Dispatches From the Frontier, Chapter I

posted on august 7, 2005, tags: dispatches, fiction

You're reading chapter one. Available chapters: One | Two

The enormous waves were pounding the sides of the boat, but we didn't have time to worry about the spillover. The most important thing on my mind was how we were going to fix the hole on the bottom of the boat while the sea chopped so hard. Spillover was nothing compared to the torrent of icy water rushing into the crew's quarters at 50 gallons a minute. This ship's Captain, an elderly man with a gray beard and other such stereotypical features, was yelling at his men and trying to get a handle on the situation. I was just panicking. That's what I do in situations like these.

The crew, thankfully, were well-trained. They set about their task quickly and with great skill. Marty, the youngest, ran between the heavyset man welding and the well-oiled Latino who was tearing metal from the sides and bottoms of the cabinets in the Documents Room. Marty handed the Welder sheets of metal and ran back to the Latino, who filled Marty's arms full of more metal sheets. Immunization records and docking permissions were flying to and fro, released through the gaps in the metal. Caught in the air, the papers would now and again catch a crewman's face and hang there, pressed like a piece of saran wrap, until the crewman tore it away. Then, as before, it would catch a breath of air or ride a small wave of water to its next resting place.

For my part, I did nothing. I just stood there, wringing my hands and talking under my breath, while everyone else worked like animals to keep the ship from sinking. And my lack of effort did not go unnoticed. Several times I caught the Captain's eye as he looked at me with disdain. But all I could do was mutter and whine, occasionally sneezing or coughing. Luckily, the Captain was the only person who seemed to notice. Marty never looked up from his back and forth routine; the Latino and Welder were both too busy to pay any attention to the guy wearing suspenders and crying.

When the hole was finally patched, the crew let out a harmonic sigh and rested for the first time since the storm began. Coincidentally, the storm itself seemed to release its deadly grasp on the ship and we found ourselves, finally, at peace. I followed the crew to the deck of the ship and gazed lovingly at the flat expanse surrounding us. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked up at a cloudless, blue sky. Then the Welder punched me in the back and yelled something about my suspenders.

I was dusting myself off when the first snake fell. It landed on the deck with a tremendous thud just a few yards from my left foot. When it hit, the wood splintered and the snake exploded, spraying me and the crew's only midget with blood. A moment later, another snake fell to the deck with a similar thud. Then another, then another. We didn't realize they were snakes falling until one landed on a pile of ropes soft enough to save its life, angering it beyond all comprehension. The living snake immediately attacked and sank its fangs into the Midget, who screamed in agony. Before we had a chance to help the injured Midget, the snake storm quickly intensified and we all had to run for cover. We could hear the Midget screaming in pain as he was both eaten and clobbered by snakes.

Once inside the ship, we all ran for the mess hall, where we kept a cache of snake poison. It was only after we were all inside and had locked the door that we realized our mistake: we had forgotten that the dining hall was overrun by giant spiders. Normally, the spiders were quite friendly, but the snake storm seemed to anger them and Guido, their leader, began to advance on the crew. The Captain tried to talk it down, but Guido grabbed the Latino and began to cover him in webbing. I turned and tried to unlock the door, but the Welder had welded it shut when we came in, and he was now fighting for his life against one of the spiders in the kitchen. We could hear him screaming for help, but we were all surrounded by Guido's army and I feared it would be the end for us. But more importantly, for me.

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