how to disrupt “the sacred silence” and ruin mankind

- Part 1
Little did Harold know that the sneeze he was about to experience would bring about the end of humanity and the world as he knew it.
– Part 2 –

Sneeze minus twelve minutes.

*

„Aye. Fully stocked and fish all ‘ye catch. Fresh water for a month.” Lieutenant Wyld grinned his crooked yellow rum grin. They already were on open sea on their way to who knows where.

“Gorgo is fine ‘n ready for Dead-man-Bay, Captain.“ Lieutenant Lazar nodded a short official nod.

Behind them cadet Brak did everything to hide his boredom and the yawn on its way. He didn’t look at Captain Paine directly, but heard him smile. He hated that insanely wide smile. Why don’t they forbid officers to smile? This was no vessel of the royal navy, more like a bathtub with a motor. Was he the only one, who thought, it made  no sense to stick to their ranks? But they did anyway. It was a habit, like the stealing.

In moments like these he felt regret punching his heart with a tiny cold sweaty fist. 

Several hours later, some more miles further out on open sea, Harold Brak was in the galley eating, Captain Edward Paine studied some old maps in his cabin.  Lt. Ian Wyld and Lt. Pete Lazar were playing cards on deck, not giving a fish’s tail about heavy sea.

Harold didn’t know where they were heading, only that it was an island, not inhabited anymore. He overheard Wyld speaking about big money and a vault. Personally, he didn’t believe in treasures. There was no treasure in existence for someone like him.

He looked at his hands, short strong fingers, puffy from work, jagged nails with a line of dirt under them. The hands of a human rat…

„Brak! Paine’s looking for you. Move. ASAP!“ The speaker barked in Wyld’s voice and Harold rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to get into a rush. Time was always on his side, time and locks. His dinner sat quietly in front of him. Everyday’s special meant leftovers. No one accompanied him. The galley was just big enough to not to stub your elbow while cooking, and hardly anyone else ate there, except him.

Being burdened with cooking, he knew every drawer and every knife in there. Knifes. The thought made him break out in sweat.

The leftover special burned through his guts, maybe the fish was already bad. Oh, he felt the heartburn coming and welcomed it with a guttural sound deep from his bowels. The burp didn’t echo. Harold grimaced a tiny bit relieved. Even if Paine was looking for him, he was going to eat his dinner. In peace. At least he was going to be taking his time. There was no need to hurry. It wasn’t as if they didn’t knew where he was and what he did.

„Brak.“ The voice over the com was now low and calm. Paine’s voice dripped in his ears. „When ready, come and see me at my office.“ Dry. Harold’s mouth was nothing but bone dry. Instantly. He hated what he had to do for Paine.

Harold’s heart made an attempt to jump through his throat, but his lungs wrestled it back down, kicking it back into its place. He wheezed and searched his pockets for his keys.

All doors on this ship were unlocked. He had made sure of that, so that Paine wouldn’t come looking for him. His fingers told his brain, that the keychain was too light. Something was missing.

His sweaty fingers clenched around his spoon. Paine, his personalized nightmare, was calling for him.

- Part 3

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