Author: Cyruz Borzak
If someone only knew Hudson as an adult, they would have to assume he got into his share of trouble as a youth. His more carefree, “gonna die someday” personality lends itself to images of picking fights on the playground and pushing limits until it leads to consequences. Hudson, however, always followed rules and obeyed authority. He never got involved in fights unless it was to correct a blatant injustice or protect his brother. Parker mellowed as an adult, but he was responsible for most of his mother’s gray hair and sizable files with the school and Bar Harbor police. That part of him never fully went away; its suppression came naturally with maturity.
So, when Parker found himself, Hudson, their nephew, and Desmond threatened, the barrier came down. Without really thinking, he lunged at Lieutenant Anixmar. Right before his shoulder drove into Anixmar’s gut, Parker felt a heavy wump against his torso that knocked him off balance. He still managed to close the gap to Anixmar and leveled him to the deck as a two more wumps thudded against his back. As he tried to lift himself off Anixmar for a follow-up strike, Parker realized he could barely move his arms. He suddenly felt a heaviness that engulfed his brain and began dragging him into unconsciousness. Through the mental haze, Parker heard commotion behind him and figured Hudson was getting into the action. A cadence of wump wump wump followed by a heavy thud cut through the noise of an intense struggle.
Parker felt his body raise as Anixmar pushed him off and to the side. This allowed Parker to observe Hudson swing a weapon toward Anixmar as Stone and Desmond grappled with one of the intruders. Desmond had what looked like a black bulbous dumpling on his neck, hanging on like a fat tick. He stumbled from the same fatigue-inducing depressant that almost had Parker shaking hands with the Sandman. Desmond fared better than the third intruder, who lay inert on the deck, two dumplings enveloping their face.
Parker fought to stay awake but knew he would ultimately lose the fight. As his eyelids slid closed, he watched Hudson exchange volleys with Anixmar, the wump wump wump wump wump of projectile dumplings launching and finding their marks. Hudson fell to a knee, several of the bulbs on his chest. He stared with resignation at the dark blotches covering his torso as Parker’s eyes finally closed.
Bright lights and the distinct scent of sterility greeted Parker’s first waking moments. He was unable to focus his vision and discern the surroundings, and the bright lights did not help by making it painful to keep his eyes open. The experience brought back memories of uncontrolled consumption and that time he suffered a concussion while trying to impress a girl during a sailing date. He never forgot to duck after that.
Pieces of the events leading to his situation slowly crept back into Parker’s conscience. He remembered the stranger appearing on The Orange NIghtingale’s deck during the storm, the sudden appearance of what turned out to be an aircraft, and then a scuffle with unwelcome guests. Parker mentally replayed the fight until right before he lost consciousness, and he realized he should be in custody of whomever landed on The Orange Nightingale. He was surprised, however, to find himself unrestrained aside from an IV drip and what appeared to be other sensors monitoring his vitals. This realization expanded into understanding that he was in a hospital, infirmary, or sick bay, depending on the nature of his current location. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Parker further noticed his room looked less like a cell and more like a functional space to aid convalescence. The furnishings could accommodate visitors, and their cream and soft green coloring added warmth to the white industrial and metallic construction of the room. The overall aesthetic was welcoming enough to almost mask the beep and hum of medical devices tucked discreetly behind his bed.
Parker continued examining the room’s features as his vision slowly sharpened. He silently urged it to hurry up when a knock on the door pulled his attention. A man dressed in a gray, tightly fitting, military-esque uniform that Parker did not recognize slowly opened the door and peeked through the slight gap before stepping over the threshold. The newcomer gave a brief look around the room before settling his gaze on Parker. Though the man smiled, Parker felt an immediate reluctance to engage.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake. I know you probably feel pretty miserable right now, but you should feel more like yourself in short order. Try drink as much water as you can. Your body is experiencing symptoms of dehydration.”
The man motioned to a table sitting to the right of Parker’s bed. It was the first time he noticed the table with the large pitcher of water and full glass sitting atop it.
“You were hit with three rounds of what we call jelly, a combination paralytic and depressor. Standard training instructs that one round is sufficient, but your aggression surprised the team, and, well, their trigger fingers acted faster than their brains. Our apologies for that, but rest assured, there are no lingering effects other than what you’re feeling right now, and as I said, that should already be going away.”
He paused and looked expectantly at Parker, like he should say ‘thank you’ or ‘it’s all good, no hard feelings’. Those were not the words going through Parker’s mind at that moment. He started to speak and realized his voice was still finding its way back like his vision. Parker carefully grabbed the filled cup from the bedside table and took a long pull on the water until the glass sat empty. The water had an immediate rejuvenating effect and took care of whatever had caught in his throat. “What about my brother and nephew, and, and Desmond?”
The man nodded and maintained his smile. “Your brother is in a similar state. He actually managed to get his hands on one of the firearms and gave as good as he got, but in the process took several more rounds than you. He’s still sleeping. And Desmond, is that his name? That was a surprise to find him on your boat. He’s fine, but unfortunately received jelly to the throat. He’s unable to talk for now, which should pass, however I doubt he would say anything to us until you are all back together. And your nephew is completely okay. After your brother was, um, pacified, and he stopped putting up a fight. They are in their own rooms waiting for you and Hudson to get the all-clear from our medical team.”
Parker did not appreciate how nonchalant the man talked about the assault and wondered what consequences lay in wait for them, or, he hesitated to welcome the thought, maybe the whole thing was a complex misunderstanding. Either way, he had no idea where he was or what was going on. For the moment, however, Parker and the crew of The Orange Nightingale appeared to be at this stranger’s mercy. “They all better be okay. And who are you? Where are we?”
The man still had his smile as he stepped further into the room until he could rest his hands on the foot of Parker’s bed. “I won’t be able to answer all your questions, but I can answer that one. My name is Doctor Ulf Hrafnsson (ha-rah-fin-son). I am a science officer for the Northern Oceanic Research and Enforcement Alliance and assigned to your case. Think of me as your liaison or chaperone as we work to resolve your anomaly.”
Parker’s head still hurt, so the words coming from the doctor’s mouth, starting with his name, and everything that came after, did not coalesce into anything meaningful. He closed his eyes and shook his head, “My case? Anomaly? What? Wait, can you just tell me where we are?”
The doctor’s smile faltered for a second and he took a noticeably deeper breath, “You are aboard the Black Mystic, NOREA’s flagship vessel. We are currently in a holding pattern about fifteen miles off the New Brunswick coast.”
Parker was confused why they were in Canada when they had been in United States waters. He struggled to believe they drifted that far north. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you board us in US waters? Why are we in Canada? Sounds like the start of a legal shitstorm to me.”
The doctor’s smile completely disappeared now, and he forced his eyes down while taking another big breath, clearly not wanting to answer this question. “I, I figured this would be disconcerting.” He stammered through a response, “Why, I, why don’t we get a medical officer in here to check you over so we can get some food in you, and, um, yeah, when you’re feeling better we can, uh, go over the details of your situation.”
Parker was about to say, “Why don’t we go over them now,” but Doc Hrafnsson left the room before even finishing his statement. True to the good non-doctor’s word, however, a man and woman soon entered. The woman wore a similar uniform as Hrafnsson but black, and Parker had a fleeting thought that it resembled the uniforms worn by those on the The Orange Nightingale; it looked more utilitarian and bore what appeared to be unit and rank insignias. She stopped and stationed herself just inside the door, while the man, decked out in gray scrubs, walked up to and began checking the monitors behind Parker’s bed.
Neither said anything to Parker since entering, and while he doubted they would be any more forthcoming than Hrafnsson, Parker felt his only option to get answers at this point was to be annoying. He turned to the nurse, “I appreciate your bedside manner, really puts me at ease.”
The nurse paused for just a moment but stayed focused on his process, inviting more of Parker’s commentary, “So, did you not make the cut for field work? Is that why you’re stuck here attending to poor ol’ me? Because I’ll be honest, when you came in here, I expected she’d be the one giving me a look over, and you know, I would’ve welcomed her thorough examination.” Parker turned to face the sentry and give her the hungriest eyes he could muster. He could sense them both bristle at his comment, and if he could punch himself for saying something so crass, he would have. He did not believe it, of course, having several childhood friends grow up and undergo the arduous training and hours it took to be a proficient nurse. Parker had all the respect in the world for anyone willing to do that job. He especially respected any woman who could find success in fields typically dominated by men. Every man in Maine knew not to cross a woman on a fishing boat. And, while the woman standing guard had a suppressed attractiveness, Parker had no thoughts other than getting to his family and going home.
While the nurse brushed off the comments, he was not particularly gentle in removing the various sensor pads placed around Parker’s body. As he worked, the woman approached the bed and addressed Parker with a stern voice emphasizing she was not going to put up with any slander. “You can cut the act, Captain Bore. We’ve seen your profile and are certain you’ve never actually said or meant anything like that in your life. However, if you think you need to establish some kind of dominance and get a reaction from us, then please, by all means, keep spouting that inane crap and see what happens. Just know, Tulo there is very good with needles, surgical, and me, well, I don’t think you want to leave here questioning your manhood.”
Parker detected the smile forming on Tulo’s face right before he ripped a stubborn sensor pad off Parker’s chest, taking the pad, hair, and quite possibly a layer or two of skin in the process. The yelp that escaped Parker’s lips destroyed any illusion of the toughness or control he was trying to establish. This also made the woman smile. She turned back to re-assume her post, but Parker caught her attention through deep breaths and gritted teeth. “Wait, wait, I’m sorry. You’re right, I didn’t mean any of that. I…damn that hurt…I need answers and need to see my family. I don’t know what I hoped to accomplish by saying that, but I had to try something.”
The woman returned, less stern than before. “Thank you. I knew you weren’t an asshole, and I’m sorry that you are feeling mistreated. Your introduction to us did not go as planned, so we are using more caution than usual for your protection and ours. I’m sure Doctor Hrafnsson already told you the others are fine, and that is the truth. None of you are confined, but injuries were sustained. Tulo has spent most of the past two days by your side. Tulo, you’ve slept what, six hours?”
Tulo took the time for a quick nod while he continued checking Parker over, “Something like that.”
Parker suddenly had the realization, “Wait, the past two days? Are you saying I’ve been unconscious for two days?”
This time, Tulo answered first, “Yes, which is why you feel hungover and are dehydrated.”
Parker closed his eyes tightly and pushed his head deeper into his pillow. He had lost forty-eight hours and it felt like that time had not existed at all. “I really, really need some answers.”
Tulo finished his exam and approved Parker’s release from the medical bay. Captain Lazz Stall, whose demeanor toward Parker became relatively amiable once they established a degree of mutual trust, led Parker to the quarters where he found a well rested Stone and Desmond. They all felt immense relief to be back in one another’s company and from the tentative belief that their hosts were true to their word. None, however, could ignore the lingering concern for Hudson’s condition and absence. Both Tulo and Stall assured the three that Hudson was fine and simply recovering from a larger dose of jelly. While Parker remained skeptical, they had no choice but to accept the situation. When it came to finally getting to the bottom of what was going on, they were told answers would come when Hudson was awake and back on his feet.
That moment arrived a day later. For as bad as Parker knew he felt upon waking up, Hudson looked like he had it far worse. He was functional, but every step had him looking like he was on the verge of vomiting. This did not, however, deter Hudson from joining his voice to the call for an explanation, so after an unexpectedly hospitable day of relaxation and recuperation, their hosts led the quartet into an octagonal room with walls covered in screens showing all manner of charts, maps, and surveillance. The center of the room housed an octagonal table with an empty and glossy black surface. Captain Stall had them take a seat around the table before walking to an opposite table segment and joining the already present Doctor Hrafnsson and another unknown woman. Ulf initiated their conversation.
“Hello, gentlemen. You all look significantly better than when we first met. I know you’ve all met me and Captain Stall. While I am responsible for your stay and eventual departure from the Black Mystic, Captain Stall here is truly doing the heavy lifting to ensure you are safe and taken care of. I know this all sounds very cryptic, and we’ll speak to that in just a moment. First, however, I want to introduce the head of our organization, Doctor Freya Bergansdottir. It’s been my pleasure to have worked closely with her these past fifteen years.”
Bergansdottir stood straight with confidence but not rigid. Her blonde and barely noticeable gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her face wore the lines and etchings of experience. That sat atop a slim and sturdy frame, which created an overall visage that was serious but not devoid of any sensibility or empathy. Like everyone else they had encountered aboard Black Mystic, she wore a tightly fitting uniform, but this one matched Hrafnsson’s, clearly differentiating an administrative role from an operational one like Stall’s. It likely did not matter what Bergansdottir wore; she had an air about her that naturally commanded the room. As it turned out, she was as blunt as she looked.
She nodded at each man as she acknowledged them, “Captain Bore, Hudson, Stone, Desmond, welcome to the Black Mystic, the field home for the Northern Oceanic Research and Enforcement Alliance, or NOREA. First, I’d like to extend my sincere apology that our introduction resulted in violence. While our intent remains your protection and well being, the actual execution of brining someone in, or a crew, can be unnerving and lead to confrontation, which is obviously what happened here. That outcome will be addressed by Captain Stall with the appropriate individuals.
Moving on, allow me to tell you about NOREA’s purpose. This organization was founded by Doctor Wilbur Harrington as the North Atlantic Oceanic Society. Upon his passing two years ago, I took over leadership and immediately needed to evolve the Society to meet a nascent threat discovered while Doctor Harrington was still alive. He was a great leader and visionary, but he ignored where NOAS needed to evolve. After his passing, we expanded from a strictly research-oriented organization to include a sanctioned anomaly containment arm. Because of the funding required and various national interests, we became the current Northern Oceanic Research and Enforcement Alliance. We are, at our heart, the same organization started all those years ago. Now, however, we are better positioned to address the modern threats uncovered by our research.
As to why you are here, I know you have questions. Doctor Hrafnsson will be able to spend more time going through details, but I will cover the broad strokes and undoubtedly leave you with more questions than you already have.”
Parker looked from Bergansdottir to Hrafnsson, who kept his eyes down. He then looked at Hudson and Stone who shared the same uneasy, expectant look. Desmond’s eyes were wide but vacant, holding the same dumbfounded look he had since Parker rejoined the group. They all remained silent.
“The core of the issue is, none of you belong here. It should be obvious from Desmond’s appearance that he is out of place though he cannot explain it. And I can confirm for the rest of you that you should not be here. The storm you encountered was not naturally occurring. The alleged creature you saw approaching The Orange Nightingale is not a sea monster but something else that I am not going to try explain at this moment. Both the storm and the entity that travels with it have been tracked by us for several years, and you are the tenth crew or individual we have rescued. Ultimately, we want to get you home and restore your lives.
In order for that to happen, keep an open mind with Doctor Hrafnsson and do exactly as he says. We know what we are doing, and it is in your best interests. If you choose not to comply, Captain Stall is authorized to do her job.”
And without any ceremony or farewell, Bergansdottir left the room, leaving an uncomfortable Hrafnsson, an attentive Stall, and four very confused and increasingly concerned men. While Desmond remained nearly catatonic, Parker and Hudson had a plethora of questions, but they had no clue where to begin or how to make them even remotely intelligent. While Hrafnsson struggled to clear his throat, it was Stone who unexpectedly spoke up.
“Wait, Doctor Harrington? He’s dead?”
Everyone else in the room, save Desmond, looked at Stone with shocked curiosity. Hudson found a question he knew how to ask, “What, you know him?”
Stone shook is head. “No, I don’t know him, but I attended a talk he gave at school last semester. He spoke about chasing the next great mystery. There weren’t many people there, but I found it entertaining enough to get me out of an hour of studying. He’s kind of a weird guy, shares some unique thoughts. It’s weird though, I don’t remember anything about him and the, whatever thing he founded.”
Ulf spoke up, “The North Atlantic Oceanic Society. No, I don’t suppose you would have.”
Stone cocked his head, “Why not? If I founded something I’d be letting everyone know.”
Ulf gave another hard throat clear followed by a sigh, “Because, the society wasn’t created until two-thousand twenty-seven.”
The comment was met with silence. Parker was not certain what he heard and thought Hrafnsson simply did not catch that he misspoke. Stone, however, was still attentive to the conversation. “Um, what?”
The room was cool but Ulf’s forehead displayed growing beads of sweat, and he looked debilitatingly nervous. Parker wished Bergansdottir was still around. She did not seem to have any problem being put on the spot. If nothing else, her presence would likely save Hrafnsson from being overwhelmed by his anxiety and collapsing. He did, however, manage to persevere.
“NOAS was founded in twenty twenty-seven. The organization did not rise to prominence until twenty thirty-four when they discovered a long-missing ship that seeming appeared out of nowhere with no crew but in fine condition. That ship disappeared in eighteen-fifty. The next year, twenty thirty-five, another vessel appeared that had been missing since twenty twenty-six. Again, there was no crew but the boat was in perfect working condition. Unfortunately, Doctor Harrington passed away in twenty thirty-eight, but his work continued, and two years later, we’ve never been closer to solving the greatest mystery humankind has ever encountered.”
His unbelievable story was met with the stillest silence Parker had ever endured. Internally, he screamed for something, anything to make sense. His brain was tired from trying to reconcile the chain of events and then attempt to connect obscure pieces that had no context and seemingly existed outside reality. They all sat in this silence until Hudson half snorted, half laughed. “Ulf, are you, are you okay?”
He held up a hand to make sure everyone just listened to what he had to say. Any interruptions risked dissolving what remained of Ulf’s resolve. “I’m sorry. Just let me get through this next part and we can talk more freely.” He paused to make sure there were no further potential interruptions. “That first ship, the one found in twenty thirty-four, that was a granite hauler called Mother’s Venture.”
It took only a second for the realization to hit, and then Parker, Hudson, and Stone all turned to look at Desmond, who finally snapped out of his stupor upon hearing the name of his long lost ship. His brow furrowed as his eyes shifted quickly from Ulf to Stall to multiple points in the room as his brain worked through what they were hearing. Parker realized then that he had given no thought to Desmond’s mental state. They maybe did not fully believe he was from the eighteen hundreds, but his sudden appearance on The Orange Nightingale, along with his mannerisms and hygienic state, left his displacement through time as a possible explanation, unbelievable as that would normally be. And if that was true, Parker suddenly understood Desmond’s trance-like state. The world and its technology was likely beyond anything his generation could fathom or imagine. If Parker was struggling to make sense of their situation, Desmond could not have understood most of what he had seen in the past week.
As he pondered the potential chaos in Desmond’s mind, Parker’s attention subconsciously returned to Ulf, as if he did not want to but had to hear what came next.
“And the boat found in twenty thirty-five was The Orange Nightingale.”
In a reflexive outburst, Parker lost control of his words as they came tumbling out. “C’mon, this is absolutely ridiculous! We appreciate you guys coming to our rescue if that was even needed, but this joke is going too far and, frankly, not funny. It’s sadistic. Who do you think you are?!”
In a deluge of words and emotion, with a volume rising above Parker’s, Ulf yelled, “The current year is twenty-forty! You’ve been missing and presumed dead for fourteen years!”
Silence prevailed and lingered once again. Stone was the only one to finally get his thoughts in order. “So, that means it’s the same for Desmond, except since eighteen-fifty for him.”
Ulf nodded.
“So, if it’s twenty-forty, and you have The Orange Nightingale, how did it get back to twenty thirty-five? When did it get back to twenty thirty-five? And why did Desmond end up with us?”
Everyone looked at Stone like he was speaking an unknown language. He looked back at his uncles and shrugged, “What? I know this is crazy, but you guys need to watch more movies. This kinda thing is always happening. If they’re logic’s nonsense, then we know they’re messing with us.”
Ulf took offense to something Stone said and began waving his hands, “What? No! No, no, no. This isn’t like a movie! Well, some of it is, kind of, but we’re dealing with real life. The fact is, we don’t have it all figured out, because the conditions and results keep changing. We are certain, however, that this all has to do with the entity and that storm.”
Parker did not need convincing. As soon as Hrafnsson said the year, he knew it was true. He believed it because he had felt out of place since waking up, like his body was protesting being here. But as Stone and Hrafnsson went back and forth, he was not really paying attention to what was being said. Parker instead thought of his wife and how she had lived fourteen years, dealing with loss and likely rebuilding her life, while for him he had only left her less than a week prior. A combination of sadness and anger welled up inside him as he felt jilted by a world flipped upside down and a story that he believed despite its absurdity.
Just as Parker rejoined Stone and Hrafnsson’s conversation, which shifted to dissecting the consequences of jumping forward and backward on a timeline, with Hudson surprisingly enraptured by the discourse and Desmond looking like he fought his own demons, klaxons across Black Mystic erupted in a chorus of shrieking chaos. Parker watched as Stall held a finger to her ear and nodded. Immediately after, she ran to Desmond and pulled him out of his seat.
“You need to come with me right now!” Then, she looked at Ulf, “We’re in a window.”
Desmond gave little resistance as Stall pulled him along and out the room. Ulf asked the rest of them to stay seated, but that was not going to work for Parker. He leapt from his seat and darted for the door with Hudson right behind and Ulf’s pleading to stop ineffectually falling on unwilling ears. They were out the briefing room and caught Desmond and Stall’s feet atop a flight of stairs before disappearing through a hatch. Parker and Hudson took the stairs two at a time, and once they reached the landing, they could hear Stone beginning his ascent with an exasperated Ulf right behind.
“Please, stop! You’re putting yourselves and Desmond at risk!”
In most situations, an alarm and plead to “stop” would garner immediate compliance, but the Northern Oceanic Research and Enforcement Alliance had not yet established enough trust to just take them at their word. Though they knew little about him, Parker, Hudson, and Stone felt Desmond was part of their crew, especially since they now shared a supernaturally unique experience. So when he is ripped from his seat and rushed away without explanation, none of them were going to just let his fate be decided by strangers.
After several flights of stairs and sprints down the labyrinthine vessel’s surprisingly empty hallways, they emerged onto the Black Mystic’s deck. Parker’s heart sunk at what they encountered. Wind and spray whipped at his face. The storm was not be felt below, but above, the sky and ocean raged. It felt exactly like the conditions that had assaulted The Orange Nightingale.
Stall, Desmond, and a handful of NOREA officers stood aft of where Parker and crew exited onto the deck. Stall held Desmond by the arms and spoke to him while two officers watched the waves and another examined some kind of monitor. Parker approached the group and yelled to Stall, “What are you doing?!”
Stall stopped talking to Desmond and looked back at Parker, “Stay where you are and grab hold of something! You should head back below! It’s too dangerous up here!”
Stone hesitated and inched back toward the hatch, but Hudson and Parker advanced slowly. “Stall, let him go! We’ll do as you say, but we’re staying together!”
She shook her head and ignored their movements. Desmond turned his wide eyes to Parker, allowing him to see a mixture of uncertainty and fear. Stall spoke to Desmond again and regained his attention. The storm made it impossible to hear anything other than shouts and one’s own thoughts, but Desmond hung on her every word.
The Black Mystic shuddered as if struck by something in the water, but the crew members on the deck showed no immediate alarm outside of trying to maintain their balance. Parker and Hudson clung to the nearest handhold or railing they could find and watched as Stall looked to the officer with the monitor who then nodded to her. This initiated a flurry of activity as the two officers previously watching the waves converged on Desmond, and with Stall, lifted him up, walked him to the gunwale, and tossed him overboard into the darkness below.
Featured Image: Shutterstock 1685720821 (Digital Storm)
