Lake Erie
This was going to be my submission to the Convention Anthology '1921 - Furries in Fedoras' for Furthemore 2022. Seeing as how that con was canceled for Covid, and not hearing anything about this ever since, I assume the anthology is dead. So... here you go! Enjoy a pretty sad tale about normal people taking advantage of a special situation to try and make a few extra bucks, even if it's through some shady means. Unfortunately it doesn't always work out in the end.
The smell of freshly cut wood always filled the air after a delivery. Demand for the sinful liquid inside was near impossible to keep up with, and that demand wasn’t strictly limited to the fluid, or even the glass bottles stuffed away inside all those crates. The crates themselves were starting to become a rare commodity. A day or two ago this wood had been living and breathing trees, but the need for effective storage and concealment had quickly overcome Canada’s need for so many pine trees. Beavers weren’t usually known for their sense of smell, but even I could smell the sap still leaching out of those boxes. The quick and roughly cut boards were a little hard to handle, and they did their best to give me as many splinters as possible, but my rough and well-worn seaman’s paws were usually up to the task of protecting me from them. Usually.
I worked quick to unload all those heavy and clanking crates from the back of that truck, which led to more than a few vengeful spikes of wood that I’d have to remove from my paws later. The truck didn’t want to stay around a moment more than it had to, especially after the driver had already been paid, so that left me and my partner moving as fast as our older bodies could manage. The slender river otter beside me didn’t have as much endurance as I did, so as my side of the truck bed went empty, I slid on over and helped him finish up. With the last crate resting firmly on the little mountain of wood we’d created, the otter slammed the tailgate to the truck closed, which was the driver’s cue to take off. A small shower of gravel sprayed against our ankles and the bottom row of crates as the pine martin wasted little time in leaving the scene, causing both me and the otter to do a quick dance and jump behind a crate for protection.
“He does that every time,” Jake said as he turned over to look towards me. “He can’t wait one more bloody second and leave our shins intact for a change?”
“Guess not,” I replied with a casual shrug, only to look down at the pile of boxes along the edge of the pier. With a small squat I bent down to pick one up, and with a heave I carried it over to the small boat partway down the wooden walkway, gently bobbing over the surface of the lake. “Come on,” I shot back at the otter, “you know I hate being out here like this. The sooner we get this loaded the better.”
“I dunno Pete,” the otter called back after heaving his own box up into his paws, “how many more of these trips do we have to make? I mean, I know business is booming and all, but I hate it too.”
“We’re definitely getting there,” I shot back with a grunt as I stepped onto the boat and lowered the first crate down onto the small fishing vessel’s dock. “Just a few more I reckon? We both want enough to send our sons to college, and make sure our families are taken care of if the fishing is no good.”
“How much will that be though?” Jake continued, grunting as he laid his box on top of mine. “I mean, we’ve made a good bit already. Hell, my storage space is almost overflowing with bills – both American and Canadian. We still need to figure out the best way to exchange all those greenbacks too.”
“Should’ve picked a bigger storage spot,” I teased with a little smirk, before walking back and picking up another crate. It was difficult work by the light of the moon, and we had to be careful as both of us maneuvered around planks of discarded wood, loose ropes, and all the other boxes strewn about the jetty, not to mention each other in the dull light. “As far as the exchange, I’ll see if I can figure something out with our contacts.”
“My point being…” Jake started again after grabbing another crate, “Is that I think we have enough. I don’t like doing illegal things. I don’t like being out here this late. I don’t like getting only a few hours of sleep each night. I want to go back to how it was. Fishing is our livelihood, just like it was for our parents. We survived just fine without this extra… stuff.”
I couldn’t exactly blame the otter for complaining as I definitely echoed a few of those sentiments, but at the same time I argued back with, “Every father wants the best for their offspring, and as I see it, that’s exactly what we’re trying to give ‘em. If they want to become fishermen like us, then that’s great. We can help them get their own boat with all this. And, if they want to go on and be some fancy scholar, or engineer, or architect, or whatever, then I’ll do what I can to help ‘em. Our main role is to provide for our family, and the more we provide, the better we’re doing, right? I’d say we’re doing pretty well with all this.”
“It’s hard to provide for a family when you’re dead or in jail,” Jake shot back, giving another tired grunt as the box pile grew even higher on the boat, and smaller on the shore.
“We ain’t going to jail,” I called back right away, only to bend down and heave up another crate, wincing as I felt another splinter shoot into my paw. “And no one’s dying. These guys carry guns just to make sure everything goes to plan. They’re tryin’ to scare us – making sure we don’t do anything funny. I doubt they’d actually shoot anything. Would draw too much attention out here.”
“You’re awfully confident,” Jake replied as he dropped off another crate and made his way back up to the dock, only to give a rather loud surprised squeal. I turned my head to look with a quick snap, fearing the worst, before I put down my own crate only to let out a little sigh. There, standing beside the slowly dwindling pile of crates, stood an unfortunately familiar lynx. Where he’d come from I hadn’t a single clue, seeing as he didn’t quite blend into the surroundings. He was more than vibrant in his bright red uniform along with all his shiny buckles, not to mention his wide and obnoxious brimmed hat.
A smirk stretched across his face as he leaned one elbow on the last pile of crates, staring at each of us as he said, “Good evening Jake. And Pete.”
“Good evening Justin,” I replied quick enough, with Jake doing much the same a moment later.
“A little late to be loading bait,” he continued, never once dropping his smirk or casual stance in the process. “Not to mention that the dock is closed this time of the night – for your safety of course.”
“Well,” I began once again, “our supplier had a bit of trouble getting it here in a timely fashion. We’re being plenty safe and careful to load it all without causing too much commotion. Figure we’d be on the right side of the law in trying to earn our living despite such setbacks, ain’t that right?”
“Is that so?” the lynx shot back. “Well, I’m afraid the law is the law gentleman, and I’m here to impose that law. I’m going to have to cite you for trespassing, and I’m going to have to have a look inside those crates to make sure nothing illegal is going out onto the lake of course. Just standard procedure when citing a crime in progress.”
I had known the lynx ever since we were cubs, as had almost everyone else in the small fishing town we lived in. Ever since he’d gone off to become a Mountie, he’d unfortunately changed quite a bit. I never had anything against him growing up, but now that he held the power in the town, I couldn’t help but grit my teeth each time I was forced to deal with him. Unlucky for me, he made it a regular thing every time he caught wind of a delivery happening, which he seemed to be very good at doing.
I never liked paying him off, as it left an even deeper twinge of guilt down in my gut, but the lynx left me with little choice. We made enough profit to cover it many times over, so as I started to walk over, I dug my paw in my pocket. I reached out with a few folded bills in my paw, and watched as the lynx’s own paw met up with it, only to snatch the paper right out of my hand. He took a moment to unfold it and look over the rather large denominations, before giving a short nod and saying, “Well, I’ll leave you two to your bait loading then, so long as you keep things quiet. Wouldn’t want to disturb the townsfolk now, would we?”
“Not at all,” I said back through slightly grit teeth. “We’re almost finished anyway.”
“Take care, and may the fish be biting tomorrow for you,” he added as he pushed himself away from the crates and strolled into the darkness, back towards where he came, a little richer than before.
Jake waited until he was out of earshot, although that was hard to tell when felines were involved, before whispering back, “See? That’s what I’m talking about. What a bastard.”
“Don’t mind him,” I countered with a small shake to my head, finally unclenching my jaw. “Let’s just get these last few crates secured, and then we can finally head off to sleep. Deal?”
The otter let out a slightly frustrated grumble, but I watched him give in as he bent over to pick up another crate, and we both silently continued the loading procedure. I did much the same, doing my best not to think about the downsides of our new part time profession, and just about the future it would bring to my son and family. That was enough to keep me focused on securing the precious cargo under the canvas tarp once it was all loaded, and making sure it was good to go for the morning. With everything taken care of, and my pockets feeling far too light for my liking, I made my way back home to at least try and get a few hours of sleep before sunrise.
Sleep was usually a struggle lately, and that night was no exception. Thoughts of things going wrong almost always kept me up, and before I could even really settle down, the sun was cresting over the horizon. I tried to imagine it wasn’t there, but the natural alarm clock was rather persistent, sending its rays through my window, and letting me know it was time. With a soft grunt to myself, I pulled my body out of bed and got myself ready, before heading out to meet up with Jake at the pier.
At least the weather was nice as we got ourselves ready to set sail. The sun was shining, the cool lake breeze was blowing, and even some of the sea birds were squawking above our heads as we pushed out into the water. We were lucky enough to have a motorized boat, so the limitations of sails and wind rarely hampered us like it did some of the others. It had been expensive, but it let us man the boat between just the two of us, which was a trade I would make any day. Jake laid down on deck for a quick nap as I took over the navigation for the first half of our trip, maneuvering the boat right up to the demarcation buoy of the US and Canada border. There we stopped for a moment and began to get the nets ready, at least making it look like we’d found a good spot to fish.
We went through the procedure with little hope of catching much of anything. The spot wasn’t exactly the best as it was out in the deep lake, but our presence up against the buoys did let the American Coast Guard get rather familiar with us. We’d been waving at them for weeks now as the patrols passed on by, and we were even starting to get a few friendly waves back in the process. That’s just what we needed to keep up appearances as we pulled up empty net after net, although trying not to do so whenever the Coast Guard was passing by.
We’d knew their timing pretty well, and as the last patrol before noon passed by, that was our cue to get going. Jake and I packed up the net and began to set course for the American mainland, going as fast as the little boat could carry us.
“Hey,” Jake was quick to say as he caught sight of the compass heading, “We’re heading too far East, aren’t we? A little too close to Erie?”
“Our usual client didn’t need another shipment right now,” I answered back, trying to beat down the slight nerves building up inside of me at the thought. “Our fixer set us up with a new client who pays slightly better. Another dollar per crate. So, I decided to take the job.”
Jake gave me a stare, one as mean as a river otter possibly could, as he said back, “You know I don’t want any new clients. Not after what happened the last time.”
“Hence why I didn’t tell you until now,” I responded, trying to keep my gaze out on the lake instead of the otter at my side. “I knew you’d be a bluenose if I did.”
“Well, yeah!” the otter squeaked back, trying to be angry and threatening, but falling flat on the last part at least. “That kind of bushwa is what gets me fumin’ at ya! We’re partners Pete! You’ve gotta tell me these kinds of things!”
“Relax,” I said with a gentle turn to the wheel to avoid a wave, “we’re gonna be fine. It’ll be the same ol’ same ol’. The faces will be different, but the pay will be better, so it’s worth the risk. Besides, maybe they’re even nicer than the last group.”
The otter grumbled beside me, and I could tell his paws were balling up into fists, but I knew him too well at this point. With another silent passing moment between us, I could see his body slump a bit out of the corner of my eye. He gave off a loud sigh and a shake to his head, as his thick tail slapped down on the deck. “Sometimes I want to push you off this boat, ya know? Why do you gotta do this kind of stuff to me?”
“The feeling’s mutual sometimes,” I added with a chuckle, before reaching out a paw and patting him on the shoulder. “No worries – everything will be fine. We’ll get this done and head home before nightfall just like every other time.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” he added, before turning around and heading to the other side of the boat, keeping watch for any Coast Guard ships that might be following us. “If not, then it’s your pelt that’s getting skinned, and I’m done playing this stupid game.”
“Fair enough,” I replied with a little nod, all while forcing down another nervous gulp, and trying not to let the otter see it.
The trip across Lake Erie wasn’t all that long, especially since we were already halfway there. Another hour and a half of sailing, and the American shore came into view. Gently rising land, with just a hint of a pebble filled beach, sprawled out along the water’s edge. Not much further inland a light forest rose up into the air, hiding the rest of the coastline behind a dark blanket of trees and shrubs. It made quite the pretty picture, but it was something I’d seen many times, although rarely this close to town. I could see the bigger ships and the actual port not far off in the distance, making me a little uneasy as I knew the patrols would be teeming around here. Still, my fixer had sounded confident that everything would go smoothly, so I had to put my trust in him. It was far too late to turn back now anyway.
I was told there’d be a slightly hidden alcove that I would spot sailing in at this heading, and that’s where they wanted to make the drop, but there was far from any definitive sign where that was along the shore. I turned the boat and made a few passes up and down the coast, with both Jake and I looking out to see if anything caught our eye. Neither of us spotted anything that looked like an alcove, however we’d seen a single weasel walking up and down the coast on one of our passes. We paid him little attention at first, but when two other creatures appeared and began to wave us in, we had a good feeling that we’d found what we were looking for.
I let off a deep breath as I slowly turned the boat in, finding more of a little kink in the shore than a true alcove where they were standing. The weasel was in rather plain clothing, just slacks and a shirt, looking like any normal fisherman out here on the edge of the lake. However, the other two that appeared behind him were dressed up in suits, and they looked like they meant business. Fedoras topped their heads to finish off their outfits, leaving both the mountain lion and the hare’s ears poking out through the brims.
All three sets of ears were focused on our direction as they watched us pull in. As I slowed the boat to a crawl, and just barely felt the hull beach itself into the soft sandy silt of the shore, I watched as Jake tossed the mooring line over towards the weasel. He tied us off to a tree along the shore, and with a puff out to my barrel chest, I walked away from the wheel and over towards the bow.
“You the beaver we’re looking for?” the weasel shouted out with a little nervous waiver in his voice, which made me feel a little better on the inside as I slowly nodded in return.
“You Marconi’s guys?” I asked in return, watching the weasel hesitate for a moment before nodding as well.
“You got the stuff?” the questions continued as the weasel rose up onto his tippy toes, trying to get a look inside the boat.
“You got the money?” I responded, finally ending the questions by saying, “Half before load, and half after load. Standard procedure to make sure no funny business goes on.”
“That’s what they’re here for,” the weasel said as he motioned his head up to the two suited individuals standing behind him, giving off a confident smile as he did.
“Well,” I began once again, “I don’t exactly have a fancy suited bodyguard to make sure of that myself. I just got this otter.” With a flick of my muzzle I pointed my head over to Jake, who arched up and froze stiff as if I was being serious about something. “I think it’s only fair if I get half the money before we start, seeing as he’s not packing any heat, although your partner’s surely are.”
The weasel was quiet for a moment, before finally nodding and looking back at the hare and mountain lion. Both of them stepped forwards, with the lion opening up his suit jacket and showing off two or three different guns strapped to the inside, while the hare pulled out a small wad of cash and handed it over the weasel. The weasel counted out half of the agreed upon amount, using nice and big strokes to make sure I saw each bill, before finally walking up and holding out the small stack in my direction. I reached out carefully over the bow and took the money, doing my best not to make any quick or sudden moves. Once it was in my grasp, I made sure to count it again in front of him, just to double check, before slowly turning around and looking at Jake. “Alright, get that tarp off and let’s get going,” I said with a small nod, before shoving the bills into my pocket and going over to help him.
He was quick to get to work as we were all more than eager to get things over with. Although, now with the introduction out of the way, everyone seemed a little more relaxed. We made quick work of the tarp to show off those fresh boxes of product, with the scent of pine and alcohol quickly invading my nostrils once again.
I heaved the first crate up to my chest and carried it over to the bow, before sliding it down into the weasel’s paws, and almost watching him drop it as the full weight hit his slender and lanky frame. The lion and hare saw it rather clearly too, and they jumped in right away to help take the next boxes. With a loud whistle from the hare, I heard a truck start up somewhere close by and pull into a little clearing at the edge of the lake. From there on it was a steady assembly line of crate passing, with even the weasel starting to pick up the pace and load the crates from the boat to the truck. We were making decent time with all those helpers, and I was very much looking forward to getting the other half of the money and getting out of there, before I heard those loud and jarring words suddenly shouted out from behind the tree line.
“Freeze! You’re all under arrest! Back away from the boat, and keep those paws up!”
Those were the words I’d been dreading to hear since we started making these runs, and all five of us shot up straight and froze for a good half of a second. Then, all hell began to break loose. The lion was quick to place his crate down and reach into his jacket to pull out a handgun, before tossing it back to the weasel and diving in for another. The hare was even quicker to pull one out from his own jacket, take aim, and fire off a few rounds into the trees. I assumed that he could see what he was shooting at, because I certainly couldn’t from my perspective. Not that I cared either. I caught a glimpse of them all starting to take cover behind the truck, and I raced to drop my crate and duck down as low as I could, making my way over to the mooring rope. I’d tied it to the boat with a quick release knot, just in case this sort of thing happened, and with a yank to the free end, I watched the rope go limp and fall onto the shore.
I was just about to turn around and make a dash for the ship’s wheel, but as I lifted my head over the edge of the railing, my gaze fell upon the creatures huddled behind the truck. I saw the weasel lift his revolver and point it directly at me. “You traitors. This was a set-up!” he shouted back as his paw squeezed hard around the grip.
Before I had a chance to say anything in my defense, I watched as his finger pulled on that trigger, sending off a quick burst of sound and light surging from the tip of that barrel. In a flash, I felt a sudden stab to my gut, leaving me grunting hard as if a punch had just slammed into me. Then came another not too far from the first, which left me stumbling back just a bit from the impact. I didn’t even feel the searing pain at first – that was slow to build as I landed down on the deck with another heavy grunt. I barely had time to turn my head and look at the otter behind me, before seeing him get much the same fate. His slender body recoiled and jerked as two or three rounds went into him, dropping him down onto the deck behind me with a loud squeal.
At that point the weasel had to stop and reload, which gave me enough time to fight through that breath-taking burn in my stomach and climb up onto my paws and knees. I scampered over towards the boat’s controls and threw the engine into full reverse, ducking behind the wheel to avoid any further incoming shots. The gangsters now had their paws full with the police as they all gathered behind the truck, leaving the weasel to forget about Jake and I, as they continued to try and make their escape. I did my best to stay hidden as I heard another bullet or two fly by not far over my head, the noise breaking through the boat’s frantic whirl to life. With a slow groaning creak, it dislodged itself from the bank, and with every passing moment it picked up speed in reverse, dragging us out of that mess we had gotten ourselves into.
I watched all three of the gangsters tried to squeeze their way into the truck before it sped off, losing a crate of alcohol on the way as the vehicle bounced into the forest. Most of the cops began to chase the truck, or simply make their way back to their own vehicles, but two of them closest to the shore turned their attention towards us. We were too far away at that point for them to do anything about it, but I still ducked my face down and behind the wheel just out of reflex, doing everything I could to hide from their gaze. The identification number on my boat was probably too small to spot with the naked eye as well, so even though we were in the clear, I couldn’t help but feel my heart pounding away in my chest, praying that they didn’t keep staring long.
With a few deep breaths, and another groan at the continued burning in my gut, I finally let my gaze turn over towards the otter. He had fallen on his back, and he hadn’t moved very much from that point on. He had managed to get his paws up and over his chest as his heavy and labored breaths continued to ring out, each one having a distinct gurgle to it as blood slowly ran down his lips and muzzle. Blood was also starting to stain his shirt where his paws were grasping, and a dark red splotch dribbled down his side facing me. With a heavy gasp at the sight, I got down on all fours and crawled over towards him, not daring to raise my head above the rim of the boat even yet.
“Jake… Jake!” I called out, fighting through the pain in my gut with each movement to make it over to him. “Talk to me buddy!”
I watched as he perked up at my words, having enough energy to at least roll his body over onto its side to face me. He tried to say something, but with another heavy gurgle and cough he rolled back onto his back once more, giving off a few more struggling breaths instead.
“Jake, hold on!” I cried out with a wince myself, before laying a paw on his chest. The pressure made him gargle and cough once more, spreading a few droplets of blood further along the deck and his face. I didn’t know what to do as I pulled my paw back, only able to stare down at the deep breathing otter in obvious pain before me. I stayed locked onto that straining face, frozen at the sight for far too long, before my brain finally kicked into gear and said, “We’ll go back. We’ll get you to a hospital. Just hold on.”
I was about to turn around and crawl back to the controls, but with another gurgle from Jake I hesitated for just a second. It sounded like he was trying to say something, and after another gurgle I could hear him whisper back in a broken bit of words, “Don’t… no… saving me.”
“Don’t talk like that!” I shouted back, gritting my large teeth for a second as I tried to turn away once more. Again I was stopped by a heavy grunt and wheeze from the otter, before he forced out a few more words.
“Don’t… tell anyone… I died like this. Tell them… accident.”
“I’m not telling anyone you died, cause you’re not dying!” I shot back louder than I had intended to, looking down at his straining face, and reaching over to cup a cheek gently with my paw.
“When I stop… breathing,” he continued with another labored and forceful breath, “Push me… into the lake. I’d rather… sleep there. And tell my wife… the cash is under… the loose floorboard. She’ll know…”
“You won’t stop breathing!” I responded with a gentle stroke through his fur, feeling him cough up a little more blood against my paw and arm.
“I’m… sorry… Pete…” were the last words he said to me, before I felt him go limp in my grasp. He kept on breathing for a few more moments, struggling to get air into his no doubt punctured and blood filling lungs, but those were the last words he attempted to say. I held onto him for as long as I could, shouting a few more things down at him as I held onto his head and shoulder, but nothing I did could get him to respond. He had said everything he needed to, and he didn’t want to struggle any longer than he had to. I watched as his eyes closed for the final time, all while I felt his breathing getting weaker as his body started to give up the fight. Within a few more moments he had taken his last breath.
I gave him a shake, and then another, trying to get him to start once again, but the otter had given in to death’s embrace. I could feel a tear forming in my eye as I choked on the ball of spit at the back of my throat, before finally giving up the fight and pulling my paws away from his frame. I tried to lay his head back down gently to the deck as I felt a few more tears form in my eyes, and as soon as I did, I slammed a clenched paw down into the deck of the boat, hard enough to hear the wood crackle just a bit underneath.
I yelled out a few obscenities into the air before feeling the pain in my own gut force me to stop. I hadn’t really noticed with the adrenaline flowing, but it was a serious struggle to breathe, and the pain really dug in deep with a hearty burn all through my chest. I winced hard and slumped, nearly falling over the otter’s body as another rush rippled through me. I caught myself before our chests made contact, and with a heavy grunt I pushed myself back up to a knee and then onto a wobbly foot. I couldn’t even look at the otter at the moment. The guilt would be more than enough to kill me on the spot. Besides, I knew I wasn’t out of danger yet either. I knew I needed to get the boat on track, and I knew I needed to get a look at myself as well.
It was harder than I thought to get myself up and onto my wobbly legs. Even when I was standing, I had to hold onto the railing to stay that way. As I inched my way along the side of the boat, I had to make a desperate lunge for the small cabin beside the wheel to actually make any progress towards it. My gut hurt more than I even imagined it could as I grasped on to the cabin’s siding with the tips of my fingers. Once my paws had me steady enough, I reached over towards the wheel and made a quick correction to stop the boat from lazily spinning in a circle. With a few more labored motions, I eventually got the boat under control, then adjusted the heading to point it back toward home.
As the travel breeze began to pick up and ruffle my fur, I still had hope that maybe we could be caught by the coast guard on the way, and they could do something to save Jake’s life. That hope grew more and more distant as I stared out into the empty waters of the lake, seeing not a soul in sight. I tried to keep my eyes off the otter’s body lying on the edge of the deck, but I couldn’t help but gaze over as I held the wheel straight, each time expecting him to have moved or be sitting up or something. He never was. He simply remained motionless, even as the boat bounced along the light waves.
That burning in my gut was only getting stronger, and I could feel my time wasting as I simply stood there for a moment, with my mind still coming to terms with what just happened. In a fit of rage from the pain, and from everything else I had caused during the day, I slid my paws into the middle of my shirt and ripped it apart with a loud grunt. Buttons went flying as the cloth tore in various places, exposing my own bleeding stomach out into the open. I looked down to see two wounds sitting on either side of my belly, punching through the thick fur and fat. I could feel the exit wounds on my back as I shifted just a little bit, although it hurt too much to reach a paw back to inspect them.
I knew I had to stop the bleeding first, so with a slow yank and twist to my shirt, I did my best to tie it around my front and over the two holes, all while trying to align it to cover the ones out the back as well. It hurt unlike any other pain I’d ever experienced to move like that. It made my teeth chatter and my body go stiff each time something brushed against my wounds, but I fought through the sharp sting to tie the shirt as tight as I could, knowing I had to endure for the moment.
That pain was debilitating though, and I knew that if I didn’t find a way to dull it, I’d be far out of luck. As my mind raced for a solution, I looked over to a few stray crates that were still stashed on the deck, and I figured it would be better than nothing. I maneuvered my way over with a hobbling set of grunts, before pulling apart the soft wood crate with relative ease, and lifting out one of the clear bottles with amber liquid inside. I’d never been much of a drinker, but I was desperate for some kind of relief to set my mind straight. I pried off that cork to the whiskey bottle and raised it to my lips, gulping down two, then three big mouthfuls of the toxic liquid.
The burn was intense as it surged through my throat and into my gut, and it only got worse from there as it spread along my insides, making everything feel like it was on fire. I nearly threw the bottle overboard from just reflex alone, but after a few more deep and labored breaths, I held onto it just a moment longer, waiting for that stinging pain to disappear. When it was down to a manageable level, I took a few more quick gulps, feeling it flare up once again, but not quite as bad as the first time.
I knew the alcohol would take a while to work, and I had to manage the pain as much as I could in the near term, but I still had a few things I needed to do before I got too drunk to do them. I placed the bottle back into the crate, and with a soft grunt I made my way over towards the otter. I looked down at his lifeless body as I knelt before him, trying to find a pulse or some hint of a breath, but he was still and silent. I bowed my head and said a soft prayer inside my head, before getting back up and going over towards the net. I maneuvered the net over towards Jake’s body with the help of the mechanical winch, and once it was laid out on the deck I walked back and slowly rolled him over onto it. It was hard work, and that pain never really stopped, but this was something I knew I had to do. That gave me enough determination to go through with it as I just grit my teeth and heaved, eventually getting his small frame at least mostly over the netting.
Once he was settled, I took a few stumbling steps to make my way back to the winch controls. I slowly lifted him up with the manual hand crank, getting him just high enough to clear the railing, as I felt a few more tears fill up my eyes and drip down my cheeks. I said one more prayer as I slowly swung him over the water of the lake, before finally bowing my head and saying out loud, “I’m so sorry Jake. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise.”
With that thought, and a final goodbye to my best friend and business partner for most of my life, I began to lower the net down into the water, having to brush away a few tears as I did. I heard his body hit the water with a gentle splash, and I continued lowering it until I knew the net would unfurl and let the otter loose. After a moment of dragging the open net through the water, I slowly cranked the winch again, pulling the netting back up to find the otter gone, just as he’d wanted.
I didn’t bother to move the net any further after I saw that. I looked back at the turbulent water behind the ship, but I saw no sign of him, leaving me to bow my head once again and just brush away the final tears. I wanted to give him a better send off. I wanted something fitting for what he’d done for me and sacrificed along the way, but that small goodbye was all I had time for. I still had work to do as I gave off a large grunting breath, and went to find a few rags to start and mop up the blood left behind. It was gruesome work, and each hard motion left me wincing, but I did my best to clean up the mess as much as I could. I didn’t want any sign of what truly happened to remain, so that his family could believe he was simply swept overboard without all the terrible details.
Thankfully the alcohol was starting to kick in, and I was beginning to feel numb to the majority of the pain, but I could tell that things were getting worse for me as well. My lungs weren’t hit like Jake’s were, but something inside me was definitely busted and broken. It might not have been something that killed me in mere moments, but it was definitely something important. I could feel my body starting to weaken, even after the blood flow had more or less stopped into my now soaked shirt bandage. I felt the need to throw up on more than one occasion, and I’d just barely made it to the railing to do so multiple times by this point, which hurt more than my gut pain had all throughout the day. I was dizzy, disoriented, and was left struggling to keep my own eyes open – certainly more than just a little alcohol ever could do on its own. It took me a moment to come to terms with it, but as I was throwing the last crate of alcohol overboard, I knew that the worst was happening. I was dying, and I wouldn’t be making it back to port either.
It seemed only fitting that I’d go down with Jake, and for some reason that gave me a little sense of happiness in this otherwise bleak time. I’d gotten my punishment for pushing my luck, and for having to watch my friend die before my eyes. I still had a lot to atone for, but things seemed a little fairer now that I’d have to suffer his fate as well. Still, for my wife and cubs, I couldn’t help feeling another ball of sorrow wadding up my throat. I’d done well enough for them, even with hiding all the smuggling profits, but knowing that I was leaving them alone in this world almost tore my heart out of my chest.
There was little I could do about that now as I stumbled inside the small cabin and found a piece of paper, steadying my shaking paw just barely enough to hold onto that pencil. I was drunk, I was shivering and convulsing, and I could barely think straight, but I had to come up with one last plan as I felt a little bile and blood start to leak down my chin and onto my chest.
“Dear Ellen,” I wrote close to legibly on the top of that note. “There’s been an accident on the lake. I can’t go into detail, but just know that neither I nor Jake will make it home. I’m so very sorry about everything. Our bodies will by laying at the bottom of the lake we called home for many years, so no need to feel sorry for us. We’re at peace. Take care of the cubs, remarry if you can, and be sure to check the very back of the winter storage cellar. As for Marline, Jake said to check under the loose floorboards. Good luck to all of you, and know that we’re both looking down at you.”
That was all my shaking hand could bare to write as I slumped over the desk, feeling my gut gurgle and start to bleed once again. But I wasn’t quite done yet. I pushed my paw into my pants pocket and pulled out that down payment I managed to get away with, stuffing it underneath the note, and holding it down with the first heavy thing I could find. With that out of the way, I pushed myself up and onto my feet one last time, before staggering and stumbling over towards the wheel. I locked it in place, with the throttle near full, knowing that it’d be enough to get the ship back to home waters. From there, it was anyone’s guess what might happen. Hopefully the money I left would be enough persuasion to whomever found it, and that message would get back to who it was intended for. At least I knew I tried, and I’d given everything I had left into it.
With the course set, I slowly moved myself over to where I’d left that last bottle of alcohol – the one that I’d opened previously. I’d considered tossing it overboard with the others, but I had a feeling that I might need it. Now, as I grasped the bottle tight in my paw, I did my best to clear my throat before pushing that spout to my lips and tilting my head back. I closed my eyes and gulped down each burning sip of that terrible liquid, not caring that my eyes and gut burned hot and fierce with each drop that made it inside. It was no worse than I’d already felt, and with a few more determined gulps I’d taken more than half the bottle down. A few more and it had only a quarter left. A few after that and it was empty, with the last little bit spilling onto my chin and chest as I physically couldn’t handle any more.
I squeezed hard to keep it all down in my stomach, pulling up any remaining strength to close off my esophagus as I let my stomach come to terms with its fate. Once I was sure it would all stay down, I chucked the bottle off into the water, and I began to stare across the lake. It was seamless at this point - water as far as the eye could see. It was strangely beautiful in its own right, and I felt like I was on another world with the unbroken sights before me. It always amazed me to think about just how much water was underneath me, and I could think of many worse resting places than this calm and peaceful lake for sure. It wasn’t exactly as I planned, and wasn’t ideally what I wanted, but fate had decided things for me. Who was a single beaver to fight against the powers of fate? With one last gurgling gulp of air, I struggled to lift my leg up and over the railing, more rolling than really jumping into the cool water below.
I could just vaguely feel the water hit my fur as the alcohol had all but killed most of my senses at this point. As I naturally bobbed back to the surface, I was oddly calm. My mind was thinking of all sorts of things, but nothing really stood out through the flurry of mixed emotions. My wife, my cubs, Jake and his wife and cubs, and my boat all flew across my mind, but I didn’t have the energy to delve deep into any single one of them. I did manage to watch my boat speed away into the distance, seeing just the vague outline of it quickly shrinking in my field of vision. I figured that was as fitting as any last image I could have, so I closed my eyes and let my head sink underneath the water, not expecting it to come up ever again.