The Boat Ride - A Charleau Short Story
Boat Ride:
Kenon found the docks easily enough, even with the heavy rain pouring down around him. The locals were helpful in guiding the poor soldier to his destination, despite a few minor setbacks from language differences. The dock was bustling even though the sun had set many hours ago. People in rain gear loading boxes and barrels onto varying sized ships. Despite the clattering of carts and people, not a word was spoken by any of the dockhands. In fact, they didn't even seem to acknowledge his presence.
Kenon felt a bit strange standing amongst all the silence, but resolved to carry out his duty. He scoured the dock for his assigned vessel and was surprised to see a man sitting down on a post near it. As Kenon got closer to the man, he could hear the faint sounds of a coughing fit and what he presumed were a few choice words in the Charlean language.
Upon Kenon’s arrival the man spoke up. In between coughing fits, the man asked if he was the new body for the shipper. Kenon replied with a short affirmative before asking if the man was alright.
The man stood up at this point and, through his thick accent, informed the private that he’s the original guard for the boat, but due to a bout with a bad cold, he’s unable to carry out his duty tonight. Seeing as the area is short of staff at the moment, they were forced to ask the nearby Empire Base if they had any idle hands they could spare. Kenon questioned why the shipping company hadn’t reassigned one of their own to guard duty, motioning at the dockhands loading and unloading the ships.
“They haven’t got a brain among them,” the guard said before breaking into a coughing fit. “Being a ship guard, especially at night, takes a lot of concentration and awareness. As you can probably see, these helpers are hardly aware of anything,” the man motions to one individual with its coat sliding down its back.
Kenon had noticed that the downpour hadn’t affected the speed or focus of those loading and unloading. The almost machine-like precision in the way they moved their carts, the lack of conversation, and laserlike focus did add an air of precision he hadn’t seen since his days at the training center.
“‘Sides, I think you Empire kids could use a little more excitement than just being hassled by us locals.” The man gave a small smile at his last remark.
Kenon couldn’t agree more. Since being stationed down in Charleau, on the grounds of the increasing social unrest and domestic terrorism acts, he expected a lot more excitement, but had only been met by meaningless fence patrolling and protests by an already exhausted local populace.
“Anything I should know about the passage?” Kenon inquired.
“Not really. The route is pretty straight forward along Passage 8; thick tree lines on both sides and not a lot of wiggle room. Might see a few bats or the occasional falling twig. Haven’t had any run-ins with those psychos yet and I’ve done the route for the past 2 years,” the man answered.
Kenon remembered the map he was shown by his superior this morning. An almost straight river passage that leads to one of Forn’s docks. If all went well, the whole trip should take just over 6 hours.
“How about the crew?” Kenon asked next.
“Can say even less about them than the passage. They’re under orders not to interact with you unless necessary,” the man replied, before hacking up a pile of phlegm that Kenon wished he hadn’t been witness to.
Kenon gave a puzzling look at this response, but before he could ask for more information the man raised his hand and said, “Don’t feel bad about that though. They aren’t the liveliest bunch. Just standard policy of CC Shipping Co., so don’t take it to heart.”
With the onset of another coughing fit the man bid himself goodbye and gave Kenon a soft pat on the shoulder. Leaving the young soldier to contemplate what made the rules here so strict. Noting the time, Kenon began to board his ship while admiring the work ethic of the docks. He took note of the ship’s name, CC-213, and of the almost perfect movements of the dockhands. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he wished the military operated with the same precision of CC Shipping Co.
Kenon reached the top of the loading ramp and took note of the small vessel’s crew. All dressed in the same dark purple rain gear moving about the ship making last minute checks. After getting closer to one of the crew, he was surprised to see they wore a dark mask that hid all their facial features. The figure seemed to be staring through Kenon, perhaps trying to make out why a stranger was on their ship.
“Uh, hello. My name is Kenon and I’m the guard for tonight. Nice to meet you,” Kenon finally said, holding his hand out for a handshake.
The figure made no movement or sound for a moment. Leaving an awkward tension in the air around them. Just as Kenon was putting his hand down, the figure slowly raised an arm and pointed towards the front of the ship before going back to removing the ropes that bound the vessel to the dock. Taking the gesture to mean “go there,” Kenon thanked the crew member before uncomfortably shuffling towards his post.
On his short journey to the front of the vessel, he took in the crew and the ship as a whole. There were only 3 crew members that he could see: two dedicated helpers and one captain. All wearing the same dark purple garb and face mask. Not one of them had ever uttered a sound, nor made any idle chat nor unnecessary movement.They displayed the same level of machine-like traits of those on the dock below.
The CC-213 was just about as basic of a ship as Kenon had ever seen. The Charlean Fan boat was around 25 feet long and roughly 15 feet wide. A large fan powered the boat forward as the swampy terrain of Charleau was impossible for any normal aquatic vessel to navigate. In the center was a large container, with a chair on each side, that continued down into the hull of the ship. It was low enough that the driver could clearly see above it. There was a staircase that led down a bit towards a door that was locked with very heavy chains and, in Kenon’s opinion, a comically large ornate lock.
When Kenon stepped down onto the first step of the stairs for a closer look, he felt a sudden chill and the eyes of someone boring into him. He turned around to see all 3 crew members had stopped moving, their black masks facing him, and their hidden eyes staring at him. Kenon took his foot off the first step and apologized, stating that he was just curious.
Already two awkward encounters in, he decided to make haste to his post. It was a small mounted turret on the front of the ship. Small, not very cozy, and offered almost no protection from the elements. The moment he had settled down into his seat, the boat hummed to life and began to move away from the lights of the port and into the darkness of the waterways.
The ride seemed to be going along smoothly. The sounds of crickets, frogs, and other wildlife filled the air as the boat gently made its way through Passage 8. The darkness had enveloped all on the ship in its warm, yet threatening aura. The cloudy sky still dropped intermittent rain and occasionally glimpses of the moon and stars above.
The sky here looked different from the one Kenon had grown up with. The climate here was muggier and cloudier than those he knew from the Outer Wall of Brisfall. His parents were farmers, but being the second born son, Kenon would never inherit the land he helped till. So he signed up for the military to make a living instead. The promise of visiting exotic lands, learning new skills, and the chance for early retirement all too tempting.
He knew very little of the land he was now stationed in other than it, like all nations in Illevar, was Empire territory. The music was good, the weather was terrible, and a domestic terrorist group had sprung up in the last year or so and was causing problems for the nobles. That was why he was sent down here instead of a closer station to home. Kenon’s first solo mission since graduating from the Empire’s Military Academy was a simple enough one. Guard the boat from the docks to its destination at Forn. A 6 hour round trip shouldn't be that bad.
That all said, he couldn’t shake off an eerie feeling about the boat. He glanced back at the crew he could see. There was one on either side of the container. Each sat perfectly still in their chairs, heads up looking out into the woods, hands on their knees. Perfectly symmetrical. Like a well-oiled machine, everything from the dock to the boat felt mechanical and inhuman to him.
As he was beginning to let out a sigh, Kenon noticed that the sounds of the wildlife had stopped. There were only the sounds of the fan and waves splashing off the boat. He felt his hair suddenly stand on end.
The silence was broken by the sounds of a gun going off. A bullet whizzed by and landed just to the right of Kenon’s head sending up a spray of splinters and shrapnel that pierced his flesh. The wound wasn’t deep, though, being a head wound, the blood flowed easily enough. Kenon slumped down to appear as if he had been killed. Fear took over and he did his best not to make any sounds or movement. Kenon was hoping that the assailant would let his guard down, assuming Kenon had died in the initial hit, so he could take the gunman by surprise. The rattling of bullets echoed in the night. Glass, wood, steel, and flesh being ripped apart by lead. Kenon stifled a cry of agony as his left arm was nicked by a stray bullet.
There was silence after a short time and Kenon heard the gunman walk towards the captain's cabin. The sounds of bullets dropping as the assailant seemed to struggle to reload his weapon. Followed by another burst of rounds being emptied into something solid. The sounds of grunts and rifling through boxes could be made out through the wind and thunder of an oncoming storm.
Kenon slowly lifted himself out of his seat and snuck along the deck. He noticed that the two crew members had been blasted out of their chairs and were now laying rigid on the wood. He placed his hand onto one of them, in the dark and rain he could feel moisture on the clothes, but no heartbeat and they were very cold. He pulled a knife off the crew member. He then snuck around the sides of the container and heard heavy breathing near the door along with the sounds of somebody fiddling with the lock.
Kenon gripped the knife tightly before jumping around the corner. He caught the assailant off guard and thrust the knife into the gunman’s head before a shot could be fired. Lightning flashed as Kenon caught a glimpse of the face of the attacker before they slumped lifelessly to the floor. It appeared to be a young man in a dark wetsuit of some kind.
Kenon thought he must have latched onto the ship somehow at the dock given how dangerous it would have been to try to latch onto a ship on a small, swampy passage in the dead of night. Though how he got on didn’t matter at that moment. What mattered was how Kenon was going to get out of this predicament. He had no training as a sailor and, being from the farmlands of Brisfall, the only natural water he had ever encountered was a small babbling brook.
The storm was letting up a bit now; almost ending as rapidly as it began. Making use of this break, Kenon quickly made his way to the captain’s cabin. Hoping that some equipment, maybe a radio, was still operational.
There was glass and splinters everywhere. The gun the assailant was using was powerful, using much higher caliber ammunition than was necessary to kill a human. The steering rig was in shambles along with most of the electrical equipment. It appeared that power had been cut off from the blasts.
Kenon then turned his attention to the captain of the ship. The black mask was blown off along with the jaw. The tongue hung out and glassy eyes appeared to stare into nothing. The left leg was crumpled as a bullet ripped the knee up pretty badly.
Stifling down his nausea, Kenon grabbed an emergency lantern and went back to the container and the deceased assailant. It was a young man dressed for long water exposure. There was a bag on the floor next to him along with the captain’s keys and the now spent firearm. The dead body had several incendiaries stashed away in the bag of the wetsuit.
This caused some confusion in the young man. Why try to set fire to a dinky boat? How would the individual escape a blazing ship? Would others arrive soon? What should I do next?
The storm could get worse again and he would need shelter or else succumb to the elements. He turned the key and the lock fell with a heavy thud, revealing more stairs leading down below. In the darkness, he couldn’t see much. Alas, it was still better than all the death he had seen above. Kenon began to descend the steps into the blackness of the ship.
After entering the container, Kenon turned on a lantern hanging on the wall before closing the door behind him. If there was another assailant, at least he knew there was only one way for them to get to him. The walls of the container were made of thick metal and shooting through, although possible, would be unlikely or at least he hoped.
He took a look around at the storage containers inside the shelter. They were all uniform and about 6 feet long. They were stacked on top of one another and attached with safety rigs to the walls. Only one, a white container, laid by itself in the middle. It was anchored down to the floor with strong looking straps. Kenon stepped closer to the container and glanced at the writing on the top. He gasped and dropped the light after glancing at a face staring up at him through a small window.
The light began to flicker as it was cracked from the fall. The low light fading in and out covered the room in dark shadows.
Upon regaining his composure, Kenon noted that there was writing on the top of the container.
Here Lies Winona Flauster: 405-443. Her Grace’s Favorite Maid. Debt: 15 Years.
This was a casket. They were all caskets. Kenon took in a deep breath trying to process what was going on. The sound of rain pelting the roof of the container echoing in the dancing shadows.
His brief silence was interrupted by a strange sound from above. A slow thumping noise from outside the container. It was distant at first, but was getting louder. Coming closer.
His heart began to race, had he missed another person aboard the ship? He backed away from the door, placing his back onto the far wall, and readied his knife. The thumping was joined by the sound of something being dragged along the ship's boards. Even more sounds of heavy movement began to echo throughout the storage. They seemed to come from all sides and were slowly going towards the door. The lantern’s fading glow from the fall finally succumbed to the darkness.
The door opened with a creak. The sounds of the storm growing in volume as the door slowly opened wider and wider. A bloodied hand glimmers in a flash of lightning. The door opened fully and the dead assailant’s body tumbled in… with a figure standing behind it. The lightning flashed to show the captain’s bloodied corpse upright and turning! His blown apart face and glassy eyes met Kenon’s! Kenon shrieked in horror!
The captain began to slowly move towards him; his figure appearing closer with each flash of lightning. The sound of his damaged leg dragging across the steps and onto the floor. His arms extended up and out towards the soldier. Behind the captain, Kenon saw the other crew members shambling down into the storeroom. Their once machine-like walks had turned into unnatural shambling.
Kenon was frozen in fear as the face of the dead captain was mere feet from his own! His heart and mind couldn’t take anymore and he passed out.
Kenon woke up on a hospital bed screaming several hours later. A concerned doctor looks over at him and gently tries to calm him down. The doctor explains that the boat made it safely to Forn, after a rescue crew was dispatched, and that he was alright. They found him in the ship's container and that he didn’t have too many injuries outside of his face and arm.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, son,” the doctor said with a small chuckle.
“But the crew, they were all killed. And the captain! The captain! He wasn't dead! He was moving and he attacked me and…” Kenon had begun to frantically ramble.
The doctor gave him a confused look before opening a curtain near the bed. Behind the curtain, the crew of the ship were being stitched back together by a nurse. The captain’s jaw stitched back on and his glassy eyes staring forward.
“Well, of course they’re dead. That’s how zombies work,” the doctor calmly replied.
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