Cross Archipelago

by Myke Greenlese

Part 1
appears in this issue.

conclusion

Chumboy awoke to the sound of sand crunching underneath Captain Shrub’s boots. Hearing the captain muttering to himself, he decided it would be a good idea to pretend he was still asleep.

“Almost time... better work... should stretch... how long does the sun take?” Chumboy wondered why the captain would need to stretch, but he chalked that up to only hearing bits and phrases of whatever his conversation he was having with himself was. His eyes opened to little slits, trying to see what the captain was doing.

The swollen sun was melting into the horizon, appearing to be a golden oval with the clouds on top of it. The sea glistened, and the island to the west looked majestic in its untouched beauty. And he knew that Captain Shrub was unaware of what was about to happen to himself.

After years of playing the role of the dumb person, it was time to act. He was Chumboy no longer and Philip in all his glory. He just had to wait until the right moment.

And there it was, several seconds later. Shrub’s back was turned, and Philip was sprinting to hide behind the enormous pile of sand he had made earlier. Peeking around to make sure Shrub hadn’t heard, Philip grabbed the shovel and held his breath.

Night was falling fast, and aside from the red clouds above and behind him, he saw that the sky was black except for the first few stars, and the sun and moon facing off for control of the horizon. The moon was winning, of course.

“It’s time,” Shrub hissed. For the first time in his life, he truly sounded threatening. “You need to see this, boy...” Shrub stopped after turning around and seeing no one there.

“Where are you? You need to be my witness!” He started towards the hole.

Maneuvering his way around the mound to be opposite Shrub, Philip seized his chance when the captain peered down into the hole.

“It’s time for you to die!” Philip croaked, smacking the shovel on the top of Shrub’s head. Both men went down at the same time; Shrub, obviously due to his being unconscious, and Philip because of the pain in his throat after not having spoken in over two years.

Swallowing hard and wiping the tears from his eyes, Philip stood and kicked the vial out of the captain’s hand. Not wanting any more trouble, he tossed it off to the side, wincing at the pain in his back and arm muscles while doing so. Just to be safe, he removed the pistol from Shrub’s belt and pointed it at him. After propping the captain up on the mound, Philip started slapping the captain.

“Wha... huh? What’s going on — ow!” Shrub rubbed the new goose-egg on the back of his head. “What did you do?” he yelled, standing up and reaching for the now stolen gun.

“It’s time for only one thing,” Philip rasped. “You never deserved to be captain, and I’m taking your place.” He was still pointing the pistol at his captain.

“I... I didn’t know you could talk,” Shrub said, hardly audible. He realized his weapon was gone, swearing silently.

“Well, I can,” Philip said, his voice going deeper as he grew accustomed to it. “So let’s not waste time with obvious observations. Stand up, and die on your feet like a man. Everyone will know you went out honorably, I swear.” He bowed his head in a mock oath.

“But... but why you?” Shrub whimpered. “I just wanted to find this treasure.”

“You were going to leave me here, weren’t you?” Philip asked. Shrub, near tears, nodded his head slowly.

“Once I have my eternal life, there’s no reason for you anymore ... or anyone for that matter. I just need to drink, and we’ll be fine. Please, let me have this. I deserve it.”

“No,” Philip said, shaking his head slightly. “You deserve nothing,” he sneered. “Stand!” he demanded, pulling the hammer on the gun.

Warily, Shrub did as he was ordered. However, as he stood, he grabbed a small handful of sand and tossed it into Philip’s eyes, pulling the knife out of his boot while the boy was distracted.

A short scuffle later and Shrub had his subordinate pinned down with a knife at his neck. Philip had dropped the pistol when the sand hit his face, and he suddenly felt like he would never be captain. The only thing he felt was Shrub’s sour breath on his face, and his weight on his chest. Not only would he not be captain, he was going to die, by the person he felt deserved that fate.

“Listen, you little scumbag. I am going to drink this potion, and you are going to stay here on this useless island in more than one piece. Do not interrupt me again or I will end it now!” Shrub pushed himself off Philip’s limp body and went to retain his prize over by a palm tree.

In pain, Philip rolled over to see that Shrub had forgotten the pistol lying there. How interesting, he thought. I forgot the knife, he forgot the pistol. Things were looking up suddenly.

He dodged behind the mound of sand again, noticing that Shrub was uncorking the vial. Philip took aim with the gun and pulled the trigger.

The loud bang startled him, but hit the captain behind his right knee. Shrub was on the ground, howling in pain, and clutching at his leg. Philip walked over to him, reaching for the powder bag on Shrub’s belt, and grabbing the knife as well.

“You bastard,” Shrub breathed. “All I ask is for one thing from one idiot, and I can’t even get that.” He was panting heavily, and feeling for his knife he must not have felt Philip grab out of the boot. “Just... let me... have this...”

Philip narrowed his eyes and held the knife over his captain’s throat. The rolled up parchment sticking out of Shrub’s coat pocket recalled the poem once more to Philip: For those truly worthy...

A slight grin crept across his lips. “Drink,” he demanded, offering the potion to his captain. There was a feeling in his stomach that told him he was going to be just fine. His captain, on the other hand, might have a rude surprise coming his way. He hoped.

And if not, what would happen? Philip had the gun, so leaving the captain to rot on the island for all of his eternal life would be a nice twist of fate. A taste of his own medicine, Philip thought, grinning.

Shrub nodded briskly, accepted the vial, and held it in front of him, his hands jittering. “Cheers,” he said as he upturned it, letting it flow into his mouth.

He wasn’t worthy of the gift from this potion, and Philip knew it. Shaking his head in anger and exasperation, Philip started walking to the boat. But Shrub whimpered, and Philip dropped the gun. Captain Shrub had frozen, with a mixed look of disgust and horror. Slowly, bits of his skin turned to sand, trickling down over his clothes. Finally, his entire body burst in a violent display, sand exploding in every direction. Philip shielded his face from the spray.

“Eternal life,” he muttered, wiping sand off his skin. He turned to go back to the boat.

As he was about to walk away, Shrub’s jacket and boots caught his eye. He looked down at his own filthy, tattered pants and shirt next to the pile of sand. A smile crept onto his face. Why not, he thought. The new captain needs nicer clothes, anyway.

to Challenge 329...