Chapter 10

To Sea

Garth winced, trying not to let the ropes cut into his wrists any more than they already had. The flaking skin was unbearably painful, and he could see both his and Renay's wrists were bleeding from the friction. Neither had said a word since they had been shoved into the truck bed. Renay still seemed to be in shock, and Garth was just too angry to even bother speaking. The rags stuffed into their mouths didn't help, either.

The driver had parked at the top of a hill near Tidesdale, or what used to be Tidesdale. The town looked like it had suffered a bad fire, and the only structures still partially intact were made of brick or stone. Ashes drifted across the streets like snow, and gray-skinned residents stumbled through the town, calling out various names and blending into the dull environment. A total eclipse appeared to be stuck in the dark sky.

A group of men in front of the truck had been talking in hushed voices for several minutes now. They were all wearing the same dull green coveralls, and they all had the same scabbed skin. Garth couldn't make out what they were saying, aside from an occasional insult muttered more loudly.

"We're not going to hear anything in here," whispered a voice underneath a brown tarpaulin in the corner of the truck bed, startling Garth. "Let's get out."

The tarp lifted and a boy with curly blond hair slipped out, dropping over the edge of the truck. He was wearing one bright red tennis shoe. Was he the missing kid?

"Mmm!" Garth mumbled into the rag, realizing for the first time how raw his throat was. "Mmm mm mmmm!"

Renay looked over at him. The boy turned back, held a finger over his lips, and then crept toward the front of the vehicle. No point in trying to get him back; Garth would just attract the attention of the guys up there. As much as he wanted to find out what was going on, he didn't want to mess things up for someone else. But still...things were starting to come together, as he had known they would.

Morris held still in Marcus's hand, partly to keep silent and partly to avoid irritating his skin. Marcus had successfully hidden behind a stone block within hearing range of the miners.

"We need t' get outta 'ere afore they get away," hissed one.

"We're not going to catch up with them. They're already far away by now. We should train the woman first."

"And let those guys wreak havoc on other parts of the world?" argued another. "I don't think so! We can set off and teach her how to let us through the barrier. After we get through, we can focus on other things while we're on the ship."

Ship? Morris thought. So they mean to go after the pirates. But where are they going to get a ship?

"But can she learn that fast? She's never even heard of real magic."

"Well, no point in stayin' 'ere. If we set off now, we'll be ready th' moment she figures it all out."

"And just anchor the ship in front of the barrier until she's ready? What if it takes days? Will we have enough food to cover our trip?"

"I was thinkin' o' stoppin' by this...err, port. It's called...Quantis, I think. My pa's handed down maps o' th' place..."

"That myth?" argued a disgusted voice. "You've got to be kidding me."

I need to go on a little errand, Morris thought to Marcus. Wait here and let me know what they finally decide on, ok? No answer. Dang it, no magic.

Morris scrambled up Marcus's arm, perching on his shoulder. Marcus's ear was puffy and was oozing white stuff, and Morris wondered with horror if that was what his own ears looked like. Was their hearing impaired? Were they really speaking loudly without realizing it? Maybe the miners were, too. He reached up to feel his own ear, but his nerve endings seemed to be numb. Now that he thought about it, the pain had started to fade. Hopefully he wasn't suffering any permanent feeling loss.

"Marcus, I need to go," he whispered into Marcus's ear. "Wait here and let me know what's up when I get back. Nod if you can hear me."

As soon as Marcus nodded, Morris hopped down to the ground and sprinted toward the center of the ruins. Slipping through the cracks between stones, he noticed several had shifted during the earthquake. What about his city, then?

The hole leading down into the tunnel was still intact, and when Morris dropped through it, he noticed the tunnel itself looked fine, too. A pale blue light was reflected on the wall around the corner. Could it be...the Cerul? Was it protecting the Shellens? Morris picked up his pace.

When he rounded the corner, he saw the Shellen city looking exactly as it had before. A woman was walking around with perfectly normal skin. The Cerul shone brightly in the center of the cave. Morris's heart leaped with joy. Maybe the light could heal those who had been exposed to the air outside...

"Morris, stop!" yelled a voice behind him.

"Huh?" Morris half grunted, doing a 180 while continuing to run in the same direction. His friend, Buro, was sitting against the wall with a few other Shellens. They all had gray skin. But why were they just sitting -

WHAM. Morris felt like he had just fallen for miles and landed on his back. His body was thrown to the ground, and his head started twitching against the dirt floor. An eerie whistling sound echoed down the hallway. The throbbing in his brain began as a rapid pulse and then slowed to an occasional increase in pressure.

"Can't...move..." Morris winced. "Help...me..."

"Don't try to get up, Morris," ordered Buro, who was now kneeling above him. "You'll be fine in a few minutes. Just stay calm..."

"What...what...happ...haaaaaa..." Morris stammered. His tongue would no longer move. He thought he was starting to drool, but he couldn't be sure.

"Shh," Buro comforted. "There's some kind of barrier around the city. Once you leave, you can't get back in."

Morris struggled to ask a question, but his mouth wouldn't respond. His breaths were getting tighter and quicker. Did people suffocate when they were paralyzed? Was his heart going to stop beating? Buro had said he would be fine; had it already happened to someone else?

All went dark.

The sky shone a radiant blue color that only appeared on the most pleasant of days. Drifting over the ocean were the kind of fluffy white clouds that children point at, claiming they see animals or people. Vibrant violet flowers sprouted up from lush green grass, their scent mingling with the cool, salty breeze to create a smell that would always mean one thing to Morris: home.

Among the rushing of waves in the distance, laughter softly floated through the ruins, following the wind. Morris gradually became aware of his body. He slid his fingers across his smooth, strong jaw, and he could feel that his hair had been pulled back like it used to be. A glance down at his clothes revealed the red graphic t-shirt and faded jeans he had shrunken and stolen from the humans. That look had become popular among the Shellen teens, partly because they liked the style and partly because it meant the wearer was either brave enough to venture near the humans or rich enough to buy the outfit from someone else.

I do not want to be reminded of these days, Morris thought. This was back when I was still obsessed with getting girls and looking cool...this was back before -

"Hey, Morris!" shouted the voice Morris had been dreading.

"Hey," answered someone. Morris suddenly saw his own body standing up and walking toward the other figure.

No...this isn't fair...

It was him again. Morris could've recognized him just from seeing the strange mole on his face, but all the other features were visible as well. The penetrating eyes, the razor-like nose, the rubber band mouth, the jet black hair...it was all there.

The instant Morris's body reached him, the sky plunged into a suffocating red color. Shimmering lights flashed beneath the surface of the ocean, serving as eerie warnings. Something changed in his eyes - the smile was frozen on his lips, but a flood of terror was surging just beyond those eyes. Morris could see that his own eyes had taken on the same color as the sky.

No...w-what's this? I di...I d-didn't...

A knife flashed across the red space between the two figures on the cliff's edge. Every time the knife was thrust, the ocean responded with a pulse of light and a crash of waves.

I...I didn't...th-that's n-not...

He slumped over in pain, giving Morris one last look of horror and agony before tumbling off the edge of the cliff.

NO!! Morris screamed, not hearing any sound. His body turned to face him, gripping the bloodstained knife in one hand. Morris struggled to get up, but he was stuck in place somehow. His body stumbled closer and closer, his eyes glowing a fierce red.

No! Morris yelled again as the knife came down on him. Stop! I didn't do "anything! It's not my - "

Morris stopped shouting as soon as he noticed that his voice worked again. His eyes jerked open to find that he was lying in the dark tunnel outside the Shellen city. Buro was leaning over him, struggling not to burst out laughing.

"Shut up," Morris snapped, shoving Buro away as he sat up. "You don't know anything."

"S-sorry..." Buro muttered, losing his lighthearted tone. The others took several more seconds to calm down. After that, everyone sat in silence, staring at either Morris or the floor. A few minutes later, Morris broke the silence.

"So, I just came to...let everyone know I'm leaving."

"...What?" Buro stammered. "But you can't leave now! We need - "

"We need to get the pirates back," Morris interrupted. "They're the ones who did all this to us. And I'm...going after them."

"Huh? Pirates?" Buro questioned.

"Look, I don't know when I'll be coming back...or if I'll be coming back," Morris went on, "but...well, I won't be of any use here."

"But how are you going to chase pirates?" Buro asked. "You going to swim?"

"There are some...humans. They have a ship," Morris informed the group.

"Humans?!" someone gasped. Buro's face turned a shade paler.

"Look, I'm not...it's not...they're..." Morris struggled to get the words out. The group stared at him as if he were a ghost, and they all sat in silence for a few moments. "Just...never mind," Morris finished. He stood and pushed past the other Shellens on his way back up the tunnel.

"Wait!" shouted Buro behind him. Morris stopped and turned. "I ju-" Buro's mouth twisted into different shapes as if it were trying to find the right sounds to make.

"Goodbye, Buro." Morris rounded the corner and plunged ahead into the darkness.

The tunnel remained silent as Morris trudged toward the exit. By now he was numb all over - not only physically, but also emotionally. Everything was happening so fast. He knew some kind of breakdown was coming, but at the moment he felt nothing. It was as if he were sprinting down a dark tunnel into a dead end, fully aware of the situation, but unable to stop or predict the exact moment he would hit the wall.

Gloomy light lazily draped down into the hallway, and Morris clutched the rough, twisted roots that formed the sides of the ladder leading up into the haze. The hollow spaces under the castle stones took on an eerie dead look, and Morris hurried out into the open grass. There were no signs of life outside.

You've got to be kidding me, he thought to himself, reaching up to rub his chin but stopping when he remembered his skin condition. They're all gone... Flaky fingers suddenly wrapped around his body, and he was swept into the air at a sickening speed.

"They all left a few minutes ago..." Marcus wheezed from above. "We have to hurry."

"Slow down!" Morris moaned. "Where'd they go?"

"They're already heading for the yacht. I don't know how soon they're leaving, but I don't want to take any chances," Marcus answered.

"Wait...yacht?" Morris asked.

"Yeah, that's what they said," Marcus panted. "I think I know the one they mean. I mean, it's the only one I know of, so yeah. It's not far."

"Ok, well, did you have to snatch me up like that?" Morris complained.

"Yes," Marcus affirmed.

"And do you have to swing your arm so far when you run?"

"I'm not swinging it that far," Marcus groaned. "What do you want me to do, run with my arm sticking out in front of me?"

"That would be nice, yeah," Morris grunted.

"Well, we're almost there anyway. I see the yacht down there...so they haven't left yet..." Marcus slowed down and crouched to hide behind the boulders resting on the edge of the beach. "They're loading stuff onto the - "

"Shhhh," Morris hissed.

Miners were carrying crates from the pickup truck to the yacht via a narrow wooden dock. They seemed to be struggling with the boxes, though the weight probably wouldn't have been a problem by itself. Everyone was still suffering from the freakish skin condition, and it got in the way of simple tasks.

"You need to get us on there," Morris whispered.

"Without being seen?" Marcus whimpered. "That guy up there is always looking around."

"There has to be some kind of secret way in," Morris offered.

"Yeah, because real life is just like a big movie," Marcus scoffed. Suddenly his hand was empty. "Hey, where are - "

"Shhh!" Morris cautioned, scurrying across the sand.

He was in the open now. The man standing at the edge of the yacht didn't seem to notice, but someone else was stepping back onto the dock, probably to get another crate. Morris made it to the edge of the dock, where he hid under the protruding wooden planks until the man passed. Quickly, he circled the corner of the dock and ran across it, taking care not to step into any of the slits between boards. Within seconds, he had crossed over into the yacht.

Marcus leaned against the cool rocks, carefully watching the man on the yacht. Several times he had almost leaped over the boulders to run for the dock, but the man never turned around for more than a few seconds. Marcus's chest throbbed, and his breathing quickened. There was no way he could get on that ship without being seen. Maybe he could run for it and grab a randomly dangling rope somewhere as the yacht was leaving. Maybe he could -

Crash! The sound of clattering boards echoed through the surrounding mist.

"I need some help over here!" shouted one of the miners on the deck. The man on watch turned and left his post. This was it. This could be Marcus's only chance.

Shutting out his fear, Marcus bounded over the rocks and sprinted toward the dock. As soon as he reached the wooden construction, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled along the planks. The wall of the yacht barely rose above his back, but it was better cover than nothing. Coming around to the door, which had been folded down to rest on the dock, Marcus glanced around the corner of the wall. A couple of miners were busy picking up planks and broken bottles; both had their backs to him.

Marcus scurried onto the yacht, his eyes scanning the deck for a decent place to hide. Against the side of the cabin he could see a small sort of cabinet with a slanted top. He crawled over to it and flipped open the door. It seemed mostly empty, besides a rope and a couple life vests. Furthermore, Marcus thought he could fit inside easily enough. He tumbled into the container and lowered the door on top of him.

"You nearly killed me, you bumbling idiot!" someone hissed.

"Morris?" Marcus jolted upon hearing his voice. "How'd you get in here?"

"I'm small, not incompetent," Morris grumbled. "And keep your voice down. They'll hear you, and you're wasting my air."

"Well, sorry," Marcus sighed. "Where are you? I don't want to crush you down there."

"I'll be up here on a hook," Morris answered. "Now be quiet."

Marcus wasn't looking forward to the trip.

Purple-gray haze smothered the yacht as it plowed across the murky waters. A shimmering light danced beyond the blanket of fog, reflecting across the surface of the water in an eerie performance. Every time someone on board the ship spoke, the voice had a strange quality about it; it seemed to echo, but then quickly drop into silence. Renay and Jack stood in the center of the main deck, and Garth sat against the cabin with his hands and feet tied up with rope. Four of the miners watched the scene from the edges of the yacht, leaning against the handrails.

"Alright, missy, first you'll need t' shut yer eyes," Jack instructed.

"Her name is Renay," Garth spat.

"I'm not closing my eyes anywhere near you," Renay muttered to Jack.

"Look, R'nay," Jack grunted, glaring over at Garth, "ya don't 'ave no experience. Shuttin' yer eyes'll 'elp ya focus. We need ya t' focus."

Renay started to tremble a little, but she tried her best to keep staring Jack in the eye.

"Shut yer eyes or I'll shut 'em for ya," Jack hissed, taking a step towards her.

"Jack, quit it," one of the miners interrupted. "Renay, you're only hurting yourself here. If you don't learn by the time we reach the barrier, we all might as well be dead. We'd normally be able to get ourselves through the barrier, but we can't use magic in this air. The ring gives you back that ability." The speaker looked around at the hazy atmosphere surrounding them. "We need you to hurry. In this fog, the wall could come out of nowhere and we'd be wrecked within seconds."

"Better than to let these lunatics get on with their plans," Garth mumbled to himself.

Renay didn't hesitate to close her eyes, though her body was still shaking. Jack backed away a little.

"Good. Now I need ya t' focus all yer thoughts on th' ring."

"How can I focus when you haul me out into the middle of the ocean and tell me we're all going to die?!" Renay screamed, a loose tear stinging her cheek.

"Just relax. We're not gonna die if ya concentrate," Jack assured.

Garth glanced around the deck. None of the miners were watching him, but he knew he would be noticed if he tried to squirm away.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Garth announced.

"Nobody's stopping you," one of the observing miners grunted.

"Frank, untie his feet an' take 'im below deck," Jack ordered the man who had just spoken.

"Who died and made you king?" Frank spat.

"Lyle, you feelin' up t' th' challenge of takin' th' prisoner t' th' bathroom?" Jack asked another miner.

"Now wait just a minute," Frank growled. "I asked you a question."

"Did one o' ya just say somethin'?" Jack taunted.

The two miners nearest Frank grabbed him before he could dive at Jack. Jack turned around and continued with Renay's instruction, ignoring all of Frank's incoherent insults. The man who was not busy with holding Frank back - Garth thought he was the one Jack had called Lyle - removed the ropes from Garth's feet and pulled him up.

"Stairs are that way," Lyle said, shoving Garth toward the back of the yacht. "I'll untie your hands when we get to the head."

...Head? Garth thought. Must be some kind of sailor nonsense.

After opening a door and heading down the stairs, Garth found himself in a small, dimly lit kitchen area. The narrow bathroom door stood at the other end of the room, and just to its left was a ladder leading up through the ceiling. Maybe it went up into the control cabin thingy - Garth had no idea what to call it. Wherever all the steering stuff was, that's where he needed to go. He glanced around the room as he crossed it, looking for any kind of weapon that might be easy to grab. Nothing was close enough to the bathroom door, and that was where his hands would be free.

Finally reaching the door, Lyle undid the ropes around Garth's hands and pushed him into the bathroom. Garth closed the door and immediately searched the small room for any loose objects. It was actually larger than he had thought it would be; there was even a small shower. Still, no obvious weapons presented themselves. After quietly rummaging around in the cabinets, the best he could come up with was a bottle of shampoo. There had to be something else...

Then he saw the showerhead. It was metal, and it appeared to be detachable. Garth began to unscrew it from the hose, accidentally knocking it against the glass wall of the shower.

"What are you doing in there?" Lyle questioned from the other side of the door.

"I'm almost done," Garth replied loudly, and the showerhead was free. He reached over to flush the toilet, but couldn't work out how to do it; there was no tank and he couldn't find a lever anywhere. Whatever. There was no need for it anyway. Garth firmly gripped the showerhead and slowly opened the door.

"I didn't hear any water," Lyle mentioned. "Did you figure out how to - "

Thwack. Lyle crumpled to the ground. Now for that ladder. Garth climbed high enough to poke his head through the hole in the ceiling, and he was met with flashing lights from a variety of equipment. He had no idea what any of them were for, but surely it wouldn't be too hard to simply turn the wheel, right?

Someone was sitting in the swiveling chair in front of the wheel, though. Carefully, Garth crept out of the hole, just far enough to stretch over and deliver a blow to the back of the skull with his showerhead. Okay, so far so good. He dragged the unconscious man over to the hatch - dang, this guy was huge - and pushed him in feet first, then closed the door on top of the ladder and slid the latch shut. After making sure that the side doors of the cabin were locked, Garth sat in front of the wheel.

Fumbling with his fingers above the rubber-encased wheel, he pondered how quickly to turn it. He needed to turn around as quickly as possible, but it would also be in his best interest to make sure the crew didn't notice the shift. Beside that, he wasn't even sure how responsive a yacht's steering mechanism was.

Fortunately, he located a built-in GPS device nearby, using it to gauge about how far to turn. He had no idea what he'd do if they made it back to shore, but he was working on that.

That lady - Renay, was it? - was really not doing well without her husband or boyfriend or whoever. Jack had been trying to get her to focus, but she kept hopelessly shaking like a mental patient. She seemed a little calmer whenever the guy was around, but he had been gone for at least ten minutes. At this rate, they'd never be ready by the time they reached the barrier.

"Clarence, go check what's goin' on below," Jack instructed. "Somethin's up."

"Why don't you check?" Frank muttered as Clarence left.

"I've 'ad jus' about enough o' you," Jack warned.

"What are you going to do, yell at me?" Frank laughed. "You're all skin and bones and mouth."

"Clayton listens t' me. Are ya sure ya want t' mess with that beast?"

"I could just as easily tell him all about your little God act here," Frank spat. "You're not the only one he listens to."

"Oh, really?" Jack taunted. "Maybe shoulda thought o' that afore ya went an' kidnapped an' beat up 'is son."

"Jack!" Clarence yelled, coming around the corner out of breath. "We have a problem."

"Oh, sure, report to our honorable leader," Frank groaned. "After all, he's the only one who-"

"Shut it, Frank," Jack ordered. "Now what's goin' on?"

"Lyle...and Clayton," Clarence explained. "They're out cold. The cabin hatch is locked."

"Son of a-"

"Frank, get back here," Jack shouted at the man, who had pulled out a pistol and was walking around the side of the cabin.

"Don't hurt him!" Renay screamed at Frank. "Jack, do something!"

Garth tapped his fingers on the dashboard thingy in front of him. It seemed as though everything was going well, but for all he knew the boat could be sinking. No alarms were going off, so everything was according to plan as far as he was concerned. The cabin was mostly silent, allowing the subtle swishes and moans outside to seep in under the door. A creak beyond the left door caught his attention, but he could see only lavender haze through the round window.

Must have been nothing. Garth turned back to the GPS to confirm that they were still headed in the direction he wanted.

Suddenly there was a flash and a quick explosion, ripping through the foggy cushion of sound surrounding him. Garth jumped in his seat and nearly toppled over as the shot rang through his body. Another bang echoed through the small room and Garth found himself on the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?!" a voice yelled from across the misty water. Garth turned his head in the direction of the shots and found two miners standing in the doorway, wrestling with something. A gun? Everything was slightly blurred...

Now their voices had faded. Ocean waves crashed through Garth's head, as though he were holding a seashell to his ear...

Gradually he grew aware of a sharp pain centered in his left arm. Tilting his head down, he could see only a blobby red shape spreading through his white sleeve.

Blood? Not blood... Garth felt his stomach start to rise. He had been shot. He was not one to get queasy at the sight of blood, but this was something entirely different. He had been shot. The blood's metallic scent forced its way into his nostrils. Oh my god...stay calm...stop...getting...lightheaded...can't...focus...

The ceiling blurred out of existence.

"GARTH!" Renay wailed. "GARTH!"

Jack sprinted across the deck to where Frank and Clarence squirmed on the ground, struggling to gain control of the pistol. Two more shots rocketed off the yacht, swirling the mist for a short second. Quickly thrusting his hand into the mix, Jack helped Clarence wrench the gun out of Frank's grasp. As soon as Clarence loosened his grip, Jack hurled the pistol out over the water.

"I was just scaring him off!" Frank growled, shoving Clarence away and wincing at the freshly peeled skin as he stood.

"You shot him!" Clarence accused.

"You're the one who helped aim that shot," Frank spat. "Great job."

"Both o' ya, shut up already!" Jack yelled. "Someone get Clayton an' Lyle up - "

Frank quickly interjected. "You know, I am sick of your - "

"While I deal with yer mess 'ere," Jack finished, glancing and nodding his head toward the wounded man. He noticed that the woman had slipped into the cabin and was kneeling over the body.

Breathing heavily, clenching his jaw, and boring holes with his eyes, Frank stormed off to the stairs. Jack turned his attention to the man on the floor.

"Is he ok?" Renay whimpered, letting salty pools form on the ground beneath her.

"Th' bullet went through," Jack observed, noting the punctures on both the front and back of Garth's shoulder. "That's good...I think. We need t' get th' first aid kit below deck. Put some pressure on that."

"Uh, Jack?" Clarence ventured from outside.

"Yeah, what?" Jack prodded.

"You might want to see this..."

"I'm kinda busy 'ere," Jack replied, releasing the lock on the floor hatch.

"The sky is getting bluish."

Jack turned and stumbled to his feet, looking out the window. The purple haze had definitely started to change; the mist was thinning and - yes, it did look a little bluer. Suddenly a clear line across the water emerged from the fog, revealing the source of the new color. They had reached the edge of the barrier. Within a few seconds, the yacht would churn right into the wall at full speed. There was no time to avoid it.

"Abandon ship!" Jack exploded.

A massive groaning crunch rippled across the deck as floorboards popped loose and splinters sailed in every direction. Jack dove over the railing.