My ship got wrecked and I don't know what happened." Keith said, "I'm glad to see anyone out here. A shadow loomed over him and he looked up at the bear, who eyed him suspiciously. Keith staggered into the shallow water and flopped forward to kiss the beach. The ship-fixers conferred, and kept a lookout until Keith's raft finally reached shore. He cupped his hands around his muzzle and bellowed, "You there! Where are you from?" They seemed to be arguing, until a big bearman with a straw hat shut them up. Keith waved and called out.Ī sharp-eared rabbitman turned and alerted the rest. A few people worked on it loudly enough for the hammer noise to reach him. A big wooden ship was beached there with a gaping hole in one side. Keith paddled as well as his exhausted muscles could stand. It took over an hour to spot the shore as more than a line in the distance. He paddled to keep the sun at a constant angle and found before long that he was back into a current, with seagulls visible on the horizon. All he could do was move on, looking for answers. He stuck his arm under the shade to be sure it produced its own watery light. It'd been there when he woke up, but it hadn't been glowing. Keith looked at it and finally noticed the tattoo of blue-green lines that veered and connected crazily from nearly to his elbow, to his fingers. He yawned and lifted his head to find the current had gone unsteady, turning the raft at random. As tired as he was, he couldn't sleep with the sun prying into his eyes from any angle. Maybe an hour later, he dozed in the shade, or tried to. Following it was as good an idea as any, so Keith helped the raft along with a chunk of wood for a paddle. Pretty easy once you saw where the force of the little waves would hit hardest, and thought about hydrodynamics for speed.Ĭalm seas today and little wind, but there was a current. Keith grabbed the larger fragments and managed to lash a few together with soggy rope, making some kind of raft with a little overhang for shade. He wasn't going to get back anywhere at this rate. The last page had a note saying something about "following the current back".
Keith grimaced at the gummy feel of the paper.
He smacked the book onto the driftwood and shook off most of the water, but when he opened it the pages stuck together, useless. He took one more look around and surfaced. Still, he found a ruined paper notebook on the seabed. Not much was here maybe the ship he'd been on had been smashed far from here. He wriggled down about fifteen meters to where the light grew dim and blue. Keith set it carefully on a stable-looking chunk of flotsam and dived to see what was below. Sunlight glittered on a plastic water bottle, sealed and full. Keith splashed toward the nearest large plank and used it to help him float while he salvaged. How had he gotten here? His head throbbed and shattered wood and junk floated around him.
#CALEX ASSASSIN HOW TO#
He sputtered and flailed at the surface of the ocean before remembering how to swim, with his webbed hands and thick tail. Keith woke up with saltwater splashing his muzzle.
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