Headed for Customs
Robert Kozak
When Jason first awoke on his splintery raft, all he could think about was how he wished he brought an umbrella. Of course there were plenty of thoughts before this, thoughts of where he was, who he was, or why he was in the middle of the ocean with no memory of anything. But his mind eventually settled on wanting an umbrella. With one he could have shrouded himself away from the sun, saving his poor skin from getting burnt any further.
Even compared to a shirt -which Jason lacked- an umbrella can shade your arms and head. And when the sun is down, Jason could’ve used it as a oar of sorts. But for Jason, there was no umbrella, just his pants, the raft, and the hot midday sun.
The where, why, and how questions had already been asked, with no answer. But one question still needed to be asked.
“What the hell am I going to do?” he muttered to himself, getting up to his feet. And like the other questions, there was no answer, only the crisp ocean breeze pushing him along the pale blue sea.
Jason scanned the horizon for the better part of an hour, desperately searching for a ship, a coast, anything. It was only when Jason sat back down did he see something peculiar jut out of the water. It looked to be a sword of sorts, made of stone. It stuck out at an angle, perfectly still even as waves slapped against it. Even odder, it seemed to be emerging from the water as Jason could soon see a hand grasping the sword, and then a forearm. Soon, an entire statue was rising up out of the waves, holding a narrow, long sword in one hand and a book in the other. It’s head had been smashed off, replaced with a mess of rubble at the base of its neck.
Realizing he was headed straight for it, Jason knelt to the side of the raft and started to paddle over to the statue. No sooner had he submerged his hand did he yank it back. The flesh of his skin felt as if it were being pricked with thousands of tiny, molten needles. A few agonizing seconds later the pain subsided, leaving only the salty sea water on his hand.
“What the hell?” Jason stared at the ocean. He was sure he hadn’t felt a fish or some sort of sea urchin that would’ve lead to the stinging. And even then, a poison would not have worn off so quickly. So what caused the pain?
Curious, Jason slipped just the tip of his finger into the ocean and just as the first time the pins and needles came back. It was just as painful as before, yet he only felt it in his finger.
“Alright,” Jason stood up looking over to the statue, now up it it’s legs and a mere 10 feet away. Whatever that statue was connected to, it was emerging, and while it night might be dry land, it’s the only thing aside from Jason that was above sea level.
With one hand clasped tight onto the rope of the raft and one arm outstretched, Jason reached for the statue as he passed it by, clasping onto it’s ankle. And even thought it was wet, it didn’t bring on that stinging sensation.
Figuring now would be a better time than ever to anchor himself, Jason undid a part of his raft, letting one of the logs float away, and tied the extra rope around the statue. He didn’t need the extra raft space anyway. The log simply floated away into the distance as Jason watched the base of the statue rise up, the plaque on the base worn from decades of waves splashing against it. Though he was able to make out a couple of letters “**S** FO**D** ** T*E P*OSP***US I*L*S”.
Perhaps it meant something to someone, at some point. But all Jason saw was meaningless markings. He turned away from the statue.
“Okay, this is probably just some old lighthouse that fell apart,” Jason sighed, sitting back down onto the raft. “I’ll just stay here until some boat passes me.”
The gears started to turn in his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a couple of days maybe, but I’ll be able to catch their attention. Nothing but sea as far as the eye can see anyway, I’d stand out. They’d let me on board, I’d be given some crappy job to pay off them saving me,” the gears were really turning now.
“Yeah, and then I’ll ask if I can get docked at-” Jason paused, trying to draw up the name of a port, a town, a city, even a country. Blank. “Eh, who needs to be on dry land anyway. I’ll just ask to be a part of the crew, full time. Then I’ll work my way up the ladder until I’m the captain’s right hand man. And when he’s bedridden from a mysterious disease he contracted from some shady cargo, he’ll whisper in my ear, and name me captain, with his dying breath. I’ll be known across the world as Jason, the Trading King of the Sea! No privateers would dare raid my ship, lest they sink with theirs!”
During his fantastical ramblings to no one Jason failed to realize that the statue continued to emerge. Not only the statue, however, the platform it was connected to was steadily raising up out of the ocean. And before too long, he found his raft resting upon a solid concrete foundation.
”Oh,” Jason stands up, watching in awe as below him, buildings rose out of the ocean, rooftops covered in sand and seaweed, walls crusted with barnacles and coated in selective wet clumps of algae. All around him new structures would emerge, until the skyline of a a city was fully formed.
Words tried to escape from Jason’s mouth, a food which eventually slurred itself into a awkward mix between a “wow” of amazement and an aimless confused “guh”. He was lucky there was no one around to hear it, or else he’d be quite embarrassed.
Still, he walked along the railing of the building, watching the rest of the city come up out of the water. His attention was only broken when he felt his foot stand on something soft. Not only soft, wet and soft, and warm too. A knot in his throat formed when he saw what he stepped in.
Hit foot was deep into the open maw of a slimy, sludge coated creature. It looked human in form, or at least, it was once human. It lay flat on its slide, floundering around as it tried to eat Jason’s foot. It’s formless head sat melted against the floor, a plethora of eyes staring off in random directions. The thing’s lack of a skull was made quite apparent when Jason tried to pull his foot out, sliding it against the inside of the monster’s floppy sack of a head. There were no teeth, but it clasped onto his foot like a suction cup, not wanting to let go.
There were gill’s on its neck, tiny slits that opened and closed in the open air, suffocating. The thing’s arms had twisted halfway into a fin, the skin pulled taught and wrinkled, yet the bones of its digits remained, flexing and moving the fin around at random. It’s whole body was covered in a mix of pale grey skin, and an unworldly light blue that glowed ever so slightly through the thin sheen of slime that coated it’s entire form.
Jason, paralyzed and silenced by fear, watched as it wrapped itself onto his leg. It was almost up to his knee before Jason finally broke free from his terror, wildly kicking his leg, holding onto the railing as he swung his leg to and fro, the dead weight on his leg slowly sliding off until it was at his foot. One more kick and his foot was free from the monster’s maw. It flopped around on the floor for a few moments until Jason kicked it through the gaps in the railing.
He walked over to the side of the building, watching as it finished it’s multi-story plummet into the still flooded streets. It shuddered for a moment as it entered the water, until it sped off into the water, far faster than it had any right to be.
Jason just stood there, a thin sheen of ooze on his leg. He watched the last bit of the ocean drain away from the streets, he didn’t register it, he was still processing what had just happened moment’s prior. Until the water sank down to the streets, he remained silent. But as soon as the tide drained away, the knot in his throat finally broke.
“Uagh, gah, WHAT THE HELL!?” he tried his best to brush away the slime on his leg, but just ended up moving it to his arms. Jason picked up a clump of sand and tried to brush it off, but the sand simply stuck to the ooze. It wasn’t until he began scraping it on the railing did it finally slide away. “C’mon, just get off, just get off, just get off already!”
For a brief moment, he stood there in horror, unmoving. As soon as he got his hands clean he didn’t want to move an inch. Rigid as a piece of driftwood, he slowly scanned the floor. In front of him there was a puddle of grey sludge where the disgusting fish creature had stood moments prior. Jason carefully turned around, walking in the other direction as he eyed the floor. Not one step was made without 10 seconds of scanning the floor.
A couple of minutes passed until Jason found himself face to face with a set of stairs that lead under the statue. He looked up briefly, staring at the back of the statue his raft was still tied to, failing to notice the pair of shattered stone feet that face him. Remnants of another statue that once stood back to back with the sword wielding one.
At the bottom of the stairs there were the doors to an elevator, Jason didn’t question it, all he wanted was to get far away from where that creature had been, as fast as possible.
He stepped in, ignoring the ornate walls, the gold plated buttons, the immaculately carved wooden elevator doors. All he paid attention to was the button that sat at the bottom of all the rest.
Once he was at the ground floor, he stepped out into a lobby, ignoring the murmurs of the many people sitting inside it. Out of the lobby and onto the streets, Jason watched as hundreds of people walked around, making their daily rounds. Some people hauled around carts, selling foods or meaningless trinkets. Others walked with purpose, not sparing a single glance or word to anybody, walking straight to their destination without a second thought. Children were playing in the street, pushing each other into the mounds of sand that piled up on the side of the road. Many more, however, simply walked around, chatting, buying, selling, going in and out of stores, as if the streets had not been flooded moments prior.
As if in a daze, Jason walked up to a man wearing a light, flowing shirt and shorts with an overabundance of pockets.
“Uh… Sir,” Jason tapped his shoulder and he turned around. There were a flood of questions, but he managed to choose the two the made the most sense at the time. “Where… where am I? What’s the name of this city?”
The man looked him up and down, his expression warm and inviting. “Oh, a newcomer! Welcome to Isle!” he steps behind Jason, turning him to face down the street. He raises an arm and points forward. “Alright, you’re going to want to go to customs. You go down this street until you his Celia Blvd., take a left then walk straight til you see a big red building, probably covered in seaweed. Head through the front doors and say you washed up, they’ll help you out. See ya round chum, stay out of the ocean.”
The man slaps him on the back and moved on with his day. Leaving Jason slightly more informed, yet still in a daze. With nothing else to do, he walks down the street, headed for customs.