FSE

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This Forsaken World

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Six: The Boatman

Running over the jagged gravel, it shifts so pleasantly beneath the couple's feet. Monica has always enjoyed the sound of crackling gravel, her lips curled into a little grin. Soon, their boots strike the wood of the dock. A man in a large sailboat stands at attention and watches the pair traversing the pier.

“Hey there! How y'all doin'?!" The boatman chirps, waving politely.

“Oh, we're uh-"

“Stop!"

The couple pause, glancing back. The crew of slavers who've been chasing after them have caught up. Monica turns to the boatman, her brow furling as she notices his expression.

“Shit... Y'all better get in the boat!" He instructs.

Grey and Monica don't argue. Untying the anchoring lines from the dock and hopping in, the boatman starts the old diesel auxiliary engine.

“God damnit, Becker! Get back here!" One of the slavers shouts.

“Bye!" Becker mockingly waves.

The black furred goat Voeldahn rests a split hoof on the edge of the boat and leans against his leg. Lying on the floor of the large boat to hide from any incoming bullets, Monica and Grey note how filthy the floor of the vessel is. A bottle rolls across it as the craft shifts with the waves, bumping Grey's arm. Taking hold of the bottle, he looks at the faded label, noting how Becker's pose matches that of 'Captain Morgan'. Leaving the edge of the craft, Becker takes the wheel and flips a lever, which held the rudder in place. Now entering more open waters, he pushes the throttle forward, increasing their speed.

“So... Y'all got payment?" He suddenly asks.

“Hm? Oh! ... Uh..." Monica hesitates.

“Well, I know you got payment. Heh." He turns his emerald eye toward her.

Monica glares; she never enjoyed that line of work. Now that she's with Grey, she'd rather die than let another man ever touch her in a familiar way.

“What about you, partner?" He looks at Grey.

“Sure!" Grey sit up on the floor. “I've got something you might like."

“Well, let's see it then!"

Rising from the wooden floor, Grey shoves a hand into a pants pocket, drawing out a fistful of coins. They're minted coins, belonging to a now defunct faction that once existed in the deep south and shortly after The Ending; their coinage is sometimes used by raiders and slavers for trade, because the Guild of Travelers accept it. Monica's brow raises at the sight, as does Becker's.

“Well, alright then!" He exclaims, swiping the coins. “I'm Becker! Becker Boatman! But y'all can call me Beck."

“Sure thing, Beck."

“When did you have the time to take that?!" Monica asks.

“About the time that big guy was holding me in the air by the throat. In a crowded bar and with all that commotion, he never noticed how I was picking his pockets." Grey smirks.

“You're something else." She giggles.

Leaning in, the pair share a series of kisses. Becker merely watches, a little grin on his face.

“Well, I don't care where they came from. I just need 'em! Head below deck and stick to the left. I gotz a room y'all can use. It's got a star on it. Don't go to the back though; that's my private storage and I like my privacy!"

“Sure thing, Beck. We just need a ride south." Monica replies.

“Well, I was headin' down there anyway. Got me some business to take care of. We get about a hunded 'n fity mile and then we there." He explains.

Heading below deck, Monica and Grey walk the narrow steps. They find themselves in a long hall within the old yacht, doors on both sides and one at the far end. Glancing over his shoulder, there's a door behind the steps and moving beneath the upper deck where they stood, beneath where the ship's wheel is. Looking to Monica, she motions with her head. The couple decide to rest as they haven't anything else to do until Becker docks the boat. The vessel bobs in the swollen river, which has only risen over time. In the time before The Ending, many of the rivers were maintained by civilization, and flooding was at a minimum.

Now, however, new rivers have formed and become permanent fixtures in the wilderness. Walking down the hall, they find a door with a star. To their surprise, the star is made of red plastic, as though taken from a child's play set; it's crudely glued to the door. It's only then that Grey notices the other doors are designated with colorful shapes, with a black box being placed on the door behind the stairs. Opening the door, they find a simple cabin, with a twin bed and a lone nightstand beneath a small, oval porthole. It isn't much, but it'll fit the two of them, and it beats sleeping on their bedrolls, underneath the open air or in huts made of sticks and leaves.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Monica sets her rifle across her lap. Pulling out the magazine, she reaches in for one of the boxes of 9x19mm Parabellum ammunition. The boxes in the pack and beside Bill's skeleton were one hundred round bulk packs, giving them plenty to work with. However, two recent shootouts, excluding their escape from Ogdin's Hearth, has taken a toll. Monica empties the first of three boxes and opens a second, using a large handful to load her thirty-two-round magazine. As she pushes the cartridges in, Grey stares toward the end of the hall, his eyes fixated on the door marked with the black box.

“Grey? Baby? ... Hey, furless!"

“Huh?" He turns his head toward her.

“Pass me your magazines. I'll reload them for you." She says with a smile.

“Sure."

Grey takes a seat beside her, passing her his empty magazines. Watching intently as she loads, their eyes lock and they share little smiles, but something seems to bother Grey.

“Are you alright?"

“Yeah, I'm... Fine."

“You don't sound fine to me." She jams her magazine into the well of her carbine rifle. “What's wrong? Did you want cuddles or sex? Please say 'sex'." She coos.

“Heh... I'm just concerned."

“About what?" She cocks her head.

“Becker Boatman, up there... He didn't want us checking out that room." Grey begins.

“So?"

“So, the voice doesn't want me to either. It told me to stay in here until Becker calls to us."

“... So?"

“So, the voice never once told me what not to do before. It's got me wondering what the hell is in that room." He explains.

Monica's expression changes. Her concern over what's bothering her lover changes to anxiety over their chauffer.

“You think he's up to something, don't you?"

“Yeah..." Grey nods.

“And that maybe this wasn't the right move?" She asks.

“It's not that; the voice has never steered me wrong before, but... I feel like something's off. I just don't like Becker, and I don't know why."

“Woo! Feel that wind!" Becker's voice shouts from the upper deck.

The boat's auxiliary engine suddenly cuts off. He must be switching to the sails, to save his rare and valuable biodiesel. Monica turns her head toward the ceiling, her eyes narrowing and face grimacing. Her silver orbs shift toward her partner and lover, as she sighs.

“I don't like him either, not from the moment I laid eyes on him." She says, using the blade of her hand to cycle the bolt of her rifle. “Whatever you want to do, I'm with you."

“Thanks, Precious. You're the best." He grins.

Monica smiles, her face lighting up and tail swishing with delight. It picks up speed as he leans in, giving her a loving kiss. After trading a bit of passion, the pair finish reloading, before setting their gear aside. Monica follows behind Grey as he walks carefully down the hall, his gun drawn. Suddenly, he winces, reaching out a hand and gripping the railing for support.

“Ahh..." He groans.

“What?!" Monica steps closer.

“The voice got louder. It said to turn back."

“Fuck that!"

Storming past Grey, she grabs the handle of the door, finding it locked. Attempting to pull it open, she can hear a strange noise coming from inside. Undeterred, she lifts a foot and gives the door a swift kick, as close to the handle as she can. Breaking it open on the first try, she stands in horror. Grey rises to his feet, the pain in his head dissipating. He nearly drops his Bersa pistol at the sight, while Monica's rifles slips from her hands. It lands with a thud on the wooden beams beneath her feet.

“Oh... God..." She chokes out.

Inside the room are a half dozen bodies. Several hang from the rafters, their ankles and wrists bound with hemp rope. They're attached to hooks by the ropes around their wrists. A few are locked inside of old animal cages and also bound, while one victim is tied onto a device that looks like a miniature, padded table. The table's short legs bear shackles that hold their arms and legs to it, with their torso on the table and their hips and legs bent over one edge. All are entirely nude, and all are young children. Those who hang from the ceiling simply aren't tall enough to reach the floor; Grey and Monica can both raise a hand and touch the beams above them with little difficulty. Many have bloodstains on their fur from beatings and worse.

“What the fuck..." Grey murmurs.

At first, they all appear dead. However, after stepping into the room, the abused, pre-teen girl who's strapped to the table turns her head at the sound of thudding boots. Her snout is tied shut and a rubber ball is stuffed between her jaws, while a sleeping mask covers her eyes. Racing up to her, Grey quickly kneels beside her. Holstering is pistol, he unties the cordage around her snout while Monica very slowly bends down to retrieve her rifle. She moves as if she's suffering from vertigo, also using the railing for support. Grey takes the ball-gag from the child's mouth.

“Please..." She immediately begins to cry. “Don't hurt me anymore. I'll be good!"

Grey falls backward, landing on his butt and dropping the ball, which rolls away. Staring at the young victim, his eyes well with tears. The couple can hear the footfalls of Becker Boatman as he heads for the stairs.

“Hey, y'all want sum'ta eat? ... The fuck you doin' in there?!" Becker screams.

Racing down the steps, he's quickly tripped by Monica, who swiftly cracks the butt of her rifle against his ankle. Falling down the stairs and landing with a thud, he struggles to rise from the floor. Grey storms past the furious Monica, an anger like he's never felt before burning in his chest. Grabbing onto Becker's shoulders, he yanks the goat Voeldahn to his hooves before shoving him hard against a wall.

“What the fuck is that?!"

“What? The meat?" Becker raises a brow.

“The m..." Grey can't even repeat the words.

“Who are they?!"

“Jus' a bunch'a strays! Ain't no one cares 'bout them." Becker answers.

“What're they doing here?!" Grey demands, slamming him against the wall again, as if to emphasize his seriousness.

“Relax! They jus' cargo. Why y'all think I'm so willin' to take you south? That's where I sell 'em."

“You... Sell kids?" Monica gasps.

“I sell anyone. If you was alone, I'd a sold you too... Eventually." Becker smirks, looking her over slowly. “When I was done with ya'."

Grey immediately backhands the Voeldahn, hitting him so hard that he stumbles back against the wall yet again.

“Ow!"

The human grabs Becker's collarbone, pushing him again the wall and holding him there.

“How the fuck can you do this shit?! Doesn't this bother you at all?!"

“Why would it? We all jus' animals! Why you think I was so scared of Rudy and his boys? I stole one of them meats from him jus' the other day!" Becker explains. “Guess he was after you two this whole time, huh?"

“You stole a kid from the slavers in town?" Monica stares in horror.

“Oh yeah! The cute one on the table I grabbed day 'fore yesterday, right under Rudy's nose. Never had one so good!"

A stunned Grey takes his hands from Becker's clavicle, taking a step back. He stares in shock, unable to comprehend how casually the man can partake in cruelty of this magnitude.

“That's better..." Becker brushes himself off. “For a second, I thought you was gonna poke one of 'em. You can if ya' want, but not without payin' me."

Without warning, Grey snaps; the fuse within him is blown by the man's words. Grabbing Becker by the shirt, he spins and heaves him into the adjacent wall. At first, Monica jumps, but only because she wasn't expecting it. She takes aim with her rifle, but before she can fire, Grey kneels down and straddles Becker's stomach. Punch after hard punch, he strikes Becker in the face, over and over again. He never speaks a word, but his subtle crying can be heard between blows. The blood pools around Becker's head and Grey rises to his feet. Dragging Becker from the floor, he heaves him into the steps.

“You sick son of a bitch." Grey chokes out.

Taking Becker's hair in his hands, he moves his arm back and forth, slamming the man's face and snout into a step.

“You. Fucking. Bastard. I'll. Fuck. You. Up. For. This." Grey growls between each slam of Becker's face in the step.

Becker chokes, spitting up teeth as he's beaten so severely that his face is almost unrecognizable, even to Monica and Grey who had seen it intact only moments before. With one last slam, a loud crunch startles the pair; Grey has dislocated Becker's jaw. Throwing him yet again, he lands on his back, groaning in pain. Grey steps up to him and turns his head with a boot-clad foot, exposing his throat. Monica watches as her lover stomps hard on Becker's larynx, crushing it. His death is assured, and it won't be quick. He struggles to breathe, lying mortally wounded on the floor. After a pause, Grey stumbles back from the boatman.

“Good job, babe." Monica coos.

“Oh, shit..." Grey murmurs. “What did I do?"

“You gave him what he deserved."

“I wasn't supposed to do that."

Grey steps further back, sitting upon the steps. His hands tremor and his breathing trembles like a leaf in a breeze. Realizing that he's going into shock, Monica is quick to collect her lover and lead him into their cabin. They step over Becker's body, who's still slowly dying from suffocation.

“Rest, babe. I'll take care of this." She says, giving his cheek a tender kiss.

Leaving Grey alone in the room, Monica pauses as she turns toward the stairs. By now, all of the children are awake and whimpering with fear; none can see them. It unnerves her to hear their cries from the darkened dungeon. A solitary voice softly pleads for respite and for a mother who's probably long since dead; it forces a shiver to run through Monica's spine. Shaking it off, she steps over Becker before entering the room. Briefly exploring it, she opens a chest and finds the children's confiscated clothes, alongside a stack of blankets.

With her strength reinforced, she takes a child by his sides and lifts him up. He moves his arms away from the hook, allowing her to lower him to the ground. He couldn't be older than eight. She uses her knife to carefully cut the ropes away then removes his face mask. One after the other, she releases each and every young victim, who now realize that she and Grey are not there to harm them. Each takes a blanket and finds their clothes before running from the room as if it was on fire, racing through various parts of the boat. The final prisoner to be released is the molested girl whom Grey had ungagged.

With the children freed, Monica returns to Becker, who's still as the grave. Unsure if he's dead or not, she drags him carefully up the steps. The battered table girl, all of ten or eleven, emerges from a room that appears to be a galley. Without speaking a word, she takes hold of his ankles, helping Monica with the chore of disposing of him. Upon reaching the main deck, Monica sees the unmanned wheel of the ship and suddenly begins to worry. She hides her fear, for the sake of the children around her. Many of the youths come out to witness Becker being thrown overboard, sinking into the depths of the river.

“Yay!" They shout with glee.

Some of them embrace Monica's waist and chest. Looking down at the small beings, she feels a warmth in her heart, a smile spreading across her lips. Patting the table girl on the head, the oldest of the group, she's reminded of her own childhood; though one was certainly violated, and possibly some or all of the others as well, she hopes that none of these children will continue to suffer as she had.

“Where are we going, lady?" A little boy suddenly asks.

“I don't know. South, I guess."

“Somewhere nice?" An older girl asks.

“... Yeah." Monica replies.

She has no idea what's in store for any of them, and it breaks her heart to answer; she doesn't want to mislead the children. Heavy footfalls suddenly emanate from the steps. Turning their heads, Monica and several children watch as Grey emerges, moving slowly from below deck.

“Hi, mister! Thanks, mister!" Little voices exclaim.

“Hey, babe. Are you feeling better?" She asks.

“Yeah." He softly replies, heading for the wheel. “Much better."

“I didn't know you knew how to drive a boat!" She remarks, standing beside him and slipping an arm around his waist.

“Er... I don't." He turns to her.

“Oh... Can you get a little help from...?"

Grey stares at her, a distinct look of worry upon his face. He turns his head down toward some of the children.

“Hey, do you guys want to do something fun?" He asks.

“Yeah!" They shout in unison.

“We're going to play 'scavenge'. I want you to find something."

“Find what?"

“Look for any books with a picture of a boat on it and bring them back. Tear the ship apart; go crazy." He instructs.

“Yay!" The kids race below deck.

Monica and Grey stand alone on the upper deck. They look to each other, listening to the amusing sounds of doors opening and closing, pots clanking and items falling over and breaking. Monica rubs Grey's back, resting her head on his shoulder as he attempts to steer the boat, navigating through the middle of the river.

“We'll get through this." She assures him.

“We shouldn't have been in this position at all." He remarks.

“I know, but it couldn't be helped."

“Yes, it could've."

“Wasn't this one of those predetermined things that we're constantly forced into?" She asks.

“No." Grey turns his head toward her. “When you left me in the room, I asked for clarification. I begged the voice to tell me what was going on and why it didn't want us to save those kids; why it wanted us to ignore that room... It wasn't our mission."

“I don't understand." She blinks.

“Someone else was supposed to save them, after Becker dropped us off. The voice had a punishment in store for him, but I fucked it up. I acted in anger, and now they're probably worse off than they would've been had I just done what I was told."

Monica sees the horror on Grey's face as he bears the burden of all future suffering that the children might endure as a result of his meddling. Their fates clearly disturb him, and it breaks her heart to see him in such agony.

“You couldn't have known, babe."

“I should've just listened." He sniffles. “Hopefully one of those kids finds a manual; we can restart the engine and just... Run it dry... Or something. Get as far as we can before we have to keep walking."

“We'll be okay." She says, loving kissing his cheek.

Turning his head toward her, a somber Grey flashes a little smile. Leaning in, they share a kiss, only to be interrupted.

“Ew!" A child exclaims.

“They're kissing!" Another remarks.

“So?" Table girl asks them.

Her response doesn't comfort either adult, who know all too well what's been done to her.

“Oh, hey! Find something?" Grey asks.

“I got a book!" A little girl gleefully replies.

Holding up her hands, the child reveals the ship's manual. Grey and Monica both breath a sigh of relief. Taking the wheel for her lover, Monica keeps the boat on course while Grey reads the book. After some studying, he presses a series of buttons, awakening the vessel's electrical systems and restarting the diesel engine. To their delight, the faded fuel gauge reads three-quarters full. According to the manual, that's approximately twenty hours. At full speed, Grey estimates that gives them a range of just over one hundred nautical miles. Becker clearly would've been able to take them farther, but they'll have to make do.

Leaving Monica on the main deck, Grey heads below to collect their gear and watch over it. He pauses halfway down the steps as he sees the devastation the children have caused in their search. Nearly every door is open, some of them falling off of the hinges from the force of their actions. Miscellaneous artifacts lay strewn about, while little footprints in Becker's blood seem to roam aimlessly. Collecting himself, Grey heads for the cabin where they've left Monica's pack. After retrieving the pack, he raids the galley for all of the food stuffs that Becker had in his possession, which was considerable.

Returning to the upper deck, Monica attempts to focus while the five of the six children play as if Becker's evil hadn't afflicted them. The girl they found attached to the table, however, sits upright, her legs drawn toward her chest as she watches the others. Barely ten or eleven years old, the horrors she's suffered obliterate whatever innocence she had before. Grey sees the fear and pain in her young face, his heart stinging, as if a dagger had been plunged into his chest. Turning his eyes toward his lover, Monica looks over her shoulder at him.

The little smile on her face shows some pleasure, but her eyes are somber. She motions with her head toward the girl, who's clearly been on her mind as well. Holding Monica's pack, which is now filled to the brim with canned and dried food, Grey walks toward the young girl.

“Okay, kids! Who's hungry?!" He asks loudly.

“Me!" Many of the voices reply.

Grey collects cans and dried food from the pack, opening them for the children before passing them out. Only the eldest child remains frozen in place, watching them from a distance. She rests her chin on her knees, her arms wrapped around her little legs. Once the other kids have dispersed, sitting and eating or otherwise roaming about the boat, Grey carefully approaches the girl. Her amber eyes follow him and she shows no fear, but Grey knows better. She's been horribly abused; even an adult woman would struggle to come to terms with what she's suffered. He sits a distance from her.

“Hey." He speaks softly.

“Hey..."

Her speaking to him is a good sign. He assumes it has something to do with the fact that he helped free her.

“I'm Grey. What's your name?"

“... Sue."

“Is that short for Susan?" He asks.

“Mhm." She subtly nods her head.

“That's a pretty name... Are you hungry, Sue?"

Sue looks toward the pack, hesitating to answer. After a pause, she vigorously shakes her head.

“Are you sure?" He asks, taking out a random can.

Again, she shakes her head. Grey suddenly hears a noise; Sue's tummy growls. She looks down at herself, as if angered by her own bodily functions. Setting the can down, Grey pushes it toward her, keeping his distance.

“I don't want it." She murmurs.

“Save it for later."

“I don't want it..." She growls.

“You'll need to eat eventually. It's okay." He speaks softly and in a non-threatening tone.

With her stomach growling yet again, Sue balls a fist and strikes herself. The strike is feeble, but her intent is not.

“Don't do that. Please, eat."

“... I don't deserve it." Sue suddenly whimpers, her eyes fixated on the can.

“What?!" He gasps.

Closing her eyes tightly, Sue begins to cry. Dropping her head, she rests her brow against her forearms and sobs, her body trembling. Grey is frozen from the sight, and Monica can't help but look back and watch.

“I shouldn't have it. I was bad. Why else would... Why would he, unless...?" Sue chokes out.

Grey watches the little girl sobbing, remembering April and turning his eyes toward Monica. Both had suffered abuse, and both were older than this girl when it happened. It's a horrible thing to do to anyone, especially a child, and though he knows he should tread lightly, the agony that pours out of the girl tugs at his heartstrings. He pushes the can out of the way and slides across the floor. Draping an arm over the girl, she first pulls away. A fear washes over him as he worries about exacerbating her condition, as he's a man. However, he remembers her words. Perhaps she doesn't feel worthy of comfort either? The desire to ease her pain is stronger than his fear.

“Hey, you're not bad!" He says, holding her tightly.

“Yes, I am!"

“No, you're not!" He strokes her head.

“He did it in front of them! Why would he, unless I deserved it?!" Sue cries.

“He was a bad man, and he's gone. It wasn't your fault."

Sue shifts, throwing her scrawny arms around his torso.

“Why did he hurt me?" She asks through her tears.

“I don't know, but he can't ever hurt you again."

Turning his eyes toward Monica, he can see her silver orbs glossy with tears. This is a fate she wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy, yet the most innocent are suffering it. Indeed, there are some horrible people roaming this world. Maybe it wasn't their place to kill Becker, maybe someone else was chosen for such a task, but Monica can't deny savoring the sight of Grey beating the life out of the vile slaver pedophile; watching him sink beneath the waves was a pleasure she'd have paid for.

“It's going to be alright, Sue. You're safe now." Grey coos, holding the crying child.

“I'm sorry." She sniffles. “I'll be good."

“Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. You're not to blame."

Several other children emerge from below deck. They watch from a distance but don't say a word. It's obvious that they remember everything Becker did, as they were locked in the room to hear or possibly even see it. Soon, the other children approach, eager to comfort Sue with hugs and kind words. After letting her recover, which takes some time, she's finally ready to eat. Grey lets her pick whatever she wants and opens the package for her. With her peers supportive and eager to include her, Sue heads below deck to spend time with and play with them. Once again alone, Grey takes the wheel from Monica, who's been controlling the vessel for nearly an hour.

“You did good." Monica says, giving him a little kiss.

“Then why do I feel like I failed?" He sighs.

“I know you wish you could save them all. God knows I do, but we can't. Keeping that little girl from blaming herself is about all you can do right now."

He turns his eyes toward her, his lips contorted with disappointment as he nods his head. Sliding her arms around his body, she holds him, kissing his cheek. He returns the kiss, their lips briefly fused. Watching the river ahead of them, he turns his eyes toward the sky, sighing once again.

“Sometimes... I really hate this world." He comments.

“Me too." Monica murmurs, resting her head on his shoulder.