The Sands -Where Things Are Sought-

Chapter

*** A bit of a content warning for this one, if you are sensitive to depictions of withdrawl then maybe skip it. It comes from some personal experience, so I tried to make it not a caricature or a jokey thing, but yeah.

If you’re clicking off now, love you and thanks for reading. ***

Frytir sat on his bed, knees tucked under his chin. Jagged nails scraping at the bare skin of his shins.

A gentle knock at the door was followed by Roui tentatively poking his head into the room. “Hey…” his voice was a breathy ghost of its usual self. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Frytirs clipped response dripped with a corrosive miasma. “Don’t I look fine?”

“You look great,” said Roui. Frytir flinched away at the obvious lie. “We just haven’t seen you in quite a while and were wondering if you needed anything.” Roui took a few steps into the room, but it was painfully obvious he wanted to keep as much distance between himself and the bed where Frytir sat, huddled.

“I’m fine,” Frytir repeated, tightening his grip around his legs.

“When was the last time you ate?” Roui swayed from foot to foot, not taking another step closer to Frytir.

Frytir’s nails bit into his skin. He felt the warm trickle of blood and the frigid chill of momentary relief. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Frytir, sands you’re bleeding.” Roui took a single step towards him before Frytir snapped at him like a caged dog.

“Don’t touch me,” Frytir growled, backing further into the corner.

“Frytir, I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“You don’t care!” Frytir screamed. “Nobody cares!”

Frytir watched as Roui’s face changed from worry to flat-out rage. “Nobody cares!” Roui spat, “How can you say nobody cares! I’ve done nothing but care for you since we left the undercity! Sands, caring for you is basically my full-time job!”

“Fuck you,” Frytir whispered more to his knees than to Roui.

“What?”

“Nothing,” mumbled Frytir.

“No Frytir, tell me what you have to say!” Roui roared.

“I said fuck you,” Frytir’s volume rose to just above audible levels.

“Fuck me, fuck me! When was the last time you’ve done that, Frytir? You’ve spent most of your time either holed up in here or fucking stoned!”

“Get out,” he’d reverted to his whisper.

“Roui flung himself at where Frytir sat huddled, his face an angry red. “If you want to talk Frytir, you’re going to have to SPEAK UP!” he screeched, the last words his hands clenching into fists.

“I said GET OUT!” Frytir came out of his fetal position long enough to plant his hands on Roui’s shoulders, shoving him across the room.

Roui hit the opposite wall with a thud, struggling to catch his breath. “Fine!” Roui yelled. “I will!” The door clanged against the wall as he flung it open. “This is what I get for trying to care!” The room shook as he slammed the door behind him.

Frytir pulled his knees back up to his chin, tucked his face into his thighs, and sobbed. Tears streaming down his face and nails burrowing into his skin. Frytir came to a realisation.

He couldn’t do it; he couldn’t live without his leaf, and that was okay. It’s not like he was non-functional when he was smoking; he got his work done. He lived his life just fine while smoking. Frytir rose from his bed for the first time that day, determined to scour this divine forsaken ship until he found what he needed.

It’s a ship of pirates, he told himself. There has to be someone breaking this stupid rule. A frenzied spring to his step, Frytir bounded from his room with a mission.

*******

Restless energy surged through Cee as she leaned against the railing overlooking the bridge, her eyes following the mesmerising dance of sand rolling across the walls. Numbers and gauges flickered across the walls in a pale blue

“So we’re on course?” Mora said to the man.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve set a course for the coordinates you gave me, though it’s just open sands out there,” he said in a hollow voice.

“As far as you know,” said Mora, almost inaudibly.

“Where are we going?” Cee asked, bounding down the steps to stand next to the two at one of the many consoles.

“You’ll find out, now’s not the time.” Mora waved her hand dismissively.

“Not even a hint?” Cee cocked her head.

Mora leaned in, and with a sly smile, she whispered to Cee, “We’re going to change the world.”

Cee scowled in concentrated thought as she tried to figure out what Mora intended with that statement. “That’s broad and generally unhelpful,” she decided.

“You’re welcome.” Mora’s grin widened as she watched Cee’s scowl deepen. Despite her efforts, Cee failed to escape her state of general confusion.

“Fine, be that way,” she said.

Mora sighed, “Excuse me for wanting to maintain the suspense.” She put her arm around Cee. “Look, I’ll tell you this, you’re in for a treat. Something that you never thought possible, we all are.”

“Still unhelpful,” said Cee.

“You’ll just have to be patient.” Mora laughed.

“I’m not good at that,” said Cee.

“I know.”

“One question,n though.”

“What’s that?” Mora moved her attention to the control board.

“This world-changing, mind-blowing thing that we’re heading towards.” She paused, struggling to get the rest out.

“What about it?”

“Are we going to have to fight people for it?” The question squeezed its way out.

Mora stared down at her for a time. “Why?”

“I don’t really want to have to kill anyone,” Cee said, unconsciously bracing herself for the whiplash. Mora looked at her in silence for a while.

“You realise that I can’t promise that.” His voice was cold but not unsympathetic. Like a parent imparting hard truths to their child. “Accomplishing great things sometimes requires violence.”

Thoughts tumbled through Cee’s mind like scattered puzzle pieces, and she struggled to find the right words to express her concerns. Eventually, she settled on the rather lackluster. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Good,” Mora said, looking at the screens. “That does raise a good point, though. We’re going to need bigger guns.”

“You’re a killer, there’s no going back.” A man, short, round, and disgusting, meets her eyes. She can see the shock in his eyes. It falls away to be replaced with rage. They look into the face of their killer. As quickly as they came, the eyes vanish. Swallowed by the rything sands.

That was different.

“Why, it was you who wasn’t it? You pushed him. That makes you a killer.”

“Fuck, Cee! Earth to Cee!” Cee snapped back to the bridge of the ship. Mora’s face centimetres from her own. Her eyes were like leaves on a tree, a dazzling emerald green. “This is going to be a problem; it’s ridiculous, just completely gone.” Mora returned to her full height.

“Sorry,” Cee’s eyes fixed on a rivet next to her foot.

“Heard that before. Go eat, take a nap, get your shit together.”

“Right,”

“Go on then.” Mora waved her away.

Cee felt like she was drowning. Like the sands were flooding her mind. She mentally gasped for breath before the boiling seas tumbled over her again. Leaving her, once again, plunging deeper and deeper into the dark recesses of her mind. She remained like that, barely conscious of where her feet were taking her.

She managed to pull herself up for breath again, to find herself sitting alone in the canteen of the ship. A plate of what was presumably food sat before her. What that food actually was, only a handful of people in the world could have determined. She absently pushed the food around her plate, not eating anything.

“Hey, it’s the captain’s little pet.”

Cee looked up from her mystery plate. A group of large men stared at her with the wavering focus that indicates the consumption of a large amount of alcohol.“The hell do you want?” Cee stared daggers at the group.

“We were just wonderin’ what the big deal was, ye know.” The largest of the men and the group’s clear leader spoke up. His two friends, the stooges, nodded drunkenly.

“From my point of view, there really isn’t much to see,” said Cee. The three men spent some time processing her statement, occasionally exchanging glances or mouthing words of confusion. Finally, one of the men spoke the question they had been pondering.

“Was she talking about us?”

“Musta been right?”

“But what does it mean exactly?”

“Think she was calling us ugly.”

“Is that true?” The leader said threateningly.

“More or less,” Cee shrugged. The room shook as he brought his fist down, or maybe it was just the table.

“Well, you little shit! At least we fucking do something.”

“What do you mean?” Cee asked half-heartedly, she’d returned to absently stirring her food around her plate.

“What do you actually do, pet? If we went missing tomorrow, the ship would suffer?”

“At least I couldn’t be replaced by any random nobody in a scrap city dock.” Her bravado was entirely false, but even so, the anger swelled on the man’s face. Cee closed her eyes as a fist swung towards her head. She braced herself against the impact, but it never came. She opened her eyes. She was alone in the canteen, with her plate of mystery food.

*******

Frytir’s knees scraped the floor, and the rivets that held the flying piece of scrap together dug into his skin. “Please, you have to have something, you have to know someone who has something!”

“I told you, freak, I have no idea where to get your drugs. Go get your fix elsewhere!” Frytir clung to the sleeve of a man who was desperately trying to pry him away. Reminiscent of how you would try to shake a spider or cockroach off your sleeve without actually having to touch it.

“I don’t need a fix or anything, I’m not an addict. I just want a little pick-me-up, is all.” Frytir picked himself up off the floor. He attempted to brush the dirt from his clothes to reclaim a little dignity. The results were mixed at best.

“Well, I don’t have your pick me up, go look elsewhere.” The man examined his sleeve, where Frytir had been clinging. His mouth twisted in a look of disgust.

“LIAR!” Frytir launched himself at the man’s face. He was knocked away mid-lunge by the man’s friend and brushed helplessly to the ground.

“He says he doesn’t have any of your shit, then he doesn’t have any of your shit, fucking addict.” The friend said, looking down on Frytir with disgust.

“I thought the captain didn’t allow any of that shit on board?” said the man Frytir had been clinging to.

“Yeah, now you see why. Let’s go before he gets it in his head that we’re hiding it under our skin or something.” The pair rose from where they’d been sitting in the canteen. Not bothering to glance back at Frytir as they walked away.

Under their skin, that’s ridiculous. There’s no way they’d keep leaf under their skin.

Frytir’s mind cleared for a moment. A very brief moment, but a moment nonetheless. He realised what he must look like to the general public. There, kneeling on the canteen floor, muttering to himself. He picked himself up off the floor, glancing around the room at the other occupants. There they were, whispering to each other, whispering about him.

Ray has access to all sorts of things; maybe they can get me some.

The rusty hinges of Ray’s clinic door screeched in protest as Frytir’s desperate knocks echoed through the narrow hallway, the smell of disinfectant and old medical equipment engulfing him as he anxiously waited for Ray to answer. He had no memory of actually going to the clinic. His body had just moved on its own.

“Ray, Ray! Are you there? I need your help!” Frytir said. The clinic door opened, revealing a very tired-looking Ray.

“Frytir, what the hell, man, do you know how much time I get to sleep? Not enough, that’s how much.” They stopped their rant to study Frytir’s face. “You don’t look too well, are you alright?”

Frytir’s voice quivered with desperation as he pleaded, his heart pounding in his chest, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Ray, please, I can’t take it anymore. I need something, anything, I’m begging you, please!”

Ray pursed their lips, letting the silence stretch for a few breaths. “Alright, I’ll help you,” Ray said.

“Thank you so much! I knew you’d have some violet leaf! Thank you!” Frytir practically collapsed into Ray.

“Oh, I’m not giving you violet leaf.” Ray had materialised a syringe and filled it with an unknown liquid.

“What? But you said you were going to help me?”

“I am, giving you more of your drug is not how I’m going to do it.” The long, sharp needle pierced the skin of his arm before he’d realised what was happening. Ray pressed the plunger and withdrew the long, thin point, massaging the spot where it had been moments earlier. “Don’t worry, though this will make things easier.”

Photo by Daniel Olah on Unsplash

*******

Cee stood on the deck of the ship, watching the icy black of the night sands churn far beneath the ship.

It was becoming a ritual of hers. The chill in the air and stars over the sand sea put her mind at ease. Cee watched the countless swarm of lights that littered the sky. A large black mechanical beast swallowed the starry landscape. The only remaining light was some faint red specks emanating from the bottom of the corporate city. Cee felt the darkness crowd her, pushing the air from her lungs. She found herself wishing that boy would join her on the deck again to relieve her from her own company. She had found him easy to talk to; she wondered if he felt the same. Cee hadn’t seen him since that one night he had come up to smoke his pipe, not even around the ship.

That was almost a week ago.’ She thought. Maybe I should see if he’s alright.”

“ Like he wants to see you again.”

I remember he was close to the new doctor, so that I could ask them.

Cee stood outside the door to the newly refurbished medical wing. Several other patients waited outside, nursing their various ailments. Cee approached the receptionist’s desk that sat outside the double doors. Cee approached the young man who sat behind the desk, absently fidgeting with a pen.

Cee opened her mouth to address him, then stopped. This is stupid; you can’t just go to this person’s workplace to ask about someone you met once. Cee turned to leave, hoping the receptionist was too distracted to notice her failed attempt at communication.

“Can I help you?” a voice asked from behind her. Cee cringed and slowly turned to face him. A light stubble and a pale scar ran across his face. Despite this though he retained a kind of childlike innocence. He reminded Cee of a mouse that had seen a couple of fights. A little ragged, but still a cute little mouse.

“I… want to talk to the doctor… are they in?” There was no turning back now.

“Do you have an appointment?” He asked, flipping through a book.

“You have to make an appointment?” Cee couldn’t remember ever having to make an appointment for anything on this ship.

“We do now. Dr. Ray can’t keep up with all the requests. They need someone to impose some order around here.”

“Ah, well…” Cee cleared her throat and stared down at her feet. She inhaled deeply and met the man’s gaze. “I don’t actually need anything medical. I just need to talk to her.”

The ragged mouse gave her a nasty look. “The doctor is very busy with people who actually need them.”

Just g;, if you back down now, you won’t get anywhere. She told herself.

“I won’t be long, I promise.” Cee began towards the door of the doctor’s office.

“No means no.” The man stepped in front of he;, he seemed to double in height.

Definitely not a mouse, Cee thought. More like a giant ship rat.

“When is the doctor free then?” Cee asked.

“The infirmary closes in an hour. If you want, you can bother them then.”

“Fine,” Cee sat in a spare chair and glared at the man. He met her eyes with fierce, unshakable stubbornness, until, despite her best efforts, her lids grew heavier, slowly sliding to a close.

A gentle shaking woke Cee from her sleep. She was still in the hall outside the infirmary. However, she was now the only one in a chair. Someone stood over her. They had jet-black hair and wore a long white coat. It hung open, a T-shirt and jeans beneath. Their face was delicate, but something about their expression told Cee that taking this person lightly would be one hell of a mistake.

“You must be doctor Ray,” said Cee.

“No, just thought I’d do some cosplaying. Next thing I know, I’m reattaching limbs and prescribing medicine for STDs. It’s been one hell of a trip.” Cee stared at them blankly. She hadn’t completely booted up her brain yet and wasn’t equipped for this. “Anyway, I hear you want to talk to me.” They said, helping Cee up from her chair.

“Nothing about me, I was just looking for someone. I think they’re friends of yours, big guys, smokes a pipe, a little bit dour.” Cee mimed inhaling from a pipe while putting on her best sour-faced mask.

“Frytir?” Ray asked a question that wasn’t really a question. “By the sands, what did he do now?”

“What?”

“If the top brass are looking for him,m then it must be something serious. I’m sorry to say he’s really not in any condition to go anywhere right now.”

“Nothing like that!” Cee waved her hands in a flustered gesture. “I just haven’t seen him in a while and was wondering if he’s ok.”

They looked at Cee suspiciously before dismissing her suspicions with a dismissive shrug. “You know what, not my business. Unfortunately, though, he’s not in the best shape right now.”

“What’s wrong? Is he alright?” Cee asked.

“Besides being a trembling, sweaty, vomitty mess? He’ll be fine.”

Cee remembered the thick, almost solid smoke issuing from his pipe the night they had met on the deck. I guess that’s something a little stronger than your standard smoking grass, she thought. Mora had maintained a zero-tolerance policy toward narcotics, but she thought it made her crew dull. Frytir wasn’t the only crew member holed up in their dorms with the shakes.

“Is there anything I can do?” She asked.

“Not really, you can go see him if you want, but he’s kind of out of it.”

“Would that be alright?”

“Why not?” Ray scribbled something down on their notepad and handed it to Cee. On the sheet was a number, presumably a room number. Room numbers were another new thing for the ship. Mora thought that labelling and assigning rooms to crew members would better organise the ship’s operations.

“Should I bring something?” Cee asked.

“Do whatever you want, I’m going to bed.” Ray gave her a lazy wave, already walking away.

The boy Cee had met the other day lay in front of her in his bed. He was pale, paler than she thought a person could be. He was curled into a tight ball, trembling like a solitary leaf in a sandstorm.

“Frytir?” Cee was almost too scared to approach him. The room they were in was dark. The other roommates were either on their shifts or just reluctant to go to their rooms. It was understandable that the room was thoroughly unpleasant. The smell of sweat and vomit hung thick in the air. So dense it turned the air into a nearly sludge-like substance.

“Are you alright?” Cee asked.

“Uhhhh,” Frytir’s eyes flicked open for only a second before closing again.

“Can I get you anything?”

Frytir answered her question with a bout of vomiting. Leaning over the side of his bed to a bucket that was already half full. “I’ll get you some water,” Cee said quickly, leaving the room. She stifled a gag as she sought to make distance between herself and the overwhelming smell. Cee grabbed a jug of water from the canteen before returning to Frytir’s room. She stood outside and took a deep breath. She broke the seal to the room and rushed to Frytir’s bedside. Leaving him a glass of water on the small bedside table, she hurried out of the room before she vomited.

*** I hoped you enjoyed reading. In the next chapter, we’re going to get a better look at what Mora has planned for the ship and those on it. ***