7:30 P:M

                Rick was dragged to the forecastle at the front of the ship, he was forcibly thrown to the deck with a can of gray paint. “You are to paint till suppertime at 9:00.” The burly man said before walking off. With a groan Rick got to work every movement screamed with pain.

                The hours and a half were painful as Rick tried to work hard enough the seamen had no reason to bother him while not working so hard he caused further damage. When 9:00 finally came he looked up at the black void of night at sea. A tiny dot of light sat behind them with the darkest dark he had ever seen before him. With a groan he got up and hobbled his way to the mess hall.

                The mess hall was a simple gray minimalistic metal rectangular room with many cold metal tables that had attached benches and a food bar where a large grumpy looking woman served food. So in short a miserable drab place to eat.

                As soon as he entered the room the woman and her son stood and waved him over, “We were waiting for you before we got our food.” She said smiling.

                “That was kind of you.” Rick replied.

                “Considering the way, the food looks I wouldn’t have minded waiting till it was all gone.” The boy commented motioning at the sad displays of filet fish and wilted greens.

                “Well… I won’t make you eat.” She spoke.

                “Oh, no, no. I am sure I could still get it down.”

                In line, all the cooks were wearing solid white gloves instead of normal transparent gloves which, once they were seated Rick brought up.

                “Huh,” The woman said, I don’t know what is up with that, though I would assume it would relate to their life of crime, a kind of symbol of their gang.”

                Rick nodded, “that seems like a likely answer though I haven’t heard of something like that.” They sat in silence for a while eating the tough flavorless fish. “So…” Rick broke the silence, “If you don’t mind me asking, what are the two of your names?”

                “Oh, yes.” The woman smiled, “I am Felice, and this here is my son Jarod.”

                “Cool, good to finally have names.”

                “So, your family is from Seffalon?”

                “Yes, though I was born in Nexus City,” Rick lied, “Though that did not stop me from being recruited By the Seffalon government to aid in the distribution of eaiz.”

                A look of disgust came over Felice’s face, “oh, you did that.”

                Rick nodded, “I didn’t have much choice, either do as I was told, or I and my family would be made to disappear.” He said the last part as he drew his index across his throat. “But I got a tad too much heat on myself and I am now headed to the islands to face what may come.”

                She looked down and did not say anything for a while. “My husband became addicted to eaiz after he was fired from his job at the bank for refusing to fudge the accounts. I called the police and paramedics to try and get help for him. They told me to divorce him for everything he had, because he was just a useless junkie. I refused, I tried to force him to stop taking eaiz, I even locked him in the bathroom. After a day he had clawed a hole in the wall to the outside and had taken the bathroom light fixture to sell and afford more drugs. Then one day he left and never came back.

                After he went missing, we began receiving unannounced visitors demanding payment for my husband’s debts. Instead, I sold what I had and got my son and I on this ship.” She sighed and shoved her half-finished plate to the side. “Seffalon is trying to destroy Nexus city, and out of greed we are letting them.”

                “Perhaps the Brethren have a point.” Rick said. “Everything that encourages the selfishness and greed is in The Visions, not The Bronze Book.”

                Felice looked up. “You don’t worship Sar’tchan?”

                “I don’t currently worship any god.”

                “Huh, ok. Well, I suppose I am the same, Nextian and the Guardian are the reason Nexus city is the way it is, and yet to seek out a religion I would actually believe is true would have landed me in chains.”

                “I prayed to the Guardian for my father daily. And nothing happened.” Jarod looked at his clean plate. “What is the use?”

                “Well,” Rick stood, “this conversation has made me thirsty.” He walked up to a short man as wide as he was tall who was wiping down a table. “Where might I acquire some liquor?”

                “Did ya bring any?”

                “Well, no, that is why I am asking.”

                “Then you are out of luck. We are not a luxury cruise line. For a price we smuggle you from one place to another and provide enough food so you will not die. This is it.”

                Thanking the man Rick rejoined Felice, “well I had no luck. Uh… I don’t suppose you brought anything alcoholic, did you?”

                She raised her eyebrow, “we brought the clothes on our backs.”

                “Well, I figured it would be worth a try.”

                “Are you going to be, ok?”

“It just helps me sleep is all.” Rick lied “Well I’ll see you two in the morning.”

Rick lay staring at the corrugated metal above his head. His body shook, his pillow grew damp with sweat and his body ached from the abuses accrued throughout the day. As the boat hit a particularly bad wave, he felt an intense wave of nausea. Falling out of his bed he scrabbled onto the deck and proceeded to empty his stomach into the ocean.

                Shaking, he slumped down onto the deck with his back against the railing. There he stayed, never catching a minute’s sleep until the Guardian rose beyond the sky. Felice came onto deck and spotting him rushed over. “Morgan, are you ok?”

                “Eh, just a bit of trouble sleeping.”

                She seemed unconvinced but she didn’t press him. “Well, I am glad you are ok.”

                “Why wouldn’t I be?”

                “I had overheard some deckhands talking about a body they found.”

                Rick hurriedly stood up, putting too much pressure on his bad foot and nearly fell back down. “Where!? When!?”

                Felice steadied him, “in the green container, apparently.”

                Rick nodded and began to hobble that way. In the container the body had already been taken away and a deck hand was busy scrubbing away the blood on the wall, his white gloves getting stained. In the blood there were written two words.

Hello Rick.