic novella in a season of five, which will be published between February and July 2017. I hope you enjoyed it. To stay up to date on future episodes, head over to JMCoombs.com.
Those of you familiar with my other works know how much I love reviews. It's no different here. The single best way to support my work is to click here and review.
See you soon!
- J.M Coombs
This page intentionally left blank
