Hands of Fate - Survivors of Flight AA214

Chapter 21

Clark

Day 3 of Landing, Day 12 of First Landing

Population of Thornhill - 32

Too early for me to be waking up like this, but you know what they say, early bird catches the worm that catches the fish.

Herman, our fisher, had woken me up. “Time to fish. Lots of people to feed,” he said.

Ol' Herm is always up bright and early. Puts all us young fellas to shame.

Me and the old lady got transferred to what they call the beach shelter, or shelter one, on account of it being close to the beach. My job was to help out Herman, you see. Herman was the angler, bringing in all kinds of fish for the village. So that was where I found myself lying when Herman woke me up, right next to my old girl Sloane.

"Keep Herman safe and help him out," Bianca said to me when she assigned me to this post.

I don't know if she's the leader or anything like that, but when Bianca says something, folks usually follow it, on account of her having that huge stone monster. You don't want to cross someone who put a roof over your head and has a monster, that's for damn sure.

It was seven in the morning, according to Ol' Herm. They used sundials and sand to tell the time here since none of us could bring along watches or cell phones. All I knew was that it was early---too early for me, at least. I’d usually work in the evenings or afternoons. Never was no early bird, but I can’t let Ol’ Herm work all by his lonesome.

The old-timer was looking over his fishing rod and mine, checking to make sure they were good to go for the day. We had a lot of people to feed, after all. The doctor, Ethan, had given Herman some new, longer strings for his rods, and now he was replacing his old strings with the new ones.

Herman had this ability, some voodoo magic about him that let him work magic into those fishing lines and rods. I ain't never seen anything like it, but sure enough, whenever he cast those things, they would never snap on him. He told me if I worked hard enough and wanted it, I would get it too, but I ain't never seen that strange card dealer they keep telling me about.

Besides our two fishing rods, we also had black knives for gutting and prepping the fish and a new fishing net. When I asked if Herm made this all himself he said he had some help from a guardian angel. The old man started grabbing all our stuff but I had to come over and help him with it.

"I'll take that, Herm. You take it easy now, you hear?" I told him.

"I can carry my own fishing rod at least," Herman huffed. The old-timer carried that thing everywhere. Only left it alone when he slept. Besides the net and the fishing rod, I carried a wooden basket Bianca and Slate made for us. A rope was tied to it, so I wrapped it around my body like an ox, dragging the thing across the sand when we fished.

"Orion will kill me if I don't carry it for you, Herm," I said.

"Talk to you, did he?" Herman harrumphed in annoyance.

"Scared me something awful. You don't mess with the cook, Herman, that's for damn sure."

A voice came out of the shelter we called home that I knew all too well. Dangit but I didn’t want to wake her from her sleep but it can’t be helped, I ‘spose.

"Aren't you forgetting something, sugar?" Sloane asked.

My beautiful old lady was still lying on the floor, brushing her straw-colored hair out of her face. She yawned, which made me yawn, and I came over to plant a kiss on her lips. We held hands for what felt like a minute before I let go, though the little woman sure didn't want to let me go, that's for sure. My fingers were locked onto hers like some Chinese finger trap. Wouldn’t let me go and heck I wouldn't have if I didn't have a job to do.

"Take care of him, Herman. He's a terrible swimmer," Sloane yelled as we departed.

"Pretty girl," Herman remarked with a coy smile. "How'd an ugly southern boy like you reel a catch like that one in?"

"Oh come on now, Herm, I ain't that ugly," I told him.

"Let me guess, church? High school sweetheart?" Herman laughed at my reddening face.

Sloane was my pride and joy, but I didn't like it when other guys bugged me about her.

"I met her at a restaurant. She's a waitress. A friend of mine dared me to ask her, and, hell, funny enough, she said yes," I said.

I wasn't bragging or nothin'. I knew how lucky I was to have Sloane.

"So, a short fling?" Herman settled on a spot when he spotted bluebirds in the distance flying above silvery shoals of fish on a rocky flat. There were craters of water filled with small crabs, snails, clams, and whatnot.

"Nah. We've been dating for two years now. I was going to fly to New York to ask her parents to let me marry her."

The old-timer picked up a clam and used a black knife. He shucked it, tore a piece of the clam, and attached it to a fishbone hook on the end of his fishing rod. When I presented my hook, he sliced another piece of the clam for mine. Herman rolled up his pants to his knees and started wading through the shallows of the water. I stood by the edge of the rock flats instead of wading into the water like the old-timer but followed his example of rolling up my pants to my knees. I reckon Herm's fishing rod had no business casting as far as it did, given that it was made with what looked like bamboo and a few strings, but boy, did it fly far.

"What did you do, Clark? On Earth, that is,” Herman asked.

"On Earth... ah heck..." I realized we might not be on Earth on account of that funny moon and these magical golem and cards. "I was moving from job to job. Used to work at Costco and then... well, I figure me and Sloane can move to Texas or Alaska, and I get me a welding certificate."

"No college?" Herm asked.

I always did feel mighty embarrassed whenever someone asked me that. It wasn't like I was stupid or anything, I don't want to give y'all the wrong impression. I just never tried that hard at school, and college was never in the cards for me. I always fell asleep real quick every time I cracked open a book. Figured that ain't the life for me.

"Nah. No money for that. I figure I might join the military like you, Herm, and maybe find a trade or something," I said.

"You know, you're taking being stuck out here pretty well, Clark," Herman smiled that old smile of his as he squinted in the distance.

"Ah shucks, I got the love of my life here with me, and I get to spend it on a beautiful beach like this with all you lovely folks. I tell you, some rich folks would pay a pretty penny for an experience like this back home," I didn't want to tell Herm I was just as spooked and nervous as the rest of them. Ol' Herm was always worrying about how people were taking it, being stranded here and all.

"You like fishing? Is this what you want to do?" Herman asked.

"It beats working the dirt. I mean, I don't mind that so much, but some folks back there have a tougher lot. I feel lucky doing this." I meant it, too. I went fishing with my Pa back at home when we moved to Florida. Mostly catfish, and we didn’t use no tree branches for rods neither. Something about fishing with Herm just felt like fishing with my Pa, I s'pose.

"You might be here a long while, son," Herman said with an ounce of sadness. "You might as well find something you love to do."

"The council asked me when they started getting a forge up if I'd like to try blacksmithing on account of me wanting to be a welder," I said shrugging. "I don't know the first thing about smithing, but it sounds important. I can be a real big shot around here if I start smithing, and maybe Bianca and that golem can build me and Sloane our own house if we do real good. I can make you a mean rod, too, if I get those powers like you all have."

"Well, I can't say I won't miss you being around here," the old-timer smiled sadly.

"Ah come on, Herm. Nothing's decided as of yet. I'll still be here for some time," I reassured the old codger.

"What did you think about all that happened yesterday?"

"That business with Bryden? Well, shoot, I didn't know him all that well but it sucks, don't it?"

"How did your girl take it?" Herman asked.

"She just told me if she ever catches me in the dungeon, she'll cut off my nuts," I laughed.

Truth was, we all felt sorry for Ruth. Bad business that. Left a bad taste in all our mouths. Got people second-guessing Bianca and her decision to leave the dungeon open.

"Get the net ready, son. I think I got one," Herman's face contorted in pain as he tried to wrestle the thing. I dropped my line, grabbed the net, and came over to help the old man pull the fish in.

Nothing made Ol' Herm smile more than a catch. The old-timer loved fishing. The fish struggled against that flimsy-looking line, but it never did break, not once. One of them magic cards appeared, and Herm's face grimaced as he tried to pull it in. We didn't have any reels, so I had to pull the line by hand. When we could see the fish near the shallows, I readied my net and scooped the rascal up. We netted the fish and placed it in our wood basket we rested on the rock flats with all them craters and clams. Ol' Herm looked damn proud as he looked over his catch, an arm-length fishy with dark stripes like a zebra. He held the Fishing card in front of me to read it, and it said: "Azure Reach Mackerel"

"D grade," the old fisherman said and baited his hook again with the last of the clam. He deposited the empty shells into the wood basket, along with our catch of the day.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"It's the fish rating. I haven't caught a C grade yet. The cards rate you like a school test, I reckon. I suppose if I catch me a swordfish or tuna, they ought to give me at least a B," Herm laughed heartily as he cast his rod again, a wide arc like a rainbow before his hook landed near the shoals of fish the bluebirds were circling.

"We'd need a boat for that, don't we?"

“We sure do. They’ll get to it, eventually. Somewhere out there is a fish that will let me ace this test of theirs.” Herm looked giddy, like a child waiting for Christmas. He sure did. Just for a moment, in the glare of the sun, I thought he looked like a young man in his twenties. Just for a moment.

More time passes, and me and ol’ Herm shoot the breeze about all kinds of stuff. The weather out here sure was beautiful. It was a warm day that wrapped you like a cozy blanket, but then the cool breeze would come right after and lift your spirits. It wasn’t perfect, mind you, out here roughing it with the others. I’d do anything right now for a smoke and maybe an ice-cold beer, but I couldn’t complain too much.

Around noon, we’d scored about two more of those mackerels in our basket and headed back for lunch when we spotted a stranger. The strange new man “came” or, as the others would say, “spawned” near the rock flats. Me and Herman helped prop that poor fella up on his feet. The man had a black jacket with yellow stripes on the sleeves and shoulders. He picked up his pilot cap off the ground that must have gotten knocked off when he came here and put it on.

“Are you the pilot, sir?” I asked.

“Where... what happened? What happened to the plane?” the pilot asked in a thick Texan accent looking around like he dropped his wallet.

“Plane? There ain’t no plane, sir,” I answered, confused.

“You one of the passengers? Where... what---” The pilot stared at the sea horizon, startled and confused. He took off his hat again and ran his hands through his graying black hair. His face was hard and lined with crow’s feet. He looked to be in his fifties, as old as my Pa maybe. His small beady eyes examined the area, taking in all the information he could, and gathering his bearings.

“Captain... Captain Alvarez, is it?” Herman asked, looking at the man’s name tag. “You might want to brace yourself, Captain. I have a lot to explain to you.”

“We have to find the other survivors,” the captain said in a commanding voice. “You were both on the plane, yes? We need to find the wreckage of the plane and signal for help.”

“Sir... if you may, I have to explain our situation,” Herman said in a soft, soothing voice.

The captain’s legs constantly hammered impatiently as Herman told him everything everyone had told me. How it’s been twelve days since they “crashed”. How we were stuck on another planet. I’ll be honest, I couldn’t believe it at first until I saw the moon at night. I ain’t no astronomer, but the moon does not look like that. The captain didn’t believe it at first, even with me backing ol’ Herm. The captain paid a little more attention when Herman pulled out that magic trick of his.

“So how many are there? This camp you speak of?” the captain asked again, in a rushed, curt way that sparked a man to action.

“It’s more of a village at this point, Captain. And by this point, given you are the first person who came through today that I’ve seen at least, 34?” Herman said. “No, wait, 33.”

Herm looked real regretful, thinking about that boy who lost his life.

Captain Alvarez stroked his black mustache contemplatively. “What about my copilot? Have you seen him?”

“Just you, Capt’n. You and two flight attendants so far,” I answered.

“There were 59 people on that plane,” the captain explained. “If what you say is true, then we are still missing a whole bunch. Take me to your camp. I’ll talk to the passengers.”

“Sir, I should have you know that Bianca and Orion more or less run things there. You ought to heed their advice,” Herman implored.

“I understand, but my duty is to the passengers of the plane. We’ll see the situation there first,” Captain Alvarez said.

Herm gave the captain the old tour of the place, showing him our first shelter and all those gadgets in our camp like the sundial and hourglasses. I had never seen Herman so worried before. He was sensing bad things were coming, and I was smart enough to figure out why. There would be a power struggle between the captain and the council.

“This is incredible. You built all this in twelve days? It’s unbelievable,” the captain said, looking every which way, taking it all in like a kid in a candy store.

“Mostly Slate and Marek,” Herman answered.

“You say Slate is a golem, yes? Some rock creature?” the captain asked.

Herman nodded grimly. More and more, the villagers spotted the captain as he toured the camp, and some dropped what they were doing to come over to see him and pepper him with questions. Before the captain was even escorted to the second shelter, a crowd had started to form near the stockpile. Word was spreading around camp, and darn near everyone came to see.

“Captain, how are we going to get back?” a lady asked.

“Captain, what’s the best course of action?” a man asked.

“Where’s the plane?”

“Those kids are making me a slave here! Do something!”

“My son, Captain. My son!”

“Where can we get some damned toilet paper around here?”

“Do you have a cigarette on you?”

And just when it couldn’t get any messier, Bianca and Aaliyah returned from the beach with two new people. One was a young Asian belle, and the other was another pilot, First Officer Kestrel, a man in his forties with grey eyes and thinning brown hair. The captain and his first officer shook hands and discussed the situation. Bianca wanted to speak up but shrank under the weight of these new authority figures, I reckon. She looked nervous as hell, and it didn’t help that Orion was probably off hunting some boar or muskrats.

“I understand a lot of you have questions. I understand there is a mess hall close by where we all can sit and meet. Everyone will meet there, and I will explain the course of action,” the captain commanded, and then the crowd buzzed something fierce.