A Gathering in the Sea - Pt I

"The Island of Akutan has always had a distinct and obvious beautiful decay about it, despite its roving hills of green and breath-taking scenery. With this understanding, it is no wonder the island is a seasonal visit for many rather than a permanent stay. Located within the Aleutian East Borough of Alaska, the roving Pacific waves provide a temporary tranquil to an otherwise accepted remoteness. Though, with every image of calm there is a storm waiting to bellow over a levy to replenish an eternal cycle. Chaos and rebirth. Destruction and renewal. Taking from the old and ushering into the plane of the future. Where we are going, the night reigns supreme."

- Page taken from Provisional Mayor Pentwater's destroyed Journal

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Joseph Meyers was a modest seasonal fisherman who loved the solitude the Akutan island provided, and even more acceptable was the population of the Island proper. Just under a hundred year round residents and an entire island to be trekked, leaving one to be lost in their own mental machinery. Meyers was a kitchen appliance salesman back in the world, and while he provided for himself in the bustling urban metropolis of Detroit, it wasn't enough to keep him away from his hobby of fishing and chasing the distant dream of settling on the Akutan shoreline which he fell in love with while perusing a meager hunting expedition pamphlet.

Alaska nestled itself in the annals of American history, being the 49th state to be recognized on January 3rd, 1959. It is now April 14th, 1962, and the roaring turmoil from the rest of the United States and perhaps the world is lost on this little island, as if time stood still and the raging winds from afar lost were lost in the sea mist, unable to penetrate the ominous aura the island emitted.

"When's the harbor shutting down?"

Meyers asked the band of fisherman of the Purple Gambit, a modest barge for simple Salmon fishing. The captain, a six foot grey-haired man with a Norse looking beard spoke in a rushed yet rumbling tone.

"We're running late. They shut down at 8 o'clock. Keep your rubbers on, we'll make it." He replied, cracking a determined smile while turning back to face the sea.

Meyers looked down at his Seamaster. The lantern in the captain's cabin glimmered over the glassed face, making it easier to see the time in sporadic incremental moments. 7:45 it read, and Meyers let out an undetectable sigh and sat back down just outside the cabin, letting the rushed rocking of the barge ground his thoughts and immerse him in a state of self-perpetuating calm.

Two of the captains mates were Unangan, their language distinct and their penchant for understanding the sea and heavily utilizing its resources were unrivaled. Men hunted seal, otter, sea lion, whale, and occasionally walrus - and there was not a frightful one among them when a sea voyage was to be conducted. One of the mates, a middle-aged man named Arnak, or Arnie for short, sat across Meyers with a smile on his face.

"So. How long you stay on island?" He inquired.

"Eh. Four or five days. We'll see. All depends on my stay and how it goes." Meyers replied with a hint of optimism.

"I show you something when we arrive. Get sleep tonight at the inn, be up at five. Meet me behind the inn, at the base of the mountain pass." Arnie spoke in an excited tone, as if he had discovered the miracle cure for joint pain.

"Yeah, sure." Meyers responded hastily, unsure if he actually wanted to wake up that early and make a journey up the steep mountain pass to whatever simple mysticism lay beyond the volcanic rock formations.

Arnie stood up, presumably to resume his duties in preparing the barge for harbor before Meyers interrupted him briefly.

"Hey! One second. Tell me about this guy." Meyers motioned with a closed hand and outstretched thumb, pointing towards the pre-occupied captain.

Arnie replied with a sudden seriousness blanketing his face. "He would be Unangan if he was not white." With a stiff, reassuring nod, Arnie turned around and made his way to a pile of rope, and began tying off the ends.

Trying to piece together and decipher what the man meant, the captain whistled Meyers over.

"Hey, fisherman! Come here." The Captain sternly invited.

Meyers walked into the dimly illuminated cabin, and before he could announce his presence, the captain motioned with his right arm off the controls and spoke hurriedly.

"Look ahead. Mist. The Island gets this rolling mist every once in a while. The tribals call it an omen."

"Why an omen?" Meyers asked

"Well. Every time this damn mist rolls up to the docks, something always happens. We get stragglers on the island wandering about dazed and confused. Not locals, though. Strange attire, strange attitudes, and worse even, strange accents. Damn tourists. The Island is still young, and you can already see it aging with these people." The Captain explained.

"What's your story?" Meyers re-iterated the question in hopes of getting a more solid answer, totally negating the current forecast oriented explanation.

"You mean Arnie didn't explain it enough for you? Haha! I hear everything. There's not much to me. I had an accident a couple years back, don't remember much. Fell off another barge, ended up on the shoreline. Arnie and the other one...we'll call him Uki, found me during a Caribou hunt. Nursed me back to health. That's that. Names Harald. Just call me Harry."

Upon further inspection immediately after Harald's speech, Meyers noticed the long beard of the captain was actually braided neatly. This puzzled Meyers, but decided not to inquire for fear of being too forward.

"Understood Harry. I'll be right out here if you need anything. Going to take a cat nap." Meyers finalized the conversation, and relieved a reassuring grunt in return.

Fifteen minutes go by, and the bumping of the barge setting into harbor woke Meyers from his small nap, forcing him to look around the barge for anything out of the ordinary. The mates were helping the captain tie off the barge, and the harbourmaster could be seen walking hastily towards the Captain's position, the wooden dock clicking to his every step as the Pacific lay calmly below.

"You realize you almost got turned around, right Harry?" The harbourmaster warned.

"Almost. Not quite. I'm here, aren't I? Is Mila still at the Sea Star? I.. need a drink." Harry tirelessly asked.

"Yeah. She'll be open for another two hours. Who is this?" The Harbourmaster looked towards Meyers, his eyes the only thing to be seen under the docks nearly decrepit illuminated lamps. His eyes widened and overly alert was cause for subliminal concern, but rather than keep this strange individual waiting, Meyers responded with haste.

"Name is Joseph Meyers. Just here for seasonal fishing."

The rusted shieldings above the row of bulbs rotting away in a hard dance with the Pacific's tune shook with the gentle nudge of the wind. The mist was getting thicker now, reducing the bulbs to a point of diminished reference.

"Is that right? The Sea Star Inn is up ahead, just beyond the docks. Settle in. This mist is going to get worse as the evening progresses." The thick German-laced accent forewarning from the harbourmaster was enough to cause Meyers to grab his bags and start heading down to the inn in apparent unison with the crew of the Purple Gambit.

Every step was calculated. Every step was careful. The backs of each man were reference points to stay on the wooden dock instead of falling over into the cold shock of the ocean, its salt deposits eating away at the base of the docks like termites to a two by four. The Inn was brighter than any light source on the island it seemed. A red neon glow engulfed most of what was in front of the establishment in the shape of a Starfish, and only the entrance to the docks and the sandy remnants of the adjoining shoreline lay exposed.

"Here we are, lad. Off you go." Harry's tone seem to be reminiscent of a man whose task was completed. Arnie gave off a reminding nod, and Meyers ventured inside with bags in tow.

Upon entering, the first level was clearly the bar. The most obvious curiosity was the lack of patrons on a Saturday night, yet the air was full with scents of liquor and whiskey as if a party had just concluded. Above the bar was a PPSH machine gun mounted on a plaque with small engraved texts pinned in carefully crafted metal sheets on either side of the decoration. Meyers thought it rather peculiar a Russian war relic washing up on the shores of a distant Alaskan island, but at this point, he was simply too tired to care.

A fair skinned woman emerged from behind the row of drinks with blonde hair and a strong face piercing through what seemed to be used and discarded glasses on the bar top, with each holding barely noticeable amounts of alcohol.

"You here for a room or for a drink?" The woman asked in a molasses-thick Slavic accent.

"A room...please."

Meyers' eyes were squinted, barely able to keep awake as the thin framed woman rummaged below the bar top, fumbling with keys and looking to the occupant board to the right of the bar.

"Room 77. Upstairs, to the right. There's chow from 0600 to 0900. Eat or don't." The woman explained and shortly thereafter disappeared behind the library of modern elixirs just as quickly as she arrived. Her use of military time and her shortness was not lost on Meyers. His brother often used the same tone during his visits while on leave. A moment of suppressed emotion almost buoyed itself to the surface, almost pressuring Meyers for a drink, but the urge to sleep was stronger than the urge to get drunk.

Entering room 77, the neatness was the first thing to be noticed. No distant smells occupied the room, just cold linen and a window overlooking the sea, with roving green cloaked in a foreboding darkness below. The door was shut, and a head was pressed against the pillow, and a squinted eye was closed as Meyers drifted off into a deep sleep.

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To be continued . . .

That reads great, I'm just waiting for the mist to roll in!

S+F

a reply to: midicon

Just giving this a bump as it deserves more than three flags!

a reply to: midicon
Thank you kindly

Not much of a writer but I'd thought I'd give it a shot.

a reply to: Walpurgisnacht

I think you have a fine talent. I mean that.

One thing I might say (could be wrong) is that something too long in here might garner less attention. I have a feeling though that this will be read and get the attention it deserves.

Amazing attention to detail and great knowledge of the subject. It's easy to miss such things.

a reply to: Walpurgisnacht

Wow! Great story!

a reply to: Walpurgisnacht

Excellent story, Walpurgisnacht!

Like the fisherman that Meyers is, you've baited and hooked me with your precise narrative, faceted characters and natural dialogues... please continue posting if you have more.

originally posted by: Encia22
a reply to: Walpurgisnacht

Excellent story, Walpurgisnacht!

Like the fisherman that Meyers is, you've baited and hooked me with your precise narrative, faceted characters and natural dialogues... please continue posting if you have more.

Thank you and the others as well. Part II on the way soon.