The Sands -Where Things Are Bought And Sold-

-Where Things Are Bought And Sold-

← Chapter 9 Chapter 11 →

*** I like this one because I get the chance to flesh out a bit more of the world outside the ship, the oasis, and the cities. I wanted to ask how people who live off the things in the sand and off the shippers and pirates would live.

Hope you enjoy ***

The scrap city was unlike anything Cee had ever seen. For one thing, it was busier. The place buzzed with the noise of the market. People calling out sales, new products recently rescued from the sands. Each seller seemed to be able to offer the best prices you could find in the whole city. Also, it stank, mostly of oil and rust, which Cee actually felt rather soothing. Though every once in a while, she would get a whiff of something foul. Now that she thought about it, there really wasn’t anywhere in this collection of shacks positioned on the edge of the sand that you could properly dispose of trash, or “other” wastes. The wide, sand-strewn streets hummed with a mix of pedestrians, small ships, and machines similar to the loader

Ngua used to drive.

No, not used to it, he probably still drove it around, drunk out of his mind. Mel still taught the kids every day. Took them out to play, gave them snacks. You just aren’t a part of it anymore.

These machines, rather than being loaded with the heaps of violet leaf she was used to, were loaded with assorted rusty chunks of metal and technology that looked as if they had been fished from the sands, which they probably were. Most alarming were the ones loaded with cages filled with terrified people. Some huddled in corners muttering to themselves, some screaming at their fate. Others no older than herself sobbed quietly to themselves.

“These cities are great places to find odds and ends, weapons, interesting tech, anything really.” Skaught mused. His eyes were wide, his mouth agape, even though he must have seen this scene a million times before. He reminded Cee of the children back home whenever Mel bought sweets for them from the caravans that stopped by from time to time. “Everything that was ever made will pass through a scrap city market eventually,” Skaught said.

“Why are those loaders filled with people?” she asked, fearing that she already knew the answer. Skaught had offered to escort her through the streets of the scrap city when he had caught her staring at the expanse of sheet metal buildings from the deck of the ship. Saying something about wanting to go to the weapons market himself.

“They’re on their way to the market.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and refused to look her in the eye. The conversation fell into a long silence. Cee’s mind buzzed with questions, though she couldn’t bring herself to ask any. Skaught quietly returned to examining the wares that lined the stalls.

“What market?” Cee asked the painful question, pulling it out of her.

“Hmmm,” Skaught drew his attention back to Ce,e having been distracted by some rhythmically flashing device, she was certain he could make it explode given enough time. “Oh, you know, the market, the dross market…” he trailed off, looking at her intently. “Or maybe you don’t.” Skaught turned to face her, fully disregarding the device.“It’s a market, like the rest of this place. It deals with,” Skaut stared intently at his own shoes before meeting her gaze again. His eyes were pools of pain, or embarrassment, maybe both. “Well, it deals in people, people who have been pulled from the sands like everything else here.”

“They deal in people, like selling them. They can’t do that,” she said. Then she thought of everything she had seen over the last few days.

Selling someone sounds exactly like something these people would do. She thought.

“Why not?” Skaught asked, looking genuinely puzzled at the assertion.

“Well, they should be free to make their own choices, to live their lives the way they want to.”

“Do you think other people have the freedom to make their own choices?” Skaught asked, looking more serious than she had ever seen him. Cee paused; she hadn’t expected a discussion of philosophy in the weapons market.

“It’s not the same thing,” she said.

“No? What about this junker?” He pointed to a terminally bearded man at one of the market stands, who quickly adopted a cross expression. Something that Skaught promptly ignored. “Do you think he wants to be out here selling random shit he found in the sands?”

“I mean, probably not.” She watched as the shopkeeper’s expression turned to confusion, before flicking back to anger.

“The people at the dross market had their lives saved from starvation or drowning in the sands. In exchange, the scrappers get to make a profit.”

“But they don’t have any choice! At least this loser could theoretically pack up everything tomorrow and go change his life.” That seemed to be the final straw for the man, who swung at the pair of them. Only to find one of Skaught’s Frankenstein-looking weapons pointed at his face. The fighting spirit left him quickly after that.

Skaught shrugged and continued walking through the crowded streets, making sure Cee could keep up. “So you don’t want to buy one?”

“Of course not!”

“All right, just checking, cause it’s right here.”

They stepped into a large dirt square. Lining the square were stalls selling everything from snacks to collars made from scrap metal. In the centre of the square was a massive stage. A tall man, well dressed for the shit hole they were in, stood on the stage before a sizable gathering. A young boy stood next to him in chains.

“Sold!” The auctioneer bellowed, his voice artificially amplified to fill the square. “Please see our clerk to my left here about payment. Your property will be delivered to you shortly!” The boy was led off the stage by several scary-looking men. As soon as they stepped off the stage, a section in the centre of the platform lowered. Only to return moments later this time with a young girl. She couldn’t have been any older than Arie was.

“Older than Arie had been,” The voice tore through the clamouring of the crowd.

Cee watched as the figure of harsh light materialised in front of the stage. Right, of course. Cee thought.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch this?” The accusation stabbed through her. The cowering girl on stage was replaced by her scared little mouse.

“We have to do something!” She said to Skaught.

Skaught’s expression softened. “Yeah, the kids bother me too,” he said, watching the stage. “Let’s go.” Skaught turned away from the stage.

“We can’t just go; we have to do something!” Cee grabbed at his wrist.

Skaught looked back at her, his compassion morphing to a look of mild annoyance. “Do you have any money?”

“Well, no…” She dropped Skaught’s wrist, looking back at the stage.

“Then there’s nothing to do.”

“You’re a pirate! I know you have some of those bombs on you!”

“Half the people here are pirates,” Skaught motioned to the crowd. They did look like your quintessential pirate. “Well-armed pirates, I’m not losing my life over some kid I don’t know.”

“So you’re just going to let her be sold!”

“Yeah, and I suggest you do the same. I’m not going to stop you,” he gestured to the plethora of heavily armed men and women that surrounded the stage.

“If you do something stupid, you’re not going to make it out of here alive.”

“Sold!” The auctioneer’s voice pierced her. The girl was led off the stage. Cee took a couple of steps towards the stage as the girl disappeared into the crowd. Cee’s foot hovered mid-air, she wiped the moisture from her eyes, spun on her heels, and ran after Skaught.

“You’re just going to leave that girl?” The figure asked, hovering in the corners of her vision.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Cee said as she ran through the crowd, struggling to hold back the surge of tears that threatened to overtake her.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“What could I have done!” Cee yelled as she ran headfirst into Skaught.

“Wow, you ok?” Skaught stopped going through the market stands and turned towards her.

“It’s nothing, I’m just.” Cee felt tears run down her cheeks.

Skaught put his hand on her shoulder, in a surprisingly comforting gesture from the ship’s resident weapons-obsessed lunatic. “Let’s go back to the ship.”

Cee nodded wordlessly, letting him lead her back to the ship.

“When was the last time you thought of them?” The figure peeled itself away from her periphery, engulfing her vision with its light.

How could I not? Cee’s thoughts seemed quiet under the thunderous interrogation of the figure.

“Don’t lie.” It traced its smouldering fingertips against her jawline.

The body of a person she couldn’t see through the blinding light collided with her, nearly knocking her to the dirt. A touch that didn’t sunder her flesh helped her to her feet. “ Things have been moving so fast, she thought.

“So fast that you couldn’t be bothered to think of your family?”

I didn’t forget them.

The ghostly hand gripped her face. Cee could feel its fingers sinking into her cheek. Could smell her burning flesh. clutched her forearm. The stench of burning flesh assaulted her.“What about finding who killed them? Or are they just going to get away with it?” Cee wanted to scream, but couldn’t open her mouth.

They won’t, I won’t let them! Cee screamed the thought with all the mental volume she could muster. It still paled in comparison to the figure’s force.

It released its grip, fading back into its partial obscurity. “Just go back to Mora, forget about them. What do they matter?” ”

I won’t forget them. She promised herself.

“Cee, Cee!” Cee pulled herself from the hole she had gotten lost in to find Skaught staring at her intently.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” She looked around, blinking the world back into focus. They were standing in the docks of the scrap city. Cee could feel the hot sand splashing up from below to scald her ankles.

Skaught gave her the kind of look you would give a drunk person who just vomited all over their only trousers,s yet still insists that they are doing fine. “Come on. The sands are going to burn holes in my boots if we stand here any longer.” Cee followed Skaught up into the ship. Leaving the blistering sun and sand behind. They walked through the constating chill of the ship, the only sound the echo of boots on steel. Cee revelled in the cool bite of the ship’s interior as they walked further into the ship.

“Maybe you should go rest for a bit,” Skaught said as they passed by the hall to her room.

“Yeah, that might be a good idea.” She said, though her voice seemed small and distant. “Thanks, Skaught, for today.

Skaught gave her a shrug as he split off down a diverging hall. “Crew got to look out for each other,” he said, turning his back to her with a wave.” Cee didn’t really want to be alone right now, but losing her mind in front of witnesses would be infinitely worse. “Umm, Skaught,” she said as he began to walk away.

“Yeah?” Skaught looked back over his shoulder.

“Thanks for today,” Cee had to spit the reluctant words from her mouth. She could feel her face redden as they hit the air.

Skaught just shrugged, “It happens,” he said, giving her a wave as he continued down the hall. “Rest up,” he called over his shoulder.

Cee’s room wasn’t very large, barely enough for a single bed; most importantly, she didn’t have to share it, which was a rare luxury. Cee got undressed and lay on her bed, deciding that a short nap would help her clear her head. Unfortunately, her body had other ideas. She lay in bed, muscles tensed. Fingers tapping on the stiff mattress. Feet twitching rhythmically to some inconsistent tune.

Non-existent Cee swung her legs off the edge of the bed. They pounded on the floor with relentless energy. Cee reached over to the table next to her bed and grabbed the book she’d taken from the library that night a lifetime ago. She sat there staring at the cover. Her fingers rifled through the pages, threatening to break it open. She clenched her eyes and placed the book back on the table.

I guess I could go up on deck. She thought.

Throwing on a second-hand shirt. She padded barefoot out of her room and up to the deck. She stepped into the cool night air, her feet feeling every rivet in the chilled metal. She stood on the deck staring out at the scrap city. In the dark, it glowed like safety in a dark void. Or perhaps some sort of giant bioluminescent insect.“” The door opened behind her. Cee spun to face the witness. It was a boy, her age, maybe a little older. He was holding a pipe in one hand that smouldered steadily. She recognized him as one of the hostages from the cafeteria.

“Hey,” he said with half a wave, smoke issuing from his mouth as he spoke.

Photo by Liam Briese on Unsplash

*******

Frytir sat in the room he shared with three other people. They had all been in the same crew on the previous ship, but he had never been well acquainted with them. It appeared to Frytir that almost everyone who had been on his previous ship was also on this one. None took Mora up on her generous offer to be left stranded in a scrap city. Frytir hadn’t even been able to muster enough courage to venture down to the port.

He tried to leave; he wanted to explore the surface. See the world he spent his life imagining, but Roui’s words rang in his ears. “A scrap city is basically a death sentence.”

So he had spent his day on the ship, spending most of his day with Roui. He saw Ray a couple of times, but they seemed busy. Being the only doctor on the ship, or at least the most qualified one. They had been given their own quarters and clinic. Thus was busy attending to the numerous pirates who couldn’t remember the last time they had spoken a polite hello to a physician. Let alone discuss anything of any importance.

Frytir sparked his pipe, filling his lungs. He was running dangerously low on leaf. He let out a long, slow breath, breathing thick clouds into the room. One of his roommates issued a ragged hacking cough. It took him a couple of minutes before he could recover enough to curse.

“Could you smoke that shit somewhere else, for fucks sake.” Frytir was about to shoot him some clever retort he had yet to come up with. Instead, he decided at the last minute, partly because he had yet to come up with said witty retort, to take the high road and leave without rising to the insult.

Might as well head up to the deck, he thought.

“To go hang out with all your friends.” He whispered to himself under his breath. He made his way down the wide passages to where he knew the door to the top deck lay. He had to press most of his weight against the heavy iron door to get it moving. The door slowly swung open to the cool air of the sand sea at dusk. Frytir sparked his pipe as he stepped out into the fading light. He took a long, slow breath of the thick smoke, only to have it catch in his throat. Standing on the far side of the expans, was a girl. He recognized this girl as one of the pirates who had abducted them. She was the crazy one who had walked them, at gunpoint, to the bridge. Just thinking about that night, he could feel the late captain’s blood soaking into his shoes.

If you leave now, she might not notice you. As the thought crossed his mind, he saw the girl turn towards him.

The pressure of a breath held for much too long built up in his chest. He let the smoke escape his lips, the involuntary greeting following shortly behind. “Hey,” he squeaked, managing to raise his hand in greeting. Frytir could feel his legs shake as she watched him. Her eyes burrowed right through him, as if he barely existed. “Sorry, I was just…” he spun on his heels, ducking back through the door.

“You aren’t coming out?” she asked. Her voice sounded cold, lifeless.

“Sure, yeah, I’m coming out, or I was. It’s just, I was coming out here for a smoke. Wouldn’t want to have to make you smell that.” He stammered, taking another step towards the door.

“I don’t mind,” she said, freezing him in his tracks. Frytir slowly turned back towards the girl.

“Of course you don’t.” He took a nervous step towards her. Desperately trying, and failing to come up with a reason not to. Frytir took a place next to the insane pirate girl, staring into the glow of the scrap city, occasionally puffing from his pipe, embracing the waves of peacefulness that flowed over him with each drag.

“So… what’s your name?” Frytir asked, trying to break through the oppressive silence.

“Cee,” the girl said before briefly lapsing back into stillness.

“I see, I’m Frytir.” He held out his hand in greeting. He could have sworn he saw her flinch.

“Umm, yeah, nice to meet you.” She reciprocated his handshake. “Sorry, I’m just kind of in my head. It’s been a stressful day.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Frytir said, wondering what this pirate could find stressful. “Do you, do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Cee mumbled.

“Ok,” Frytir inwardly sighed in relief. His mind flashed back to the girl suddenly yelling and firing her weapon at him and the other hostages. Whatever has a psycho like that stressed out probably isn’t something I want to hear about.

“It’s just that?” Cee began.

Oh no.

“I don’t know, I just saw some things today, that’s all.”

Please stop talking.

“But you don’t want to hear about this.” She said,

You’re right.

“It’s no problem really, what did you see?” Frytir gulped.

“Really?”

No, not really.

“Really,” a shiver ran up his spine.

“Well, it’s just. You see, we went to the market today and…” Cee shuffled her feet, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

Like I would care what you have to say, you crazy bitch. Fytir watched the pirate girl, trying his best to keep the sneer off his face.

“Well, there was this one market, the dross market, Skaught called it.”

Poor little girl had a bad day shopping, maybe she didn’t get the toy she wanted.

“Well, people were being sold there, kids.”

Frytir’s internal stream of insults stalled. He’d known scrap cities were not good places to be, but selling kids in the streets was something else. He had a hard time believing it, but this girl had no reason to lie to him.

“And that bothered you?” Frytir practically rolled his eyes. She was a monster just like they were. Why would she care?

“Of course it did!” Cee spun, getting her face uncomfortably close to his. She smelled faintly of sweat and sand. He had to admit, it wasn’t unpleasant. “How could it not! And there was nothing I could do!” Her cheeks glistened as her eyes glared definitely into his; she was crying. “Sorry,” she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. It’s just one of them that reminded me of my sister.”

Frytir felt a slight twisting in his gut. “Was she sold as well?” he asked. Frytir hated himself for starting to sympathise with the pirate girl.

“No,” Cee gasped for breath, trying to compose herself. “She died. No!” her voice swelled with sudden rage. “She was murdered!”

“That’s horrible,” Frytir felt at a loss with this sudden roller coaster of emotions he was witnessing.

“It was those corporate bastards, it had to be!”

“I don’t think the corporations would kill anyone,” Frytir said.

“How do you know! You don’t know what they get up to without anyone knowing! They put on this veneer of being a paradise, but they kill you for nothing!”

“Ok, you’re right.” Frytir took a step back, raising his hands to the verbal assault. She was, kind of. He didn’t know what the corporations did when nobody was watching. It certainly wasn’t a paradise, but to murder some random little girl on the surface seemed excessive.

“You don’t believe me.” Cee accused.

“It’s not that, it’s just.”

“It’s ok, I wouldn’t have believed it that long ago either.” Cee leaned on the railing, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

“Look, I know the floating cities aren’t paradise, but I can’t see the corporations killing people,” Frytir said.

Cee locked her gaze with him, her eyes piercing, like they could peel back all his layers until they understood him in his entirety. “You’ve been there, to the floating cities?” she asked.

Frytir squirmed under her scrutiny. “Just the undercity, where the shipments come in,” he lied.

“Oh, that makes sense.” The girl slumped, seeming a little disappointed.

“Can I ask you something? How did you end up here, on this ship?” Frytir asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “I mean, if you have such a problem with things like selling people, why are you here?”

“We aren’t monsters, and I’m not the only person on this ship that has a problem with selling people as scrap.” Cee snapped.

“But, I mean, you are pirates,” said Frytir.

“We’re just doing what we have to, to get by.”

“Yeah, sure, but you could have picked another profession.”

“If you have such a problem with it, why did you choose to join?”

“You didn’t give us much of a choice.” Frytir felt his temper flare. He remedied it by taking a long drag from his pipe.

“Mora gave you the option. I was there. Stay on the ship or be let off safely in the scrap city. Sounds like a choice to me.”

“ Not much of one.” He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, offering the pipe to Cee, who shook her head. He let the calm wash over him before continuing. “You’ve been in the scrap city, how long would a bunch of unarmed, stranded sailors last?”

“That’s…” she began, then trailed off. Her gaze drifted to the city below.

“Exactly,” he felt a little proud at having left her speechless. “Staying on this PIRATE ship was the only real option.” He spat the word pirate like it scalded the roof of his mouth.

The conversation lapsed into an uncomfortable silence for a handful of long breaths. Frytir puffed anxiously at his pipe while Cee stared out at the lights of the scrap city.“I didn’t really think of it like that.” She mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

Frytir choked on the smoke filling his lungs. Trying to suppress the incoming coughing fit, and partially succeeding, I didn’t expect her actually to apologise, he thought.

“Whatever,” he said curtly. “ It’s not your problem.”

“So what, does that mean I shouldn’t care?”

Yes, that’s exactly what it means. Frytir thought.

“I should go,” Frytir spun and sped below deck before she could say something else that made him see her as an actual person.

“Alright,” the girl’s voice drifted weakly from behind him. “It was nice talking to you.”

Yeah, right, Frytir tried to get as much distance from her as he could, as quickly as he could. “Bye,” he said.

“I’ll see you again.” Frytir barely heard her say as he shut the heavy door with a thud.

What does she know? His thoughts rattled around his head like dice in a cup, clattering on the walls of his skull. She has no right to give a shit about me, she’s a PIRATE and a fucking crazy one at that. It would be best if he didn’t get involved with her; she was nothing but trouble. Still, it was nice of her to care. The single positive thought was quickly silenced by the onslaught occurring in his head.

I need to see Roui, he thought. Roui would help him get his head straight. Roui would listen to him. Roui would make it all alright. Frytir made his way through the labyrinth of corridors. Passing crew members finishing up their shifts or preparing to start the next. He reached the door belonging to Roui’s cabin. Like his, it was a group cabin. Carefully so as to not wake anyone, he eased the door open. The cabin was pitch-black, with only the hall light casting it as vague silhouettes of occupied beds. Frytir silently made his way to the cot he knew to be Roui’s.

“Roui, Roui,” Frytir gently shook the man’s shoulder.

“Hmmm,” Roui rolled over, ignoring the prodding. Consciously or unconsciously, Frytir wasn’t sure.

“Roui,” he said, repeating the process.

“What?” Roui mumbled, barely awake.

“Roui, I’m sorry. I know it’s late. I just really need someone to talk to.”

“Frytir, what the hell?” Roui lifted his head off the pillow just enough to meet Frytir’s panicked look with one of rage. The kind of rage only the rudely awakened can muster.

“I just, I needed to talk to you.” Frytir fidgeted with his fingernails, looking anywhere but at Roui’s face as he spoke, not that Roui would be able to see any of it in the dark.

“It’s fucking early, go to bed.” Roui looked at the clock next to his cot.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just didn’t know who else to go to.”

“Are you high?” Roui asked with a sharp sting to his voice.

“That’s not the point,” Frytir said.

“Of course you are. You’re always high.” Roui rolled over again, turning away from Frytir.

“I just needed…”

“Go to bed, Frytir.”

“But…”

“Frytir, we both have to start our shifts soon, so go to bed.” Roui pulled the sleeping bag over his head, shutting Frytir out. He stared at the motionless figure for a while, and the spot he’d been picking at under his fingernail began to ooze blood as Frytir dug into it. He wiped it on his trousers as he left the room, wandering through the halls.

He’s right. What the hell were you thinking, waking him up this early just to talk about your feelings?

“Stupid,” Frytir whispered to himself under his breath. He bit into his lip until he was met with a sharp sting and the taste of metal. “Stupid,”

I just needed someone to talk to, he thought.

Frytir reached into his pocket, searching for the familiar pack of dried leaves that so often brought him comfort. He found none. Panic rose in Frytir’s chest as his hand searched through his pockets. Retrieving only a few measly scraps of leaf.

“No,” he whispered.

It must be somewhere; there had to be more. The deck? Had he left it on deck? Frytir began a frantic rush back to the deck, only to find his foot hanging mid-step

Maybe she was still there? Would he risk seeing her again? Was it worth it? The dull thud of fist hitting metal and a faint throb radiating up his arm as he slammed his fist into the wall. I’ll be fine. Frytir told himself. I’ll be fine. His knuckles were white, fingers wrapped around his forearm.

I’ll be fine. He slowly began to walk back to his room. I’ll be fine. He reached the door to his room and kept walking. I’ll be fine, He walked. I’ll be fine. He walked until the sun rose and the ship began to stir, and then he walked.

*** Next week, we’re going to get into Frytir’s journey a little bit more and how it feels to go through withdrawal. I tried to keep it a little more surreal and symbolic. ***

← Chapter 9 Chapter 11 →