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Uncle Finnigan had always been a bit of a loon; chasing after this and that, running off into the wild while rambling about some three-headed skag – killer of killers, beast of legend – or what-have-you. Zane had followed him around a few times, for entertainment if nothing else, but uncle Finn had never – not once – presented any proof of any of the supposed mythical creatures he claimed he was chasing, nor had Zane seen any himself, so his dear nephew had learned to dismiss his tales as the usual Flynt Codswallop™ and moved on with his life. That being said, when uncle Finn’s latest message popped up in his very-private-family-only ECHOnet account, Zane found himself intrigued. Come quick, it said. Greatest mythical beast ever found, it screamed at him in bold print with more than the allowed daily allotment of exclamation marks.
Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, then fine. Finnigan Flynt had a ridiculous notion of some beastie, and Zane Flynt was going to find out exactly what sort of tall tale – what epic yarn – he’d be blessed with this time, so off he went.
The harbour was a ramshackle affair. As Zane parked his outrunner and hopped out, he took the time to survey the environment: two piers, a few sad-looking buildings, and in the water, a few rowboats, a couple of reasonably-sized but very improvised catamarans and one… well, it was vaguely seaworthy. The icebergs floating in the frigid water gave him pause, if only for a moment. He had no mind to die out there, the world’s most handsome icicle, because of his loon of an uncle. Speaking of which…
‘Zane boy, get your skinny arse over here!’
Ah, the dulcet tones of uncle Finn. The man who approached Zane was about twelve years his senior, a reminder that Finn was the runt of his litter. He lacked the operative’s height and sculpted abs, but made up for it with a certain limberness and pure forward momentum.
‘Hey now, I’d have you know this arse is mad chiseled–,’ Zane corrected, but didn’t manage to say much else as uncle Finn gave him a solid Flynt Hug.
‘Yeah yeah, always with the japes,’ the old man said, slapping him on the back for good measure, ‘now let me show you our greatest and most splendiferous mode of transportation.’
Zane followed his uncle, mustering his best thespian skills to act impressed when the time came.
Of course it had to be tub Zane had judged “vaguely seaworthy”, of course it was going to be that one. It looked old – like old-as-balls old – and the harpoon gun sticking to the front of it was worn and rusted, creaking a little in the icy wind for dramatic effect. Zane arched an eyebrow.
‘Behold, the Poseidon’s Kiss,’ uncle Finn said, pleased as punch.
‘Well, that’s just a splendid name for a boat, very thematic, very – eh – moist, you know,’ Zane replied, nodding with an enthusiasm the rest of his body refused to reflect.
‘Don’t be like that, fella,’ uncle Finn admonished,’ she’ll take us where we need to go, and then some, so don’t you put on yer frettin’ face. I’ve brought sufficient liquid nutrients to last us the trip, and I’ve a headin’ that’s certified reliable from the local fishin’ folk.’
Zane looked around for any of these, but spotted exactly none of them.
‘Er, they’re on break,’ uncle Finn said quickly. ‘Now come aboard, lad, and let’s get this whale-hunting expedition underway.’
The Poseidon’s Kiss did little to endear itself to the operative. It had clearly not seen service as a sea-faring vessel for some time, and some bozo had written “Call me, I smell” in the wheelhouse, along with a number that had long lost its legibility.
Behind the wheel, uncle Finn was in his element.
‘Soon, you’ll see the dreaded beast with yer own eyes, nephew, mark you me.’
‘Eh, yeah, sure.’
‘Damn it, are ye even listenin’ to me?!’
Zane looked up from his ECHO-device. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m listening.’
‘Put that thing away, then. It’s rude.’
‘We’ve been out in this feckin cold fer three hours and we’re already out of booze. There’s no sign of any beastie and I’m freezing my bollocks off. Gotta entertain meself somehow.’
‘Well I’m sorry yer uncle Finn’s too boring for ya.’
‘Apology accepted.’
A moment of silence. Zane turned back to his ECHO-device.
‘Ya know… the great blue yonder’s one of nature’s great equalizers,’ the old man suddenly mused.
‘Is that right?’ Zane managed to reply.
‘Wouldn’t be sayin’ it otherwise, now would I?’ his uncle responded tersely. ‘That’s the problem with you youngins, no sense of introspection and you never give us old geezers our due, either.’ He paused, either for dramatic effect or to find the right words.
‘It’s because,’ he finally continued after a pause so long Zane almost forgot what the conversation was even about, ‘we all drown just the same. Old or young, strong or weak, rich or poor, the water treats us all with the same indifferent embrace when she’s the chance. Ya get it now, lad?’
‘Yeah, I gotcha,’ Zane said, and found he meant it.
Then, the boat stalled. Zane didn’t much like that.
‘Finn, did ye give this thing a thorough look before ye bought it?’
Finn looked surprised. ‘I didn’t buy it, lad. Why, this is a lease boat.’
‘Point still stands: did you check the engine for signs of wear and tear, or, ya know, things livin’ in it?’
‘What? Why would things be livin’ in it?’
‘Because this is Pandora,’ Zane said as if speaking to a five-year-old.
‘You go check, then,’ Finn said, gaze resting on the ocean. ‘I’ll keep watch.’
‘Right, yeah, constant vigilance. Go, uncle Finn!’
For better or worse, at least it was something to do. Zane had to admit he was getting tired of playing on the ECHO, trying to shoot at little space ships or making the longest possible snake.
The engine room was as ramshackle as the rest of the Kiss. The engine seemed to be choking on something and one of the pipes looked ready to burst. Zane shut down the engine and had a look at the pipe. Something about it smelled familiar.
‘Find anything wrong with it yet, mister Tech Wizard?’
‘Aye,’ Zane grumbled, then, louder: ‘There’s something stuck in this pipe. Just hang on a tick.’
The ship only had a half-filled tool box, but at least there was a wrench in it. Zane found himself a bucket to help with the overflow of any excess oil, for whatever good that’d do. He started loosening up the pipe, but the bugger wouldn’t move.
‘Er, Zane boy?’
‘Kind of in the thick of it, uncle,’ Zane said as he pulled hard. ‘Come on and give, ya bastard.’ The pipe finally dislodged, spitting oil at Zane, to reveal… a festy-flesh stick?
‘Just sayin’ that ye might wanna, ya know, come back up here real fast and whatnot.’ Uncle Finn sounded a bit stressed almost. Well, he could wait.
‘Yeah, hold her horses, I just gotta…’
Zane tossed the blackened snack aside and set to work putting the pipe back on, when suddenly the boat rocked.
‘Zane boy?’ the voice coming from the deck had gone up an octave.
Zane went back up to find Uncle Finn, pale as a sheet, staring at a specific spot in the water.
‘What in the fume-filled hell was that?’
The old man stood still as a statue, a crazy look in his eye. ‘Twas the whale. At last, it’s here. It’s here for me, lad.’
‘And how’d you figure that?’
‘It smells my resolve.’
‘Oh, is that what that is?’
‘Quit your caterwauling and man the wheel! I shall line up old Betsy for the shot.’
Uncle Finn sprinted to the front of the ship before the operative had a chance to chime in that maybe he should be the one shooting. Zane ran downstairs to finish tightening the pipe. Whatever it was that was out there, if it was strong enough to tip the boat, they’d both be toast if they couldn’t get out of here.
‘Zane, what are ye doin’?! Get back up here!’ uncle Finn screamed from the top of the stairs.
Zane tightened the pipe as much as he could, then switched the engine back on. Not a moment too soon, as the boat rocked again, harder this time. Zane heard a crack, then screaming; whatever was out there meant business.
Zane ran back up the stairs to the sight of a big dark shape in the water, turning around and heading straight for the boat once again. In the middle of the deck sat uncle Finn.
‘ME LEG! THAT DEVIL BIT OFF ME LEG!’
‘Finn, will ya stop clownin’ around, pull yer leg outta that hole in the deck and man the damn harpoon!’
‘...Right! Yes!’
Zane started the engine and it roared back to life. Quickly, he put the ship in reverse.
‘Hold her steady,’ uncle Finn commanded.
‘Yeah, yeah, just aim better,’ Zane shouted back as the shadow passed right in front of the boat, not a hair’s breadth away.
‘I’ve got him in my sights.’
‘Less talk, more shoot!’
The sound of metal on metal as the harpoon shot out, diving into the water; it hit something.
‘I’ve got ‘er, lad!’ uncle Finn roared triumphantly.
Zane, meanwhile, looked at the dark shape to his left that looked like it was turning around to have another go. ‘Somehow, I doubt that.’
The whale surfaced and Zane had to admit the beast was real, impressive and probably going to be the death of him.
Meanwhile, uncle Finn was busy trying to reel in the harpoon.
‘Blasted thing! Fine, be that way.’
Finn ran over to a box of harpoons and grabbed one.
‘Finn, the harpoon!’
‘I’ve got a new one, don’t you worry.’
‘Oh, fer feck’s sake!’
Zane sprinted past him, using his claws to cut the rope attaching the harpoon to the launcher, then sprinted back to the wheelhouse. Finn stood by the boat’s railing as the whale approached a third time.
‘Come to me, beastie! I’ll be your reckoning!’
Zane forced the boat to back up further, and groaning she complied. The whale raised its mighty, ridge-covered body from the water, and Zane could almost count the teeth as the body slammed down in front of the boat. The big wave pushed her further back and Zane clung to the wheel with all his might to keep standing.
‘Uncle Finn!’ he shouted. No response came, and Zane looked out the window to find the man out cold, knocked off-balance by the sudden wave. Now, say what you want about Zane, but nobody – nobody! – was allowed to knock out a Flynt but another Flynt, preferably him. Determined, he strode out, yanked the harpoon out of uncle Finn’s hand and climbed on top of the wheelhouse.
‘Come on then, biggun,’ he taunted at the whale as it headed straight for him. ‘Come to uncle Zane.’
The whale seemed inclined to agree.
This was it. One man against a beast. Just Zane and the whale. At last, he’d find peace. At last, he’d–
No.
No, this was nonsense.
Zane dropped the harpoon, pulled out his well-maintained Jakobs Iron-Willed Monocle he kept for climes that liked to mess with his electronics, and took aim.
‘One is enough, eh?’ he whispered. ‘Guess we’ll see if that’s true for feckin whales.’
The whale was almost on him, diving under, reading itself for its final big attack. As it resurfaced in all its massive glory, Zane exhaled and aimed for where he figured its murderous brain must be.
The shot rang out, the sound amplified by the icebergs, as the bullet pierced its thick hide and the beast dropped to the side, missing the boat by an inch. Quickly, Zane flung the gun back over his shoulder and jumped down, back into the wheelhouse. There was blood in the water, but the whale itself was nowhere to be seen.
Typical.
Well, no reason to stay here. Probably some demon whale, and Zane was not sticking around to find out if he was right. He revved the engine, turned the Kiss around and headed for the harbour.
When uncle Finn awoke, he found himself in a corner of the wheelhouse, covered with a slightly oily blanket. The sun had started to set and the Poseidon's Kiss was in shallower waters.
‘Oof.’
‘Oof is right,’ Zane replied as he handed the man his emergency hip flask. Uncle Finn gratefully accepted, then looked around at the blood on the deck, the missing harpoon, then at Zane.
‘Where’s the beast?’
‘Shot ‘m,’ the operative replied. ‘Big bastard fecked off after that.’
‘Did… you get him on film?’
‘What? No! I was busy making sure we didn’t die,’ Zane replied, indignant.
‘Who’s going to believe me, then? Everyone’ll think I was stocious again and made the whole damn thing up!’
‘Well, I’ll be there to vouch for you, won’t I?’
‘Of course, because you’re the world’s most reliable narrator,’ uncle Finn scoffed.
Zane glared at him but said nothing.
‘Ah, I’m sorry, lad. Shouldn’t have said that.’
‘It’s fine. Water under the boat and what-not.’
The two men journeyed in silence for a bit.
‘Listen, lad,’ uncle Finn said finally, ‘I’ve had my rough patches. You know that better than anyone else as you’ve managed to share so many of ‘em over the ECHOnet.’
‘I did though, didn’t I?’
‘That you did. The one where I woke up covered in rakk shite–’
‘Classic.’
‘Or the one where a buncha clowns from the dive bar stuck a varkid larva down my trousers and I had a narrow escape from being chomped right in the humanities–’
‘Ah, how we laughed.’
‘Right, yeah, a feckin’ hoot, laughin’ my bollocks off, now hush–’
‘Fine.’
‘Point bein’ that you’ve had no reason to take my ECHOnet ramblins seriously, and yet… here you are.’
Zane saw an earnest appreciation in his uncle’s eyes and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Sure, he’d come, but… it’s not like he’d assumed there’d be an actual killer fish or what-have-you; he’d just come for a laugh. That being said, having gained the wisdom – well, maybe not quite that, but something close to it, for sure – of age, he understood how much it must’ve meant to his uncle that he’d come once again, even if it were another wild rakk chase, even if nothing came of it, even if…
Here he was.
Here they were.
‘Ah shite, Finn,’ Zane said, not quite knowing where to look.
‘Glad you were here, lad. Now, when I say not to trust anything that has a blowhole, at least you can back me up.’
Zane smirked. ‘Oh, I don’t know if I’d go that far.’
Art and Story by Issinder